Chapter 14: Shadowed Wealth
The days blurred into rhythm—morning herbs, evening fire, midnight ink. Lin Tian's hands grew calloused from grinding roots and weighing powders, his eyes weary from tracing Codex diagrams until the candle stubs melted into nothing. By Yun He's side, he prepared dish after dish, bundle after bundle, watching the elder draw fire into the cauldron until the hut itself pulsed with light.
Yet even as the rows of jade bottles filled with crimson pills, whispers had begun to stir among the outer disciples.
The servant boy. Yun He's pet.
One night, Lin Tian slipped from the hut after a long day's labor, the moonlight cold against his skin. His arms ached, but the Codex's words still swirled in his mind, unwilling to let him rest. He carried a bundle of herbs meant for washing at dawn, each stalk measured with care.
He had only gone a short way down the narrow path when shadows stirred ahead.
Two outer disciples stepped into the moonlight, smirks cutting across their faces.
The taller one sneered, folding his arms.
"We've heard the whispers. The old hermit took in a servant. You must feel proud, eh? A broom-pusher sitting at a master's table?"
Lin Tian's steps faltered. His chest tightened, but he bowed stiffly, voice low.
"I… only do as Elder instructs. Nothing more."
The other laughed harshly, blocking his way.
"Don't act humble. Servants polish cauldrons, sweep floors—but you? The elder keeps you close. What trick did you play to worm your way in? Or did you beg and scrape until he pitied you?"
The first spat at his feet, lips curling.
"Careful, rat. A servant who rises too high often burns. Remember your place before someone reminds you."
Lin Tian lowered his gaze, clutching the bundle tighter. His knuckles whitened, but he said nothing. To answer would only feed their scorn.
Yet as the taller disciple reached out, fingers curling to slap the herbs from his hands—
A weight fell over the path.
The air thickened, pressing like iron against the chest. A faint ember-scent threaded through it, and the disciples froze, their smirks vanishing into stiff grimaces. Somewhere behind them, though unseen, a qi pressure coiled like a serpent, silent yet crushing.
The herbs in Lin Tian's hands trembled, but he held them steady. He dared not look up, dared not smile, though relief burned in his chest.
The disciples exchanged a glance, their faces pale. Neither spoke again. They stepped aside stiffly, muttering curses under their breath as they slunk into the shadows.
The weight lifted as swiftly as it had fallen, leaving only the cool whisper of wind through the pines.
Lin Tian drew a slow breath, forcing the tightness in his chest to ease. He bowed faintly toward the silent hut in the distance before hurrying back to his quarters, the herbs still unbroken in his arms.
The Map's voice coiled in his thoughts, dry and amused.
"See? Even the flame-worn elder watches over his pet. But beware, boy—shadows of envy grow fastest under borrowed light."
---
That night, long after Lin Tian had returned to his quarters, the brazier in Yun He's hut still glowed faintly.
The elder sat alone at the jade table, brush in hand, bamboo slip unrolled before him. Rows of pills glittered at his side, each a perfect red-gold orb—the six hundred the sect demanded, and then more, refined in steady rhythm across the weeks.
But Yun He's eyes were not on the pills. They lingered on the slip, ink-dark and heavy.
He wrote slowly, each stroke deliberate.
"Variant of Body Tempering Pill. Preparation adjustments: Dewgrass halved, Silverdew added. Yield: five high-grade per batch. Stability consistent across multiple refinements."
His hand stilled. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose. In his mind, a boy's face flickered—earnest, stubborn, hands steady on the knife despite inexperience.
This is not mine.
The words burned unspoken in his chest. But he forced the brush to move again.
"Submitted under Yun He, disciple of Master Shen Xuan, branch alchemist of Verdant Pine Sect. Variant confirmed. Compensation to be requested as contribution to Organization."
The final line came with a tightening of his jaw, the weight of decades pressing upon him. He rolled the slip, sealed it with a faint burn of qi, and set it into the small transmission chest at his side. Its runes flared once, then dimmed as the letter vanished, carried into the Organization's channels.
For a long moment, Yun He sat in silence, staring at the empty chest. His hand curled into a fist.
"…Forgive me, boy," he murmured into the still air. "One day, perhaps, I will have the courage to let your name stand where it belongs."
---
The days passed into weeks.
By dawn, Lin Tian was at the table, slicing roots, measuring powders. By dusk, he knelt at the cauldron's side, watching Yun He guide fire into bronze until the air grew thick with medicinal fragrance. The Map whispered tirelessly in his thoughts, pointing out balances, correcting tiny motions, refining his eye until each dish he prepared gleamed with precision.
