The next three days were a lesson in brutal humility. Li Yao's world shrank to the confines of the Vermin's Nest. His home was a collapsed lean-to, shielded from the worst of the elements by a rotting tapestry stolen from a dumpster behind a cheap inn. His days were a cycle of pain, meditation, and scavenging.
The [Withering Root Absorption] technique became his primary occupation. The System guided him to the faint spiritual signatures others overlooked: the crushed petals of a Sun-Kissed Lily in the gutter, the gnawed root of a Silvervein Creeper tossed by a traveling alchemist's apprentice, the discarded carapace of a low-level spirit insect. Each was a tiny battery, holding a sliver of energy he desperately needed.
"Energy absorption from 'Crushed Sun-Kissed Lily Petal' complete. Qi purity: 12%. Regeneration progress: 7.3%. Lifespan stability has returned to baseline."
Baseline. Four hundred years. The number haunted him. It seemed long, but the Essence Gathering Realm's Perfection Sub-Realm was a distant peak. How many years would it take to climb it, scraping by on garbage? The pressure was a constant, cold weight in his gut.
He wasn't just gathering energy; he was learning. The System was a relentless tutor.
"Analysis: The 'Fading Moon Grass' stem contained trace impurities from the 'Blacksoil' of the Western Marshes. This creates a minor dissonance in the Wood-attribute Qi. Suggestion: When next drawing such energy, utilize a counter-rotating spiral in the lesser lung meridian to filter the earthy residue."
Li Yao complied, his focus absolute. He felt the difference immediately. The energy that entered his core was slightly purer, smoother. It was a minuscule improvement, but it was his improvement, born of understanding, not blind force.
This was the System's true value. It wasn't giving him power; it was teaching him the fundamental science of this world's energy. He was learning the "why" behind the "how."
On the fourth day, a new problem arose. Hunger. The original Li Yao's body was malnourished, and the intense mental and physical strain of cultivation was burning through his caloric reserves. His silver coins were gone, stolen during the beating. He was starving.
He watched a street vendor selling tough, greasy flatbreads for a single copper coin. The smell was intoxicating. Desperation clawed at him. Could he steal one? His new senses and speed gave him a chance. But the risk...
"Ethical Subroutine Note: Petty theft, while survivally expedient, carries a high risk-to-reward ratio and can create detrimental karma, affecting future tribulations. Alternative Suggestion: Generate value."
"With what?" Li Yao muttered, his stomach growling.
"Analysis: Host has accumulated knowledge of 17 low-grade spiritual material residue types. This data is unique. The slum-dwellers are unaware of the residual energy in their refuse. You can trade this knowledge."
The plan formed slowly. He found an old, broken mortar and pestle in a rubble pile. Using a sharp stone, he painstakingly cleaned it. Then, he spent half a day gathering his "ingredients": the cleanest Fading Moon Grass stems, the driest Sun-Kissed Lily petals, and the powdered carapace of the Spirit-Glow Beetle.
Following the System's precise instructions—a crude, improvised technique it dubbed [Refuse Refinement]—he ground them together, infusing the mixture with a tiny, consistent stream of his own Qi to catalyze a reaction.
The result was a foul-smelling, grey paste.
"Product: 'Crude Qi-Soothing Salve.' Grade: Sub-Mortal. Efficacy: 8% of a standard Low-Grade salve. Effect: Minorly accelerates healing of superficial bruises and cuts. Non-toxic."
It was pathetic. But it was something. Something he had made.
He took his creation to a haggard-looking miner who was nursing a deep gash on his forearm, sitting outside a ramshackle tavern.
"I can help with that," Li Yao said, his voice raspy.
The miner, a brute named Gor, glared at him. "Piss off, rat."
"It's a salve. For the cut. Try it. If it doesn't work, you lose nothing. If it does... you can pay me what you think it's worth."
Gor was skeptical, but the pain was evident. With a grunt, he let Li Yao apply the greasy paste. A faint, cool sensation emanated from the wound. The throbbing pain subsided noticeably within minutes.
Gor's eyes widened. He looked from his arm to the scrawny, bruised youth. He fished in his pocket and tossed Li Yao two copper coins. "Don't tell anyone where you got that," he grunted, a strange look in his eye.
It wasn't much. But it was two copper coins he had earned not through servitude, but through his own knowledge and effort. He bought five flatbreads, devouring three immediately and saving two for the next day.
It was a turning point. He wasn't just a scavenger. He was a creator. A lowly, garbage-tier alchemist, but a creator nonetheless.
---
Interlude: The Captain's Duty
Captain Wang Zhong stood in his austere office within the Guard barracks. Maps of Flowing Wind City and the surrounding wilderness were pinned to the walls. He was a stern, solidly built man in his prime, his aura contained but formidable. A Late Core Formation expert, he was the law in this city, answerable only to the City Lord and the representatives of the nearby "Soaring Cloud Sect."
His son, Wang Jin, stood before him, looking petulant.
"Father, this servant, this Li Yao... he humiliated my men. He must be made an example of."
Wang Zhong sighed inwardly. His son saw the world in simple terms: his pleasure and his displeasure. He did not see the delicate balance of power, the limited resources, or the ever-present threat of demonic beasts from the "Whispering Fang Forest."
"Jin, a missing servant is not a priority for the City Guard," Wang Zhong said, his voice calm but firm. "We have reports of a Savage-Tusk Boar harassing the western farms. The Soaring Cloud Sect's annual disciple selection is in two months. Our resources and attention are needed elsewhere."
"But he used Qi! A servant! What if he found an inheritance? What if—"
"What if he did?" Wang Zhong interrupted, his eyes sharp. "Then chasing him through the slums like a common thug is the worst way to handle it. It creates noise. It draws the attention of... others." He gestured vaguely, indicating the other merchant families and the ever-watchful sect envoys. "If this boy has stumbled upon something, he will surface. And when he does, we will be waiting, quietly. Not with clubs, but with nets. Do you understand?"
Wang Jin's face tightened, but he nodded. He understood the logic, even if he despised the patience it required. "Yes, Father."
"Good. Now, your cultivation. Have you stabilized the energy flow from the last Spirit-Gathering Pill? The sect selection will be here before you know it. Focus on what is important."
For Wang Jin, it was pride and greed. For Captain Wang Zhong, it was a colder, more calculating interest. A potential unknown variable in his city's fragile ecosystem. The hunt for Li Yao was no longer a simple grudge; it had become a quiet, patient operation.
---