The next afternoon, Lin Feng returned to the small administrative hut near the Mortal Estate path, moving with the practiced shuffle of a man who spent his days hauling horse waste. He looked defeated, but internally, his Level Nine Qi hummed, sharp and eager.
This time, his excuse for leaving the stables had to be impeccable. Head Servant Cao was already suspicious of the cleanliness and the missing scraper was now a point of personal bureaucratic failure for the old man.
"The kitchens claim they returned inventory 44-B three days ago, Head Servant," Lin Feng reported before leaving, his voice laced with feigned worry. "They insist it was placed on the receiving dock, but no one at the stables logged it. I fear the item has been… spirited away."
Cao had nearly choked on his rice. "Spirited away? Are you calling me a liar, boy? It's a scraper! Go back and demand they check their inventory logs again! If you come back empty-handed again, I'll have you scraping the gutters with your bare teeth!"
Lin Feng bowed, suppressing a cough that threatened to become laughter. The idea of the 'heavy-duty iron scraper' being a spiritual target was genuinely amusing.
He found Han Yue sitting in the hut, exactly as promised. She was nervously tracing characters on a piece of thick, oiled parchment, the scent of jasmine slightly stronger today.
"Lin Feng, you shouldn't be here again so soon," she whispered, leaning forward urgently. "Cao will notice!"
Lin Feng approached the table, keeping a humble, slightly desperate posture. "I am here for the great Scraper of Inventory 44-B, Administrative Disciple. It has become a matter of life and death, or at least, a matter of my teeth versus the mountain gutters."
Han Yue couldn't help but laugh, covering her mouth with her sleeve—a soft, pleasant sound. "You make the bureaucratic nightmare sound almost entertaining, Lin Feng. Did the kitchens have it?"
"They had it, they didn't have it, they claim they gave it to a passing disciple who needed to 'examine its structural integrity.' The truth is, I think no one wants to admit they misplaced a tool worth five coppers. I will return tomorrow with a formal request form and a signature from the lower kennels as witnesses to its non-existence. It will take days."
He smiled at her, letting his eyes convey a touch of warm, genuine relief. "But I am here, mostly, for the list you promised."
Han Yue quickly slid the parchment toward him. It was a single, meticulously written scroll, folded three times.
"Be very careful with this. It's just five names and the general region of the lower mountain where they grow, but it technically lists sect property," she warned, her eyes darting toward the hut entrance. "These are all Level One spiritual weeds—used for minor poultices and calming teas. They are too low-grade for true cultivators, so they grow wild. The common folk call them 'fever grass' or 'blood stopper.'"
Lin Feng gently took the scroll, their fingers brushing again. This time, the contact was longer, and Lin Feng allowed himself to hold her gaze for a breath, conveying a silent, deep thank you that was perhaps a little too intense for a mere herb list.
Han Yue immediately blushed, her Level Five spiritual aura wavering slightly around her neck. "Just… be careful, Lin Feng. Don't get caught foraging in unauthorized areas."
"I won't disappoint your kindness," he vowed, tucking the scroll into the inner lining of his worn robe. "Thank you, Disciple Han. You've given me a means to tend to my own wounds without bothering the sect's meager resources."
He quickly turned to leave, but Han Yue called out one last, hesitant question.
"Lin Feng, your work in the stables… Cao can't stop talking about how clean it is. He says the spiritual waste smell is completely gone. How are you doing that? Are you using some kind of specialized soap?"
Lin Feng paused at the door, turning back with a weary, practiced shrug. "Specialized soap? No, Disciple Han. I just remember my father always taught me: when you're doing the dirtiest job, you have to scrub harder than anyone else. I'm scrubbing until my bones ache. It's the only cultivation I have left."
He gave her a tired, resigned smile, which was a masterful lie. He had scrubbed for five minutes, and the Primordial Chaos Qi had done the rest.
Han Yue watched him go, a conflicted look of admiration and pity on her face. He is so broken, yet so persistent.
