The first rays of dawn, pale and tentative, were just beginning to kiss the mist-wreathed peaks surrounding the Mystic Peak Sect when Wang Jian silently slipped from Princess Yue Lingshan’s hut. The small wooden structure was still shrouded in the pre-dawn gloom, and Lingshan herself was deeply asleep, her breathing soft and even, her lips slightly parted, a stark contrast to the passionate cries that had filled the tiny space hours before.

‘She sleeps like the innocent princess she pretends to be during the day,’ Wang Jian thought, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. He allowed himself a final, lingering glance at her peaceful form, the silken robe he’d loosely draped over her doing little to conceal the magnificent curves beneath. ‘Rest well, little Lingshan. You’ll need your strength for the days… and nights… to come.’

He adjusted his own simple grey outer sect disciple robe, ensuring it was neat, devoid of any tell-tale wrinkles or scents that might arouse suspicion. His movements were economical, silent. He was a ghost in the fading darkness.

The outer sect area was slowly stirring to life. A few diligent disciples were already heading towards the training grounds, their faces grim with determination. Others were emerging from their huts, yawning and stretching, the prospect of another day of grueling cultivation or menial sect tasks looming before them.

Wang Jian blended seamlessly into this early morning flow. He was just another new disciple, unremarkable in his attire, his expression carefully neutral. His destination: the Herbal Garden.

He arrived as the sun finally crested the eastern peaks, bathing the terraced gardens in a soft golden light. The air here was fresher, tinged with the rich aroma of damp earth and a thousand different herbs. Rows upon rows of plants, some mundane, others pulsing with faint spiritual energy, stretched out before him.

A few other disciples assigned to the garden were already at work, mostly new arrivals like himself, their faces etched with the weariness of physical labor. They were weeding, watering, meticulously tending to the precious spirit herbs under the watchful eye of a senior disciple, a stern-looking young man in his late teens, perhaps at the second or third stage of Qi Condensation, named Zhou Kang.

“Junior Brother Wang, you’re early,” Zhou Kang noted, his tone neutral but his eyes sharp.

“Senior Brother Zhou,” Wang Jian greeted with a respectful nod. “Diligent work reaps rewards, or so my village elders used to say.”

‘Subtle flattery, acknowledge his seniority, appear eager. Standard procedure.’

Zhou Kang grunted, a flicker of approval in his eyes. “Hmph. At least some of you newcomers understand that. Most expect spirit stones to fall from the sky.” He gestured towards a patch of unruly Fire-Leaf Clover. “That section needs weeding. And be careful not to damage the roots. Deacon Fu will have our hides if any of these wither.”

“Understood, Senior Brother,” Wang Jian replied, picking up a crude weeding tool.

He set to work, his movements efficient, his focus seemingly on the task at hand. But his senses, even without his divine abilities, were sharp. He listened to the chatter of the other disciples, the casual complaints about Deacon Fu’s temper, the gossip about which herbs were fetching good prices, the rumors about inner sect disciples obtaining rare pills.

‘Standard outer sect drudgery,’ Wang Jian observed inwardly. ‘But even here, information flows. And rivalries simmer.’ He noticed a couple of older disciples, probably second-stage Qi Condensation, giving him sideways glances. His relatively swift entry into cultivation a few days ago, reaching the first stage alongside the princess, hadn’t gone entirely unnoticed. ‘Envy. A common motivator.’

He also kept an ear out for any whispers concerning Princess Yue Lingshan. Her beauty and talent were already legendary amongst the newcomers. He knew the male disciples would be fawning, and the female disciples, resentful. He needed to know if any of that envy was coalescing into active schemes. So far, just the usual admiring sighs and jealous glares. ‘Good. Let her natural assets work for her for now.’

As the morning wore on, two figures approached the section where Wang Jian was working. They were Senior Sisters, both perhaps a year or two older than him, their cultivation at the second stage of Qi Condensation. One, with bright, inquisitive eyes and a friendly smile, was Senior Sister Meng Yue. The other, quieter and more reserved, with an air of gentle melancholy, was Senior Sister Su Lin. Both were undeniably pretty, with the clear skin and vibrant aura that came with early cultivation.

And both, Wang Jian noted with a flicker of amusement, stopped to ‘inspect’ the herbs very close to where he was working.

