Jian Wuxin moved like mist through the outer sect grounds—never rushing, never standing out.
By the second day, six of his ten tasks were complete.
He'd chosen wisely: collecting spirit dew, harvesting herbs, delivering packages, and other mundane chores that most disciples avoided for their low contribution point yield.
But he didn't waste time.
While others spent hours searching for Mistroot Leaves or scraping dew from Windshade Blossoms before dawn, Jian let his puppets do the work in hidden corners of the forest.
Under a concealment formation etched on scraps of stolen beast hide, the three silent corpses slipped through vines, climbed trees, and delivered results without complaint.
> "Never forget," the Soul Devouring Banner whispered, "tools don't need rest. Use what others throw away."
By nightfall of the fourth day, Jian Wuxin turned in bundles of herbs and spirit flower dew—more than the scrolls required.
The task elder blinked, looking at the pile.
"You brought extra."
Jian gave a shallow nod.
The elder glanced at the scroll, then stamped it. "Hm. Take it to the alchemy hall. They'll give you a few low-grade spirit stems in return."
> Bonus loot, Jian thought.
He tucked the roots away, already wondering if he could use them to study beginner alchemy—even if only to understand pill structure better for future deception.
By the sixth day, only three tasks remained—and they were the ones that mattered.
Task 8: Assist the Alchemy Hall Grandmaster with refining furnaces and labeling herbs.
Reward: 15 contribution points and potential knowledge.
Task 9: Deliver a stack of formation stone materials to the Formation Pavilion and sit in on an apprentice-level lecture.
Reward: 12 points and possible introduction to low-tier formations.
Task 10: Assist the Sect Forgemaster with tempering spirit iron ore.
Reward: 1 first-rank flying sword (non-personalized) and 20 points.
Jian Wuxin stared at the final scroll as moonlight spilled into his room.
A flying sword.
Even if it wasn't crafted specifically for him, the value of a first-rank weapon was immeasurable for an outer disciple. Most only gained them through years of climbing sect rankings.
> "First, knowledge. Then tools. Then blood," the banner hissed, pleased.
He slid the scrolls back into his sash, his plan clear.
> Tomorrow, he would enter the heart of the sect—not just to serve, but to observe.
The alchemists. The formation masters. The forgemaster.
He would learn their rhythms. Their weaknesses.
And one day, if needed...
How to take what they protected.
---