The road leading to the Cang Family Estate wound through misty hills and bamboo groves, the air fragrant with dew and pine. From afar, the estate resembled a fortress hidden within a paradise — jade-green roofs glinting in sunlight, golden dragon sigils etched along white walls, and a faint spiritual radiance shimmering like a protective veil over the compound.
When Zhang Wei, Han Yu, and Pan Qiang finally reached the massive red gate, two guards stood at attention beneath towering stone lions, their armor polished to a mirror shine. The faint hum of spiritual energy rippled through the air like a heartbeat.
The trio's dusty robes and simple packs marked them as wandering cultivators seeking work — perfect disguises for their true purpose.
A senior guard, stern and broad-shouldered, scanned their newly issued plaques before grunting."You'll start as outer guards. Follow orders, stay quiet, and your monthly spirit stones and meals will come on time. But remember—" his gaze hardened, "—the Cang Family rewards diligence but never forgives mistakes."
He turned sharply and gestured. "This way."
The gates groaned open, revealing a world within walls.
The Cang Estate was vast more like a small city than a noble's home. Interlocking courtyards stretched in every direction, paved with white spirit stone that shimmered faintly with formation runes. Elegant pavilions rose between willow trees, their silk banners fluttering with the crest of the Cang clan a coiling azure dragon.
Streams of clear water wound through the grounds, spanned by carved bridges where glowing lotus lamps drifted lazily across the current. The gentle sound of flowing water blended with the distant ring of swords clashing.
Servants hurried past carrying bundles of herbs, baskets of laundry, or trays of steaming food. The faint scent of incense mixed with magnolia blossoms. Disciples practiced sword forms under the shade of peach trees, their movements crisp and refined, silver blades flashing like lightning beneath the sun.
Pan Qiang's jaw slackened as he looked around. "Heh… this doesn't feel like a family state. More like a sect."
Zhang Wei adjusted his pack and smiled faintly. "They say the Cangs started as wandering cultivators. Seems they did build a formidable power"
Han Yu, ever the observer, kept his eyes sharp. He noticed the runes etched into pillars, the concealed guards among the servants, and the faint ripple of formation energy coiling around the estate."There are layers of traps and seals here," he muttered under his breath. "Even escaping this place wouldn't be simple."
They arrived at a courtyard filled with guards drilling under the command of a scar-faced captain. Sweat and steel scent filled the air as blades clashed in practiced rhythm.
"So these are the new recruits?" the captain barked, giving them a once-over. He jabbed a finger toward Han Yu. "You got to the sword and spear yard. Let's see if you can actually use those arms."Then to Pan Qiang. "You go to the western gate patrol. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut. "Finally, he turned to Zhang Wei. "You look smart enough to handle the inner wing. Report to Elder Shen's aide for assignment."
Han Yu bowed wordlessly. Pan Qiang smirked as if accepting a challenge. Zhang Wei only replied, "Understood."
Han Yu's assigned area was the sword training yard, where disciples and guards trained beneath fluttering banners. The clang of steel filled the air; even the wind seemed to whistle with sharp intent.
The instructor, a tall man named Cang Liang, eyed him curiously. "A new face, huh? You look too clean for a fighter." Han Yu gave a small bow. "I can learn."
Cang Liang tossed him a wooden sword. "Then show me."
A cocky disciple stepped forward, grinning. "Don't cry when I knock you down, newcomer."
Han Yu didn't reply. His calm eyes only reflected the blade's dull glint.
The duel began. The disciple charged fiercely, his swings heavy and fast. Han Yu met each strike with graceful precision , his wooden sword moving only where needed. Every deflection was efficient, every motion measured. He wasn't fighting to win , he was studying.
When the opponent lunged too wide, Han Yu stepped aside with quiet ease and tapped the man's wrist. The sword flew from his grasp, clattering onto the ground.
Gasps filled the courtyard.
Cang Liang's eyes narrowed, intrigued. But instead of praise, a few onlookers jeered. "Too fancy for a guard! Probably luck!"
Han Yu ignored them, setting the sword down gently before bowing. His calm never broke, though inside, he thought, "Mock me if you wish. I came here not for pride but for answers."
Meanwhile, Pan Qiang blended effortlessly into the western gate's rowdy crowd of guards. The men were loud, laughing and boasting even during duty.
"Oi, new blood!" one shouted, tossing him a gourd of wine. "Welcome to the most boring post in the estate. Try not to die of boredom!"
Pan Qiang caught the gourd mid-air, took a long swig, and grinned. "Boredom? Not when the wine's this good."
The guards roared with laughter. "Hah! I like this guy already!"
He quickly became one of them joking, sparring, swapping fake stories of "beast hunts" and "bandit ambushes." But behind every grin, Pan Qiang's mind worked like a hunter's blade. He counted the rotation of shifts. He noted which formations flickered slightly under the sun. He even noticed that a patrol leader carried a talisman key, used to disable part of the western barrier.
When challenged to a friendly duel, Pan Qiang took the chance to show just enough skill. He parried, ducked, and ended the fight with a flourish, disarming his opponent in one smooth motion. The guards cheered; he laughed with them, clapping shoulders and sharing drinks while quietly memorizing the layout of the estate's defense nodes.
Zhang Wei's journey took him to the eastern wing the scent of herbs thick in the air. Here, the walls were lined with scrolls and medicinal murals, and the sound of bubbling cauldrons echoed like a steady heartbeat.
