The old man let out a short sigh, as if the air itself carried a hint of worry, then gently shifted the topic, placing a small jade box beside him.
"Well then, boy," he said, his tone more formal now, though no less warm. "Let's set aside your… creative training methods for the moment."
Jin felt his ears burn, though he kept his expression serious.
The elder continued:
"As for your reward… originally, I planned to give you a few Qi cultivation pills. Nothing complex—just enough to support your progress through the initial stages. However…" his eyes swept once more over Jin's pitiful state, "…seeing your current condition, your physical state, and how quickly you advanced through Qi Gathering… I believe there's a better option."
He opened the jade box carefully.
Inside were two porcelain bottles, both sealed with red wax stoppers, but distinguished by fine engraved markings: one bearing a bent-stem symbol, the other adorned with stylized meridians.
The elder picked up the first.
"This one contains fifteen Minor Body Restoration Pills. Their function is simple: repairing tissue, soothing residual damage, healing microfractures in muscles and bones. For someone who has pushed his body this far…" he lifted a brow at Jin, "…they will be indispensable."
Jin swallowed.
The elder then picked up the second bottle.
"And these are fifteen Inner Protection Pills. They help reinforce organs, meridians, and certain internal structures that suffer when Qi is used… as violently and chaotically as you attempted."
Jin felt the blow to his pride but accepted it without arguing.
"My advice," the elder added, with the firm voice of a master who did not accept objections, "is that you take the restoration pills first. All of them. For an entire month, focus solely on gentle, steady Qi cultivation—nothing excessive. Allow your body to heal fully before attempting any other… ideas."
Jin nodded, more humbled than before.
The elder placed both bottles into his hands.
"When your body is in proper condition," he continued, "you'll be able to use the protection pills to strengthen your meridians and advance your body cultivation without destroying yourself from the inside. Only then. Do it earlier… and you'll end up worse than today."
A brief, heavy silence followed—not uncomfortable, but meaningful.
It was the silence of someone giving more than a reward: an opportunity.
Jin bowed his head respectfully.
"Thank you, elder."
"Don't thank me yet," the old man replied with a faint smile. "Save it for when you stop showing up half-dead because of your absurd ideas."
With that, Jin stored the bottles with extreme care, as if they were treasures. And for him, at that moment, they were.
The elder grew quiet for a few seconds, studying Jin as though trying to decipher the trace of an idea far too bold for someone at his level. His narrowed eyes held a mix of bewilderment and curiosity.
Finally, he lifted a hand.
Jin's robe rustled faintly, and the fist-sized fruit—round, heavy, dense with vitality—rose from within its folds. It floated upward and settled above the elder's extended palm… without touching it, held aloft by some invisible force.
The old man rotated it with a gentle flick of his fingers, letting the light glide across its surface.
"Interesting…" he murmured, though the word carried far more weight than it seemed.
"Jin Yuchen," he continued, "what you found is a Second-Grade Spiritual Fruit. However…" his gaze sharpened, as though evaluating something beyond the visible, "judging by its effects and internal density, it could easily be considered Third-Grade."
The fruit lowered slightly, vibrating softly as if responding to his assessment.
"This little jewel strengthens the body," he explained. "It makes the muscles more flexible, tougher, more resilient. The vital energy within its fibers is enough to propel a cultivator forward without much resistance. Moreover…" he paused as the fruit released a faint spiritual glow, "…it contains a respectable amount of pure Qi. For you, it will be a considerable aid once you progress a bit further."
He closed his hand slightly, and the fruit adjusted its position.
"You could consume it as it is," he added, "but right now, its energy would do you more harm than good. Once you reach the fifth level of Qi Gathering, your body will be able to handle this essence without collapsing."
From within his sleeves, the elder produced a thin case, lined inside with faint glowing inscriptions that seemed to breathe. With a gesture, the fruit floated gently into it, losing none of its spiritual aura.
The elder closed the case with a click and handed it to Jin.
"Keep it safe. Its value lies not in what it is… but in what it can become with you."
Jin stood there, still trying to process the avalanche of gifts he had just received. Every word, every gesture from the old master subverted his expectations: he had come hoping, at best, for a modest reward… not treasure after treasure.
He held the case with both hands, feeling the light yet meaningful weight of the spiritual fruit inside. He looked up at the elder, confusion crossing his face.
"Elder…" Jin began cautiously. "Why give me so much? I only brought a few herbs…"
Elder Wei observed him for a moment, as if weighing something beyond the words themselves. Then his lips curved into a gentle smile—one bearing the unique warmth of an old man who has lived long enough to let tenderness show whenever it wants to.
"Boy, what kind of host would I be if I let a guest leave empty-handed?" he said lightly, though his eyes conveyed something else. "Besides… you're pleasant to look at."
Jin blinked, unsure whether that was a compliment or a joke. The elder chuckled softly, stroking his beard.
"And you brought those herbs precisely when I needed them. Believe me…" his expression softened further, "…they'll help calm a certain spoiled girl I know."
There was no reproach in his tone—only the warm, resigned affection of a grandfather helplessly fond of the child who constantly drives him crazy. For a moment, Jin felt he had glimpsed something intimate: a hidden concern beneath the elder's humor and stern profession.
"So then…" Master Wei continued with a light nod. "Don't overthink the reasons. Take what's given to you and use it well. That will be payment enough for me."
Jin held the case against his chest, still bewildered… but also grateful in a way he could not express.
He bowed deeply, holding the posture a few seconds longer than necessary.
"Thank you for everything, Elder Wei," he said sincerely.
The elder responded with a quiet nasal laugh and a calm smile, as though Jin's formality amused him.
"Go on, boy. And try not to cause trouble… at least not more than necessary."
Jin left the hall holding the case containing the spiritual fruit. He still felt its weight—not physical, but symbolic. He closed the door gently behind him.
When silence reclaimed the hall, Elder Wei remained still for a long moment, gazing at the spot where the young man had disappeared. Then his lips curved into a complex expression—curiosity, amusement, and a faint, almost hidden nostalgia.
"What a strange child… and so reckless," he thought, clasping his hands behind his back. "With that temperament, he'd make a good match for that little untamable phoenix…"
The image of the girl—barely thirteen, arrogant genius, warm-hearted—crossed his mind, and the elder let out a soft chuckle, the kind only proud grandfathers make.
"Yes… the two of them would certainly create a fine mess together."
He sighed, returned to his herb-cluttered alchemy table, and a faint glow of satisfaction flickered in his old eyes.
Jin retraced his steps through the Alchemy Sector. He still kept the fruit's case tucked securely within his robes, along with the two pill bottles, as if afraid they would vanish if he let go even for a moment.
When he crossed paths again with the disciple who had guided him to the elder's hall, Jin stopped and gave him a slight bow.
"Thank you for the guidance," he said, simple but sincere.
The disciple, surprised by the formality, answered with an awkward nod before returning to his duties.
Jin continued until he reached the reception of the Contribution Pavilion. The young receptionist—who had watched him earlier with a mix of curiosity and teasing—lifted her gaze the moment she saw him.
He said nothing. He simply raised a hand in a calm farewell.
She arched a brow, as if not expecting such politeness from someone who still carried mountain dust on his clothes. But eventually, she smirked and returned the gesture before focusing back on her tablets.
Jin stepped outside.
The sun had already slipped behind the highest peaks, leaving a fading red glow on the horizon. The evening breeze flowed down the stone paths and endless stairs, carrying rustling leaves and the distant calls of night birds.
Fatigue weighed on his legs, but the case hidden in his robe reminded him that the day—hard as it had been—had not ended empty.
With each step, the night deepened, wrapping the sect in a profound silence broken only by the wind whispering through bamboo forests. The first stars flickered timidly overhead, as if watching him walk.
Jin breathed in deeply.
His dwelling was still far, but this time the path didn't feel as cold.
He had received more than he ever expected. Much more.
And though he didn't fully understand why…
He kept walking as the sky darkened completely, leaving the Contribution Pavilion behind as he descended along paths lit faintly by spiritual lanterns.