The medicine garden in the early morning was still suffused with the fresh scent of dew mingled with spirit herbs.
Yet today, the atmosphere of this usually busy and slightly oppressive medicine garden felt entirely different.
When Chen Yang's figure appeared on the path through the medicine garden, nearly every Menial Disciple who had been working — or pretending to work — stopped what they were doing without a word, casting complicated glances in his direction.
In those gazes lay undisguised envy, deep reverence, and above all, a shame so profound they could barely meet his eyes.
They remembered the madness on the plaza yesterday — how they had raised their weapons against the very person who had once helped them, all for the sake of a slim chance.
Now, he had leapt through the dragon's gate and become an inner disciple, standing high above them all.
While they remained behind, still struggling in the same place.
The vast gulf in status, combined with what they had done the day before, left them without the courage to approach him — even holding his gaze made their faces burn.
Chen Yang swept his calm eyes over these familiar yet now-distant faces, feeling little stir within his heart.
He had shown mercy yesterday out of the thin thread of old sentiment between them.
If it happened again — after surviving that naked, winner-takes-all fight to the death with Li Yan, where the loser lost everything — he would never be so soft-hearted.
He had felt the cruelty of cultivation firsthand. Showing mercy to an enemy might well be cruelty to his own future.
He paid no attention to those complicated stares and walked straight toward the ramshackle shed where Xiaodouzi lived, as he remembered it.
The door to the shed was left ajar.
Chen Yang pushed it open and found Xiaodouzi hunched over, quietly packing a small bundle.
His complexion was still somewhat pale, and his breathing was weaker than usual, yet he seemed to move without serious difficulty.
That was thanks to the Pure Origin Pill Chen Yang had flicked into his mouth during the chaos the day before.
The Pill was not of high quality — its medicinal properties were mild — but for someone whose qi sea had been destroyed, it was perfectly suited to healing physical injuries.
At the sound of the door opening, Xiaodouzi looked up. Seeing it was Chen Yang, a glimmer of light flickered through his dull eyes, and he instinctively offered a somewhat strained smile.
"Brother Chen, you came."
His tone was exactly the same as on countless mornings past when they had met in the medicine garden.
As if the earth-shattering upheaval of yesterday had never happened.
A faint bitterness stirred in Chen Yang's heart. He stepped inside and came straight to the point.
"Xiaodouzi, come with me. I'm an inner disciple now, and I have one attendant slot. From now on, you'll follow me — you won't have to do anything, and you'll receive ten low-grade spirit stones every month."
Ten low-grade spirit stones!
To any Menial Disciple, that was an unimaginable fortune — enough to make them fight tooth and nail for it.
Xiaodouzi's eyes instinctively lit up at the words — that was his most immediate reaction to spirit stones.
But just as quickly, that brief gleam was snuffed out like a candle guttering in the wind, replaced by a deeper, heavier grey.
He shook his head, his voice low but firm.
"Brother Chen, thank you for your kindness. But… forget it."
In the past, hearing about ten spirit stones a month would have had him jumping for joy, grinning from ear to ear. But now… his qi sea was shattered, his path of cultivation utterly severed. What meaning could more spirit stones hold for him?
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They would be nothing but a reflection in a mirror, a moon on the water — only deepening his sorrow.
The small yet steadfast dream of cultivation he had carried in his heart had been crushed along with his qi sea beneath Li Yan's palm.
Chen Yang was silent for a moment. He understood how Xiaodouzi felt.
He tried to offer hope. "Perhaps… within the sect there are spirit medicines or rare elixirs that can restore a qi sea. I'll keep an eye out…"
Xiaodouzi shook his head again, cutting him off, his smile growing more bitter.
"Brother Chen, you don't need to comfort me. This path of cultivation has always been about talent and fate. I, Xiaodouzi… clearly wasn't born for it."
He paused, hoisted the small bundle onto his back, and though he was weak, he straightened his spine.
"I'm going to head down the mountain. Go back home, or find somewhere to live out the rest of my days in peace."
Chen Yang looked at him and knew his mind was made up. There was no keeping him.
The hatred he felt toward Li Yan deepened by another layer.
Even if Li Yan's cultivation was now completely destroyed and his life a living hell, it could never undo the harm he had done to Xiaodouzi.
Xiaodouzi walked to the doorway, then suddenly stopped and turned around, bowing deeply to Chen Yang.
