Grey looked at the young woman with the bow and nodded. He accepted her words, understanding that he was now part of a team, and that came with its own set of rules. He knew their destination was a place where blue silver grass grew, a medicinal herb that was a crucial ingredient for refining the pills that suppressed the corrosive substance within the body. He had only ever seen withered, useless stalks of it, so he was excited to finally see the real thing. The blue silver grass he had seen before was just like a normal grass stalk, but with a faint hint of blue streaking up its stem and leaves.
Because of the strong spiritual energy fluctuations coming from each member of the party, they were left unbothered by any mutated creatures. After what felt like hours of travel, they were close to the deeper parts of the corroded zone. Grey felt the corrosive substance within his body spike up, a painful sensation that made his skin crawl. He quickly swallowed a medicinal pill. He watched the rest of the party, and their pale faces showed they were doing the same.
The creatures of the corroded zones were dangerous, but the true killer was the corrosive substance. It was an invasive and destructive force, permeating everything—living and inanimate—and corroding their spiritual integrity. A normal cultivator would be overwhelmed without the pills, and their decay point would expand, leading to a much sooner death.
As Grey swallowed a few more pills, he carefully counted his remaining supply. He had consumed three yesterday and two more just now, which left him with only five. It pained him to see his limited spirit coins dwindling so quickly. He felt his pocket, and a flash of regret passed over his face.
After a while of navigating a maze of twisted trees and overgrown terrain, they finally entered a small, open plain. The field of grass was lush and vibrant, only reaching their ankles. The expressions of the party members visibly relaxed. "This is it," the young woman with the bow said softly, a look of reverence on her face. This was the legendary blue silver grass.
The grass swayed lightly in the wind, its leaves a dazzling silver color that reflected the cold, ambient light. Veins of vibrant blue ran up each stalk to the leaves, giving the plants a delicate, almost ethereal beauty.
"You can relax for a few minutes before we start to collect the blue silver grass. Bring out your storage bags," the captain announced. The group sighed in relief and took out their sickles. They looked like farmers in this tranquil field, but Grey felt something was off. It seemed too mundane, too easy. He was a fourth-level Qi Accumulation cultivator, but the captain had brought a group of high-level cultivators just for this. Something didn't add up.
Driven by curiosity, he reached down and tried to pull a stalk of grass. He pulled with all his might, but it didn't budge. He applied more force, but the result was the same. The grass was impossibly taut, as if rooted to the very core of the world.
The captain, seeing Grey's struggle, came over. "You cannot pull out blue silver grass with your strength and bare hands," he said simply. He effortlessly tugged on a stalk, and it came free with a gentle pop. Grey watched in disbelief, then looked at the other members who were all harvesting with ease. He finally understood.
"Cultivators below the fifth stage of Qi Accumulation cannot hope to pull out the blue silver grass. That's why everyone here is at least in the sixth stage and has a soul weapon," the captain explained, bringing out his own simple, basic sickle. He saw Grey's confused expression and decided to elaborate further.
"Soul weapons are weapons crafted from metals that contain spiritual energy. People who forge them are called soul smiths. They have very strong spiritual perception and are extremely sensitive to spiritual energy." The captain took a short pause, his gaze contemplative. "Soul weapons are divided into seven ranks: Profound, Earthly, Heavenly, Mystic, Legendary, Sacred, and Divine. These ranks correspond to the metals used to make them. Metals from the Mystic rank and above are exceedingly rare and difficult to find."
"To be a soul smith, you have to be very strong and possess a great talent for forging. Otherwise, you'll be wasting your time and materials. Soul smiths also have their own seven ranks: Soul Origin, Soul Condensation, Soul Venerable, Soul Master, Soul Saint, Soul Grandmaster, and Soul God. Soul smiths from the third rank and up are incredibly rare to find and are most likely already recruited into the big factions."
The captain finished his detailed explanation and looked at Grey, whose eyes were wide with fascination. He had never heard of such a thing. He looked at the simple sickle again, now with a new perspective, feeling a strange energy and a subtle will within it. He was starting to realize just how vast and complex this world was, and how little he knew.
'There are so many things I still do not know about this world,' he muttered inwardly. The world had suddenly seemed vaster and bigger than he had ever thought.
Seeing Grey deep in thought, the captain subtly left, and Grey didn't even notice when the team had met their quota. He watched as they bundled the harvested grass and placed it into their storage bags. These bags seemed to hold an endless amount of space, showing no bulge as they were filled. After making sure they were ready, they all left in a different direction than they had come. The team was quiet, but Grey felt a sense of camaraderie growing. He had a lot to learn, and he had a feeling that the captain, for some strange reason, was willing to teach him. He was a part of this group now, and he had a whole new world to explore.