Chapter 10
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 10
“Yeah.”
Lee Hyun gazed out the mouth of the cave, his eyes distant for a brief moment.
“The dangers of the Withered Yin Field are far worse than the rumors suggest. I only truly grasped it after toiling there myself. I can endure it for now, but if I stay any longer, my path of cultivation will be completely severed.”
It was a plausible excuse to leave, but in truth, it was barely a lie.
Looming beneath that barren ground was his deepest secret. If he lingered in the Withered Yin Field, exposure was merely a matter of time. And if that happened, it wouldn’t just be his cultivation path cut short—his life would end right along with it.
“What about requesting a reassignment at the Outer Sect Administration Pavilion?”
“They say the sect almost never transfers a disciple once they’re assigned to the Withered Yin Field. Besides, look at me. I’m completely hale and hearty. Why would they ever grant a transfer?”
“Even so, a disciple who deserts the sect is branded a traitor.”
“A traitor? That’s far too grand a title. An early Qi Refining disciple like me doesn’t carry that kind of weight. It’s not as if I made off with the sect’s treasures or murdered a fellow disciple. At most, they’ll dispatch a few outer sect disciples to confirm what happened. As long as I leave behind convincing traces of my death, they won’t waste the effort to investigate any deeper.”
“Do you really think so? I’m worried the cultivators from the Law Enforcement Hall might track you down and execute you, Brother.”
“Think about it. Plenty of people hunt down those who owe them debts, but how many go out of their way to track down someone just to repay a favor? I’ve carried out the sect’s orders faithfully. The low-grade spirit stones and contribution points Cheongha Valley gives outer disciples are nothing more than scraps compared to the blood and sweat they squeeze out of us. It might be different if I were an inner-sect disciple, but as things stand…”
Wang So parted his lips to counter, then fell silent. Lee Hyun’s words were entirely sensible. Perhaps because he was a few years older, he saw through the cold, transactional nature of the world far more clearly.
“Where do you plan to go, then?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Just somewhere far away from Cheongha Valley.”
Wang So stroked his chin, lost in thought.
“In my opinion, it would be best to leave the Great Yeon Kingdom entirely. Wouldn’t it be safer to pass through the Anreung Kingdom to the south and push all the way to the Untaek Kingdom? I heard rumors at the Spirit Beast Courtyard that Untaek has very few spirit veins, so there are almost no major cultivation sects there. Instead, the entire region is crawling with rogue cultivators.”
“The Untaek Kingdom…”
“They say there are several sprawling rogue cultivator markets trading spirit plants, pills, talismans, and magical artifacts. If you wish to continue cultivating after severing ties with the sect, wouldn’t a place like that suit you far better?”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”
Wang So studied Lee Hyun for a beat, then reached into the folds of his robes and drew out a small wooden box.
“Take this with you.”
Nestled inside the box lay three black iron spikes, each roughly the length of a finger. Delicate formation patterns were faintly etched across their cold metallic surfaces.
“What are these?”
“Spirit-Breaking Spikes. I received them as a reward for completing a minor mission. It’s debatable whether you can even call them true magical artifacts, but once infused with spiritual power and hurled, they carry far greater lethality than a mortal’s crossbow. They can easily punch clean through the Body-Protecting Spirit Light of a 2nd-layer Qi Refining cultivator.”
“Shouldn’t you keep them for yourself?”
“I’m going to become a sword cultivator. I have no use for cheap concealed weapons like this.”
Wang So spoke with proud conviction, yet his gaze lingered fondly on the wooden box. He clearly prized them.
“Forget it. Keep them.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have far more tricks up my sleeve than you think. How could I run off while burdening a younger brother?”
“If taking all three weighs on your conscience, then please, take at least one.”
Wang So pinched a single Spirit-Breaking Spike from the box and pressed it firmly into Lee Hyun’s palm.
“Isn’t it best never to need something like this, but sheer tragedy to regret not having it when life is on the line?”
“…You have a point. Fine, I’ll take just this one.”
Wang So nodded, slipping the box holding the remaining two spikes back into his robes.
Lee Hyun reached into his own clothing, brought out a small porcelain vial, and handed it across.
“These are three Vitality-Nourishing Pills given to me for my duties managing the Withered Yin Field. Take them if you ever need to regulate your meridians, especially if you suffer internal backlash while practicing the Metal Edge Formula.”
“Is it really all right for you to give these away?”
“I earned them through sweat and blood in the Withered Yin Field, so they’re mine to dispose of as I please. I still have a few left over, so don’t fret over it. Just consider it fair trade for the spike.”