Batch after batch of pills rose from the cauldron—always five, always high-grade, each gleaming like captured embers.
By the third week, the jade dishes overflowed with bottles, talismans sealing their lids. Six hundred completed.
The sect's courier arrived with the quiet reverence reserved for necessities. He bowed deeply, packed the crates into his ring, and departed without questions.
Lin Tian wiped sweat from his brow, exhaustion pulling at his arms. He had never worked so hard, nor felt so much pride. To prepare, to balance, to aid in crafting pills that would strengthen disciples across the sect—this was more than he had ever dreamed when sweeping floors and hauling water.
Elder Yun He, meanwhile, said little. He checked each dish, nodded once, then dismissed Lin Tian with a wave of his sleeve.
But when night fell, and the hut grew silent once more, his gaze would always drift toward the transmission chest. Waiting.
---
Part 3: The Delivery
The moon hung low when the knock came.
Lin Tian stirred from his mat, blinking sleep from his eyes. But the sound wasn't at his door. It was softer, sharper—at Elder Yun He's hut.
Inside, the elder was already awake, sleeve flicking to part the door.
A man stepped inside, cloaked in deep gray, his presence so muted it was as though the night itself had walked through the threshold. His face was shadowed, his qi utterly restrained, but Yun He stiffened slightly. An Organization envoy—no one else could suppress their presence so cleanly.
The man spoke without pleasantries, voice flat as stone.
"Alchemist Yun He. In recognition of your submitted variant, the Organization extends compensation as per statute."
With a flick of his wrist, a jade ring hovered into the air, landing neatly on the table. One by one, he named its contents:
• One hundred thousand spirit stones - liquid wealth, enough to fund cultivation for years.
• Three middle-grade cauldron flames, sealed within jade bottles. Rare treasures, each capable of strengthening an alchemist's fire.
• Access token to the Alchemist Organization's Library, valid for three months at the main branch.
A reserved seat at the main branch, if Yun He chose to claim it, granting him direct entry into the Organization's inner circles.
• 2000 Organization Contribution Points, recorded under Yun He's name. Redeemable for materials, manuals, pills, or privileges within the Alchemist Organization's vast treasury.
The envoy's tone remained expressionless throughout, as though reciting an inventory.
Yun He straightened at once, his back stiff, bowing formally. "Honored envoy."
Yun He pressed further, his tone heavy. "Such compensation is given for breakthroughs that shift pill law itself, for soul-grade discoveries that alter foundations. How… how could this small variant of a common pill warrant so much?"
The envoy's gaze flickered, just briefly, before returning to iron calm.
> "Because, Elder Yun He, the Body Tempering Pill is the backbone of cultivation across the continent. Sect disciples, mercenaries, militias, even noble households—millions rely upon it. To make it yield more with the same resources is not an improvement. It is an upheaval. What your 'variant' represents is efficiency magnified across the Empire. The value is immeasurable."
Yun He's chest tightened. His mind reeled as he whispered: An upheaval…?
Still, suspicion gnawed. He swallowed once, then asked quietly: "And yet… in all these centuries, countless masters refined this pill. None ever found this balance. Why now? Why me?"
The envoy's eyes sharpened, his tone clipped.
> "Some truths remain unseen until the right hands disturb them. The Organization does not ask how. It records, rewards, and ensures secrecy. That is all you need know."
He turned sharply, robes whispering as he moved to the door.
> "Deliveries such as this are not to be paraded. Accept the Organization's trust, Elder Yun He, and honor its seal. Nothing more."
Yun He stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the jade case. His fingers finally closed around the contribution token, knuckles white.
Two thousand points… library access… a flame… one hundred thousand stones.
All for a boy's instinct I claimed as mine.
His heart thundered in his chest.
If even the Organization weighs it so heavily, then this discovery is no mere chance. And yet… what monster have I taken in, that such instincts dwell in a servant boy?
Yun He's fingers curled faintly at his side. For a heartbeat, he hesitated—then he inclined his head. "I accept."
The envoy gave no bow, no word of congratulations. He turned, vanished into the night as soundlessly as he had come.
Silence returned to the hut, save for the faint thrum of qi lingering from the sealed flames.
Yun He's gaze lingered on the ring, its faint glow casting shadows across his face. Wealth, power, recognition… all of it sat within reach. Yet none of it was his.
Slowly, he reached out, brushing his fingers across the ring. "…Boy," he murmured, eyes heavy with thought. "You'll never know how much of this should bear your name."
---
The jade case gleamed faintly under the brazier light, its treasures laid bare like the hoard of a dragon. Elder Yun He stared at them for a long, heavy silence. His hands trembled faintly before he turned to Lin Tian.
