Three days after defeating Lin Bao, Jiang Muchen stepped into the side courtyard of the Artifact Refining Hall.
Firecloud Elder was hammering a billet of iron glowing red-hot. Each strike of the heavy hammer boomed like thunder, rattling eardrums. Sweat streamed down his bare upper body, skin gleaming under the furnace glow. Without lifting his head, he snorted.
"So. You're here?"
"This disciple, Jiang Muchen, greets Elder," Jiang said, bowing deeply as he presented an oil-paper bundle with both hands.
Firecloud halted, resting the hammer against the ground. "What's that?"
"Braised beef from Drunken Immortal Pavilion on South Street. And aged Daughter's Red wine," Jiang replied, placing it on a stone block nearby. "Forging drains the body. Elder should eat something substantial."
Firecloud glanced at it—but said nothing, resuming his hammering.
Clang.
Clang.
Clang.
Sparks flew.
Jiang didn't rush him. He waited calmly, eyes quietly sweeping the courtyard.
Scattered ore chunks. Half-finished blades. A broad saber already shaped but not yet sharpened. And in the corner—several pieces of oddly colored metal.
His gaze paused on a dark red stone.
Crimson Flame Essence Gold.
A premium material for fire-attribute artifacts. One jin sold for thirty low-grade spirit stones. That piece alone weighed at least three jin.
Yet it lay abandoned in the corner, dusted with ash.
That wasn't right.
Firecloud Elder treasured materials like his own life. He wouldn't treat Crimson Flame Essence Gold this way unless—
Jiang's Insight Technique quietly activated.
Firecloud's breathing was heavier than usual. His wrist trembled faintly as he swung the hammer—not fatigue, but suppressed agitation. The furnace burned hotter than normal, its flames unstable, licking erratically.
He wasn't angry.
He was anxious.
"Kid," Firecloud suddenly said, interrupting Jiang's observation. "I heard you fought flashy on the arena two days ago?"
"This disciple merely used tricks."
"Tricks that work are still skill." Firecloud finally stopped, wiping his face with a towel. He sat, tore open the oil paper, stuffed beef into his mouth, and washed it down with wine. "Lin Tianying's lot has run wild for too long. You beating them was satisfying."
Jiang said nothing.
Firecloud chewed, eyes fixed on him. "But you didn't come just to bring food and wine. What do you want?"
"Elder sees clearly," Jiang bowed. "This disciple enters Azure Nether Herb Valley in three days and seeks guidance."
"Herb Valley?" Firecloud raised a brow. "You got a slot?"
"By chance."
"Heh. Qi Refining Third Layer, entering the Herb Valley—your 'chance' is impressive." Firecloud wiped his mouth. "Speak. Artifact? Armor? Or life-saving talismans?"
"I want a map."
Firecloud's hand paused.
"A map of the Herb Valley's outer region," Jiang continued evenly. "Marked dangers. Potential rare resources. Ideally—one you personally walked and annotated."
Silence fell.
Only the furnace crackled.
Firecloud stared at him, eyes sharp as newly forged steel. "Ambitious brat. Most disciples are grateful to pick a few Blood-Coagulating Herbs. You're hunting rare materials?"
"I need resources," Jiang said plainly. "The menial courts offer no spirit stones, no pills, not even proper cultivation manuals. The Herb Valley opens once every three years. Miss this, and I don't know when I'll get another chance."
Half true.
What he truly wanted went far beyond common herbs.
Firecloud was quiet for a long moment—then laughed.
Not his usual booming laugh. This one carried mockery… and resignation.
"I have the map," he said. "But why should I give it to you?"
Jiang had been waiting for that.
He walked to the corner, bent down, and picked up the Crimson Flame Essence Gold.
"Elder," he said, turning with the stone cradled in his palm. "This piece has over eighty percent purity. Upper-grade. But see the faint web-like patterns on the surface?"
Firecloud's expression changed.
"Fire-toxin stagnation," Jiang continued. "If forged directly, artifact stability drops by thirty percent. Over time, it may even self-detonate."
"How do you know?" Firecloud demanded.
"I read miscellaneous texts while cleaning the Scripture Pavilion," Jiang replied. "One volume—Records of Mineral Aberrations—describes this exact phenomenon. When held to firelight, thin crimson threads flow within."
He lifted the stone near the furnace.
Under the flames, hair-thin red lines wriggled faintly inside, like living veins.
Firecloud set down his wine jug and stood.
"Go on."
"Fire-toxin stagnation forms when ore condenses under unstable earth-fire," Jiang said, placing the stone back. "To purge it, soak the metal in Cold Pool Water for seven days, then polish with Ice-Soul Stone powder."
He paused. "But Cold Pool Water is rare. Ice-Soul Stone is expensive. Treating this costs more than the metal itself."
He met Firecloud's eyes. "Which is why you left it in the corner."
Firecloud said nothing—but his breathing deepened.
Jiang knew he'd struck home.
"According to the Herb Valley map," Jiang continued calmly, "the northwest holds Cold Mist Ravine. Dense frost fog year-round. At its deepest fissure lies a frigid spring—comparable to Cold Pool Water."
Firecloud's eyes lit.
"And on the ravine's eastern cliff grows Frost-Tear Vine," Jiang added. "Each autumn, its roots secrete a white resin. Once dried, the powder shares seventy percent similarity with Ice-Soul Stone."