Wang So hesitated, then reverently slipped the vial into his storage pouch.
“Thank you. May fortune favor your path, Brother.”
“Stay safe as well.”
Side by side, the two stepped out into the open air.
After walking several paces down the trail, Wang So paused and looked back over his shoulder.
“If you ever change your mind, just say the word. I can try pulling strings with a steward I know.”
“Understood.”
Lee Hyun kept to the shadows of the rock face, scanning the surrounding terrain for prying eyes as he watched Wang So’s silhouette gradually melt into the distant mountain trail.
Wang So was the first person Lee Hyun could truly call a friend since entering Cheongha Valley. Yet, in all likelihood, their paths would never cross again.
That was precisely why he had taken only a single Spirit-Breaking Spike and repaid the favor with Vitality-Nourishing Pills. He refused to step out into the wider world bound by unpaid debts.
* * *
Back in his crude hut at Withered Yin Field No. 8, Lee Hyun lay back on his straw mat and quietly circulated the Primordial Unity One-Qi Art, his mind racing through calculations.
Now that his resolve to flee Cheongha Valley was set in stone, he began taking careful stock of his necessities, item by item.
First was food.
Mortals often mistook cultivators for transcendent immortals, assuming they subsisted entirely on morning mist and heavenly dew.
In reality, low-tier cultivators were nowhere near that detached from earthly flesh. Forget the Qi Refining stage—even Foundation Establishment experts could not sever themselves from worldly sustenance completely. Only upon condensing a Golden Core could an immortal cultivator truly cast aside the need for food.
Naturally, that did not mean Qi Refining or Foundation Establishment cultivators could gorge on common grain. Consuming secular food caused earthly impurities to accumulate within the meridians, stifling cultivation speed. Thus, they went out of their way to eat spiritual ingredients imbued with heaven and earth’s qi.
At present, Lee Hyun had roughly two hundred Fasting Pills stored away. Over the years, he and Senior Martial Brother No had quietly cooked and eaten Cheongha Rice rather than relying on the sect’s standard provisions, allowing him to hoard his pill rations.
While mortal apothecaries also sold things called Fasting Pills, the ones supplied by the sect were refined from Cheongha Rice and various spiritual herbs. The two could not be spoken of in the same breath.
If he wished to accelerate his cultivation to the absolute limit, swallowing and refining ten Fasting Pills a day was well within reason. However, if his sole aim was simply to ward off starvation, digesting a single pill every two days was more than enough.
On top of that, he had twenty catties of Cheongha Rice stashed away in his storage pouch, courtesy of the generous allowances allocated to caretakers of the Withered Yin Field. A single catty of cooked Cheongha Rice could suppress hunger for five full days.
In other words, purely in terms of staying alive… the Fasting Pills alone will last me four hundred days. Throw in the Cheongha Rice, and I’m covered for over five hundred days. Food won’t be an issue for the foreseeable future.
Besides, unlike other cultivators, it doesn’t even matter if I end up eating mortal food. Even if mortal impurities build up and drag my cultivation to a crawl, it’s not as if I’m racing against a ticking lifespan.
Second was seeds.
His grand design after abandoning the sect was simple: burrow deep underground, build a secure tunnel network, hide away from the world, and cultivate an assortment of spirit plants purely to pass the endless decades.
The real challenge lay in the environment. It was impossible to predict which spirit flora could adapt and flourish within the dark, cramped confines of a subterranean tunnel. Therefore, his best recourse was to amass seeds from as many distinct species as humanly possible.
Fortunately, having toiled beside Senior Martial Brother No for several years, his storage pouch already contained a modest hoard of Clear Dew Herb, Earth Vein Flower, and Blood-Clotting Grass seeds.
Furthermore, during his grueling cycles of harvesting and replanting across Withered Yin Field No. 8, he had discreetly skimmed off surplus yields of Bone-Corroding Flower and Yin Soul Grass—quantities far beyond what the sect demanded for replanting and emergency reserves. He had even managed to squirrel away enough young bulbs of Purple Poison Orchid to seed an entire miniature field.
Factoring in the unhusked grains of Cheongha Rice, he was already sitting on seeds for seven distinct varieties of spiritual flora.
He resolved to search for additional seeds while passing through the mortal and rogue markets outside Cheongha Valley. In any case, as far as he knew, none of the common herbs cultivated by outer disciples accrued astonishing value simply by being aged over vast stretches of time.
Third was combat strength.