‘Ah, the inevitable. My face, it seems, is still a useful tool, even in this realm.’ His current mortal appearance, while not divinely handsome like his true form, was still striking – sharp features, intense eyes, a lean, powerful build. Enough to turn heads, especially among young women in a relatively isolated sect environment.

“Junior Brother Wang, is it?” Senior Sister Meng Yue chirped, her smile warm. “Deacon Fu mentioned a new diligent disciple. You seem to be handling the Fire-Leaf Clover quite well. Many newcomers damage the spiritual veins in the roots.”

“Senior Sister Meng, Senior Sister Su,” Wang Jian greeted them with a polite bow. “I am merely trying my best. These spirit herbs are quite fascinating.”

Senior Sister Su Lin offered a small, shy smile. “They are. Each has its own unique properties, its own temperament, almost. You have a gentle touch, Junior Brother.”

‘Gentle touch, eh? If only you knew.’ Wang Jian kept his expression mild. “Thank you, Senior Sister Su. I am eager to learn more. The variety here is… astounding.”

“Indeed!” Meng Yue exclaimed. “The Herbal Garden of Mystic Peak Sect is renowned throughout the State of Yue. We cultivate over three hundred common spirit herbs, and even a few dozen rare ones in the protected inner plots.” She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Deacon Fu is a grouch, but he knows his herbs. If you show diligence, he might even let you assist with the more delicate tasks later.”

“That would be an honor,” Wang Jian said earnestly. “I find myself drawn to the study of these plants. Understanding them feels… important.”

This seemed to be the right thing to say. Senior Sister Su Lin’s eyes brightened a little. “You have an interest in herbology, Junior Brother Wang?”

“A growing one, Senior Sister. The Scripture Pavilion offers basic texts, but practical experience is invaluable.”

Meng Yue exchanged a look with Su Lin. “Well,” Meng Yue said, a thoughtful expression on her face, “if you’re truly interested… we have a few… supplementary texts. Old notes, some copied from inner sect disciples. Deacon Fu lets us study them when our tasks are done.”

“Perhaps,” Su Lin added softly, “you might find them useful. There’s one in particular… a rather old, handwritten copy of the ‘Compendium of Immortal Herbs’. It’s not an official sect text for outer disciples, but it’s very comprehensive.”

Wang Jian’s inner smirk widened. ‘Hook, line, and sinker. The Compendium sounds promising.’ He feigned surprise and gratitude. “Senior Sisters, that is incredibly generous! I wouldn’t want to impose…”

“Nonsense!” Meng Yue waved her hand. “We cultivators should help each other. Especially promising juniors like yourself.” She gave him a bright, encouraging smile. “Come by our shared hut near the Western Terrace this evening, after chores. We can lend it to you for a few days.”

“I… I am deeply grateful, Senior Sisters,” Wang Jian said, bowing again. “I will not disappoint your kindness.”

‘Kindness, or a desire to spend more time with the handsome new junior? Either way, it serves my purpose.’

Meanwhile, Princess Yue Lingshan was navigating her own set of challenges and opportunities. After her morning Qi cultivation, where she struggled to sense the elusive Spiritual Energy with her Verdant Water Nourishing Art, she made her way to a small, open-air pavilion where a group of outer disciples dedicated to Array Formations gathered.

The group was led by Senior Brother Lin Kai, the kind-faced, slightly awkward young man who was clearly head-over-heels for her. He brightened considerably when he saw her approach.

“Junior Sister Lingshan! Welcome! We were just about to discuss the foundational principles of the Five Elements Reversal Array!”

The other male disciples in the group – about half a dozen of them – also greeted her with varying degrees of enthusiasm and poorly concealed admiration. The two female disciples present offered noticeably cooler nods.

‘Here we go again,’ Yue Lingshan thought, offering a polite, serene smile to everyone. Wang Jian’s advice echoed in her mind: ‘Use their admiration.’

She listened intently as Senior Brother Lin Kai explained the complex theories, his explanations often punctuated by nervous glances in her direction and slightly flustered corrections. He drew diagrams in the dirt with a stick, trying to make the abstract concepts clear.

“You see, Junior Sister Lingshan,” he’d say, “the key is to understand how the elemental energies flow against their natural inclination. It creates… a disruption, a barrier.”

