Jin left the hall with a strange expression, caught halfway between confusion and resignation.
In his right hand, he held a simple spear, free of flashy ornaments or extravagant engravings. The shaft was a dark, uniform tone, and the blade—clean and sober in its lines—reflected the light with a muted yet steady sheen.
According to the disciple at the counter, it had been forged from low-grade spiritual steel.
"Low-grade" did not mean trash.
Weapons of this kind were already capable of conducting a cultivator's Qi, allowing techniques to be activated without the weapon breaking or dispersing the energy. For an outer disciple at the Qi Condensation stage, it was more than sufficient… even enviable to many.
Jin adjusted his grip and felt the response of the metal: stable, obedient, with no hint of rejection.
As he walked along the stone-paved path outside the hall, he couldn't help but recall what had just happened inside.
First, the disciple had bombarded him relentlessly.
Swords "perfect for beginners."
Sabers with a "slight increase in power."
Bows "ideal for ambushes."
Even a hammer that, according to him, "made the enemy's heart tremble."
Jin had barely had a chance to open his mouth.
Only when he managed to interrupt—his tone calm but firm—did he say the only thing he wanted:
"A spear. Simple. Durable."
Nothing more.
The silence that followed was… memorable.
Jin still clearly remembered the look of disappointment on the young clerk's face, as if he had just watched a customer reject a treasure in order to buy an ordinary stone.
"...Just that?" the disciple had asked, incredulous.
Jin pressed his lips together slightly at the memory.
Yes. Just that.
A spear that wouldn't break.
A spear that could accompany him.
A spear that would respond to his Qi.
As he continued walking, the tip of the spear brushed softly through the air, producing a faint whistle.
Jin lowered his gaze to the weapon… and a faint smile appeared on his face.
Sometimes, simplicity was exactly what he needed.
He stopped for a moment along the path and took out the pouch he had carried with him all day.
He opened it.
Looked inside.
…And sighed.
It was emptier.
Over those eight months, he hadn't only trained to exhaustion under the watchful eyes—and blows—of Senior Sister Mei. He had also accepted every internal mission that didn't require leaving the sect: tending spiritual gardens, cleaning cultivation areas, gathering herbs in nearby forests, skinning low-level beasts, and sorting materials.
Nothing glorious. Nothing heroic.
But consistent.
With all that, after eight months of disciplined work, he had managed to gather four hundred low-grade spirit stones. For an outer disciple, that amount was no small sum. In fact, many would never see that much money accumulated at once.
And yet…
The spear.
Jin tightened his fingers slightly around the pouch as he recalled the number.
Two hundred and twenty spirit stones.
"It's robbery…" he muttered under his breath, frowning.
A spear that, at first glance, looked completely ordinary. No gems, no complex engravings, no eye-catching aura that would make heads turn. And yet, more than half of everything he had earned was gone in an instant.
Why hadn't he bought a cheaper one?
The answer was simple.
The cheaper ones he had seen were… frankly disappointing. Some had poorly balanced blades, others looked like they might bend just from being stared at, and a few were so crude that Jin seriously doubted they would survive even a single Qi-infused technique.
The other spears, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.
Too flashy. Too ostentatious. Covered in unnecessary decorations and priced at levels bordering on the ridiculous. Weapons made to show off, not to train or truly fight.
This one, however, felt right.
Simple. Durable. Honest.
Besides… it hadn't only been the spear.
Jin recalled with a resigned grimace that he had also spent forty more spirit stones on a special cloth to cover it—resistant to dust and moisture—and on a strap system designed to carry it on his back without hindering movement.
Now that he thought about it, the financial blow hurt almost as much as his training sessions with Senior Sister Mei.
He closed the pouch and put it away again.
"Well…" he muttered, glancing at the spear on his back. "It's done."
There was no real regret in his heart.
Jin walked along the sect's paths with his gaze unfocused, but his mind working at full speed.
Remaining spirit stones: few.
"Qi recovery pills…" he murmured. "Pills for external injuries… internal ones… basic antidotes… something against toxins… and, if possible, one or two for emergencies…"
The more he listed, the heavier the knot at his temple became.
Leaving the sect wasn't a game. It wasn't like internal missions where, if something went wrong, one could simply take a few steps back and ask for help. Outside, negligence was paid for with blood.
And with what little he had left after buying the spear, he would have to choose carefully.
Jin ran a hand over his face.
"This is going to hurt more than the training…" he growled to himself.
With that anticipated headache, he slightly changed his direction.
At the other end of the complex, dominating the area with an impossible-to-ignore presence, stood a magnificent hall—broad and lavishly decorated. Columns carved with alchemical motifs, reliefs of ancient cauldrons, and arcane symbols engraved into the stone glimmered softly under the sunlight.
The Alchemy Peak shop.
The building had three floors. Unlike the weapon hall, the flow of people here was constant. Disciples entered and exited without pause, some in groups, others alone, wearing expressions that ranged from anxious to expectant, or outright relieved.
Most wore the robes of Jade Peak.
It wasn't surprising. Medical cultivators and those who focused on body techniques depended heavily on pills. Still, Jin also noticed the occasional presence of outer disciples from other peaks, identifiable by their different robes and emblems.
All of them, without exception, seemed to take this place very seriously.
Jin stopped in front of the entrance.
He lifted his gaze, scanning the three floors, and let out a slow sigh.
"…This is where my spirit stones come to die."