This was his most glaring flaw: Lee Hyun still did not possess a primary magical artifact.
Tucked safely within the sect’s perimeter, there had never been an urgent need for violence. But once he ventured out into the untamed wilderness, having the power to protect his own skin was a matter of life and death.
He had laboriously copied and memorized several elementary spells, but the only ones he could cast with true fluency were agricultural arts meant for tending spirit fields. He had barely scratched the surface of defensive barriers and evasion techniques, and had never once cast an offensive spell in earnest combat.
A cultivator at the 2nd layer of Qi Refining could tear apart vicious tigers, black bears, or common bandits wielding steel blades with their bare hands. Yet this was a ruthless xianxia world—vicious beasts and demonic entities capable of butchering Qi Refining cultivators were very real.
Even the supreme martial artists of the mortal realm posed a lethal threat to the current Lee Hyun!
Through long conversations while tending the fields, he had gleaned quite a bit of mundane lore. Even among ordinary mortals devoid of spiritual roots, distinct realms of martial mastery existed, and those who achieved profound skill were revered as supreme masters of the Martial Way.
Among these figures were masters who stepped past common limits into legendary realms known as the Transformation Realm or the Profound Realm. According to Senior Martial Brother No Baek-san, if such a warrior managed to launch an ambush under favorable conditions, their lethal burst of speed and power was more than enough to claim the life of an unwary Qi Refining cultivator. Such gruesome tales were not uncommon.
Cultivators caught flat-footed before they could weave their spells or form defensive seals were notoriously fragile.
As for Lee Hyun himself… if he were cornered by a true mortal martial grandmaster in a narrow corridor, his chances of survival were dismal at best.
A fledgling stuck at the 2nd layer of Qi Refining who still felt queasy at the thought of slaughtering an animal, he was vastly weaker than Wang So, who had entered the sect at the exact same time but had already begun training in the lethal Cheonggang Sword Formula.
Of course, if he preemptively channeled his spiritual power to manifest his Body-Protecting Spirit Light, no mortal weapon could breach his defenses with ease. But Lee Hyun had lived such a docile, conflict-averse existence that his combat reflexes were practically nonexistent.
To put it bluntly, he was the sort of person who would squeeze his eyes shut on instinct if someone suddenly swung a fist toward his nose.
Do I need to learn how to fight, too? For now, I should at least secure a proper magical artifact before making my escape. It’s time to burn through the contribution points and low-grade spirit stones I’ve managed to squirrel away…
* * *
A few days later, Lee Hyun made his way to the Artifact Hall situated at the foot of the Main Peak.
The Artifact Hall was a cavernous structure hewn directly from a colossal slab of mountain bedrock. A palm-sized warding formation was carved neatly into the stone lintel, and the moment Lee Hyun crossed the threshold, the identity token at his waist gave a faint, rhythmic pulse.
Crossing into the hall, the heavy tang of cold iron and lubricating oil drifted into his nostrils.
Rows of sturdy, low-slung shelves lined the walls. Arranged neatly upon polished wooden stands were various artifacts of war. Those of obvious value rested in open wooden cases, cloaked in faint, shimmering halos of light.
Palm-sized flying knives; a short sword gleaming with a cold, azure hue; a round buckler inscribed with rippling defensive wards; a bronze mirror the size of a human face; a slender jade token no larger than a finger…
Incredible…
Lee Hyun’s steps slowed to a crawl.
Come to think of it, this was the very first genuine shop he had set foot in since arriving in this perilous world. After so many quiet, isolated years, a familiar spark from his past life flickered in his chest—the nostalgic thrill of spending all night meticulously adding and deleting items from an online shopping cart.
Behind the counter sat a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, diligently polishing a short iron spear with an oiled cloth.
“What brings you here?”
“Greetings, Senior Martial Brother. I’ve come to purchase a magical artifact.”
The man set down his cloth and flicked a casual glance at Lee Hyun’s identity token.
“A 2nd-layer Qi Refining outer disciple… Where is your assignment?”
“The Withered Yin Field.”
“The Withered Yin Field? Ahem …Then you must have saved enough to afford a low-grade magical artifact. You’ve had it rough.”
The man’s gruff tone softened noticeably.
“I am Jo Beom. I’ve managed the Artifact Hall for fourteen years now. Have you ever handled or bought an artifact before?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Thought as much.”
“Senior Martial Brother, could you enlighten me on the basics of magical artifacts?”
