### Chapter 45: Zhang Wanshan's Generosity
The two uncontested victories had taken some luster from the outer sect finals. Most disciples had come to see Lin Yi and Mu Rongfeng clash—only spells from Fourth Level (or higher) cultivators held any real appeal. And now, with Lin Yi at Fifth Level, anticipation crackled even brighter.
The remaining two matches pitted Third Level disciples against each other. They fought tooth and nail, their spells colliding in bursts of light and smoke, but the crowd's excitement was muted. Everyone was waiting for the next round—the one that would determine the top five.
These five would draw lots to decide tomorrow's matchups. With only five competitors, one would get a bye: the disciple who drew the "Three" token would advance directly to the top three, skipping the semifinal.
Lin Yi, Mu Rongfeng, and the other three winners stepped forward. All eyes locked onto their hands as they reached into the wooden box.
Steward Zhang winked at Lin Yi, giving him a thumbs-up. Lin Yi smiled, grabbed a token, and headed to the scribe to register.
He'd drawn "Two." Mu Rongfeng, luck smiling on him, pulled "Three"—an automatic pass to the finals. The other disciple who drew "Two," Ren Xi, groaned, his face contorting like he'd bitten into something bitter.
Elder Guan announced the day's proceedings over. Tomorrow morning would decide the top three; rankings four to ten would follow later.
As the crowd dispersed, Lin Yi walked down the mountain with Stewards Zhang and Qiao, Pan Yu trailing close behind. He avoided Mu Rongfeng entirely, not a word of accusation escaping his lips. After purging the Netherworld poison, he'd scrubbed the blood message from his bed—accusing a popular disciple without proof would be suicide. He'd bide his time.
"You little troublemaker," Steward Zhang grumbled, though his eyes twinkled. "You had me pacing for hours. After the tournament, you're treating me to a feast—to mend my poor, worried heart."
"I'm sorry for the worry," Lin Yi said sincerely. He meant it. Zhang's concern was genuine, and it touched him. Once he became a core disciple, he'd ask Xiao Bei to refine enough Great Replenishing Pills to push Zhang past his Fourth Level bottleneck. He'd held back before, fearing questions about where the pills came from, but soon, his status would shield him.
"Feast it is, then!" Zhang pressed. "And we're going to Drunken Immortal Pavilion's fourth floor. Once you're in the inner sect, you'll get monthly spirit stone allowances—no more skimping!"
"Whatever you say," Lin Yi agreed, wincing internally. The fourth floor was pricey, but for Zhang, it was worth it.
"Now that you're Fifth Level," Steward Qiao asked, "do you plan to challenge the core disciples?"
"I do," Lin Yi nodded. It was why he'd spent so many spirit stones on pills, why he'd pushed himself to Fifth Level. Becoming an inner disciple was never enough.
"Brave man," Qiao said, smiling. "If you need anything—resources, advice—just ask. I'll help however I can." He was all in now. A core disciple ally would secure his position in the sect.
"Qiao's right," Zhang added. "Core disciples get perks most of us can only dream of. Even if you fail, you'll learn something. And who knows? Maybe you'll surprise us all."
"Speaking of preparation," Qiao said, "most finalists bring rare talismans or powerful artifacts. Have you got anything?"
Lin Yi苦笑. "I've been too busy catching up on cultivation to learn many spells, let alone stock up on talismans."
"Thought as much," Zhang grunted. He reached into his storage bag and pulled out a stack of talismans—sixty-two in total. Five Explosive Flame Talismans, five Earth Dragon Talismans, two Warrior's Strength Talismans, ten Vine Binding Talismans, twenty Fireball Talismans, and twenty Earth Wall Talismans.
Lin Yi's eyes widened. Explosive Flame and Earth Dragon Talismans were high-grade, costly enough to drain most of a steward's savings. Zhang must've emptied his coffers for this.
"Take them," Zhang said, shoving the talismans into Lin Yi's hands. "Don't go complaining I never gave you anything."
Lin Yi's throat tightened. "Thank you," he said, voice thick. "Truly."
"Save the thanks," Zhang said, waving a hand. "Win tomorrow, and that'll be thanks enough."
As they walked, Lin Yi clutched the talismans, warmth spreading in his chest. For the first time since joining the sect, he felt like he had allies—people who cared not for his roots, but for *him*.
Tomorrow, he'd fight not just for core disciple status, but for them, too.