The Western Desert was almost entirely vast, boundless sand. Oases dotted it like scattered stars.
The human race survived here largely by relying on these oases.
Western Desert, Shajing Oasis.
The Huang Family, as a superior power, had been established here for several hundred years, monopolizing the most prime resources at the heart of the oasis.
On the outskirts of the oasis were some smaller powers, serving as vassals to the Huang Family.
Further out, at the very edge of the Shajing Oasis, mortal villages encircled the area. These mortals lived in hardship, their populations numerous, under the control of Gu Master powers like the Huang Family.
Among these villages was one called Han Family Village. Beside Han Family Village was a tiny natural grassland.
Calling it a grassland was generous — it was several times more desolate than the Northern Plains. Yellow sand stretched in every direction, with individual stalks of red Dagger Grass spaced apart, their leaves sharp as swords, their roots driven deep into the yellow sand to draw out what scant moisture they could find.
A group of children were bent over, sickles in hand, laboriously cutting this grass.
These children weren't even ten years old, yet they already had to work to supplement their families' income. Such was the way for mortal households.
The edges of Dagger Grass leaves were razor-sharp. Almost all the children wore leather gloves, save for one who worked with bare hands.
This bare-handed child had snot dripping from his nose. In one hand he held a sickle, and with the other he deftly grabbed stalks of Dagger Grass, slicing off leaf after leaf with practiced efficiency before dropping them into the small basket at his side.
The lingering glow of the setting sun was still scorching, making the children gasp for breath, drenched in sweat.
Finally, as dusk deepened and the sun sank below the horizon with only a sliver remaining, the children stopped working.
"Let's go. It's getting dark, and the Little Ghost Jackals will come out to hunt soon." The biggest child spoke up — the de facto leader of the group.
"How much did you cut? Wow. That's a lot!" Following their usual routine, they started comparing yields.
"I was full today, so I had plenty of strength, heh heh."
"But the grass you cut still isn't as much as Han Li's."
"Hey, Han Li, you're amazing. You can cut grass without gloves, and I don't see any cuts on your hands. How do you do it?" A little girl with her hair tied in two upright braids asked.
Han Li just giggled foolishly.
The children walked back to the village together, chatting excitedly the whole way. At the village gate, they scattered one by one, heading to their respective homes.
Han Li also returned home. He pushed open the rickety wooden door and found that neither of his parents had come back yet.
His father was a farmer, cultivating Steel Wire Cotton in the fields at the western end of the village. These past few days he had been plowing the land, leaving at dawn and returning at dusk.
His mother had a job that the other villagers envied. Every day she would go to the outskirts of the oasis to work as a domestic servant for a Gu Master family belonging to a small local power, doing odd jobs.
Han Li stood beside a stone mortar and poured all the Dagger Grass leaves from his basket into it. Then he picked up a wooden pestle and began pounding the leaves to a pulp.
He worked hard. Before long, he was drenched in sweat.
Once the leaves had been pounded into a paste, he took out a sack and poured a small portion of the rice husks inside into the stone mortar as well.
He mixed everything together, ultimately producing a thick, pasty feed.
He scooped the feed out and placed it in a wooden basin.
Then he carried the basin to the side room.
The side room was a crude animal pen, housing three Fat Flesh Sand Scorpions.
These sand scorpions were as fat as pigs, their pincers completely harmless. Upon hearing Han Li's footsteps, all three Fat Flesh Sand Scorpions quickly scurried out from the shadows of the pen.
"Eat up! This wasn't easy to get." Han Li upended the wooden basin, and the pasty feed tumbled onto the ground.
The three plump sand scorpions crowded together, eating voraciously, grunting as they did.
"Eat up, eat up, eat more and grow quickly..." Han Li's small body leaned against the fence as he watched the scorpions, murmuring softly to himself.
These Fat Flesh Sand Scorpions weren't Gu — they were just ordinary insects.
But their flesh was plump, tender, and delicious. The money from selling their meat after slaughter was a considerable sum for a mortal family.
For Han Li's family, these three Fat Flesh Sand Scorpions were their most important assets. That was why Han Li would go without dinner himself to make sure the three scorpions were fed first.
Gurgle, gurgle...
At that moment, Han Li's stomach suddenly let out a hungry growl.
Han Li hopped down from the fence, rubbed his belly, and immediately hurried back inside to start cooking.
Every day he had to cook for his parents.
Their staple food was Sand Rice, the most common grain in the Western Desert. It had an extremely poor texture and was difficult to swallow, but it grew easily and was the primary food source for mortals.
Han Li bustled around the stove, unaware that he had already been watched and observed for quite some time.
As darkness fell, several miles outside Han Family Village, in an unmarked graveyard, Fang Yuan sat in silent meditation, still as a statue.
He had chosen this spot because it was virtually devoid of human presence.
Having arrived at dusk, Fang Yuan had activated over a thousand scouting Gu, enveloping all of Han Family Village under his surveillance.
A Gu Immortal had infinite True Essence — as long as he had enough Gu insects, his capabilities surpassed mortals by a hundredfold or a thousandfold.
In the darkness, Fang Yuan slowly opened his eyes and thought, "His age seems to match as well. It should be this boy."
As this thought crossed his mind, he activated the Fifth Transformation Fortune Observing Gu.