Lin Feng had achieved Foundation Establishment Level Four, a state of power that made the prospect of shoveling manure feel genuinely ridiculous. Yet, he continued the pretense. His new strength only reinforced the necessity of his disguise. He was a Foundation Master who had bypassed the entire decade of Outer Sect struggle—a truth that, if revealed, would lead to his immediate, painful dissection.
He needed resources, and the spiritual weeds were already running low.
"The sect's rules are simple: no income, no advancement. I must find a way to exchange my refined power for the sect's currency—Spirit Stones—without selling anything traceable to my divine methods," he mused while scrubbing a bridle.
The solution came to him when he noticed the runoff from the black ring's refinement process. When the ring purified the spiritual essence from the weeds and the manure, it expelled a subtle, shimmering sludge. This sludge was the final, rejected waste—yet, even this residue was spiritually cleaner than the average cultivation resource sold in the Outer Sect.
It was the perfect product.
The next afternoon, Lin Feng approached Han Yue at the administrative hut. He didn't come with an excuse this time; he came with a small, sealed clay pot wrapped in clean hemp cloth.
Han Yue looked genuinely worried. "Lin Feng, you're here again? Head Servant Cao cornered me this morning and asked if I was 'corrupting the labor force' by giving you excessive travel permits. You must be more careful."
"I apologize for the trouble I cause you, Disciple Han," Lin Feng said, bowing low. He ensured his face was etched with serious determination, not desperation. "This time, however, I did not come for the scraper, or for a frivolous errand. I came to repay your kindness and propose a partnership."
Han Yue raised an elegant eyebrow, momentarily forgetting her anxiety. "A partnership? With a servant?"
Lin Feng placed the small clay pot on the desk between them. He lowered his voice, making the distance feel suddenly intimate, conspiratorial.
"You saw how clean my stables are, Disciple Han. You know how quickly I dispatched the Thornback Vermin without injury. It is not luck or hard work. It is a secret handed down from my family. A minor alchemical process—a recipe for Refining Dust."
He paused, letting the silence hang. His eyes held hers—deep, honest, and filled with the focused intensity of his Foundation power, which made the moment charged and slightly breathless for her.
"The greatest frustration for Outer Disciples isn't slow cultivation, it's dirty implements," Lin Feng explained, tapping the clay pot. "Every time they clean a spiritual sword, an array plate, or a simple herb grinder, they waste precious time, and the mundane cleaning chemicals dull the item's spiritual affinity."
"This pot contains a powder I call Mortal Cleansing Dust," he continued. "Mix a pinch with water, and it cleans any spiritual artifact perfectly, quickly, and leaves behind a trace of pure Qi that enhances the artifact's affinity by a fraction of a percent. I use it on my shovels. Imagine what it can do for a sword."
Han Yue looked skeptical, but intrigued. "A spiritual affinity enhancement? That sounds like high-level alchemy, Lin Feng. You're a waste root."
"Exactly," Lin Feng said, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "The advantage lies in the fact that no one will ever suspect me of holding a true alchemy secret. But this is not a grand secret, Disciple Han. It's a simple, tedious process that only works on the low-grade dirt of the Mortal Estate. It is only worth a handful of copper coins per pot—but that copper adds up."
He looked directly at her, letting a hint of genuine appreciation enter his eyes. "You are the kindest soul in the Outer Sect, and you are meticulous with ledgers. You are Level Five Qi Condensation, but you are stuck dealing with forms. I propose this: You take this product to the market. You handle the distribution, the sales, and the protection of the secret. In return, I need three things: 30% of the profit in Spirit Stones, no questions asked. Absolute secrecy about my involvement. And an official sect-issued identity token that will allow me to leave the Mortal Estate once a month for 'Supply Delivery.'"
Han Yue stared at the small pot. An enhancement effect, even a slight one, would make this product fly off the shelves. Outer Disciples were desperate for any advantage. She would instantly become the broker of the most popular item in the Outer Market, gaining wealth and influence.
"Thirty percent of the profits to you, the producer, in Spirit Stones," she slowly calculated. "And the rest to me, the sales broker and financier. That's an absurdly generous offer for a mundane-sounding product. Why?"
Lin Feng let his gaze linger. "Because you showed me kindness when I was at my lowest point. And because," he added, his voice dropping to a seductive, soft murmur, "I trust your integrity, Han Yue. I trust that you won't steal this from a desperate stable hand, and I trust that you look beautiful handling the sect's accounts. I need someone competent, and your beauty is just a delightful bonus."
A deep blush swept across Han Yue's neck and cheeks. He had successfully mixed high-stakes business with a genuine compliment and a touch of intimate flirtation. It was enough to break through her administrative composure.
She exhaled slowly. "A thirty percent cut, a delivery token, and silence. If this works, Lin Feng, you will have repaid your debt and created a much larger one. Give me the pot."
"The deal is struck, then," Lin Feng confirmed, handing her the pot. "I will bring you three more pots this week. Sell them for one copper coin more than the current best cleaning solution. Call it 'The Stable Hand's Polish'."
Lin Feng returned to the stables, already plotting how to convert the huge quantities of spiritual waste he generated into a continuous supply of Mortal Cleansing Dust. The process was hilarious: he took the dirtiest, most rejected part of his purification and used it to clean the most sacred items of the Outer Sect.
