Time flows on, and a full month quietly slips away.
Lin Chen reached sixth stage of the Root Vein Awakening Realm.
This progress wasn't the result of luck or hidden talent—it was the product of relentless effort and careful use of resources. Over the past month, he had taken on two more safe missions, earning just enough to trade for an additional fifteen Qi Gathering Pills.
Had he relied solely on meditation to absorb the Essence Qi in nature, he estimated he would still be crawling through the fourth stage at best. Pills, however, acted like a powerful catalyst—transforming days of slow, grueling progress into hours of steady advancement.
"Truly… pills are remarkable." Lin Chen muttered to himself, glancing at the empty porcelain bottles scattered across the table. If spiritual stones were the currency of this world, pills were its lifeblood. Without them, even the most dedicated cultivator could only go so far before hitting a wall.
"Now… time for some combat practice. Gotta move my body and stabilize my cultivation," Lin Chen muttered, stretching as he rose from his bed.
Over the past month, the pills had accelerated his cultivation tremendously, pushing him through the stages with dizzying speed.
But his body hadn't kept pace. Muscles were stiff, limbs weak, and his body lacked the resilience needed to support such a dense, potent flow of Qi. He hadn't done a single push-up, sword swing, or stance drill for a week.
If he continued like this, he'd become a textbook glass cannon fodder—his cultivation formidable, but one hard strike away from collapse.
What he needed now was combat experience, a way to stretch his muscles and temper his body so that his cultivation would truly stabilize. That was why he decided to take on his first combat mission.
It wasn't only about training his physique either. Lin Chen also needed to learn how to actually fight. He couldn't always rely on Aiva to handle every situation.
If there ever came a day when she couldn't help him—whether silenced, blocked, or stripped of access—he would be helpless. The thought of that worst-case scenario crossed his mind more than once, and it was enough to steel his resolve.
***
As he arrived at the mission board, Lin Chen's face instantly twisted in annoyance.
Standing there, blocking half the postings, was a man who looked like he had walked straight out of a third-rate harem novel. Smooth skin, flowing white robes trimmed with gold, and brown hair that swayed gently despite the complete lack of wind.
His face was… above average, Lin Chen admitted reluctantly. But what really made him squint in disbelief was the glow. The man's clothes practically sparkled, as though someone had taken the time to polish them with spiritual wax.
Lin Chen's lips twitched. Are robes supposed to shine like that?
Until now, he'd never seen a person's skin look that radiant. Heck, even the most heavily edited modern celebrities back on Earth didn't shine that brightly.
Maybe this was just how cultivators looked once they got strong enough—too much Qi in the body, leaking out and making them unnaturally fair and glossy.
"Great," Lin Chen muttered under his breath. "A living advertisement for a skin cream. Just what I needed today."
Even worse—he was surrounded by a flock of giggling outer sect girls.
Exactly what Lin Chen needed to witness this early in the morning: a full-blown spirit-realm soap opera.
"Senior Yu Feng, you're so amazing!"
"Senior Yu Feng, will you teach me sword forms again?"
"Senior Yu Feng, I baked these spirit cookies just for you~!"
The air around them practically shimmered with pink flower petals. Lin Chen swore he could hear background music—sweet flutes and lutes—that obviously no one else noticed.
He squinted, rubbing his eyes. Is this real? Am I still meditating? Did I fall asleep and roll into a fever dream?
Meanwhile, Yu Feng struck a pose, flashing a smile so dazzling it could probably blind low-level disciples on the spot. With a casual flick of his sleeve, he looked every bit the prince in a stage play.
And then—because the heavens clearly had a sense of humor—a white bird flew gracefully behind him, wings glinting in the sunlight.
Lin Chen's eye twitched violently. "…This is straight out of a cliché novel," he muttered under his breath, fighting to keep a straight face. "What's next? An arrogant slap? Some young master screaming 'You dare?'"
Right on cue—as if the universe had heard his sarcasm and decided to play along—a fellow outer disciple appeared beside him. Average-looking, average cultivation, the kind of guy you'd forget existed five seconds after he walked away.
"Jealous?" the outer disciple asked with a grin, nudging Lin Chen with his elbow like they were old gossip partners.
"Not one bit," Lin Chen replied flatly.
And he was being honest—mostly. Sure, the guy was handsome and shiny, his skin glowing unnaturally bright, the air around him probably scented with spirit peach blossoms.
He was surrounded by pretty girls, and they were practically drooling over him. But jealousy wasn't the word. Annoyance was. Annoyance that Lin Chen had to stand here, early in the morning, and be force-fed this glittering drama.
He had bigger problems. Like not dying poor.
"I'll get to that when I'm strong enough," Lin Chen muttered, more to himself than anyone else. "No point in chasing skirts when you don't even have the strength to protect yourself." His priorities were simple: first, get strong; later, think about women.
One thing he had learned from all those cultivation novels he used to read back on Earth was that relationships when you're weak could end painfully.
Sometimes heartbreakingly so. The woman you love might belong to a powerful clan, and you'd be forced to part ways. Sometimes she'd be taken from you outright Weakness means no say in your own life, let alone in romance.
"I'm damn jealous," the other disciple admitted without shame, still staring like he was watching a divine play. "But that's Senior Yu Feng. He's not just some pretty face—he's an inner sect disciple and a total monster. Reached the fifth stage of Essence Forging at sixteen! Can you believe that? I was still figuring out how to sit cross-legged properly at that age."
Lin Chen's eyebrows lifted a fraction. That was… admittedly impressive. Three years younger than him, yet already nine full stages ahead. The sheer gap was enough to make his chest feel heavy.
He exhaled slowly, the sound long and weary, as if it carried the weight of a thousand years of mediocrity. "Wonderful," he muttered under his breath. "A genius to brighten my morning."
He turned away before his self-esteem completely crumbled. Staring at geniuses for too long was hazardous to his mental health.
Instead, he headed for the mission board, hoping to find something suitable for combat practice—preferably not involving feral spirit beasts. He wasn't nearly ready to test himself against the oversized menaces that roamed the cultivation world.
That was when his eyes caught a particular notice. The bold title was enough to grab his attention immediately:
{ Urgent Request: Several girls have mysteriously gone missing in the nearby town of Yangzhou. Locals suspect demonic activity or rogue cultivators. }
The details were brief: a cultivator was needed to investigate. The reward? Fifty mid-grade spirit stones.
Lin Chen blinked. Then he blinked again.
"…Fifty?" he whispered, leaning closer like the number might change if he squinted hard enough. "That's basically five thousand low-grade spirit stones. What is this, a missing person's case or a mercenary contract?"
He quickly checked the fine print. Requirement: Minimum cultivation, 7th stage of Root Vein Awakening.
Officially, he was only at the 6th stage. Unofficially? Rules were just suggestions when you had decent acting skills, flexible muscle control, clever Qi manipulation—and Aiva's support. With her help, he could probably pass for a 7th stage cultivator in combat strength.
Still, the rewards screamed trouble. Nobody threw around mid-grade spirit stones unless the situation was dire.
The disappearance of girls must be serious if they're paying this much, he thought, scratching his chin.
His gaze landed on the name of the town: Yangzhou. Roughly two hundred kilometers from the sect.
For a mortal, that distance was a death march. This world had no trains, or modern transport—just your own legs and luck. But for a cultivator with Lightning Footwork, it was nothing more than a scenic jog.
"If I push myself, I can make it in two days. Maybe one and a half if I skip breaks and don't trip over any wild beasts," Lin Chen muttered.
He gave the board one final glance, nodded to himself, and straightened his back. "Guess I should go."
*****
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