“Junior Brother Han, it seems I’m riding your coattails to another reward.”

After Senior Brother Jin Qi departed, Senior Sister Li turned to Han Yu with a warm smile. “With these resources, I should reach the ninth layer of Qi Refining within a year.” Her eyes twinkled playfully. “But knowing you, you’ll probably make another major contribution before then, and I won’t even need the full year.”

Han Yu shook his head, offering a modest smile. “Contribution requires opportunity. Without the right timing, even the most eager disciple can’t force a miracle.”

“Whether you perform another miracle or not, the Sect has already placed an immense amount of trust in you.”

Senior Sister Li’s expression grew serious. She worried that Han Yu, being young, might not fully grasp the weight of the Sect’s investment.

“They worry your Four Spirit Roots aptitude will act as a shackle, slowing your cultivation. That is why they granted you the Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart and a bottle of Qi Gathering Pills—to force a breakthrough,” she explained.

“Because your spirit beasts proved vital, they gave you Beast Spirit Pills to accelerate their growth. And because you are now a target, they gifted you a blood-bound Storage Bag. From this day forward, keep your treasures in the bound bag and your sundries in the common one. Even if a thief takes your bag, they will find it impenetrable.”

Han Yu nodded. He felt the weight of her words.

Since revealing his talent for spellcraft, the Sect had been anything but stingy. The rewards were lavish, the feedback immediate. His fellow disciples, like Senior Sister Li and Hua Qi, were decent people, free from the petty squabbles common in other stories.

If not for the looming threat of external enemies, Wanchun Valley would be a cultivator’s paradise.

Back in the safety of his room, Han Yu infused his Spirit Breath into the new Storage Bag, sealing the blood-bind.

He immediately transferred his most valuable assets: the Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart, the Mystic Heart Fruit, the Spirit Blood Vine, his remaining Qi Gathering Pills, four Foundation Establishment talismans, and twenty Qi Refining talismans.

The new bag’s internal space wasn’t larger than his old one, but its security was absolute.

In his old, common bag, he left only the Spirit Rice, Spirit Stones, various technique Jade Slips, and two basic artifact refining manuals—items that were replaceable or practically worthless to a thief.

Inventory complete, Han Yu sat cross-legged on his bed.

The drama with Zhu Laosan and the Demonic Cultivator was over. It was time to focus on himself.

He swallowed a Qi Gathering Pill, gripped the Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart, and began to circulate the Green Grain Qi Cultivation Method, pushing his Spirit Breath to its limit.

That night, when the large raven returned, Han Yu tossed it a Beast Spirit Pill.

“Try this. Let me know the potency.”

The raven snatched the pill from the air, swallowed it, and closed its eyes to process the energy. A moment later, it conveyed its assessment to Han Yu: Far inferior to the Mystic Heart Fruit. Slightly worse than the Spirit Blood Vine. Better than eating a Spirit-Stealing Rat.

Han Yu nodded, forming a mental hierarchy. The Beast Spirit Pills were potent enough to awaken ordinary crows or reward those in the early Qi Refining stage. For his elites—the large raven and the scout—the pills were merely a snack, helpful but not transformative.

The next morning, routine returned to the valley. Han Yu stood by the Steward’s office, practicing his hand seals.

A few days later, Senior Sister Li retrieved the Green Grain seeds from the vault, kicking off a flurry of agricultural activity. Li, Hua Qi, Han Yu, and the army of disciples turned the soil, sowed the seeds, and channeled water into the furrows.

When the work was finally done, a change came over the Spirit Field Department.

The disciples watched Han Yu practicing his combat spells. Recently, many of them had exchanged merits for offensive techniques and had plenty of Spirit Rice to fuel their training.

Their hands were itching. They were eager to try.

One bold disciple approached. “Junior Brother Han… would you mind if we practiced alongside you?”

“Not at all,” Han Yu said. “The open ground is free for everyone.”

That broke the dam. Within days, over a dozen disciples were lining up to cast fireballs and wind blades. Even those who didn’t join in watched with keen interest, their fighting spirit ignited.

After discussing it with Li and Hua Qi, Han Yu submitted a proposal to the Sect: The Spirit Field Department needed a dedicated training ground for combat and sparring.

In the past, Wanchun Valley had suppressed martial tendencies. Few outer disciples bothered learning how to fight until they faced a life-or-death crisis. But times had changed. The farmers were becoming soldiers.

Coincidentally, the Medicine Garden and Artifact Refining Department submitted similar requests. The Sect, recognizing the shift, approved them all.

Five new training grounds were established across the valley.

Suddenly, Wanchun Valley was alive with the sound of explosions and the hum of magic. The only quiet places left were the Ancestral Mausoleum and the remote patrol routes.

It felt like a different sect. Senior Sister Li and Hua Qi often remarked on the strange, aggressive energy that had taken hold of their peaceful valley.

Twenty days flew by.

Han Yu divided his time between cultivating his base level, drilling the Thousand Illusions Secret Art, and reviewing the Green Wood Protection Technique.

His crows remained active. They scoured the wilderness for herbs and kept a watchful eye on the perimeter for spies.

Through their surveillance, Han Yu cracked the schedule of the “Small Gathering.” It occurred on any date containing a four or a nine.

The attendees were paranoid. They masked their faces and hid their cultivation levels. Violence was rare, but when it erupted, it was swift and fatal. These were rogue cultivators playing for keeps.

One evening, the large raven brought news: The goateed traveling merchant had returned to the Green Grain Market.

Han Yu immediately informed Senior Sister Li, who rushed to report it to Elder Lu.

They thought it would be an easy capture. They were wrong.

The merchant was slippery as an eel. The figure walking through the market wasn’t him—it was a sophisticated “Human Puppet,” a flesh-construct controlled remotely.

When the Sect’s enforcers tackled the suspect, the merchant severed his mental link instantly. The “merchant” collapsed, lifeless, leaving the Sect with nothing but an empty shell.

Although the raid failed, the Sect rewarded Han Yu with another bottle of Beast Spirit Pills for the intelligence.

Using these pills, Han Yu awakened four more crows. His air force now boasted two mid-stage Qi Refining commanders, eighteen early-stage soldiers, and dozens of unawakened scouts.

Time flowed like water—slow in the moment, but vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Several months passed.

Han Yu was now fourteen.

He had shot up in height, his robes fitting a little tighter around the shoulders. The last traces of childish roundness had melted from his face, replaced by the sharp, defined features of a young man.

In his Dantian, the Spirit Breath sprout was thriving. The second leaf had unfurled almost completely. He was on the brink. Another month or two, and he would break through to the next layer.

The seasons turned, bringing a crisp chill to the air and a buzz of excitement to the sect.

Registration for the annual Grand Competition—for both Inner and Outer Disciples—had officially begun.