The man guiding him, a thin, bespectacled steward, gestured around. "This is the Medicine Hall. We brew healing elixirs, refine antidotes, and study spirit herbs. Don't touch anything unless instructed."
Zhang Wei nodded, his sharp gaze taking everything in the cauldrons glowing faintly with spiritual heat, the apprentices carefully adjusting fire intensity using Qi control, the long jade shelves filled with labeled jars of herbs, powders, and beast organs.
Then he noticed something curious: a wooden board covered in parchment notes, filled with written questions.
"Why does the Fire Meridian Pill lose stability after infusion?"
"Batch of Golden Spirit Salve caused drowsiness in test subjects."
"Requesting advice on frost burn antidote refinement."
Each issue listed was small but critical. To most, it was just daily alchemical troubleshooting but to Zhang Wei, it was an open book of mistakes.
When no one was looking, he stepped closer, picked up a charcoal stick, and began writing neat annotations beside the questions.
"Replace Goldleaf with Frost Moss — balances excessive fire attribute." "Add crushed honeysuckle to stabilize meridian flow before condensation." "Reduce heating stage by one cycle; current process overcooks spirit essence."
He didn't notice the shadow that appeared behind him until a sharp voice snapped through the hall.
"Hey! You there!"
Zhang Wei turned calmly. A young alchemist's aide glared at him, his tone full of scorn. "Who do you think you are, scribbling on the Medicine Board? This is not for guards to deface!"
Apprentices paused their work, whispering.
Zhang Wei bowed slightly. "I saw questions left unanswered. I thought I might offer a solution."
The aide's face darkened. "A solution? You dare claim you know better than—"
"Enough." The calm yet commanding voice cut through the air.
An elderly man in a flowing jade-green robe entered , Elder Shen, the Cang Family's Second Elder and master of the Medicine and Alchemy Department. His beard glimmered silver under the hall's lantern light, and his eyes held both warmth and power.
"What is this commotion?" Elder Shen asked mildly.
The aide bowed hastily. "Elder! This—this guard was writing nonsense on the Medicine Board!"
Zhang Wei said nothing, merely stepping aside. Elder Shen 's gaze swept the board, pausing where Zhang Wei had written. His brows furrowed then rose in surprise.
"Hm… Frost Moss instead of Goldleaf…" he murmured, rubbing his beard. "That adjustment could indeed balance fire energy flow… Honeysuckle for meridian stabilization? Ingenious."
He turned sharply. "Gather the ingredients."
"E-Elder Shen —!"
"Now."
Within moments, assistants hurried to fetch the listed herbs. Elder Shen personally prepared the mixture, his hands deft as he adjusted flame and Qi. The hall filled with the crisp aroma of spirit herbs. When the steam cleared, a golden pill shimmered at the cauldron's base — perfectly refined.
Gasps echoed around the room.
Elder Shen chuckled heartily, walking to Zhang Wei. "Young man, what is your position here?"
"Outer guard, Elder."
The old man laughed louder. "A guard? Ridiculous! You waste your talent standing by gates when your hands were made for cauldrons."
He turned to his aide. "Fetch him a Medicine Hall robe and identity token. From today onward, he works under me."
The aide's mouth opened, then shut, stunned. Zhang Wei bowed deeply. "I'll serve faithfully, Elder."
"Good," Elder Shen said, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Let's see how far your understanding of medicine truly goes."
Within days, Zhang Wei's presence transformed the hall. Apprentices began gathering near him for advice, whispering rumors that Elder Shen's new "assistant" could solve even the trickiest formulas. He corrected furnace timings, stabilized potions others failed to brew, and even improved a pain relief balm that had been ineffective for years.
But Zhang Wei wasn't seeking fame he was observing. He memorized the placement of medicine stores .He noted which herbs were imported from Hei'an. And he listened carefully to whispers about the Cang Family's "private infirmary" — where not just servants but captured cultivators were treated… or experimented on.
One afternoon, a commotion broke out near the entrance. A servant stumbled in, pale and breathless. "Help! The third elder's horse trampled a worker! He's bleeding out!"
Zhang Wei didn't hesitate. Grabbing his pouch, he rushed out.
In the courtyard, a man lay groaning, his leg twisted unnaturally, blood pooling beneath him. Others hesitated — "We're alchemists, not healers," they murmured.
Zhang Wei knelt, eyes sharp. He checked the pulse, pressed key acupoints to slow bleeding, and tore his sleeve to make a tourniquet. "Crushed Spirit Vine and Moonleaf — hurry!" he barked.
A startled aide ran to fetch them.
When the herbs arrived, Zhang Wei ground them into a paste, mixing spiritual water and applying it to the wound. The bleeding slowed instantly; the man's breathing steadied.
Elder Shen , having heard the uproar, arrived moments later. His eyes softened as he saw the scene. "You did this?"
Zhang Wei bowed slightly. "A healer's knowledge means nothing if he cannot use it to save life."
Elder Shen smiled, the wrinkles at his eyes deepening. "Well said. Not every alchemist remembers that truth."
His voice lowered, almost a whisper. "And not every life in this estate is treated equally."
Zhang Wei's gaze flickered. "What does he mean by that? "But Elder Shen only turned away, hands clasped behind his back leaving Zhang Wei thinking.