Chapter 9: Unintended Discovery
Li Chen continued harvesting.
His hands moved out of habit now—bend, pluck, inspect, basket—while his mind drifted far from the herb garden. The faint fragrance that once soothed him barely registered anymore. His thoughts kept circling the same place.
Shadow Step.
A low-level combat skill, yet one rooted in speed—movement, positioning, survival. Exactly what he lacked.
"So," Li Chen thought quietly, eyes lowered as he plucked another dull green leaf, "how do I improve my stats? I won't always get lucky like I did with the bear."
For once, the system didn't respond with immediate mockery.
"Hm," it said, tone thoughtful in its own irritating way. "A sensible question. Growth paths include cultivation, combat experience, higher-grade absorptions, skill mastery, and—"
"And?" Li Chen pressed.
"And not dying," the system added smoothly. "That one helps tremendously."
Li Chen exhaled through his nose. "We agreed to be civil."
"Yes. This is me being civil."
He shook his head faintly, but a corner of his mind remained alert, absorbing every word. The system continued explaining—how refining Qi improved base attributes, how repeated use of skills deepened familiarity, how danger accelerated growth faster than comfort ever could.
All the while, Li Chen kept his poker face.
Other outer disciples moved around him, some whispering, some sneering, some simply exhausted. No one paid him special attention. To them, he was still the same weak, invisible Li Chen.
Eventually, his basket filled.
He straightened, rolling his shoulders slightly, already planning his route to the task hall. The sooner he submitted the herbs, the sooner he could retreat and—
Wait.
A scent brushed against his senses.
It wasn't like the others.
This fragrance was deeper, richer—layered with sweetness and something sharp beneath it. For a fraction of a second, his thoughts dulled, his breath hitching as warmth spread faintly through his chest.
Li Chen froze.
Slowly, he turned his head.
At the edge of a shaded grove, half-hidden beneath broad leaves, a faint purple glow pulsed softly. Nestled among twisting roots was a single fruit, smooth-skinned and luminous, veins of light threading beneath its surface.
His heart skipped.
He approached carefully.
Ding.
---
Medicinal Fruit Detected
Name: Violet Spirit Plum
Age: 412 years
Grade: High (Outer Sect Standard)
Effects: Enhances Qi absorption, strengthens meridians
Quality: Exceptional
Absorption available…
---
Li Chen's breath grew shallow.
Four hundred years.
This… this could change everything.
He reached out instinctively.
"Stop."
The system's voice snapped sharp for once.
Li Chen's hand halted midair.
"What?" he hissed mentally.
"Multiple life signatures approaching," the system replied briskly. "Absorption requires uninterrupted focus. Interference at this stage would be… catastrophic."
Li Chen stiffened.
Catastrophic wasn't a word the system used lightly.
Footsteps crunched faintly in the distance.
Panic flickered—but only for a moment.
Li Chen moved.
In one smooth motion, he plucked the fruit and tucked it inside his robe, wrapping it in cloth, pressing it close to his body to mask the glow. He stepped away from the grove, forcing his breathing steady.
Just walk. Act normal.
The system hummed, amused. "Quick thinking. You surprise me."
Before Li Chen could reply—
A voice rang out behind him.
"Hold it."
Li Chen stopped.
Too late.
A group of disciples emerged from between the herb rows. At the front stood a young man in clean outer robes, posture confident, chin raised slightly as if the world naturally inclined itself toward him.
The system supplied the information instantly.
---
Name: Zhao Ming
Cultivation: Mid Mortal Plane
Strength - 9
Agility - 8
Endurance -6
Intelligence -4
---
Zhao Ming stood a head taller than most outer disciples, his build lean rather than bulky, giving him a sharp, well-defined presence. His features were refined in a way that bordered on elegance—straight nose, narrow eyes, and lips that curved naturally into a faint, contemptuous smile. It was the kind of face that drew admiration from afar and resentment up close.
His robes were clean, better maintained than regulation demanded, and the jade hairpin securing his dark hair was polished to a subtle sheen. Nothing about him screamed extravagance, yet everything about him whispered confidence.
The kind born from knowing where one stood in the sect hierarchy.
The Zhao family was not a great clan, nor did it command the fear or reverence of true powerhouses. On the surface, they ranked no higher than Fang Ji's household—both classified as mid-tier families within the Azure Cloud Sect's outer sphere. Yet appearances were deceiving.
Where Fang Ji's family relied on brute strength and numbers, the Zhao family invested in refinement. They possessed several secret cultivation techniques passed down quietly through generations, methods never shared beyond their bloodline. These techniques were not widely known, nor were they flashy—but they were efficient, stable, and brutally effective when nurtured properly.
More importantly, the Zhao family did not waste them.
Only their most promising talents were granted access.
Zhao Ming was one of them.
That fact alone explained his cultivation—why he had already reached the mid stage of the Mortal Plane at his age, why his Qi felt smooth and controlled rather than wild and crude. It also explained the faint pride in his posture, the certainty with which he looked down on those around him.
To Zhao Ming, the herb garden was not a workplace.
It was a hunting ground.
And Li Chen, standing there with his basket and carefully neutral expression, had just wandered into his line of sight.
---
Behind Zhao Ming were three others, each carrying baskets like Li Chen's. Their stances were deferential, eyes sharp but cautious—followers rather than equals.
"Interesting," the system murmured. "Servant-clan types. Bodies, not brains."
Zhao Ming's nose twitched subtly.
Then he smiled.
A slow, knowing sneer.
"That fragrance," he said, eyes locking onto Li Chen, "doesn't belong to the herb garden."
Li Chen inwardly face-palmed.
The system sounded delighted. "Ahhh. Finally. Your life was getting dull."
"Does my misfortune excite you that much?" Li Chen shot back mentally.
"Immensely."
Zhao Ming stepped closer, gaze flicking over Li Chen's plain robes, his basket, his posture.
"I know that scent," Zhao Ming continued. "Violet Spirit Plum. Over four centuries old, if I'm not mistaken."
Li Chen's fingers tightened around his basket handle.
Zhao Ming's smile widened.
"Hand it over."