That night, he pushed his cultivation hard, consuming three more Foundation Pills and reaching the threshold of Foundation Establishment Level Five. He was now half-way to the next major stage, but the resources were dwindling.
The next day, the rumors started.
The Mortal Cleansing Dust, renamed The Stable Hand's Polish by Han Yue (who had decided the blunt name was catchier), sold out in less than an hour. She had quietly placed the small batch at the supply depot, targeting the eager disciples who lined up for fresh talismans.
The reason for the instant success wasn't just its cleaning power; it was the Qi affinity boost. While minuscule—a true Inner Disciple wouldn't notice—the exhausted, frustrated Qi Condensation disciples felt an instant difference. Their swords felt lighter; their talismans activated slightly faster. It was like suddenly being able to see in the dark.
"It's incredible!" cried one disciple, hefting his newly polished staff. "My Metal Qi runs through this staff faster than before! What is this stuff made of?"
"It's a secret family recipe from the Mortal Estate," Han Yue replied with a professional, mysterious smile, expertly counting her copper coins. "The stable hands know how to make things pristine."
The disciples didn't care about the source; they only cared about the results. The price was instantly hiked, and demand soared. Han Yue, using her influence, secured a large space in the Outer Sect's main trade hall for a continuous delivery of the Polish.
The success, however, was a double-edged sword.
By the evening of the third day, Lin Feng was sitting in his bunk, exhausted after a full day of "shoveling" and a full night of refining, when a knock came on the barracks door. It wasn't Cao's heavy slam; it was a firm, educated rap.
Lin Feng sealed his aura immediately and opened the door. Standing there was a figure he recognized instantly: Qian Li, a notorious lackey of Liu Kai, the cruel Outer Disciple who had overseen Lin Feng's initial trial ten years ago.
Qian Li was a haughty Level Seven Qi Condensation cultivator, but his clothes were crisp Inner Peak silk—he clearly benefited from his master's patronage. He held a freshly polished short sword that gleamed unnaturally bright.
"You're the waste root, Lin Feng, correct? The one responsible for the incredibly clean stable and this ridiculous powder?" Qian Li sneered, holding up the sword.
"I am but a humble servant, Disciple Qian," Lin Feng replied, adopting his low, tired voice and bowing deferentially.
"Humble, yes. But not an idiot," Qian Li said, stepping closer. "My Senior Brother, Liu Kai, noticed the commotion. He thinks this 'Stable Hand's Polish' is highly irregular. The spiritual residual is too pure for a common cleaning agent. It smells of low-grade Wood Essence, but somehow… refined."
Qian Li pointed the tip of his newly polished sword at Lin Feng's throat.
"I don't care about your 'secret family recipe,' boy. I care that you're selling a product that is disrupting the natural flow of the Outer Sect market," Qian Li hissed. "Who is your backer? Is it the Han girl? You are using her administrative access to peddle illegal spiritual enhancers."
Lin Feng didn't flinch. His Foundation Level Five power made this Level Seven disciple feel like an irritating mosquito. But he couldn't attack.
"Disciple Qian, I assure you, I have no backer," Lin Feng maintained, keeping his eyes downcast. "I am merely an exhausted stable hand who figured out how to use the waste water from cleaning the spiritual stalls to create a cheap solution. The spiritual boost? That must be from the Spirit Horse residue that leaches into the muck. It is completely natural, completely low-grade, and only useful for polishing."
Qian Li narrowed his eyes, clearly struggling to understand the mechanics of manure-based capitalism. The explanation was just ridiculous enough to be believable, but the purity of the residue was confusing.
"Listen closely, waste root," Qian Li said, his voice hard. "My Senior Brother, Liu Kai, demands a weekly tribute of ten small Spirit Stones—the price of five pots of your powder—for allowing you to continue your humble stable business. This is your 'protection fee' from the Inner Sect. If you fail to deliver, I will personally revoke your little administrative friend's trade permit and ensure you clean the spiritual latrines for the next ten years. Understood?"
Lin Feng knew he could easily shatter Qian Li's sword and break his core, but that would expose everything. The best solution was to accept the burden temporarily and turn it into an advantage.
"Understood, Disciple Qian," Lin Feng replied meekly. "Ten small Spirit Stones. I will deliver them to Disciple Han, and she will pass them on to you next week."
Qian Li smirked, retracting his sword. "Good. See that you do. Now, get back to your dirt. And tell that girl she is lucky to have me as her silent partner." He turned and strode away, the arrogance in his gait almost audible.
Lin Feng closed the door, his hands shaking slightly—not from fear, but from the effort of containing his rage.
"Liu Kai," he thought, his eyes burning with cold ambition. "The man who crippled my father and had me branded a failure. Now, he sends his dog to collect taxes on my success."
But the rage was quickly channeled into cold calculation. Liu Kai was Level Ten Qi Condensation, maybe early Foundation Establishment at best. He was too strong to kill now, but he was perfect as a long-term target and, more importantly, a Spirit Stone supplier.
Lin Feng had just achieved Foundation Level Five, gained a resource pipeline, and secured a means of external travel. He now had the perfect villain who would unknowingly fund his rapid ascent.
"Fine, Liu Kai. Take your ten Spirit Stones. In a few months, I will collect the debt of ten years, with interest," Lin Feng vowed, retrieving a handful of spiritual weeds for his night's work.
He was no longer just cultivating; he was planning a corporate takeover of the Outer Sect, using manure, flirtation, and terrifying, hidden power.