“So, it’s about creating imbalance to achieve stability?” Lingshan asked, recalling a similar philosophical point Wang Jian had once made during one of their ‘discussions’.

Lin Kai’s eyes lit up. “Precisely, Junior Sister! You have a remarkable aptitude for this! Most beginners struggle with that concept for weeks!”

The other male disciples nodded in agreement, impressed. The female disciples looked even more sour.

Lingshan spent the morning absorbing the basics of array theory. It was complex, requiring a logical mind and a good memory, but she found it strangely engaging. Wang Jian had been right; her royal education, focused on history, strategy, and statecraft, had honed her analytical skills.

Later in the day, she had a ‘private lesson’ in Talisman Crafting. This had been arranged through another admirer, a fourth-stage Qi Condensation disciple named Senior Brother Chen Bo, who had access to a small, private workshop and a limited supply of talisman paper and cinnabar ink.

Chen Bo was older, more serious than Lin Kai, but just as smitten. He patiently showed her how to grind the cinnabar, mix it with spiritual beast blood (a cheap substitute for true spirit ink), and how to imbue her nascent Qi into the brush strokes.

“The flow of Qi is crucial, Junior Sister Lingshan,” he explained, his hand hovering very close to hers as he guided her first attempt at drawing a simple ‘Minor Strength Talisman’. “It must be smooth, unbroken. Your intent must be focused.”

Her first few attempts were failures – smudged lines, broken Qi flow, the talisman paper refusing to accept the spiritual imprint. She felt a flicker of frustration.

“Do not be discouraged, Junior Sister,” Chen Bo said gently. “Talisman crafting requires immense patience and practice. Even a single successful Minor Strength Talisman is an achievement for a newcomer.” His gaze lingered on her face, filled with encouragement and something more.

Lingshan offered him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Senior Brother Chen. Your guidance is invaluable.” She made sure to keep a polite but distinct physical distance, always remembering Wang Jian’s warning. ‘He’s helpful, but his eyes… they linger a bit too long.’

As the day ended, Lingshan returned to her hut, her mind buzzing with array theories and talisman strokes. It was challenging, but for the first time since arriving at the sect, she felt a sense of purpose beyond just ‘cultivating’. She was learning skills, tangible skills. And Wang Jian… his faith in her, his guidance, it was a constant source of strength.

That evening, after his own Qi cultivation, Wang Jian made his way to the hut shared by Senior Sister Meng Yue and Senior Sister Su Lin near the Western Terrace.

Meng Yue greeted him with a bright smile. “Junior Brother Wang! Come in, come in! We found the Compendium for you.”

Their hut was slightly larger than the standard new disciple dwellings, and a bit neater, with a few feminine touches – a small vase with wildflowers, a woven mat with a colorful pattern. Su Lin was seated at a small table, carefully copying notes from a scroll. She looked up and offered him a shy smile.

Meng Yue proudly presented him with a thick, hand-bound volume. Its cover was worn, made of some kind of treated animal hide, the title ‘Compendium of Immortal Herbs’ inscribed in faded gold lettering.

“This is it,” Meng Yue said. “It’s a copy of a copy, of course. The original is said to be in the Inner Sect Library, or perhaps even with the Ancestors. But this version is still very detailed.”

Wang Jian took the Compendium, his expression one of profound gratitude. “Senior Sisters, I… I don’t know how to thank you enough. This is an incredible treasure.”

‘Treasure indeed. Let’s see what secrets this realm’s flora holds.’

He opened it. The pages were filled with delicate, precise drawings of countless herbs, accompanied by detailed descriptions of their properties, growth conditions, harvesting methods, and potential uses. What truly caught his eye was the meticulous cross-referencing of names – common names, ancient names, regional variations, even some names whispered in cultivator circles.

‘This is far more valuable than I expected. Knowing the true identity of an herb, beyond its common peasant name, is crucial. And these notes on ancient names… they could unlock knowledge from texts even these Senior Sisters haven’t seen.’

“It even mentions some… legendary spirit herbs,” Su Lin said softly, joining them. “Things that haven’t been seen in centuries. And how to recognize them, even if they look like common weeds.”

Wang Jian spent some time flipping through the pages, feigning awe and asking ‘novice’ questions, which the Senior Sisters were only too happy to answer, clearly pleased by his genuine interest (and his handsome face).

