Chapter 2: The First Pot of Gold from Altered Spirit Liquid

The wind in the Wastebin courtyard carried a bitter chill, whipping the torn window paper until it crinkled and snapped like a flag. Lin Yuan crouched in the corner, his fingertip lightly grazing the charred, gray-black root of a withered spirit herb. A cold glint flickered in his eyes.

A system interface flickered at the edge of his vision. [Warning: Residual resentment detected. Spirit liquid purity is fluctuating. If 'Emotion Resonance' purification is not performed immediately, the next batch of spirit medicine will be completely ruined.] He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the intrusive thoughts sparked by Zhao Feng’s arrogant taunts earlier, and channeled that surging anger into pure focus.

As the negative emotions were siphoned off by the system and converted into black fertilizer, the warning on the screen faded, replaced by bright emerald-green numbers. He understood now: Zhao Feng thought he’d stolen a treasure, but in reality, he’d walked off with a reputation bomb set to detonate at any moment. And while Zhao Feng was busy strutting around to claim credit, this was the perfect window for Lin Yuan to rake in his first big haul.

Lin Yuan stood up, brushing the dirt from his hands. A faint, sharp arc curled at the corner of his mouth as he looked toward the mountain of low-grade herbs piled in the courtyard. The calm before the storm was the ideal setting to brew a silent scheme.

Lin Yuan pulled a common stalk of Clearing Heart Grass from his storage pouch and dropped it into the bronze cauldron. The system interface expanded. [Mutation Catalysis initiated. Infusing specific spirit liquid. Countdown: ten seconds.] He didn’t use the precious purple jade liquid; instead, he dripped in the high-grade spirit liquid he had just purified. Drip, drip.

The herb inside the cauldron began to tremble violently. Its originally emerald leaves rapidly shifted into a deep, inky purple. The roots extended madly, coiling around the bottom of the vessel. Nine seconds. Eight seconds. The air grew stagnant, thick with a potent fragrance that made one’s head spin. One second.

The lid of the cauldron blew open with a bang. A stream of spirit liquid erupted upward, tinged with purple qi. It looked like liquefied amethyst, radiating a medicinal force that struck a chord of unease in the chest. This was high-grade Celestial Spirit Liquid, comparable in value to second-rank spirit medicine on the open market. Lin Yuan carefully poured the liquid into a jade bottle and sealed it tight.

The screen lit up again. [Market Evaluation initiated. Estimated auction price: 3,500 spirit stones.] That sum was enough to let him stand up straight in this part of the valley where most people couldn’t even afford three square meals. He wiped the cold sweat from his temples, his gaze sharpening as he braced himself for the wolves that were about to descend.

Zhao Feng’s voice shattered the silence. He strode through the gate, flanked by a few Inner Sect disciples who were already slandering behind closed lips. Zhao Feng wore silk robes that screamed wealth, a jade pendant at his waist, and the entire package oozed the brazen arrogance of a new money暴发户. He cast a glance at the jade bottle in Lin Yuan’s hand, greed and contempt flickering in his eyes. “Lin Yuan, don’t think I don’t know there’s something wrong with that stalk of Celestial Spirit Grass.

The Elders have already sent someone to inspect the goods. You’d best hand over the remaining spirit herbs nicely, otherwise, I’ll make sure you get carried out of Spirit Plant Valley horizontally.”

The surrounding disciples erupted in snickers. Some shoved Lin Yuan, others pointed and finger-wagged, their words dripping with contempt for the so-called trash. Zhao Feng reached out to grab the jade bottle, his movement as rough as if he were snatching a cheap bundle of vegetables, completely blind to the icy kill intent flashing in Lin Yuan’s eyes.

Lin Yuan didn’t dodge. Instead, he met Zhao Feng’s force head-on, a clever twist of the wrist stopping the jade bottle steady between them. His voice was calm, every word clear and distinct. “Senior Brother Zhao, that bottle doesn’t contain spirit herbs. It holds newly refined Celestial Spirit Liquid. If you think you’re good enough, inspect the goods first, then we talk about surrendering them.”

Zhao Feng blinked, then let out a scoff, sizing Lin Yuan up and down. “You refined it? You? I bet it’s some dirty watered-down sludge you’re trying to pass off on this young master. I advise you to be sensible and hand it over voluntarily. Maybe then I’ll leave your corpse in one piece.”

He suddenly thrust his right hand out, fingers curled like hooks, lunging for the bottle. The move looked casual, but it carried the spiritual pressure of an Inner Sect disciple, intended to intimidate. Lin Yuan didn’t retreat; he surged forward. It looked like panic, but it was a precise maneuver to guide Zhao Feng’s fingers to touch the outer wall of the jade bottle.

Just then, the system marker activated silently. The invisible 'Counterfeit Identification Mark' triggered a reaction in whoever touched it. The moment Zhao Feng’s fingertip grazed the bottle, a wave of frigid black qi invaded his palm. His face drained of color. He tried to yank his hand back but found it stuck fast by an invisible force. The onlookers were still entertained by the drama, oblivious to the anomaly.

A smirk tugged at Lin Yuan’s lips. He spoke softly. “Senior Brother Zhao, don’t move your hand. This is a good thing. Once it touches you, it’s hard to wash off.” Astonishment and suspicion flashed in Zhao Feng’s eyes. Veins bulged at his temples as his spiritual energy clashed chaotically within his meridians, but the backlash from the marker made his movement sluggish and stuck.

With a shout of alarm, he whipped his hand away violently. The jade bottle slipped from its grasp, flying out and rolling to the ground. The stopper remained sealed; the spirit liquid inside was intact.