"Brother Chen… yesterday… thank you for avenging me. Truly, thank you."
He raised his head and looked at Chen Yang, his eyes clear and sincere.
"Brother Chen, you are a true immortal now. When we part today, it will likely be forever. The mountains are high and the rivers are long — please… take care of yourself."
The divide between immortal and mortal had never felt so stark and so cruel as it did in this moment.
A surge of indescribable emotion rose in Chen Yang's chest. He slowly reached into his Storage Bag and withdrew a jade vial — inside were roughly ten Pure Origin Pills he had previously duplicated using a clay bowl.
These Pills were of little use to him at his current cultivation level, but their mild medicinal properties made them remarkably effective for ordinary people — strengthening the body and treating common ailments.
He pressed the jade vial into Xiaodouzi's hands.
"Take it. Just some ordinary Pills from an inner disciple — it's nothing. Your qi sea may be broken, but your body still needs care. If you ever get a headache or a fever, taking one of these will help."
Xiaodouzi gripped the smooth, warm jade vial. He knew it was no ordinary thing. His eyes grew slightly red, and he nodded heavily, pressing this kindness deep into his heart.
He took one last look at Chen Yang, as if remembering something, and lowered his voice.
"Brother Chen, watch out for Lin Yang and Yang Tianming… neither of them is a good person. But… I believe in you! You'll definitely make it! You're a true immortal!"
With that, he lingered no longer. Shouldering his small bundle, he walked step by step, with steady resolve, toward the path leading down the mountain.
The sunlight stretched his shadow long behind him. That slight, frail silhouette carried with it a sense of relief — the relief of one who has set down a heavy burden — and it slowly disappeared at the far end of the path through the medicine garden, heading toward the world of mortals below.
Chen Yang stood where he was, silent for a long while.
Xiaodouzi's final words — "immortal and mortal part ways" — stirred something inexplicable within him, giving rise to a flood of quiet realizations.
He thought of the village at the foot of the mountain. He thought of the ordinary mortal life he had once lived.
Time passes differently on the mountain — perhaps only a few closed-door sessions and a handful of trials would go by, yet down below, everything would have changed beyond recognition.
Like the Silver-Haired Senior, Shen Hongmei, who had once said in an offhand tone that she was "still very young."
At the time, he had not quite understood.
Now he could dimly grasp something of the utterly different sense of time that separated Cultivators from ordinary mortals.
For those high-level cultivators who entered seclusion for months or years at a stretch, a single long retreat might span an entire mortal lifetime.
His gaze drifted over the spirit medicines growing throughout the medicine garden — some of them centuries old, yet still brimming with vitality.
And the laborers who had planted them all those years ago — where were they now?
Most likely long since turned to dust, their very names forgotten.
A vague, ineffable sense of wonder — touching on time, life, insignificance, and eternity — quietly surfaced in his heart.
He had originally planned to head straight to Butterfly Valley, but his thoughts were too unsettled. Without realizing it, he drifted to the side of the path and sat down cross-legged beneath an old tree.
He took no Pills, made no deliberate effort to circulate his cultivation technique to absorb Spiritual Energy. He simply closed his eyes and let those tangled thoughts and quiet realizations flow through him, settling like sediment.
He sat there in stillness, as if merging with the trees and the earth around him.
He did not know how much time passed — perhaps fifteen minutes, perhaps one hour.
Then, suddenly, the spiritual energy within him began to circulate on its own, accelerating without any prompting.
The qi and blood power of the Nine Revolutions Body Tempering Art surged and roiled of its own accord. The thin barrier standing between the fifth level of the Qi Refinement Realm and the sixth level of the Qi Refinement Realm — under this sudden elevation and settling of his state of mind — silently and naturally crumbled away, as water finding its course.
Crack.
A surge of aura stronger than before radiated from his body, then slowly drew back inward.
Chen Yang opened his eyes, a flash of surprise crossing them.
He had originally planned to use a Spirit Origin Pill to assault the sixth level of the Qi Refinement Realm. He had not expected that a single stirring of his inner state would allow him to break through so naturally.
The feeling was profound and mysterious — as if fortune had descended upon his heart, and water had simply found its course.
After the breakthrough, his bearing seemed to undergo a subtle change as well. The sharp edge and suppressed tension of before had softened, replaced by a trace of detachment and calm that comes only from having weathered the world.
He rose, brushed off his robe, and walked in the direction of Butterfly Valley.