He then subtly shifted the conversation. “Speaking of herbs, Senior Sisters… I’ve heard whispers about alchemy. Creating pills. It sounds so… magical. Do either of you… practice it?”

Meng Yue and Su Lin exchanged a glance. “We… we are only outer sect disciples, Junior Brother,” Meng Yue said. “True pill refinement is mostly done by Inner Sect alchemists, or the Deacons and Elders. But,” she brightened, “we do sometimes assist Deacon Fu when he prepares some of the simpler medicinal pastes or low-grade cultivation aids for the outer sect. He has a small alchemy corner in his private stores.”

“Really?” Wang Jian’s eyes lit up with feigned excitement. “That must be fascinating to watch! The way herbs are transformed into potent elixirs… I can only imagine.”

Su Lin nodded shyly. “It is… a very precise art. Every ingredient, every flame temperature, every stirring motion must be perfect.”

“I wonder,” Wang Jian said, his voice filled with hopeful innocence, “if… if I could perhaps observe sometime? From a distance, of course! I wouldn’t want to be a bother. But just to see the process… it would be an incredible learning experience.”

Meng Yue looked at Su Lin again. Su Lin gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod.

“Well,” Meng Yue said, trying to sound casual, though her eyes sparkled. “Deacon Fu is… particular. But he sometimes needs extra hands for grinding herbs, or maintaining the fire. If you’re truly interested, and if you promise to be very careful and follow instructions exactly…”

“Oh, I would, Senior Sister! Absolutely!” Wang Jian exclaimed. “I would be silent as a mouse, and twice as helpful!”

Meng Yue giggled. “Alright, Junior Brother. Next time Deacon Fu plans a session, we’ll see if we can… persuade him to allow an observant apprentice. But no promises!”

“That is more than I could hope for! Thank you, Senior Sisters!” Wang Jian bowed deeply.

‘Perfect. Access to even basic alchemy observation. One step closer to understanding this realm’s refinement methods. These Senior Sisters are proving quite… useful.’ He smiled charmingly at them, making them both blush slightly.

He stayed a while longer, discussing herbs, subtly gathering more information about the Herbal Garden’s routines, Deacon Fu’s temperament, and the general dynamics among the disciples working there. He made sure to leave them with the impression of a handsome, intelligent, and endearingly eager junior brother.

As he finally took his leave, clutching the precious Compendium, Senior Sister Meng Yue and Senior Sister Su Lin watched him go, a wistful sigh escaping both their lips.

“He’s… quite something, isn’t he?” Meng Yue murmured.

Su Lin nodded, a faint blush still on her cheeks. “Yes. Very… dedicated to learning.”

‘And very, very handsome,’ both of them thought silently.

Wang Jian returned to his hut, his mind buzzing. The Compendium was a goldmine. The potential access to alchemy observation was another significant step.

He spent the next few hours devouring the Compendium, his powerful soul memorizing every page, every drawing, every obscure note. Then, he began his own cultivation.

The ‘Bright Jade Art’ was, as described, focused on rapid Qi absorption. He sat in the lotus position, his mind clearing, following the technique’s prescribed meridional pathways. Slowly, painstakingly, he drew in the thin ambient Spiritual Energy, guiding it, refining it.

The first stage of Qi Condensation was about familiarization, about opening the initial pathways. He had already achieved this. Now, it was about accumulation.

‘My current goal: Qi Condensation Stage Four, perhaps Five. That should grant enough Qi for basic self-defense techniques, if I can find or adapt some. Enough to move more freely within the outer sect, maybe even venture into the safer parts of the surrounding mountains without being completely vulnerable. And enough to… enhance my physical attributes further.’

He knew that true strength, the kind that could challenge this world, was still a distant dream. But every wisp of Qi gathered, every piece of knowledge absorbed, was a step closer. The path was long, but Wang Jian was nothing if not patient, especially when the rewards were ultimate power and conquest.

The night deepened. In one hut, a princess diligently practiced drawing her first shaky talismans, her brow furrowed in concentration, occasionally pausing to touch her lips, a soft smile playing there. In another, a disguised demonic sovereign meticulously absorbed ancient herbal lore, his mind already formulating plans within plans, his ambition a cold, steady flame in the darkness.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep