Chapter Nine: A Disappointing Harvest

“Sister, are you going to the cave? Let me carry you!”

Hongjian had finally managed to shake off Zhang Yu and the others. Night had fallen completely, and Fang Zheng couldn’t understand why his sister, for the sake of a wager, had pushed herself so hard and yet refused to return to her lodgings. Instead, she insisted on coming to this desolate rocky shore. He thought perhaps she was afraid of being disturbed and wanted to use the ‘Weak Rain Pill’ to heal herself in the cave.

All around was pitch black, with only the sound of waves crashing against the rocks nearby. On this vast beach, aside from the two siblings, there was no one else.

Hongjian still hadn’t recovered her strength, but she didn’t dare let her brother linger in this place where mysterious figures appeared. She said to Fang Zheng, “Zheng’er, let’s stay here. Put me down.”

Accustomed to obeying, Fang Zheng didn’t ask why. He carefully helped her settle onto a stone and offered, “Sister, you’d better take that pill now. No one should come here—I’ll keep watch for you.”

Hongjian felt a warmth in her heart, though her face remained calm. She patted his shoulder and said, “I’m fine, don’t worry. I gained a lot earlier and want to take the opportunity to reflect. It’ll take a long time, so you should go back first.” Fang Zheng wasn’t good at keeping secrets, and Hongjian dared not let him know too much. The last time that strange person saw Fang Zheng, Hongjian still didn’t know if he was friend or foe—if anyone should take risks, it ought to be her alone.

Fang Zheng hesitated, but Hongjian knew how to handle him. She put on a stern face: “The big exam is coming, and you haven’t reached the third level of Qi Refinement yet. What are you doing here instead of cultivating? Are you being lazy?”

Sure enough, Fang Zheng’s face filled with grievance. He didn’t say another word, turned silently, and left alone.

Hongjian watched her brother’s retreating figure and sighed inwardly. She knew he had no companions and was very lonely. Whenever they parted, she often reflected, wondering if her strict, commanding style was the reason Fang Zheng had grown up so simple and guileless. Yet, each time they met again, her patience would quickly run out.

A cool night breeze, carrying the salty tang from the depths of the Endless Sea, brushed Hongjian’s face and eased her nausea and agitation somewhat. Her spiritual consciousness had been hurt again; she dared not recklessly cultivate. Bored while waiting, she looked up at the dazzling stars above. In all her years at Dan Cliff Sect, she rarely had such leisure.

“So your mood seems good—did you get what you wanted?”

The stranger’s voice sounded behind Hongjian, seemingly only moments after Fang Zheng had left, making her suspect that either he had been watching the rocky shore all along or had been secretly following her since early morning.

Hongjian turned back too quickly, straining her neck and hissing with pain. Sure enough, she saw a figure by a large stone only two or three yards away. In the darkness, the man watched Hongjian hurriedly reach for her neck and laughed in a low, unpleasantly hoarse voice that made her hair stand on end.

He finished laughing and said, “Haven’t seen you for days—I thought you’d never dare come to the seaside again, little girl.”

Hongjian steadied herself and spoke honestly: “I couldn’t get the ‘Moonlight Pill,’ but I brought you a ‘Weak Rain Pill’ from the Xianyun Sect. It also treats spiritual wounds—will it do?”

The man paused, apparently surprised. “You know Zhu Xian? Well, let me see it.” He seemed to finally focus on Hongjian, immediately noticing something was off. “You’re not healed yet? No, you’re injured again.”

Hongjian forced a smile. “I don’t know Zhu Xian, nor am I familiar with Qu Changhe or Pan Cong. How else could I get a pill for healing spiritual consciousness?” She briefly explained her bet with the Xianyun Sect disciple. To her, it was still a transaction; after suffering so much, she wanted the other party to know. Though she lacked the power to bargain, she was unwilling to hand over the ‘Weak Rain Pill’ for nothing.

The man found her story amusing and listened to the end before chuckling. “Not bad luck, running into a chivalrous young master. Still, you’re flat-chested and thin—sending you to deal with those old geezers is a bit much. ‘Weak Rain Pill,’ you say? Let me see if he tricked you.”

Hongjian was very young, intelligent, but living in the prestigious Dan Cliff Sect, she had only felt anger at the stranger’s earlier mentions of ‘secret meetings.’ She didn’t catch the malicious teasing in his words. Since he wanted to inspect the pill, she held it out on her palm, showing him from two yards away.

The man didn’t mind, clicking his tongue in approval. “Good quality.” He hesitated, then mused, “I can’t let you suffer a loss. Here’s the deal: give me the ‘Weak Rain Pill,’ and I’ll teach you a few incantations. Practice them well, and your injury will be healed. Looks like no one supervises you, little girl, and you’re reckless, always hurting your spiritual consciousness. This way, your worries are resolved—after all, the ‘Weak Rain Pill’ can’t be used repeatedly.”

A bit disappointed, but it was better than returning empty-handed.

He didn’t seem like a good person, so Hongjian didn’t bargain, tossing the pill to him.

Her strength was lacking, and the throw veered off, but his sleeve flicked and the pill changed direction midair, vanishing into his cloak. In the darkness, Hongjian could barely see, but heard the pill emit a sharp whistle. The man laughed and cursed, “Clever little fox.”

Hongjian’s mind stirred, and she couldn’t help asking, “Senior, are you of the Gold spiritual root?” Gold generates water—just as Dan Cliff Sect, being close to the Endless Sea, excelled at water and wood techniques, senior cultivators with Gold spiritual roots often had a natural affinity for water arts. If this man had a Gold root, it was no wonder he could teach her. But Fang Zheng, with his Wood root, would likely gain nothing.

The man didn’t answer, only snorted. Hongjian felt the atmosphere cool and tense; after a pause, he spoke, “Listen carefully. I’ll only teach it once. If you fail to learn, that’s your own stupidity—not my fault.”

Not daring to provoke him further, Hongjian quickly agreed.

The incantation the stranger taught was short, fewer than fifty words, even simpler than the ‘Water Condensing Formula’ Hongjian had previously learned. She’d heard that the longer an incantation, the more profound and difficult the technique. Now, the situation was reversed, leaving her deeply disappointed. Clearly, this technique was only useful for one at her modest fourth level of Qi Refinement, which explained why he wanted her to procure a pill for spiritual healing.

Yet the stranger treated it like a treasure, making her swear a vicious oath never to pass it on. Hongjian rolled her eyes inwardly. Cultivators feared inner demons and rarely broke such oaths, especially harsh ones. This so-called precious technique was as common as cabbage, yet he insisted it be locked in a jade box—ridiculous.

Disappointed as she was, this technique was exactly what she needed right now. Hongjian memorized it word for word without error.