He adjusted the spear on his back, squared his shoulders, and took his first step into the pill hall, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable blow to his pouch.
The moment he crossed the threshold, Jin stopped without realizing it.
The interior of the hall was… too elegant.
Not ostentatious in a vulgar way, but refined, as if every detail had been placed with intention. The floor was covered with polished tiles of a greenish hue, engraved with circular patterns reminiscent of alchemical formations. The walls were adorned with dark wooden shelves holding jade bottles, sealed boxes, and small chests etched with discreet runes.
The atmosphere was different from the outside.
The Qi, though only slightly, was denser here. Not oppressive, but gentle and stable, like a calm current wrapping around the body. Jin felt his breathing slow without intending to.
And the smell…
Herbs, roots, resins, freshly refined medicinal pills.
For some reason, it wasn't unpleasant at all. On the contrary, it had an almost calming effect, as if it cleared the mind and organized one's thoughts. Jin noticed the tension accumulated from spending his spirit stones loosen slightly.
"Wow…" he thought. "This really feels like a serious place."
He took a few more steps, observing his surroundings.
There were many disciples, but the atmosphere was unusually quiet. There were no arguments, no haggling, no commotion. Most spoke in low voices or simply pointed at what they wanted. In fact, if it weren't for the measured voices of the attendants behind the counters, the place could have passed for a temple.
Jin walked calmly past several identical counters, each attended by disciples in clean robes and focused expressions. Some customers looked like veterans, others like nervous novices, but all shared the same silent respect.
Finally, Jin approached one of the free counters.
He rested his hand lightly on the polished surface and lifted his gaze.
The disciple attending him looked up with a slow motion.
He had pronounced dark circles under his eyes, his hair tied back without much care, and an expression that made it clear he had spent hours—perhaps days—repeating the same process over and over again. There was no enthusiasm on his face, no pride, and not a trace of the legendary arrogance Jin had expected to find in anything related to alchemy.
Jin blinked once.
Huh?
I thought everyone here would be arrogant…
Images from novels paraded through his mind: young genius alchemists looking down on others, elders casting disdainful glances, prices inflated on a whim. But in front of him stood only a tired attendant, probably a low-ranking outer or inner disciple tasked with selling, not refining.
"Well… to be fair," Jin thought, "these aren't alchemists. Just workers."
He cleared his throat and spoke calmly.
"I need several pills for a mission outside the sect."
The disciple nodded without changing his expression, pulling out a registration tablet.
Jin began to list them:
"Low-grade Qi recovery pills… a few."
"Pills to treat external injuries."
"Something for mild internal injuries."
"Common antidote pills."
"And… a basic pill to stabilize Qi."
Each name was met with a mechanical nod. The disciple moved efficiently, taking bottles from the shelves behind him, checking seals, counting units, and writing down prices.
Several minutes passed like that.
When the last bottle was placed in front of Jin, the disciple stated the total without a hint of emotion. Jin paid in silence, feeling each spirit stone leave his pouch with very real pain.
A short while later…
Jin exited the grand hall.
The sun greeted him head-on, but this time he paid it no mind. He lowered his gaze to his pouch and opened it slightly, counting mentally.
"Twenty…" he murmured. "Only twenty low-grade spirit stones."
The pouch that had once held the fruits of eight months of work now felt insultingly light.
In his hands, he carried exactly what he needed to survive outside the sect.
In his pouch… almost nothing.
Jin let out a long, resigned sigh.
"Definitely," he thought bitterly, "adventuring is expensive."
The next day.
Jin stood atop a small dark-wood vessel, barely large enough to transport a dozen disciples at once. The boat floated gently, supported by a levitation array engraved into its base, as it slowly descended from one of the sect's access points toward the foot of the mountains.
The wind struck his face with force.
Before him, the world unfolded on an absurd scale.
Eight colossal mountains rose like pillars supporting the very sky, shrouded in eternal clouds and streams of Qi visible even to a cultivator of his level. From up there, the sect looked like a cluster of palaces suspended in the void, connected by bridges, terraces, and platforms that defied all mundane logic.
Jin swallowed.
"…We're literally in the sky," he muttered.
For a genuine moment, he wondered how the hell he was supposed to return afterward. Fly? Climb? Wait for someone to pass by and pick him up like it was nothing?
Then he remembered, with a mix of resignation and irony, that this was part of the sect's "educational method": allowing disciples to venture into the outside world, face real dangers, and stop seeing themselves as fish in a gilded tank.
An opportunity, they said.
Jin frowned.
"Opportunity my ass…" he thought. "And they even charge for it."
Five low-grade spirit stones.
Just for the one-way trip.
His hand instinctively went to the pouch at his waist, now embarrassingly light. The memory of those five stones evaporating for a simple transport caused a slight twitch in his eye.
Around him, the other disciples remained silent. Some observed the scenery with restrained excitement; others with nervousness. There were those who looked like veterans, and others who were clearly heading out for the first time—like him.
The small boat continued its descent, passing through layers of clouds until, little by little, the ground began to take shape. Endless forests, wild hills, and open plains stretched out like a tapestry of green and brown.
The real world.
Jin took a deep breath.
Outside the sect, there would be no omnipresent protective arrays, no elders watching from the shadows, no clear rules to keep him safe.
Just him, his spear, a handful of pills…
And fifteen miserable spirit stones.
A crooked smile appeared on his face.
"Well," he thought, "since I already paid, it'd better be worth it."
The boat began to slow.
At last, the adventure was about to begin.