Lin Yuan crouched down, picked up a dry, withered spirit herb from the dirt, and dripped a single drop of the spilled Celestial Spirit Liquid onto it. The dead herb greedily absorbed the liquid. In ten seconds, the shriveled stems and leaves miraculously unfurled, glowing with a tender green sheen, even blooming into a tiny spirit flower. The scoffing of the onlookers froze on their faces, replaced by gasps of disbelief.

A piece of waste destined for the compost pile had instantly transformed into a flawless, premium spirit herb. Zhao Feng cradled his stinging hand, staring at the rejuvenated herb. His face turned the color of iron. Fear and rage warred in his mind. He realized Lin Yuan was far more than he looked, but he was now trapped on a tiger’s back and couldn’t admit he’d been wrong.

The figure of Chen Lao appeared at some point beneath the withered tree in the corner of the courtyard. His back was hunched, but his eyes were sharp as a falcon’s. He watched Lin Yuan’s technique—seemingly panicked, yet fully in control, especially how he’d lured Zhao Feng into touching the mark and used the dead herb to demonstrate the effect. A glint of approval passed through his eyes.

This kind of emotion control and precise medicine handling was not something a Wastebin could master. Chen Lao didn’t say a word; he simply melted into the shadows like a ghost. Lin Yuan sensed the gaze, his heart stirring slightly. He knew the secluded elder was observing, but he didn’t alter his plan.

The immediate priority was to resolve the trouble in front of him and profit from the impending transaction.

Amid the commotion, Wang Pangzi squeezed through the crowd, his fat body parting the people as he reached the center of the courtyard. He held a gold abacus in one hand, a full smile on his face, but his eyes were as shrewd as a fox’s, darting back and forth between Zhao Feng’s狼狈 (ragged) state and the jade bottle in Lin Yuan’s hand. He opened with a line of trade slang: “My, my, Senior Brother Zhao, what skill! You actually shook Lin Shidi’s spirit liquid loose?

Though the fragrance of this liquid is overwhelming, it must be worth a fortune. I’m Wang Feng, a specialist in acquiring spirit liquids. Looking at this quality, it’s worth a top of one hundred spirit stones, max.”

He deliberately lowered his voice, trying to insult Lin Yuan with the low offer while subtly implying to Zhao Feng that control had already slipped through his fingers, and that only Wang Pangzi was a buyer who knew what he was doing.

Lin Yuan stood up, tucked the jade bottle into his robe, and stared directly at Wang Pangzi. He activated the system’s Market Evaluation interface. The screen projection was visible only to him, but the bright red numbers would have stung anyone’s eyes: [Estimated auction price: 3,500 spirit stones.] He spoke coldly. “Shopkeeper Wang, I suppose your eyes are clogged with medicinal mud.

This liquid has ninety-nine percent purity, enough to support the refinement of second-rank pills. You offering one hundred? Are you trying to buy my coffin?” Wang Pangzi’s face stiffened for a second, but he quickly regained his composure, forcing a laugh. “Don’t get cocky, little friend. The auction house takes a cut, and there’s wear and tear. A hundred spirit stones is the maximum.”

Lin Yuan sneered. He pulled a yellowed inspection certificate from his storage pouch. It was the “trap” he had intentionally left behind.

“Since you’re claiming that’s the max, go ask Young Master Chen at the auction house.” Lin Yuan waved the certificate. It bore a stamp that Chen Lao had casually drawn once—a free-pass for elders to bypass standard checks at the auction house. Wang Pangzi’s pupils constricted. That mark meant the goods didn’t need a shopkeeper’s inspection; the elders would decide, and it was clear the elders had already acknowledged Lin Yuan’s skill.

He tried to weasel out of it: “This certificate... is it forged?” Lin Yuan cut him off, his voice icy. “Shopkeeper Wang, if you try to lowball me again, I’ll give this bottle to Chen Lao and ask him to appraise it publicly at the auction house. When the dust settles, you’ll lose more than your reputation. You’ll lose the face of whoever’s backing you.”

The words hit like thunder. Wang Pangzi’s face turned deathly pale, sweat breaking out instantly.

Wang Pangzi took a deep breath, the greed in his eyes turning into deep apprehension. He knew Lin Yuan didn’t just know the value of this liquid; he knew the trading network behind it. Trembling, Wang Pangzi pulled a black cloth bundle from his storage pouch. Unwrapping it layer by layer, a pile of spirit stones radiated warm, heavy qi. It was a full five hundred mid-grade spirit stones, worth five thousand low-grade ones.

Grinding his teeth, he pushed the stones forward, his gaze cold as a viper’s tongue. “Lin Shidi has some tricks up his sleeve. This money... is just the deposit. The rest will be settled when you make your next delivery. But I have to warn you, some things aren’t meant for you to touch.”

Lin Yuan accepted the spirit stones, his fingertips rubbing the cold jade blocks as he inwardly sneered.

Wang Pangzi turned and left, his bulky frame vanishing into the shadows beyond the courtyard gate. Before disappearing, he muttered to himself. His voice was low, but Lin Yuan’s sharp hearing caught every word: “That ‘Shadow Master’ hates being played. If Zhao Feng, that idiot, dares to speak out of turn, he’ll be the first to disappear.”

This threat was the final straw, crushing the last shred of Lin Yuan’s hope for a quiet life. He collected the spirit stones and hid them safely against his skin. Who exactly was the “Shadow Master” behind Wang Pangzi? Why would he be so sensitive to the flow of a single batch of spirit liquid? The wind in Spirit Plant Valley still swept through the run-down Wastebin courtyard, rustling the fallen leaves and catching the hem of Lin Yuan’s robe.

He watched the direction Wang Pangzi had gone. Beneath the calm surface of his eyes, undercurrents churned. The center of the storm was far bigger than just this corner of Spirit Plant Valley.