The silence in the Reflecting Moon Pavilion was heavier than any cast-iron wok Lin Fei had ever lifted. It was the silence of a detonated bomb, the moment after the explosion, before the screaming starts. Disciple Kang's new Gold Core aura pulsed like a steady, contented heartbeat, the very air vibrating with his triumphant breakthrough, a tangible force that pressed against the walls. The junior healer was prostrate on the floor, muttering prayers to the ancestors, his earlier professionalism utterly shattered. And Elder Xi… Elder Xi just stared. Her face was a pale, beautiful mask of jade, but her eyes were a maelstrom of recalculated ambition and naked, voracious hunger.
Lin Fei's own heart was a frantic drum against his ribs, a stark contrast to Kang's serene, powerful rhythm. He'd done it. He'd performed a miracle that defied ten thousand years of alchemical tradition. And in doing so, he'd painted the biggest, brightest target imaginable on his own back. The look in Elder Xi's eyes wasn't just greed; it was the look of an architect who had just seen a fundamental law of physics broken and was already planning how to own the wrecking ball. She saw a formula, and she needed to acquire its primary component: him.
It was Kang who broke the spell. He surged to his feet, his movements now fluid and powerful, radiating a confidence that hadn't been there minutes before. The pain and exhaustion were gone, replaced by a vibrant, thrumming vitality. He clasped his hands and bowed deeply, not to the powerful Elder, but to Lin Fei. The gesture was so formal, so profoundly respectful, it was jarring in the tense atmosphere.
"This lowly one thanks the master physician for his divine skill," Kang said, his voice resonant with his new power, yet humbled. "You have not only healed my body but have granted me a foundation I could not have dreamed of for a decade. This debt…" He shook his head, as if words were utterly inadequate vessels for his gratitude. "It is a life debt. My strength is yours to command."
Lin Fei blinked, utterly thrown. He was terrible at accepting gratitude, especially when it felt like it was meant for the system living in his head. "Uh. It was… the peach. You earned it." He gestured weakly to the empty dish.
"The peach was a key," Kang corrected, his gaze intense, sincere. "You were the master smith who forged it into a key that could unlock my potential. The Alchemy Pavilion…" He finally glanced at Elder Xi, his expression cooling from fervent gratitude to a wary neutrality. "…they would have had me swallow pills for months to achieve a fraction of this result, and it would have left my meridians scarred." There was a new, subtle defiance in him. The breakthrough hadn't just given him power; it had given him perspective, and it had clearly soured his view of the established order.
Elder Xi's mask finally cracked. A thin, icy smile touched her lips, not reaching her cold, calculating eyes. "Indeed. A… remarkable display, Physician Lin. Truly. The Sect Master's faith in your… unorthodox methods… is clearly not misplaced." Every word was carefully chosen, layered with meaning. She was acknowledging his power while simultaneously reminding everyone in the room—especially Kang—that he belonged to Su Mingyu. For now. It was a claim of ownership. "Disciple Kang, you must go to the meditation caves immediately. Stabilizing a new core is paramount. Healer, assist him."
It was a dismissal. A reassertion of control. The healer scrambled up, bowing repeatedly to everyone in the room. Kang hesitated, looking at Lin Fei one more time, a silent promise passing between them, before bowing again and allowing himself to be led away. The moment they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere in the pavilion tightened like a garrote.
Elder Xi turned her full attention to Lin Fei. The false warmth was gone, stripped away to reveal the steel beneath. "A life debt from a newly minted Gold Core disciple is no small thing, chef," she said, the last word a soft, deliberate poison dropped into the silence. "It makes you valuable. And it makes you vulnerable. He will not always be here to stand between you and the consequences of your… art."
"I don't need protection," Lin Fei said, trying to sound braver than he felt. He started gathering his used tools, needing to do something with his hands, to cling to the normalcy of cleaning up after a service. "I'm just here to cook."
"You are here to unravel ten thousand years of alchemical tradition," she corrected, gliding closer. She stopped by his table, picking up a discarded piece of the Sun-Blessed Peach's skin. It still shimmered with faint, dying power. "You create results we can only dream of, with methods we dismiss as primitive. Do you understand what that means?" She didn't wait for an answer. "The Alchemy Pavilion is the backbone of this sect. Our pills fund our operations, arm our disciples, grant us influence with other sects. Our authority is built on the incontrovertible fact that we hold the keys to progression. And you… you could make it all obsolete."
She wasn't just threatening him; she was explaining the scope of the problem he represented. It was somehow more terrifying than a simple death threat. He was a systemic error.
"The Sect Master doesn't seem to think so," Lin Fei countered, wiping his knife clean with a cloth that shook slightly in his hand.
"Su Mingyu thinks like a warrior," Elder Xi said, a hint of scorn finally bleeding into her voice. "She sees a powerful new weapon. I think like an alchemist. I see a paradigm shift. And paradigm shifts are messy. People get crushed in the gears." She placed the piece of peach skin back on the table. "She will use you until your value is maximized. And then, when the backlash from the elders becomes too great, when the other sects begin to ask uncomfortable questions about where her new power is truly coming from… she will discard you. Or worse, hand you over to appease them."
