Jin followed the long corridor indicated to him, each step echoing softly against the polished stone floor. The jade lamps hanging at regular intervals lit his path with a warm glow that sharply contrasted with how damp his clothes still were.
"Wow…" he murmured to himself as he walked, glancing at the walls. "From the outside it looked like a normal building… but inside it's practically a maze."
He had already passed two courtyards, three hallways, and a couple of staircases—without being entirely sure he was still on the correct route—before finally finding the entrance carved with the emblem of the Alchemy Peak: a cauldron encircled by three rising flames.
The interior of the External Sect's Alchemy Section was even more impressive.
Wide chambers, white columns, shelves packed with ingredient boxes, tables covered with refined tools… and disciples everywhere. Some carried trays of herbs with focused expressions; others scribbled reports; a few walked past wearing special protective robes used when handling small cauldrons.
Jin paused for a moment, taking in the atmosphere.
Several gazes immediately landed on him.
A few disciples simply blinked, startled, as though they hadn't expected to see someone so young—and so soaked—in this place. Others frowned with obvious disdain, taking in his dirt-stained clothes, his still-wet hair, and his overall appearance: a freshly-drenched outer disciple who looked as if he had just been dragged through a stream and into the cleanest hall of the entire external sect.
Jin only smiled calmly. It wasn't the first time people looked at him like that… and it definitely wouldn't be the last.
He was about to ask someone for directions when a voice called out from the distance.
"Brother! Brother, over here!"
A young man in an orange robe with light purple patterns—the same one who had taken his herb report—practically sprinted toward him, expertly dodging two trays and a small cauldron someone was carrying. His eyes shone with a mix of excitement and urgency.
"Junior Brother, are you Jin Yuchen?" he asked, slightly out of breath.
"That's me."
The disciple looked him up and down… and his expression lit up completely, as if he'd just confirmed the presence of a legendary figure rather than a wet youth who looked like he had fought a river and lost.
"Perfect, perfect! The elder wants to see you. In person. Immediately," he announced—almost proud to be the bearer of such news.
Around them, several disciples who overheard froze, staring wide-eyed. One even dropped a small bundle of roots onto the floor.
"The elder… called him?"
"Him?"
"It must be a mistake… right?"
Jin, who also found it a little strange, simply nodded.
"Well, if they're expecting me, I shouldn't keep them waiting."
The disciple nearly vibrated with agreement.
"Yes, yes—this way, Junior Brother. I'll take you to the elder's hall right away."
And so, with Jin walking behind him—and the disciples of the hall trailing him with curious, doubtful, or openly shocked gazes—they made their way down the main passage toward the hall where the alchemy elder awaited.
Jin followed the disciple through a couple of quiet corridors, where the scent of crushed herbs and cauldron smoke grew thicker and richer. When they reached a large door of polished wood, the disciple stepped ahead and knocked twice.
"Elder, I've brought the young man I told you about," he announced from outside.
A deep, slightly rough-aged voice responded:
"Enter."
The disciple opened the door and gave Jin a discreet nod to go inside.
The hall was spacious, filled with shelves stacked with jade boxes, porcelain jars, and piles of rolled manuscripts. In one corner, a small three-legged cauldron released faint, perfumed steam.
At the center, seated upon an elevated cushion, was the elder of the External Alchemy Section.
Jin stopped on instinct.
The man's hair was completely white, tied into a high knot, and his beard fell in two thin strands that almost glimmered with the cauldron's light. He wore a refined purple robe unlike any Jin had seen, with golden patterns tracing circular motifs along the sleeves. But what stood out most was the emblem on his chest: a three-flame cauldron, majestic, almost as if it were truly burning.
The elder's gaze was calm. Far too calm.
The kind of peace only ancient cultivators radiated… the kind Jin had always found a bit intimidating.
"You may leave, Lin," the elder said without taking his eyes off Jin.
The disciple bowed and slipped out, closing the door with gentle care.
The silence that followed was as heavy as forest mist.
Jin swallowed, still feeling the dampness in his sleeves and the cling of his robe. He had barely managed to wring himself out before coming; he still smelled of stream water, wet leaves, and mild personal disaster.
The elder studied him without hurry. His gaze traveled from Jin's messy, fall-tousled hair, down his soaked robe, and finally stopped on the pocket where Jin had stored the fist-sized fruit.
Then, at last, he smiled.
A small smile—barely there… but it illuminated the room like another flame had been lit.
"Well, well…" the elder said softly. "So you're the young man who brought that batch of nearly-pure first-grade herbs. And also…"—his eyes gleamed with amusement—"…the young man who chose to challenge the Misty Forest, get lost, fall down a slope, and survive by a miracle."
Jin opened his mouth to retort, then closed it.
How in the world did he know all that?
Did the rocks gossip too?
The elder continued:
"And as if that weren't enough… you returned with a batch nearly perfect."
He glanced aside, as if recalling something. "Exactly what I needed for a personal matter."
Jin frowned, uneasy but curious.
"Am I… lucky?"
"Immensely," the elder replied, tilting his head. "And also reckless, impulsive, and…"—his gaze swept Jin again—"…rather messy."
Jin pursed his lips.
"Falling into a stream does that, Elder."
The elder let out a soft, almost paternal laugh.
"I know. Which is why I don't blame you… too much. But I must say—what you did today, though impulsive, was valuable to this old man. More valuable than you imagine."
A slight chill ran down Jin's spine. He wasn't sure if it was respect, pressure… or the fact he was still wet.