Back in the solitude of the stable barracks, after another few hours of performative sweeping, Lin Feng finally had his chance.
He accessed the ring dimension, the purple-gold light washing over him, and pulled out the scroll.
The list contained five names: Moonshadow Vine, Cold-Heart Moss, Iron-Spur Root, Whisperpetal Flower, and Sun-Wound Grass. Next to each, Han Yue had written a general location, such as 'Ravine 3, North Slope' or 'Shaded rock face near the lower waterfall.'
Lin Feng focused his mind, channeling a small pulse of purified Qi into the scroll itself. The Qi, guided by the Primordial Chaos Art, instantly activated an ancient, dormant knowledge within his own mind—a subtle side-effect of the ring's immense power. He was not just reading the names; he was reading the spiritual composition of the plants.
Moonshadow Vine... Common healing poultice. Used to seal shallow cuts. Composition: 90% water, 9% fibrous material, 1% heavily diluted Wood Qi.
Iron-Spur Root... Used for muscle stiffness. Composition: 95% earthy material, 5% low-grade Earth Qi, extremely high metallic toxicity.
Lin Feng understood immediately. These plants were low-grade not because they lacked Qi, but because the Qi they contained was so polluted by natural toxins and mundane essence that it was virtually unusable by true cultivators.
"But the Primordial Chaos Art refines all impurities," he realized with a cold thrill. "If I can refine the waste spiritual Qi in Spirit Horse manure, I can certainly refine the toxins in a common weed."
He chose his target: Sun-Wound Grass. It grew high on the exposed, sunny slopes—an area seldom patrolled after dark. It was known as a mild blood coagulant, often found crushed on the ground by servants who had cut themselves.
Lin Feng waited until the middle of the night. The barracks were silent, Head Servant Cao was snoring like a dying ox, and the moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of cloud—perfect darkness.
He slipped out of the barracks, his movements silent and fluid. His Level Nine cultivation made him feel light as a feather, effortlessly clearing the mud and rocks of the path. He used his Primordial Qi to mask his spiritual presence, making himself seem like nothing more than a passing shadow.
The search took only minutes. His newly enhanced Wood Spirit Root resonated with the element in the area. Soon, he spotted them: small patches of thick, waxy grass, glowing faintly under the moonless night with a weak, yellowish spiritual light.
He harvested two handfuls, pulling the roots and stems clean. They smelled faintly of ozone and bitter grass.
He returned to his bunk, entered the ring dimension, and placed the weeds on the crystalline pedestal. He then focused his will, executing the second movement of the Art: Refine and Solidify.
The purple-gold light of the dimension enveloped the Sun-Wound Grass. The refining process was not slow; it was instantaneous and violent. A cloud of black, acrid smoke—the vaporized toxins and mundane water—flew away into the void. What remained was a single, tiny, perfectly formed pill of bright emerald green.
The size of a mustard seed, the pill glowed with an incredibly vibrant spiritual aura. It was no longer Sun-Wound Grass. It was the purest form of Wood Element essence.
"This… this is a Tier-Three Spirit Pill, at minimum!" Lin Feng gasped inwardly, his breath catching in his throat. "The Primordial Chaos Art doesn't just refine low-grade materials; it elevates them to a level of purity that even Inner Sect alchemists couldn't match. It turned a weed into a medicine capable of restoring decades of cultivation!"
He held the pill, a concentrated dose of divine energy. This one pill held the power to push him past the final barrier of Qi Condensation.
He swallowed the pill immediately.
The emerald essence rushed through his body, not with the violence of the raw Primordial Qi, but with the smooth, targeted power of a divine medicine. The energy poured into his dantian, packing the vast lake of Qi until it was solid, heavy, and ready to break.
Lin Feng felt the final, fragile membrane separating Level Nine Qi Condensation from Foundation Establishment—the first true gateway to Immortality—shatter like glass.