Lin Fei's blood ran cold. Because on some level, in the quiet, fearful part of his mind, he knew she was right. Su Mingyu was pragmatic to her core. Her protection was conditional on his utility. He was a spice; once the meal was served, the spice was forgotten.
Elder Xi saw the fear in his eyes and leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that smelled of rare herbs and cold ambition. "I, however, see the art in what you do. The… science. The potential for true understanding." She let the word hang in the air. 'Understanding' sounded a lot like 'dismantling'. "The Alchemy Pavilion has resources she cannot dream of. Ancient recipes lost to time. Ingredients from forgotten realms. A network of influence that spans continents." She paused, letting the offer sink in. It was a good offer. A terrifyingly good offer. "We would not merely use you. We would study with you. Understand you. Elevate you. You would be a partner, not a pet."
It was a lie. He could taste it on her, a cloying, metallic tang of deceit through his Spiritual Palate. She didn't want a partner; she wanted a specimen. She wanted to dissect his gift until she could replicate it, and then dispose of the original. 'Study' was just a prettier word for 'vivisection'.
"My loyalty is to the Sect Master," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Elder Xi's smile returned, colder than ever. "Loyalty is a dish best served with a full understanding of the menu." She straightened up, her robes whispering against the floor. "Think on it, chef. The offer stands. For now."
She left then, leaving behind the scent of rare herbs and a promise that felt like a death sentence. The pavilion felt enormous and empty without her oppressive presence, but the walls felt closer than ever.
Lin Fei sank onto his stool, his legs suddenly weak. He was trapped between a dragon and a viper. Su Mingyu's gilded cage or Elder Xi's glittering lab table. Both led to the same end: being used up until there was nothing left.
The rest of the day passed in a nerve-wracking haze. Every rustle of the waterfall, every distant shout from the sect grounds, made him jump. He expected Su Mingyu to appear, to debrief him, to… something. To claim her victorious weapon. But she didn't come. Her silence was its own kind of message. He was on his own. The tool had performed its function; the hand that wielded it didn't need to check on it.
It was well past midnight, the moon a cold sliver in the sky, when a different visitor arrived. Not a servant. Not an elder. Disciple Kang moved with the silent, preternatural grace of his new power, slipping into the pavilion like a shadow, his Gold Core aura carefully suppressed to a faint ember.
"Physician Lin," he whispered into the darkness.
Lin Fei nearly jumped out of his skin, fumbling for a knife. "Kang! Don't do that. Shouldn't you be… core-stabilizing? Meditating? Doing whatever it is new Gold Cores do?"
"Stable enough," Kang said, a fierce grin flashing in the dim light. He looked older, more sure of himself, the boyish disciple replaced by a young man of disconcerting power. "I owe you my future. That means I'm now part of your security detail. Whether you want one or not."
Lin Fei stared at him, baffled. "What?"
"Elder Xi," Kang said, his grin fading into a grim line. "She's not going to wait. A Gold Core disciple appearing from your kitchen is a fact too big to hide, no matter what story the Sect Master spins. The rumors are already flying through the sect like wildfire. She'll make a move to control you, or to eliminate you if she can't. Probably through someone who can't be traced back to her. An 'accident'. A 'qi deviation' during an experimental treatment."
The simple, brutal analysis confirmed Lin Fei's worst fears. His new Spiritual Palate had told him the same thing; Kang was just giving it a voice. "So what do I do? Hide in here forever?"
"You need allies she can't predict," Kang said, his voice low and urgent. "Not just me. I'm a obvious shield now. You need the unseen. The outer circle. The disciples and outer elders who get the dregs from the Alchemy Pavilion, who are looked down upon. The ones with real talent but no resources, who have learned to be invisible." He pulled a small, folded piece of spirit paper from his robe and slid it across the table. "There's a place. The Night-Soil Garden."
Lin Fei recoiled. "The what? The poop garden?"
A genuine laugh, short and quiet, escaped Kang. "It's what the alchemists call the outer sect's herb gardens. Where they grow the most common ingredients, fertilized with the waste from the spirit beast pens. The disciples who tend them are the lowest of the low. But they know plants. They know soil. They know what grows in the shadows. And they're ignored by everyone. Especially Elder Xi." He tapped the paper. "That's a map. Go there at dawn. Ask for 'Little Mao'. Tell her… tell her you're looking for 'bitter roots that yearn for the sun'. She'll understand."
This was insane. He was being advised to start a rebellion from the septic tank of the sect. "This is crazy. Su Mingyu told me to stay hidden. To not draw attention."
"Su Mingyu sees you as a strategic asset," Kang said, not unkindly, but with a bluntness that was new. "Assets are protected, but they are also expended. If you want to be more than an asset… you need your own foundation. Your own roots." He glanced toward the door, his new senses alert. "I have to go before my absence is noted. Remember. Dawn. Night-Soil Garden."
