The following days saw Lâm Minh divide his time meticulously.
By day, he continued with Hạnh's debris clearance crew, his official cover.
He worked with renewed vigor, his enhanced Qi Refining physique making the labor less taxing.
More importantly, he used every spare moment, every subtle opportunity, to scavenge for raw condensate in Zone 7-Delta.
His Qi Sense, though basic, proved invaluable, allowing him to detect faint traces of the oily substance that others would miss.
He focused on areas near old, ruptured fuel lines or deep within collapsed basements where seepage was more likely.
His collection grew steadily, stored in carefully concealed containers.
By night, he cultivated.
With the three high-quality Spirit Stones from Yan, his progress towards the next minor threshold within Qi Refining felt slightly faster, the Qi purer.
He was still far from any major breakthrough, but the consistent infusion of Spirit Essence was slowly transforming his body, strengthening his meridians, and expanding his Dantian.
He also began to subtly observe his fellow crew members, particularly those Hạnh had brought on Old Feng's escort mission – Cường and Tuấn.
Cường, the boisterous, scarred man, was all bluster on the surface but possessed a crude cunning and was fiercely loyal to Hạnh.
Tuấn, quieter and more observant, had a wiry strength and moved with an almost predatory grace.
Both were hardened survivors, their skills honed by the brutal realities of the besieged city.
They were, in their own way, cultivators of a different kind – cultivators of survival.
Lâm Minh understood the System's mandate to "identify and cultivate potential allies."
These two, under Hạnh's leadership, were already a functioning unit.
Perhaps they could be more.
If he could subtly guide them, perhaps even find a way to unlock their own latent potential if the System's "Power Conferral" ability ever became usable… it was a distant thought, but he filed it away.
An opportunity to interact more closely with them, and to deal with a lingering annoyance, presented itself a few days later back at Thăng Long Combat Preparatory School.
Lâm Minh had made a point of attending school regularly, maintaining the facade of a normal, if somewhat aloof, student.
He used the time to observe, gather information about the current state of the city from the chatter of students and teachers, and, occasionally, catch a glimpse of Tố Quyên.
She was always surrounded by her clique of friends, a radiant figure in the drab environment.
Their paths never directly crossed, and he made no attempt to force an interaction.
Not yet.
He was still too weak, his foundations too shallow.
The bully, Khang, however, had not forgotten Lâm Minh's unsettling gaze from that first day.
Khang, accustomed to being the alpha male among his peers due to his family's minor influence and his own thuggish tendencies, found Lâm Minh's quiet indifference and lack of fear irksome.
He'd tried a few minor provocations – a shoulder barge in the corridor, a sneering comment in class – but Lâm Minh had ignored them with a calmness that only further infuriated Khang.
Today, Khang decided to escalate.
It was during the lunch break.
Lâm Minh was sitting alone in a quiet corner of the dilapidated school courtyard, mentally reviewing Qi Refining pathways, when Khang and two of his cronies swaggered over.
"Well, well, look who it is," Khang sneered, blocking Lâm Minh's light.
"Little Minh, the quiet mouse. Still pretending you're better than everyone else?"
Lâm Minh slowly looked up, his expression neutral. "I'm just trying to eat my lunch, Khang."
"Oh, are you now?" Khang snatched the small, dry bread roll from Lâm Minh's hand.
"Doesn't look like much. People from Sector 7 can't afford real food, huh?" He took a bite and then spat it out contemptuously.
"Tastes like dirt."
His two cronies snickered.
Lâm Minh's eyes narrowed slightly.
In his past life, he'd dealt with far worse than petty bullies.
But this Khang was a persistent annoyance, and his arrogance was grating.
More importantly, this was an opportunity to send a message, both to Khang and to any other observant eyes.
A display of controlled strength, without revealing too much.
"Give it back, Khang," Lâm Minh said, his voice still calm but with an underlying edge of steel.
Khang laughed.
"Make me, gutter rat." He threw the remains of the bread roll on the ground and stomped on it.
"Oops. Clumsy me."
Lâm Minh slowly stood up.
He was still shorter than Khang, and noticeably thinner, but there was a new solidity to his stance, a coiled tension that hadn't been there weeks ago.
"I don't want to fight you, Khang," he said.
"But you're pushing it."
"Ooh, I'm so scared," Khang mocked, puffing out his chest.
His cronies moved to flank him. "What are you gonna do, cry to your mommy?"
This was the moment. Lâm Minh moved.
It wasn't a flashy move.
It was incredibly fast, efficient, and utterly unexpected.
He didn't throw a punch.
