Morning sunlight filtered through the mountain mists, bathing the sect in a warm golden hue.
The faint sound of bells marked the start of the day, and servant disciples filed out toward their assigned halls.
Wan Long adjusted the simple belt around his robe and headed toward the Inner Alchemy Hall.
His steps were steady—light but purposeful.
Just a few days ago, his body had been frail and trembling, weighed down by fatigue and weakness.
Now, his movements carried a quiet strength. His every step left a faint echo of confidence.
As he entered the hall, several Servant disciples looked up.
"Senior Brother Wan, morning!"
"Oh, you're here again? Early as always!"
The greetings caught him slightly off guard. Other servant disciples had already started addressing him as 'senior brother'.
A few days ago, those same faces had looked at him with pity—or amusement.
Now they smiled, half out of courtesy, half out of curiosity.
Wan Long simply nodded with a faint smile.
He didn't need their approval.
What he needed… was waste.
He moved past them, heading deeper into the inner hall.
This time, he didn't wait for instructions or assignments.
He rolled up his sleeves and went straight to work.
With his newly strengthened body and the support of spiritual energy circulating subtly within him,
each bucket that once required sheer will to lift now felt light as a feather.
Within hours, two entire chambers were spotless.
The alchemy attendants exchanged surprised glances.
Even the inner disciples paused occasionally, watching the young servant move tirelessly— each sweep and lift precise, efficient, almost rhythmic.
"Isn't that the servant who cleaned the entire southern wing?"
"Yeah… and look at him. He's barely sweating."
"Strange. He doesn't even seem tired."
Wan Long paid them no mind.
He was too focused—too eager.
Seventy buckets had already been cleared by noon.
Each one he carried out added to the quiet storm of anticipation building in his chest.
He could feel it—his body thrumming with spiritual vitality.
With every breath, the Moon Breathing Technique gathered the faintest traces of qi from the world, strengthening him subtly even while he worked.
When he finally set the last bucket down near the dumping ground,
he exhaled deeply, wiping the faint sheen of sweat from his brow.
"Done before midday," he murmured, looking at the sky.
He smiled faintly.
"Perfect."
Today wasn't just about recycling.
He had a new goal.
Wan Long had already decided—once his work was done, he would head to the outer sect market.
He needed to start moving carefully, building a small fortune of spirit stones under the radar.
Just as he was about to finish cleaning the last section of the hall, a sudden hush fell over the nearby disciples.
Footsteps—light, crisp, and deliberate—echoed through the corridor.
Wan Long looked up to see Senior Sister Shen Murong approaching.
Her snow-white robes fluttered slightly as she walked, the faint scent of medicinal herbs and frost following her.
Her beauty was calm and cold, like a mountain spring frozen midstream.
The faint jade ornament at her waist shimmered with spiritual light—proof of her identity as a first-tier alchemist.
Around her, even the most talkative inner disciples went silent.
Everyone in the alchemy hall knew Shen Murong's temperament—meticulous, distant, and almost impossible to please.
She rarely spoke to servant disciples, and when she did, it was usually to point out mistakes.
So when she stopped in front of Wan Long, all eyes turned toward him.
"Your work these past few days has been… adequate," she said, her tone as even as ever.
Her gaze swept over the spotless floors, the organized shelves, and the empty cauldrons.
Then, from her sleeve, she retrieved a small jade vial and held it out to him.
"Take this," she said.
Wan Long blinked, momentarily taken aback.
The vial was cold to the touch—within it, he could sense the faint ripple of spiritual energy.
"A Mid-Grade Body Tempering Pill," someone whispered from behind.
A wave of murmurs followed.
"What? Senior Sister Murong actually rewarded a servant?"
"Impossible… she's never done that before!"
"To a servant disciple? That pill's worth at least fifty spirit stones!"
Wan Long could feel their stares—some envious, others disbelieving.
To an ordinary servant disciple, a mid-grade body tempering pill was a priceless treasure.
Most could only afford the lowest grade from the markets after months of savings.
Even outer disciples had to ration their pills carefully.
He bowed deeply. "Many thanks, Senior Sister Shen."
Shen Murong nodded faintly, her expression unreadable. "Continue your diligence."
Without another glance, she turned and left, her robes trailing behind her like ripples of moonlight.
Wan Long watched her leave, then glanced down at the jade vial in his hand.
To him, the pill was nothing.
He had dozens of high-grade ones in his inventory—each far superior in purity and effect.
Still, he slipped the vial into his robe respectfully.
He understood value wasn't just in the pill—but in what others believed it to be.
A few of the disciples nearby muttered quietly, their eyes flickering with a mix of jealousy and curiosity.
Wan Long pretended not to notice, lowering his gaze as if humbled by the gesture.
In truth, his heart was calm—focused.
There was still work to do, waste to recycle, and now, a growing awareness that his name was starting to circulate in the alchemy hall.
That was both a blessing—and a danger.
He picked up the last bucket, his expression unreadable.
But in his mind, he whispered once more:
"System… recycle."
The familiar mechanical chime echoed in his mind.
[Recycling failed pill residue…]
[Recycling complete.]
[Obtained: 5,800 Days of Spiritual Energy.]
[Obtained: 40 High-Grade Tier 2 Spirit Nourishing Pills.]
[Obtained: 10 High-Grade Tier 3 Core Foundation Pills.]
