The infirmary was a study in quiet decay, a reflection of Lee Jin's own place in the Silent Moon Sect. Sunlight, filtered through a dusty window, cut across the rough-hewn floor, illuminating motes of dust and the stern face of the elderly attendant, Granny Luo. Her hands, gnarled like old roots, moved with a surprising gentleness as she changed the poultice on his shoulder.
[Target: Granny Luo]
- Talent: Low-Grade Spiritual Perception (Dormant)
- Skills Detected: Herbalism (Master), Basic Meridian Point Therapy (Expert), Silent Moon Sect's 'Tendon-Knitting Method' (Proficient)
- Special Abilities: None
[Copy Function: Available]
The blue screen hovered unobtrusively at the edge of his vision. This was his new reality. Every person was now a potential library, and his system was the master key.
"Stop staring, boy. You'll strain your other eye," Granny Luo grumbled, not looking up. She pressed a warm, wet cloth infused with a sharp, green paste against his bruised flesh. The smell was pungent, a mix of crushed Myrtle Leaf and Ghostcap Fungus. "The bone is bruised, not broken. Senior Disciple Han is a bully, but he's not stupid enough to cripple a disciple on the training grounds. Even one like you."
Lee Jin winced, but not just from the pain. The familiar sting of the insult was there, but it was duller now, buried under a surge of cold, analytical focus. His eyes were fixed on her hands, on the precise way her fingers located the swollen meridian intersection near his collarbone and applied pressure.
[Copying: 'Herbalism (Master)'... 5%...]
Knowledge began to seep into his mind. Not just the recipe for the poultice, but a vast, interconnected web of information. The Myrtle Leaf was for reducing inflammation, best harvested at dawn when the dew was still on it. The Ghostcap Fungus, toxic if ingested, drew out stagnant blood and chaotic qi when applied topically. He understood their synergistic effect, the ideal grinding texture, the exact duration of application.
It was decades of experience, downloaded in a silent, relentless stream.
"You're lucky," Granny Luo continued, wrapping a clean bandage. "A few years ago, a disciple got a similar blow. Qi stagnation set in. Took him months to recover, and he never fully regained the sensitivity in that arm." Her eyes, sharp and bird-like, flicked to his face. "You don't seem to have that problem. The bruising is receding… oddly fast."
Lee Jin's heart skipped a beat. Was it the system's integration? The newly copied One Moon Circulation technique, working even subconsciously to process the trauma? He kept his face carefully blank, the expression of dull endurance he'd perfected over three years. "The Granny's medicine is very effective."
[70%... 100%!]
[Skill 'Herbalism (Master)' successfully copied.]
[Integration complete.]
Granny Luo snorted, apparently accepting his answer. "Rest today. Light duties tomorrow. No hauling water. You can help in the herb garden. At least there you can only kill plants, not embarrass the sect."
As she turned to tend her clay pots and drying racks, Lee Jin's gaze followed her. The [Copy] prompt glowed patiently next to 'Basic Meridian Point Therapy (Expert)'. Tempting. But he hesitated. Copying too much, too fast, from one person might be noticeable. Granny Luo was observant.
Instead, he let his eyes drift to the window, to the outer courtyard where a few low-level disciples were performing morning physical drills—stretches, lunges, carrying stone weights. Their movements were crude, focused on building raw strength and tendon resilience.
[Target: Outer Disciple Chen]
- Skills Detected: Silent Moon Sect Basic Physical Conditioning (Competent), Stone-Carrying Stance (Novice)
[Copy: 'Basic Physical Conditioning (Competent)'?]
Yes.
Another flood of sensation, simpler this time. It was the ingrained memory of repetitive motion: the correct alignment of the spine during a deep squat to avoid injury, the breathing pattern that maximized muscle engagement during a push-up, the way to distribute weight when carrying to build functional strength, not just bulk.
[Skill 'Basic Physical Conditioning (Competent)' successfully copied.]
A deep, primal hunger growled in Lee Jin's stomach, sharper than any he'd felt before. It wasn't just for food. It was a demand from his body, now armed with the knowledge of how to improve, for the raw materials to do so. The single bowl of grain porridge he was given each day was fuel for a candle, not a forge.
His plan crystallized. The herb garden wasn't a punishment; it was his first real opportunity.
---
The sect's herb garden was a terraced plot on the eastern slope, bathed in the soft light of the late morning. It was meticulously organized, with low stone walls separating sections for spiritual herbs, medicinal plants, and common cooking varieties. An older outer disciple, a man with a perpetual squint named Bo, was in charge.
"You're the one," Bo said, not looking up from weeding a patch of Silvergrass. "The clumsy one. Don't touch the glowing ones. Don't step on the fuzzy ones. Water the ones in the clay pots twice a day. The ones in the stone beds, only when the soil is dry to your second knuckle. Any mistakes come out of your rations. Now, get to work."