Silence.
Firecloud stared at him for a full ten breaths.
Then he burst out laughing.
"Good! Damn good!" He slapped Jiang's shoulder hard enough to stagger him. "You circled half the mountain just to corner me here!"
Jiang steadied himself and smiled. "Better a fair trade than begging."
"My map for your Cold Mist haul," Firecloud said. "You cleanse the Crimson Flame Essence Gold. I get usable material. Deal?"
"Yes."
Firecloud's laughter faded. He sat again, chewing slowly. "Cold Mist Ravine isn't simple. Ice-Scale Serpents nest there. Fast. Venom kills on contact. With your cultivation, that's suicide."
"I'll manage."
"And Frost-Tear Vine only secretes once every ten years. Might not be this year."
"I'll confirm."
"And if you die?" Firecloud lifted his gaze sharply. "I lose the map for nothing."
Jiang was silent for a moment.
Then he did something unexpected.
He drew out the jade flute.
"Elder," he said, offering it with both hands. "I leave this as collateral. If I don't return, it's yours. If I do—trade complete."
Firecloud took the flute. Warm. Smooth. A faint spiritual resonance pulsed beneath his fingers.
"This matters to you," Firecloud said quietly.
"Yes."
"Then why risk it?"
"Because I will return," Jiang replied evenly—certainty ironclad.
Firecloud studied him… then turned and went inside.
Moments later, he emerged and tossed a beast-hide scroll.
"My map. Drawn thirty years ago. Terrain may shift, but not by much." He pointed. "Cold Mist Ravine—red mark. Spring at the deepest crevice. Frost-Tear Vine on the eastern cliff, five zhang up."
Jiang unfolded it.
The map was meticulous—terrain, beast lairs, material zones marked in layered colors. At the northwest corner, a red cross bore the note:
Cold Mist Ravine. Ice-Scale Serpents. Enter with caution.
"Thank you, Elder."
"Don't thank me yet," Firecloud snorted. "That purification method—you read it from Records of Mineral Aberrations?"
"Yes."
"The author, Old Stone Madman, was my martial uncle." Firecloud's voice lowered. "He entered the Herb Valley forty years ago. Never returned. Last sighting—Cold Mist Ravine."
Jiang's heart skipped.
"There may be more hidden there," Firecloud said, clapping his shoulder. "I honored the deal. Whether you survive is up to fate."
"I understand."
"And one more thing." Firecloud pointed to a waterfall icon. "Behind it—there's a cave. I once saw traces of Nine-Revolution Soul-Return Grass inside but didn't dare go deeper. Consider it… an extra wager."
Jiang bowed deeply—this time, sincerely.
When Jiang left the Artifact Refining Hall, dusk had fallen.
Wang Duobao waited outside. "Brother Jiang! Did he agree?"
"He did." Jiang secured the scroll. "And pointed out a place that may hold Nine-Revolution Soul-Return Grass."
"WHAT?!" Wang sucked in a sharp breath. "That's core material for life-saving elixirs! One leaf sells for hundreds!"
"Which is why," Jiang said calmly, "this Herb Valley trip is mandatory."
As they walked back, Wang lowered his voice. "I heard Lin Tianying's badly injured. Three ribs broken. His father warned that 'accidents' happen in the Herb Valley."
"Expected," Jiang said. "And Lin Bao?"
"Left the sect yesterday. Probably too ashamed to stay."
Jiang nodded.
At the menial courtyard gate, he paused, gazing toward the highest peak—
Cloudveil Peak, main seat of Crimson Dust Pavilion.
Lights still glowed at its summit.
"Brother Jiang?" Wang asked. "What are you looking at?"
"The heights," Jiang said softly. "Do you think those up there can see us?"
"…Probably not."
"Right," Jiang murmured. "Too small to notice."
Then his eyes hardened. "Which is why we must become visible."
That night, Jiang lay awake, studying Firecloud's map under moonlight.
Azure Nether Herb Valley.
His first true proving ground.
Could Insight avoid death?
Could value be traded for fate?
Could resonance reach even monsters… or what slept beneath cold springs?
He didn't know.
But he would try.
A flutter.
A snow-white paper crane slipped through the window and landed beside him.
He unfolded it.
The Herb Valley is dangerous. Be careful. If needed, crush this crane—I may be able to help.
— Su Qingwu
Jiang stared at the words for a long time.
Then he folded the crane carefully and tucked it close to his chest.
So… those at the top sometimes do look down.
Just not at everyone.
Only those worth seeing.
Three days later, at dawn—
Twenty disciples gathered at the sect plaza. A massive floating ark descended, runes glowing beneath the morning sun.
The elder announced, "Azure Nether Herb Valley expedition—three days. No fratricide. All gains belong to the gatherer. The ark returns here at this hour. Latecomers will be left behind."
"Board!"
As Jiang stepped onto the deck, he glanced back once more.
When he returned—
Nothing would be the same.
The ark rose, pierced the clouds, and flew north toward the vast mountains.
Jiang rested against the railing, fingers brushing the edge of the beast-hide map.
Tongue Dao Truth:
True value is never begged for. It's the look in someone's eyes when you lay your chips on the table—and they realize the deal is worth making.