He stepped forward, almost flowing into Khang's space, his left hand shooting out to grip Khang's outstretched wrist – the one that had thrown the bread.
His fingers, strengthened by Qi, clamped down like a vise.
Khang yelped in surprise and pain, his arrogant smirk vanishing.
He tried to pull his hand away, but Lâm Minh's grip was like iron.
"I said," Lâm Minh repeated, his voice now quiet and dangerous, "give it back."
Since the bread was ruined, he added, "Or apologize."
Khang, infuriated and humiliated by being so easily controlled by someone he considered an inferior, tried to swing at Lâm Minh with his free hand.
Lâm Minh, anticipating the move, tightened his grip on Khang's wrist, twisting it sharply upwards.
Khang howled in pain as a searing agony shot up his arm.
His knees buckled.
"Apologize," Lâm Minh said again, his eyes cold.
Khang's cronies, momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events, started to move forward.
"I wouldn't if I were you," Lâm Minh said without looking at them, his voice carrying a chilling certainty.
There was something in his tone, in the effortless way he was disabling their leader, that made them hesitate.
Khang, sweat beading on his forehead, his face contorted in pain, finally choked out,
"Alright! Alright! I… I apologize! Let go!"
Lâm Minh held the grip for another second, making his point, then released Khang's wrist with a slight shove.
Khang stumbled back, clutching his arm, his face a mixture of rage, disbelief, and a newfound fear.
Lâm Minh calmly picked up his satchel.
He glanced at Khang's cronies, who quickly averted their eyes.
"Don't let it happen again," Lâm Minh said quietly, then turned and walked away, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.
He didn't look back, but he could feel their eyes on him.
He knew this wasn't the end of it with Khang, but he'd established a new dynamic.
He was no longer an easy target.
The incident had been witnessed by a number of students, though most quickly pretended they hadn't seen anything.
However, news of "the quiet kid from Sector 7" taking down Khang, the school bully, would spread.
Later that afternoon, as he was leaving school, he noticed Tố Quyên and her friends near the gate.
For the first time, as he walked past, he saw a flicker of something different in her eyes as her gaze met his briefly.
Not dismissal, but… curiosity?
Perhaps a touch of surprise.
It was fleeting, but it was there.
He gave a subtle, almost imperceptible nod, then continued on his way.
Baby steps.
That evening, he met Hạnh as arranged.
He had a heavy sack with him, filled with the best samples of condensate-laced earth he could find.
"This is what I managed to gather," he told her.
"Take it to Old Feng. Tell him there's more where that came from if he's interested in a regular supply."
Hạnh hefted the sack, surprised by its weight. "You've been busy, kid."
She looked at him with a new level of respect. "Feng will be pleased. This stuff, even raw, is hard to come by in reliable quantities."
"Just tell him I'm a reliable supplier," Lâm Minh said.
A few days later, Hạnh sought him out on the clearance site.
"Feng was very impressed with the quality," she said, a grin on her face.
"Said you have a good nose for this stuff. He wants more. And he sent this for you."
She handed him a small, heavy pouch.
Inside were ten Low-Grade Spirit Stones, and two hundred ASEAN credits.
"He said consider this an advance, and a bonus for the first batch," Hạnh explained.
"He's willing to pay 50 credits and one refined Spirit Stone for every sack of that quality you bring him, up to three sacks a week. More if the quality is exceptional."
Lâm Minh's eyes lit up.
This was a breakthrough!
A steady, reliable source of Spirit Stones, earned through his own efforts.
Ten stones! This would significantly accelerate his cultivation.
"That's… good news," he said, trying to keep the elation out of his voice.
"Good news?" Hạnh chuckled.
"Kid, that's a damn goldmine by Rust Market standards. You just became Old Feng's favorite little scavenger." She then grew more serious.
"But it also means you're more valuable, and more of a target. Be careful out there, Minh. Really careful."
Lâm Minh nodded.
He understood the risks. But the rewards were too great to ignore.
He now had a purpose for his daily toil beyond simple survival.
He had a direct means to power.
And as he looked at Hạnh, and thought of Cường and Tuấn, he also saw the nascent seeds of an alliance.
They were bound by their dealings with Old Feng, by the shared dangers of the city.
Hạnh trusted him.
Cường and Tuấn, after witnessing his performance during the ambush and hearing Hạnh's praise, were starting to treat him less like a kid and more like a capable, if enigmatic, comrade.
The path was still long and dangerous.
But Lâm Minh felt, for the first time, that he wasn't just walking it alone.
He was beginning to gather the pieces, and the people, he would need to face the storm that was coming.
And the bully, Khang, had learned a valuable lesson: even the quietest mouse can have a lion's bite.