He vanished as silently as he came, leaving Lin Fei alone in the dark with a map to a manure-scented revolution and a heart pounding with a strange mix of terror and exhilaration.
Dawn came too quickly, the sky bleeding pale light into the indigo. Clutching the map like a lifeline, Lin Fei slipped out of the Reflecting Moon Pavilion. He moved like a ghost, using the rudimentary stealth techniques his increased cultivation afforded him, sticking to back paths and deserted training grounds. The air grew gradually richer with the smell of damp earth and, yes, the distinct, pungent aroma of high-grade spiritual fertilizer.
The Night-Soil Garden wasn't actually a single garden, but a vast terraced series of plots carved into a lesser-visited mountainside. It was humble, but meticulously well-tended. And already, there were figures moving among the rows, young men and women in patched, earth-stained robes, their hands caked with soil as they carefully tended to spirit herbs that, while common, were growing with defiant, vibrant health.
They all stopped and stared as he approached. A stranger in clean, if simple, robes was an anomaly here. A celestial event.
"I'm looking for Little Mao," Lin Fei said, his voice sounding too loud in the quiet, dewy morning air.
A young woman with her hair tied back in a practical bun and a smudge of dirt on her nose stood up from a row of particularly vibrant Bluebell Grass. Her eyes were sharp and intelligent, missing nothing. They scanned him from head to toe, assessing, wary. "Who's asking?"
Lin Fei took a breath. "I'm looking for bitter roots that yearn for the sun."
A stillness fell over the garden. The other disciples exchanged wary, significant glances. Little Mao studied him for a long, silent moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "The sun is stingy here. The best roots are always bitter." It was clearly a call-and-response, a password for the forgotten.
She gestured for him to follow her to a small, dilapidated toolshed that smelled strongly of damp wood and rich soil. Once inside, away from prying eyes and ears, she crossed her arms. "Kang sent you. The one who just hit Gold Core from eating a peach. That's the rumor, anyway." Her voice was direct, no-nonsense.
"The rumor's… not wrong," Lin Fei admitted, seeing no point in deception.
Her eyes widened a fraction, the only sign of her surprise. "And you're the one who cooked it."
There was no point denying it. The secret was out. The cat was not only out of the bag, it had rewritten the laws of feline containment. "Yes."
She let out a low, impressed whistle. "So the real deal. Why are you here? Slumming it with the dirt-eaters? Here to requisition our finest manure for your next masterpiece?" There was a sharp, defensive edge to her words, born from years of being looked down upon.
"I was told you know plants. That you're ignored. And that you might be… dissatisfied," Lin Fei said, choosing his words carefully, feeling his way through this new kind of negotiation.
"Dissatisfied is a gentle word for watching cartloads of spirit herbs we pour our sweat into get hauled up the mountain to become pills we'll never afford," she snorted, a flash of anger in her eyes. "What's your play, chef? What do you want?"
This was it. The point of no return. He wasn't Su Mingyu's asset here. He was just Lin Fei. "I can't make promises. But I can use ingredients. Good ones. And if I have them… I can make things. Things better than pills." He met her gaze, willing her to see the truth in it. "I might need a source. A discreet one. And I might be able to offer something in return. Something more than spirit stones."
Understanding dawned in her eyes. This wasn't just a visit; it was a recruitment. A dangerous, seditious offer that spoke directly to the resentment simmering in this garden. She looked at his hands—a chef's hands, not a laborer's. She looked at the determined set of his jaw, the faint, lingering power of the Peach still clinging to him like an exotic spice.
A slow, fierce smile spread across her face. It was the smile of someone who had been waiting a long, long time for a chance to flip the table. It was the smile of a revolutionary.
"Well then," Little Mao said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let's talk about the fertilizer budget." She leaned in. "See, the alchemists are so focused on the high-grade manure for their precious 'Heavenly Fragrance' gardens, they never check the amounts we requisition for ours. A little here, a little there… it adds up. We've been using the excess to grow a few… side projects. Things that don't belong on any official manifest."
She reached into a burlap sack tucked behind a stack of cracked pots and pulled out a single, stunted, but fiercely potent-looking mushroom. It was a deep, bloody crimson, its cap strangely volleyed, and it pulsed with a faint, dangerous heat that Lin Fei could feel from across the small shed.
[Scarlet Hell-Volley Mushroom: Grade: Earth (Mid). Highly unstable. Raw ingredient for explosive potency elixirs. Requires expert handling. Considered extinct in the Azure Dragon Mountain Range.]
"The alchemists think these are extinct in these mountains," she said, her eyes gleaming with rebellious pride. "We've been cultivating them under the moonlight for three years. They have no idea."
Lin Fei stared at the illicit mushroom, then at the defiant, proud glint in Little Mao's eyes. He had come looking for bitter roots. He had found a whole underground garden of forbidden fruit.
Su Mingyu had her strategic asset. Elder Xi had her coveted specimen.
And he, Lin Fei, just a chef from a food truck, now had his first, fragile, and deeply illegal supply line. The first ingredient in his own recipe for survival.