But one thing was clear: he definitely didn't want to get on this elder's bad side.
The elder let the silence stretch, as if gauging something invisible in the air. His eyes swept Jin again, this time with a deeper, more analytical intensity.
A tingling crept up Jin's neck.
Is this man really just an elder of the External Section?
In Jin's mind, the answer was a resounding no.
That robe, that calm but crushing aura, that three-flame emblem… none of it matched a mere external overseer. He looked more like someone who had spent an extra century practicing alchemy and watching disciples rise, fail, and die.
The elder narrowed his eyes—as if he had heard that thought.
"Young man," he said suddenly, leaning forward just a little, "what exactly happened to you?"
Jin tensed.
"…What?"
"Your body."
The elder lifted a hand and traced a light gesture in the air.
"Your meridians are tight, your Qi circulation is irregular, and your muscles show fresh micro-tears. This is not just a fall. A Qi Gathering cultivator, even at the first level, doesn't end up like this from slipping."
Jin swallowed hard.
Damn it.
He had tried to hide it—walking straight, suppressing the pain…
But this elder had seen everything in a single glance.
"Well…" Jin muttered, looking away slightly. "Let's just say the slope was higher than it looked. And the rocks harder. And… my luck worse."
The elder stared at him for several long seconds.
Then he sighed.
"Reckless and stubborn."
He shook his head—though his tone sounded more resigned than scolding.
"But I suppose that's common among the young… especially those who believe fortune will keep favoring them just because it did once."
Jin felt a sting of embarrassment.
Hey… it wasn't that bad…
But before he could reply, the elder spoke again—this time with a deeper note.
"Young man, if your body had been even a little weaker… or the stream's current a little stronger… you wouldn't be standing here speaking to me."
His eyes narrowed, evaluating him again.
"And yet… you got up, returned to the sect, and brought herbs of a quality that even some intermediate disciples fail to collect."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"I don't know if that's talent… or a dangerous mix of luck and determination."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"But both can be useful on this path."
For the first time since entering, Jin didn't know what to say.
The elder leaned back on his cushion.
"Now tell me, young one… did you truly believe you could hide your injuries from me?"
Jin opened his mouth—then let out a tired exhale.
"…I tried."
The elder chuckled—soft and genuine.
"And you failed with grace. That is also a talent, in its own way."
The warmth in that laugh eased some of the tension in Jin's shoulders.
Whoever this elder was, one thing was clear:
He was no mere overseer…
He was someone truly important.
Someone whose recognition—or goodwill—was worth more than fifty spirit stones.
Jin took a deep breath.
He didn't want to admit it… but there was no point in lying to someone who could probably smell deceit the way he smelled herbs in a cauldron.
"What happened to me…" Jin began, scratching his neck, "…was training. Or something like that."
The elder raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Training? In what way?"
Jin sighed, then decided to rip the bandage off.
"I tried practicing the first volume of the Jade Dragon Body Technique."
The elder's eyes flashed with instant recognition.
"Ah… that technique."
Jin nodded.
"It says to stimulate internal points… but I couldn't activate them with normal strikes. It just didn't work. So…"—he looked aside, clearly embarrassed—"…I tried using Qi. Compressed Qi. To hit the points from the inside."
The silence that followed was… particular.
The elder didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
Didn't move.
He just stared.
Until finally, a small exhale left his nose.
Not quite a laugh, but dangerously close.
"So you used compressed Qi… to impact your own points," he repeated slowly, as if still processing the line. "At the first level of Qi Gathering."
Jin pressed his lips together.
"…yes."
The elder narrowed his eyes—not in anger, but with a blend of disbelief, fascination, and the ancient resignation of someone who had lived long enough to witness every form of idiocy and brilliance from young cultivators.
"That technique," he said carefully, "is practiced by hardening the body progressively—strengthening the skin, muscles, and outer channels before even considering touching the internal points. It is…"—he searched for the right word—"…a direct method, yes, but it has never been… applied like that."
Jin swallowed.
The elder wasn't yelling.
He wasn't lecturing.
Worse: he was analyzing him.
Deeply.
"Even so…" the elder murmured, voice dropping a tone, "…you survived. With damage, yes, but your meridians remain intact. And that…"
A sharp glint crossed his eyes.
"…that requires a level of Qi control no new disciple should possess."
Jin had no answer to that.
He couldn't explain the why or the how—not without revealing too much.
The elder examined him again, slower this time.
As if trying to see beneath his skin… searching for some hidden current in his dantian.
And in his gaze appeared a suspicion.
A silent question.
A calculation that refused to resolve itself.
"What are you really, young man?"
He didn't say it.
But Jin felt it regardless.
The elder leaned back slightly, hands clasping together.
"Young one," he said calmly, though his voice carried weight, "to reach the first level so quickly and then control your Qi with such precision… is not normal. Not even among higher talents."
Jin avoided his gaze.
Not out of guilt—simply because he had no explanation.
The elder clicked his tongue softly, as if he had already reached a conclusion.
But he didn't share it.
He merely nodded, accepting Jin's answer… and keeping to himself all the questions that had just been born.
"An idiot, perhaps," the elder murmured with a hint of humor. "But determined. And possessing an almost unnatural degree of control. That is… interesting."
Jin blinked.
"Is that… good?"
"It depends," the elder replied, smiling faintly—as if he knew far too much.
"For some, it might be dangerous. For others… promising."
He tilted his head, satisfied.
"For me, for now, it is enough."