The noise of the market still buzzed around him as Jin resumed his walk, now holding a small ceramic bottle in his hand. It was white, smooth, and sealed with a thin strip of yellow paper marked with a simple ideogram. It weighed almost nothing… but its price definitely weighed on his heart.
"Fifty merit points… for five pills," he muttered with a mix of resignation and relief.
He held the bottle up against the light, giving it a gentle turn.
The vendor—an overly thin disciple with permanent dark circles and a smile far too eager—had reluctantly accepted merit points instead of spirit stones.
According to him, "Stones are the real currency of the cultivation world; points only matter inside the sect."
And while Jin knew he was right, he had no alternative. Not yet.
Still, the boy had given in when Jin asked if he preferred to sell them… or return to his dorm empty-handed after wasting the whole day.
A small victory.
As he walked through the improvised rows of the market, Jin observed everything around him with renewed attention. Booths made of old planks held together by rope, blankets spread on the ground displaying piles of herbs, dried roots, shiny stones, and useless trinkets that everyone called treasures in hopes of fooling someone.
Voices overlapped in chaotic layers:
"Freshly picked first-grade herbs!"
"Cheap weapons! Perfect for beginners!"
"Talismans! Protective talismans at half price… I think!"
Jin pressed his lips together, amused.
"This place is a mess… but a useful mess," he thought.
His gaze returned to the bottle in his hand.
Lesser Soothing Pills.
That was their name. According to the vendor, they helped reduce muscle pain and accelerated physical recovery after intense training.
Exactly what he needed after his brilliant idea of punching himself from the inside using compressed Qi.
Every step reminded him of his body: tense shoulders, stiff muscles, sharp internal stings running through his arms and back.
But his posture remained firm, as if refusing to let exhaustion show.
"I guess… even if I looked like a desperate rookie, this will be worth it," he thought, slipping the bottle into his robe.
Jin continued through the market aisles, letting his eyes glide almost instinctively over the items displayed on both sides.
A stall showed simple iron daggers—barely polished—lined up with the solemnity of ancient relics.
"Hand-refined dagger – 25 low-grade spirit stones."
The handwritten tag seemed more optimistic than its vendor.
A bit further ahead, bottles filled with murky liquids bubbled whenever a light breeze stirred the stall's cloth. The owner—a disciple with thick glasses and a permanently suspicious expression—claimed they were "Elixirs of Inner Clarity."
"Yeah, sure… clarity for the stomach," Jin thought as he read the price: "18 stones."
Another robust disciple swung around some bamboo sticks, trying to sell them as if they were divine objects.
"Spiritual Bamboo — channels Qi (when it feels like it)," Jin read. "Thirty-two stones for something that might work… well, at least they're honest."
A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"Questionable weapons for twenty-five… potions that look like mushroom water for eighteen…" he muttered, doing mental math, "and I've got exactly zero. Perfect. Brilliant. A masterpiece of financial ruin."
He stopped before a stall where several basic talismans hung from a rope, swaying slightly with the wind. Minor protection, ignition, focus, endurance… all useful, all outside his budget.
One in particular caught his attention:
"Constant Energy Talisman — 40 low-grade stones."
It was so simple it was almost cute. And yet, it stared back at him with silent mockery.
"Believe me, I'd buy you if I could," Jin whispered, leaning closer, "but it seems the life of a cultivator doesn't accept IOUs."
He chuckled to himself—a soft, resigned laugh.
"Incredible… I'm a broke outer disciple in a market full of broke outer disciples. Peak spiritual misery."
He shook his head, amused by his own economic disaster.
But the laughter died quickly.
He needed money. Soon.
He looked around the market with sharper focus: the desperate bargaining, the confident vendors, the items ranging from useful to… well, trash pretending to be valuable.
And then he knew for sure.
"Enough wandering," he thought, carefully tucking the ceramic bottle away. "If I want to train without dying, I need contribution points or spirit stones."
He straightened his back, adjusted his robe, and turned toward the main path connecting to the administrative buildings.
"The Contribution Hall should be around here. Missions, chores, labor disguised as opportunities… whatever. If it pays, it works."
The market's noise faded behind him as Jin walked on, determined.
A crooked smile returned to his face.
"How hard can it be to earn spirit stones and points?"
The building appeared at the end of the path like a solid block of gray stone—wide, tall, and marked with three large characters carved in a severe style:
Contribution Hall.
Its presence was imposing not for its architecture, but for what it represented.
Jin slowed as he approached, noticing the constant flow of disciples entering and leaving. Most wore robes of different colors, but their expressions varied: fatigue, experience, resignation… and in a few, a spark of pride for surviving another day.
Crossing under the archway, Jin frowned slightly.
"Hm? That's odd…"
He stopped for a moment, letting his gaze sweep through the interior of the hall: long tables with mission tablets pinned to wooden boards; disciples handing in reports; others browsing available tasks; a few whispering about the difficulty of a gathering mission.
But in all that crowd… he didn't see a single familiar face.
None of the kids who had entered the sect with him. None of the ones who had taken the tests by his side those days.