“Hmm… The world of artifacts is as vast as the sea; we’d be here all day if I tried to explain it all. But in broad strokes… magical artifacts are ranked as low-grade, mid-grade, high-grade, and superior-grade. Low- and mid-grade artifacts are typically wielded by Qi Refining cultivators, while high- and superior-grade armaments are reserved for Foundation Establishment seniors.”
“Are there no grades beyond superior-grade?”
“Beyond that, they are no longer called magical artifacts—they are magical treasures. Magical treasures can only be refined and unleashed by Golden Core grand seniors. Lowly cultivators like us have no business even looking at such sacred relics. At your current cultivation, all you can hope to wield or afford are low-grade magical artifacts.”
Jo Beom pointed with his chin toward a sleek short sword resting on a nearby shelf.
“Remember this: a higher grade isn’t always better. If an early Qi Refining cultivator tries to manipulate a mid-grade artifact, their spiritual reserves will run completely dry after just a few passes. Even if the artifact is blindingly fast and devastatingly sharp, if your divine sense can’t keep pace with its movement, you’ll just end up cleaving trees and rocks instead of your target. The only rule that matters is finding what fits your grasp.”
Lee Hyun pointed toward a velvet-lined case holding a cluster of slender needles.
“What about these?”
“Those are Mother-and-Child Flying Needles. A set consisting of one mother needle and six child needles. Directing seven distinct artifacts simultaneously places a vicious strain on your divine sense. Although they are technically classified as a mid-grade artifact, even late Qi Refining cultivators find them excruciatingly tricky to coordinate in battle.”
Lee Hyun shifted his gaze, his attention snagged by a translucent, palm-sized emerald leaf.
“Is that a flying magical artifact?”
“Indeed. That is a Clear Wind Leaf. But at the 2nd layer of Qi Refining, you won’t be able to lift more than a few feet off the dirt, and your dantian will be drained dry within an hour of sustained flight. The price is forty-eight low-grade spirit stones.”
Lee Hyun meandered through the Artifact Hall for a long time, utterly torn on what would best suit his needs.
Hmm… Thanks to Wang So, I’ve already committed the Cheonggang Sword Formula and the Primer on Telekinesis and Sword Control to memory. Logically speaking, buying a sword-type low-grade artifact would give me the smoothest learning curve.
Just as he finished circling the shelves for a second time, his gaze dropped to the lowest tier of the innermost rack. Half-buried in a thin film of settled dust lay several odd, neglected implements.
A notched iron sickle, a long-spouted bronze watering can, and a wide, curiously blunt longsword.
Is that… really a sword?
Stretching roughly three and a half feet in length, the weapon looked thoroughly bizarre.
Both edges of the blade ran straight and completely parallel, tapering only at the absolute tip to form a flat, shovel-like edge. The entire weapon, from its tip down through the hilt, appeared to be forged from a single, unbroken ingot of heavy metal, finished with an extended grip meant for a two-handed hold.
Most jarring of all was its breadth. The blade spanned nearly half a foot across—impossibly wide compared to any standard longsword.
“Why are you staring at that heap of junk?” Jo Beom asked, amusement and disbelief warring on his face. “That monstrosity hasn’t budged from that shelf in nine years.”
“Is this a magical artifact as well?”
“It’s called the Earth-Shoveling Sword. The internal restriction is exceedingly simple, so it’s categorized as a low-grade artifact. However, the raw materials poured into it are easily on par with a mid-grade weapon. Because of that, it is absurdly durable.”
“It’s forged from such high-grade materials, yet nobody wanted it?”
“Because it’s a damned shovel.”
A shovel?!
Jo Beom sighed, reaching down to hoist the hefty Earth-Shoveling Sword by its grip.
“Years ago, an eccentric senior martial brother boldly declared that he was going to till his spirit fields using the Cheonggang Sword Formula rather than wasting time with the Soil-Turning Spell. That madman custom-ordered an artifact forged from Black Iron blended with Earth Bone Stone, demanding a reinforced shovel capable of cleaving through solid bedrock. It was even inscribed with a specialized restriction that channels the Soil-Softening Technique. Once you pump spiritual power through the blade, any earth or stone it contacts turns as soft as loose mud.”
“I see… But how did a custom order end up gathering dust here?”
“Right while the Earth-Shoveling Sword was being forged in the furnace, that lunatic broke through to the Foundation Establishment stage and immediately abandoned tending spirit plants altogether! When I tracked him down to deliver it, he sneered that he had no use for farm tools and flatly refused to pay. What was I supposed to do? Go pick a fight with a Foundation Establishment senior?”