"Boy. Come here."
Lin Tian hurried forward, bowing deeply. "Elder."
Yun He's sleeve flicked, and the jade slip, golden token, sealed pouch of spirit stones, and a small silver band clattered softly onto the low table. The ring shimmered faintly, its surface etched with tiny flowing patterns.
Lin Tian's eyes widened. "…Elder?"
"These are yours," Yun He said, his tone like iron. "All of them."
Lin Tian froze. "Mine? But—Elder, I—"
"Silence." Yun He's voice cut firm, though not unkind. "Listen well. What you gave me—the recipe, the balance—has been recorded as my contribution to the Organization. The law demands compensation, and I will not keep what is not mine. The manuals I gave you were the first step. This—" his hand gestured at the table "—is the second. Spirit stones for cultivation, points for resources, access to knowledge when the time comes. Even a flame and this…" He tapped the silver band. "…a space ring."
Lin Tian's breath hitched. His gaze locked on the band as if it were a star fallen into his hands. A space ring—an item spoken of in hushed whispers, said to hold entire worlds.
But Yun He continued, his tone steady. "Ordinary disciples struggle half their lives before earning such wealth. You… have it placed before you now. Use it wisely."
Lin Tian bowed low, his forehead nearly touching the floor. "Elder… I don't deserve—"
"You earned it," Yun He interrupted, softer now. His eyes narrowed faintly. "But do not be foolish. The Organization knows of the variant, but not of you. That is how it will remain. I claimed it, so I bear the eyes it draws. You remain in shadow, where you are safe. Remember that."
Lin Tian's chest swelled with heat, gratitude knotting his throat. "Elder… thank you."
At the edge of his mind, the Map stirred, its voice unusually calm.
> "Hah. For once, no trick, no leash. He gave you everything—stones, points, even a ring, though he believes you cannot touch it until Qi flows. He shields you with his name, and arms you with his wealth. Few men would do so, boy. Fewer masters still."
Lin Tian's gaze fell to the ring, his fingers brushing over its cool surface. The band pulsed faintly against his skin, as though answering something within him.
He froze.
The Map chuckled low.
> "And there it is. Primordial Qi stirs where none should exist. He believes you blind to the ring's treasure. But you, boy… you may open it even now. Quietly. Carefully. Another secret for your keeping."
Lin Tian swallowed hard, bowing once more to Elder Yun He, who was already turning back to his cauldron, heavy in thought.
Inside, his heart thundered with awe—and a new, burning determination.
---
Late at night, under the pale moonlight, Lin Tian turned the silver band over in his hand. Its runes shimmered faintly, but nothing more. Elder Yun He had left the compensation spread across the jade table earlier:
• stacks of spirit stones,
• sealed jade bottles of refining solution,
• contribution tokens gleaming cold in the lamplight,
• and slips of authorization for the Alchemists' Organization's libraries.
All of it had been entrusted to Lin Tian openly. The ring, however, Yun He had set aside almost dismissively.
"You cannot access it yet," the elder had said, tone firm. "Without Qi, a space ring is a dead thing. Keep it as a symbol for now."
Lin Tian's fingers tightened on the cool metal. He whispered inwardly: "But… what if I can?"
The Map stirred with a low chuckle.
> "Then you prove once again you are not like them. The ring is empty now—but think, boy. Wealth weighs heavy. Stones, slips, pills—they are temptations in plain sight. Safer to hide them where no hand can pry."
Lin Tian drew a breath and pressed a thread of Primordial Qi into the ring. At once, the surface shimmered, the runes igniting in response. His vision lurched—then expanded.
A hollow, dark space unfolded before him, silent and vast, waiting like an untouched vault.
Lin Tian's eyes widened. "It… worked."
The Map's tone was edged with dry amusement.
> "Of course it did. Primordial Qi opens doors closed to others. Now—store what was given. Let the world think you carry only scraps while your true fortune lies hidden in your hand."
Heart pounding, Lin Tian carefully began transferring each piece of his newfound wealth: the jade bottles vanishing with a thought, the spirit stones swallowed in glimmers of light, the tokens stacking neatly in the void. One by one, the treasures disappeared from the table—until all that remained was the silver band gleaming faintly on his finger.
He sat back on his mat, clutching his chest where the ring rested. The relief was almost dizzying.
The Map spoke again, quieter this time.
> "Good. Secrets are armor. Yun He gave with open hand, but you carried it further—hidden hand. That is wisdom."
Lin Tian exhaled slowly, the tension leaving him. He lay down, staring at the ceiling. For the first time, he felt not just like a servant holding borrowed things—but the master of his own vault.