Nothing.
"Am I the only one who came?" he murmured to himself.
A voice to his left answered with a mix of surprise and restrained amusement.
"Huh? A newbie? You? Five days in the sect and you're already here?"
Jin turned. A calm-looking disciple, maybe two years older, was watching him with crossed arms. His expression wasn't hostile—just incredulous.
Two other nearby disciples looked up, and when they realized who was talking, they discreetly joined in.
"Seriously? This early?" whispered one, hiding a smirk.
"I thought the newcomers were still trying to feel their first thread of Qi," added the other.
Jin blinked, genuinely confused.
"…Isn't it normal to come look for missions this soon?"
The three disciples exchanged looks—and then burst into contained laughter.
"Younger brother, listen," said the first, leaning a bit closer. "No one, absolutely no one, sets foot here before reaching the First Level of Qi Gathering. How are you going to complete missions if your body can't even handle one night on the mountain?"
"Exactly," said another. "We took… what? A month? Two? Depends on talent. But five days… that's a record. Not sure if a good one."
Jin swallowed, a mix of pride, confusion, and a faint sting of embarrassment rising in his chest.
"I just thought… I needed points," he said honestly.
One of the disciples let out a genuine laugh.
"We all think that too, trust me. But thinking doesn't generate Qi."
Their laughter continued softly—not mocking, but simply the natural reaction of seeing a kid try to run before learning to walk.
Jin took a deep breath and squared his shoulders again. He hadn't come all this way just to turn around like a coward.
"Well… I'm already here," he said, lifting his chin. "Where do I get the basic missions?"
The older disciple studied him for a moment.
"You sure?"
"As long as it doesn't kill me, it works," Jin replied with a crooked smile.
The older ones exchanged another glance.
"Then follow us. At least we'll show you which ones not to pick if you want to stay alive tomorrow."
They began walking deeper into the Contribution Hall, where the constant murmur felt like part of the walls. Jin followed them between dark wooden columns, shelves full of tablets, and a faint scent of dry ink. Each step brought them closer to a large board where dozens of tablets hung in neat rows.
"Here we are," said one of the seniors, nodding toward the massive Mission Board.
Jin studied it with the curiosity of a beggar eyeing a feast.
The tablets were organized by color and seals: untreated wood for basic missions, varnished wood for intermediate tasks, and jade-threaded tablets for advanced ones—clearly far beyond his reach.
The short-haired disciple pointed to the lowest section.
"The basic missions… these are the ones you can take without getting kicked out of the living world."
Jin leaned closer to read:
Gather common herbs on the lower slopes of the Misty Forest.
Reward: 5 credits or 1 low-grade spirit stone.
Gather low-rank herbs in the forest's intermediate area.
Reward: 15 credits or 3 low-grade spirit stones.
Clean the spiritual beast stables (level 0–1 beasts).
Reward: 8 credits.
Temporary assistant in the Minor Cauldron of the Alchemy Hall (for those who can withstand intense heat).
Reward: 10 low-grade spirit stones + chance of receiving scraps from failed pills.
"That sounds… moderately dangerous," Jin murmured at the note about "intense heat."
"That's because it is," replied one of the seniors. "And that's not counting the minor cauldrons exploding whenever an alchemist loses focus. But they pay well."
A few steps away was another section.
Missions posted by outer disciples:
"Need someone to water my Spiritual Garden during closed-door meditation. —Senior Brother Ruan."
Reward: 5 low-grade spirit stones.
"Need help carrying sacks of spiritual soil to my dorm. Fair pay. —Disciple Wei Feng."
Reward: 5 credits + 1 low-grade stone if done quickly.
"Repair damaged fence in the spiritual deer corral."
Reward: 2 low-grade spirit stones.
Jin blinked, surprised.
"We can take missions from other disciples too?"
"As long as it's not a scam, yes," said the short-haired senior. "But be careful—some offer miserable rewards and work you harder than a drunk supervisor."
The other leaned closer, lowering his voice.
"And avoid anything with a red seal. They look easy, but… let's just say they tend to hide nasty surprises."
Jin nodded slowly.
The two seniors crossed their arms, studying him briefly.
"If you're new, start with herb gathering. Boring, repetitive, you might come back with numb legs… but better that than coming back missing an arm," said the short-haired one.
"And don't take more than one mission at a time until you're sure of your endurance," added the other. "That's what sensible people do."
Jin opened his mouth to thank them, but the seniors were already walking away.
"Good luck, newbie. And remember: if you see something shining too much in the forest… run."
"Or pray. Whichever works first."
They left laughing.
Jin let out a deep sigh, letting his shoulders drop just a bit once he was sure they were out of earshot.
"Good thing they didn't notice…"
The thought hung in his mind, tense.
"If they found out how fast I advanced… I don't know if they'd congratulate me, interrogate me, or throw me in a cauldron to see what I drank. Better keep quiet for now."
He shook his head and looked back at the mission board, his fingers brushing one of the wooden tablets.
"Well… time to decide how I'm going to stay alive this week."