"Then, I will take my leave for now," the old man said, offering a slight, practiced bow as his silk robes rustled softly in the quiet air. A shrewd glint flickered in his eyes as he added, almost as an afterthought, "Oh, and one more thing. Might the fairy have any elixirs or rare medicines on hand? I brought a considerable amount of silver this time, and it would be a shame to let it all go to waste."
It was clear now that their serious business was concluded. The formal merchant was gone, and his true, deal-making nature was beginning to shine through in his expectant expression.
"I have a good supply of Black Jade Bone-Mending Ointment," Su Min offered without hesitation. "It's a remedy for bruises and broken bones. Are you interested?"
Though she was an alchemist, that didn't mean Su Min only refined pills. Items like the Black Jade Bone-Mending Ointment were among the simplest she made in her small courtyard. The process of alchemical refinement generally had three steps: purification, fusion; and finally, there was the pill formation. That last step was particularly troublesome and energy-consuming. If you could skip it, you could save over ninety percent of the effort required.
This ointment didn't require that final step of solidification, so it couldn't even be considered a true pill. It was extremely simple for her to refine in large batches. In fact, over seventy percent of the common herbs the villagers gathered ended up in her hands for this very purpose.
The demand for it was constant among the mountain tribes. Most people who came to seek her aid had physical injuries this balm could heal. She only issued a limited number of smooth bamboo medallions for her more serious treatments, leaving the minor illnesses to heal on their own. But a broken limb wasn't no joke, especially for the young and able-bodied workers whose physical livelihoods supported entire families.
"The legendary bone-setting medicine?" The merchant's eyes lit up at her words, his interest clearly piqued.
"Exactly," Su Min nodded. "These aren't pills, but herbal paste I have kneaded into balls for easier preservation. When you need it, just dissolve one in water and apply the dark mixture to the wound. Unless the injury is truly severe, most cases will heal completely within a few weeks."
As she spoke, she pulled out a small, heavy gourd from her shelf. It contained seventy or eighty portions of the pungent balm. Thanks to her special preservation techniques, it had a shelf life of at least twenty years, and it can last up to fifty if kept in a cool, dry place.
"This balm isn't made through full pill-refinement, so the process is much quicker," she explained. "Its medicinal potency remains strong for at least fifteen years, and even longer if stored properly in sealed jade or ceramic."
"Quickly, bring the bottles!" Hearing her explanation, the merchant didn't dare delay. He immediately snapped orders at his attendants, who produced dozens of small ceramic bottles with smooth glazes. He then carefully portioned out the thick, dark ointment into each one, his fingers moving with practiced speed.
Before coming to this village, he had done his homework on Su Min. He knew particularly how he had repeatedly broken the tribal chief's leg and then healed it completely with this very ointment. What shocked him most was that despite such brutal treatment, the chief suffered no lasting weakness in his stride. Even on cold, damp days, his leg showed no discomfort or stiffness. This ointment was one of his main targets for the trip, and he had come prepared with the silver to match.
"Also," he ventured, his tone turning hopeful as he finished packing the jars, "what about the sleep-inducing incense paste? I wonder if you might have any of that available for purchase."
"That's out of the question," Su Min refused flatly. "I only have one batch, and refining it is extremely difficult."
That stuff made robbery and murder far too easy for the unscrupulous. It was essentially an anesthetic, and a potent one at that, rivaling what she remembered from the chemical compounds of her past life. If a hospital back then lost track of its anesthetic supply, even the director would have gone mad with worry over the liability.
So she would never sell it to a traveling merchant. She wouldn't part with her proper pills, either. Money held far less appeal for her than the quiet pursuit of the Great Dao. The Black Jade Bone-Mending Ointment was easy to refine from local mountain herbs, so selling it was fine, but nothing else.
"In that case, we shall take our leave," the merchant said, accepting her refusal gracefully as he wiped his hands. He gestured, and an attendant placed a heavy chest on the wooden table. "Here is the silver taels we agreed upon. Does it meet your satisfaction?"
"It does."
Su Min glanced at the small mountain of silver ingots and gave a pleased nod. It's more than enough to buy all the rare materials she needed for her next stage. She watched as the merchant, smiling broadly now, departed with his entourage and his laden servants. Judging by the grin on his face, he had no doubt secured a handsome profit for himself in the cities. She didn't mind. She knew he could sell the balm for far higher prices in the central plains than he had paid her here, but that meant little to her.
Money, after all, was just a tool for her journey. As long as she had enough for her immediate needs, that was all that mattered. Besides, the merchant had the channels and connections to maximize the balm's value—something she had absolutely no interest in doing herself. She wasn't about to waste her precious time flattering nobles or lobbying officials just to sell a little more balm.
"Enough of that," she murmured to herself as the courtyard grew quiet again. "Time to tidy up and continue cultivating."
With a casual wave of her hand, the towering pile of silver vanished from the table, tucked neatly into the storage ring on her finger. The merchant had also brought her an important piece of news: Sect Leader Zhao was on his way back to the mountains.
Once she cured him of his lingering poison, she could prepare to advance to Qi-Refining. But before that, she needed to reach the true peak of late-stage Body-Refining. Only then could she take the Qi-Inducing Pill and step into Qi-Refining, which was the true threshold of cultivation. Before that point, a person was merely a martial arts expert of the mortal realm.
A single warrior might not kill you, but what about ten? A hundred? Ten thousand? No matter how strong you were, could you withstand a mortal army of a hundred thousand? Even a Qi-Refining cultivator couldn't outright stop such a massive force, but with the right spiritual techniques, they could escape from it unscathed.
Once she reached Qi-Refining, she could unlock the Artifact section of her Alchemy and Artifact Manual. She might even have a chance to upgrade her lifebound spiritual artifact with better materials. Even in the game she remembered, lifebound treasures were top-tier equipment; they were the kind you could use from the very start all the way to the end of the journey. Especially in local games influenced by wuxia and xianxia tropes, sword cultivators were always considered the most well-rounded and powerful path.
If a newcomer didn't know what to choose, going for the straightforward sword cultivator was always a safe bet. Sure, you could branch out into other specializations later, but it would feel like a waste of your initial lifebound artifact.
As time passed, another winter arrived in the mountains.
Su Min, deep in meditation in her quiet hut, suddenly opened her eyes. She raised a hand, catching a single, perfect snowflake as it drifted down from the grey sky, her face registering soft surprise at the cold touch.
"Snow," she murmured to the silent room. "It's snowing here?" A thoughtful frown touched her lips as she watched the white flakes gather. "Is this the start of a new Little Ice Age, the kind that dictates the rise and fall of dynasties?" She studied the intricate crystal melting in her palm with mild bewilderment. This wasn't a good sign for the common people.
This was the deep south, where winter temperatures rarely dipped below ten degrees. Snow was unheard of in these parts. Though the Great Wei was sizable, comparable to the ancient Han or Tang empires, it was still just a single corner of this vast world. With the barriers between heaven and earth still intact, and the ancient clans and sects yet to emerge into the open, it was hard to say what this unseasonable weather truly meant. But one thing was clear to her: the northern winter this year would be exceptionally harsh, cold enough to claim many, many lives.
While the snow fell silently around her village, a caravan of travelers struggled along a rugged mountain path many miles away, leading their horses carefully over the frozen, uneven terrain.
"Snow," one of them muttered, brushing a cold, wet flake from his weathered cheek. He looked up at the grey sky, his expression grim. "Even here? This can't be a good omen." He sighed, his breath misting in the sudden chill of the mountain air. "Heaven, help all living things."