[Obtained: Complete Formula: Spirit Nourishing Pill.]
[Recycle Points + 14,000.]
Wan Long froze.
His breath caught in his chest as he reread the notifications, each line flashing like a bolt of lightning in his sea of consciousness.
"Complete… formula?" he whispered, his voice trembling ever so slightly.
This was beyond reason.
The Spirit Nourishing/tempering Pill wasn't some common concoction—it was a Tier 2 pill so refined and precious that even Nascent Soul cultivators used it to temper and stabilize their spiritual souls. Its purpose wasn't to strengthen the body or enhance qi flow, but to nourish the very essence of the soul itself.
In the entire Sect, there existed no direct method of cultivating the soul and spirit. The only way was through such pills—pills that required terrifying precision in balance and fire control.
And yet…
Just four days ago, When he was taken to be a 'test subject' with seven other servant disciples, the seven had perished during testing of an incomplete batch of Spirit Nourishing Pills.
Rumor had it that even the Inner Alchemy Hall didn't possess the complete, stable formula.
But now—he did.
Wan Long's hands trembled slightly as he stared at the empty bucket before him, disbelief flickering in his eyes.
This wasn't merely a good haul. It was an impossible one.
He swallowed hard, his mind spinning.
If the sect discovered that he somehow possessed a flawless Spirit Nourishing Pill formula, one they themselves had failed to stabilize…
He wouldn't just draw attention.
He'd draw suspicion—and death.
He quickly calmed his breathing, suppressing the rising thrill and fear in his chest.
Still, he couldn't deny the surge of excitement coursing through him.
Forty high-grade Spirit Nourishing Pills—each one a treasure beyond imagination. Even elders would hoard such pills for years.
And ten more Core Foundation Pills…
His lips curved slightly. "Looks like the heavens haven't forgotten me after all."
He glanced around to ensure no one was watching, then mentally stored all the items safely in his inventory space.
.....
The sun was already beginning to dip below the distant peaks, painting the alchemy halls in gold and crimson hues. The murmurs of disciples echoed faintly from within, but Wan Long heard none of it.
His thoughts were racing—calculated and sharp.
"With this… I could build my foundation in one smooth step."
"And with the formula…"
He paused, a dangerous gleam flashing in his eyes.
"Perhaps… I could make my own pills."
But for now, he clenched his fists, steadying himself. He knew better than to be reckless. One step at a time. The sect was still watching.
As the last rays of sunlight faded, Wan Long lifted his head, the faintest trace of a smile crossing his lips.
"Four days," he murmured, eyes glinting.
"And already, fate begins to turn."
.....
He'd already received his latest haul from the system — more pills, more energy, and more Recycle Points than ever before.
But what caught his attention most were the Core Foundation Pills and the Spirit Nurturing Pills.
Those weren't things a mere servant disciple should ever touch, much less own.
If he converted even a fraction of them into contribution points, he could finally gain access to what he truly lacked — cultivation skills.
"I need contribution points," he murmured under his breath.
The outer sect didn't allow servant disciples to officially trade for sect merits.
But the black market that thrived after dark cared little for rules.
Contribution points could be exchanged — illegally — for the right price.
Before heading out, Wan Long slipped into one of the small stalls near the market edge and purchased a plain white mask, the kind outer disciples used for casual concealment.
He adjusted his robe, hiding the simple servant mark on his sleeve, and made his way into the crowded lanes of the outer sect market.
The evening crowd was still bustling — disciples haggling, merchants shouting, and the scent of roasted meat mixing with the faint tang of spirit herbs.
Keeping his head low, Wan Long found a quiet corner near a dimly lit stall and took out a small jade bottle.
He placed three High-Grade Body Tempering Pills inside and sealed it with a strip of paper.
On the strip, he wrote in careful characters:
"Exchanging High-Grade Body Tempering Pills for Contribution Points."
He set it on the wooden table and waited.
At first, no one paid attention.
But when a faint medicinal fragrance drifted out, heads began to turn.
A few outer disciples, their eyes sharp from long practice, froze mid-step.
"That smell… is that high-grade?"
"Impossible — only alchemy disciples have access to such quality!"
"Who's selling this?"
Wan Long sat silently behind the mask, saying nothing.
His posture was calm, his breathing steady — but his senses were on edge, ready to move at the first sign of danger.
Within minutes, three disciples approached, their gazes filled with disbelief and greed.
"How much?" one asked cautiously.
"Offer," Wan Long said evenly. His voice was low, slightly distorted by the mask.
After a brief, tense pause, one of them produced a jade token — glowing faintly with the Contribution Hall's mark.
"Eight hundred points," he said.
Wan Long nodded once. "Done."
The trade was swift.
He passed the sealed bottle, took the jade token, and scanned it with the faint spiritual imprint the system provided to confirm its authenticity.
[Acquired: 800 Contribution Points.]
The moment the exchange was complete, he rose silently and slipped away into the night.
By the time the curious crowd turned back to look, the masked trader had vanished.
Only the lingering scent of high-grade medicinal herbs remained in the air.
He returned to his hut long after dusk, the faint light of the moon tracing silver lines across his floor.
As he sat cross-legged once more, he couldn't help but smile beneath the mask he still held in one hand.
"If one small trade brought me this much… i can just flood the market."
But deep in his chest, another thought burned brighter:
"I'm walking a dangerous line. I need power — real power — before someone notices."