Lee Jin nodded, picking up a wooden bucket and a small trowel. As he moved through the rows, his newly acquired Master Herbalism skill activated automatically. The garden transformed from a pretty collection of plants into a dense, living text.
That's Three-Step Serenity Root. Its leaves are bitter but safe; the root, if harvested before flowering, can slightly calm a agitated dantian. The plant next to it is Crimson Vein Ivy. Its sap is a low-grade blood coagulant, but its tendrils will strangle the Serenity Root if left unchecked.
He wasn't just seeing plants. He was seeing recipes, synergies, warnings, and opportunities.
His eyes fell on a secluded corner, partially shaded by a large rock. There, growing wild and seemingly ignored, was a cluster of Bitter-Spike Nettles. A common weed, mildly toxic, known for causing stomach cramps. According to his copied knowledge, however, if the young shoots were boiled twice, the toxins were neutralized, leaving a fibrous, protein-rich paste. It was peasant survival food, never used in cultivation or proper medicine. It tasted horrible, but it was nutritious.
And no one would miss it.
As he worked his assigned tasks—watering, weeding, always under Bo's lazy supervision—Lee Jin began his own clandestine harvest. With careful trowel work, he dug up a few young Bitter-Spike shoots, dirtying them in soil and hiding them under other weeds in his discard basket.
At the end of the day, as the sun dipped behind the western peaks, he returned to his tiny, shared hovel at the furthest edge of the disciple quarters. His two roommates, other lowly outer disciples, ignored him as usual.
In the dead of night, when the only sounds were the distant howls of mountain wolves and the deep breathing of his roommates, Lee Jin crept outside to the communal, always-cold fire pit. Using a cracked clay cup he'd "borrowed" from the refuse pile, he boiled water twice over a tiny, carefully shielded flame made from dried moss and a sparking stone. He processed the nettle shoots into a small lump of dark green, foul-smelling paste.
He ate it. It was worse than horrible. It was like chewing bitter earth and rusty nails. He forced every bite down, his body shuddering in revolt.
But an hour later, as he sat on his sleeping mat attempting the One Moon Circulation, he felt the difference. A faint warmth blossomed in his stomach, a tangible energy that was not spiritual qi, but pure physical fuel. His exhausted muscles seemed to ache a little less. The single, thin stream of qi he could now consciously guide through his meridians felt slightly more substantial.
It was working.
The next day, he copied 'Stone-Carrying Stance (Novice)' from a disciple hauling rocks for path repair. It taught his body how to leverage itself, turning a weak frame into a more efficient one.
A week passed. His shoulder healed completely, aided by Granny Luo's poultices and his own circulating qi. His duties in the garden continued. He grew thinner, his features sharper, but a new, wiry strength began to cord his arms. He stole and processed Bitter-Spike Nettles every other night. The taste never got better, but the results were undeniable.
He practiced the Falling Petal Stroke with a stick in the pre-dawn darkness, his movements growing less shaky, more confident as his body caught up to the perfect form in his mind. He cycled his qi relentlessly, the One Moon Circulation becoming as natural as breathing.
He was a ghost, learning, stealing, and growing in the blind spots of the sect.
One afternoon, while weeding near a prized plot of Moonbloom Flowers, he saw Senior Disciple Han walk through the garden with Elder Wu's head steward, pointing out plants needed for the inner disciples' bath. Han's eyes passed over Lee Jin as if he were another stone. Lee Jin kept his head down, his heart a steady, cold drum in his chest.
[Target: Senior Disciple Han]
- Skills Detected: One Moon Circulation (Proficient), Silent Moon Swordsmanship Forms I-III (Proficient), Moonlight Step (Novice)…
[New Skill Detected: Lunar Eclipse Palm (Incomplete - Foundation)]
A new skill. One Han had likely just begun to learn. Lee Jin's fingers itched. But he didn't copy. Not yet. The range was sufficient, but the risk was too great. Han might sense something, some strange focus.
Patience, he told himself. The system was a sword, not a club. It required precision.
That night, as he choked down another portion of bitter paste, a new prompt appeared, glowing with a soft, persistent light.
[Bodily Vessel Improvement Detected: 8.7%]
[Spiritual Energy Capacity Detected: 0.3 Moon Cycle Units]
[Recommendation: Foundation established. Proceed to copy combat application skill to integrate physical and spiritual development. Suggested Target: 'Silent Moon Fist (Novice)' from any outer disciple.]
Lee Jin wiped his mouth, a faint, bitter smile on his lips. He was no longer just surviving. He was building. Brick by stolen brick, skill by copied skill, breath by bitter breath.
He looked out the small, grimy window of his hovel, towards the majestic, moonlit peaks where the inner disciples and elders resided, bathing in spiritual energy and feasting on spirit beast meat.
"Soon," he whispered to the silent night, the taste of nettles still sharp on his tongue. "I'll be coming for the main course."