The immense, condensed Qi rushed forth, stabilizing his spiritual foundation. His perception of the world sharpened ten-fold. He was no longer a Qi Condensation cultivator; he was a master of his own spiritual sea, his foundation solidified in the very essence of Primordial Wood.
He exited the ring dimension, his heart pounding, his body humming with newly realized power. He was now a Foundation Establishment, Level One expert—a cultivation level that would earn him the coveted Inner Disciple status, power over Liu Kai, and freedom from the Mortal Estate.
He stood up silently in the dark barracks, a Foundation Establishment master concealed in the clothes of a stable hand. The irony was sweet, intoxicating, and completely dangerous.
"Now I have the strength to fight back," Lin Feng thought, sealing his aura back down to the faint shimmer of Level One Qi Condensation. "But first, I need that scraper."
The next morning, Head Servant Cao was spitting mad.
"Where is that scraper, you miserable failure?" Cao yelled, his face purple. "I need that 44-B logged! It's delaying my inventory report! Elder Qing's assistant is going to have my hide!"
Lin Feng approached, looking appropriately exhausted, but now with a strange, nervous energy in his eyes.
"Head Servant," Lin Feng whispered, pulling Cao aside dramatically. "I did find the scraper. It was exactly where the lower kitchens said it was… but I didn't bring it back."
Cao froze, his thick hand stopping inches from striking Lin Feng. "You… didn't bring it back? Why, you insolent fool?"
Lin Feng leaned in, adopting a conspiratorial, low tone, speaking like a nervous servant who had stumbled upon something too big for him.
"Sir, it's about the spirit horses. When I finally found 44-B, it was placed next to the loading dock where the new shipment of medicinal feed was dropped off. When I picked it up… the scraper, sir, the scraper smelled exactly like the hooves of the Spirit Horse, Black Thunder. You know, the prize stallion?"
Cao's rage immediately morphed into confusion. "Black Thunder? What kind of nonsense are you babbling now?"
"Head Servant, I swear, it's true! It smelled of Black Thunder's hooves, that unique, earthy scent. And you know how Black Thunder has been sluggish recently? I think the Spirit Horses might be emotionally attached to that specific scraper! Perhaps it's a ceremonial item! Maybe if we leave the scraper near his paddock, he will feel respected and his Qi will return to normal!"
Cao stared at Lin Feng. Lin Feng, the waste, the failure, the boy whose stables were impossibly clean, was now proposing Tool-Based Equine Therapy for the sect's prize stallion.
"You… you think a scraper is spiritually calming Black Thunder?" Cao managed, his voice dangerously low.
"It's the only logical conclusion, sir!" Lin Feng insisted, shaking his head with faux-seriousness. "It is too important to bring back to the inventory office. I respectfully suggest that we hide the scraper behind Black Thunder's feed bag and just report to Elder Qing's assistant that the scraper inventory number 44-B is now permanently assigned to the spiritual well-being of the prize stock!"
Cao remained motionless for a full minute, his brain visibly struggling to process the blend of Lin Feng's exhaustion, his unexpected genius at stable cleaning, and this utterly insane, yet highly self-preserving suggestion.
Finally, the desire to avoid filling out an incident report won.
Cao clapped Lin Feng on the shoulder with a force that nearly sent the Foundation Establishment master sprawling. "Lin Feng, you may be a cultivation waste, but you have the mind of a devious snake! Fine! The scraper is a Spiritual Tool of Equine Calmness! Report it lost if anyone asks, or better yet, assigned to Special Duties. Now get back to work. And if I smell even one trace of Spirit Horse sludge in this area, your Spiritual Tool will be scraping the inside of your own stomach!"
Lin Feng bowed, his face deferential, his heart roaring with silent laughter. The first major challenge on the path of cultivation—a missing scraper—resolved by pure deception and ridiculous flattery.
He returned to his stables, now with a solid Foundation Establishment cultivation and a secure, long-term alibi for his spiritual resource hunting. The path to the heavens was messy, but beautifully clear.