Fang Jinyu first set out to return the alchemical formula for his Yuanling Pill to the Spirit Beast Valley. It was a task he had long postponed, but on this occasion he was determined to see it through. As he arrived at the valley, he unexpectedly encountered the Black Pig King. Now, in the hierarchy of the Heavenly Spirit Sect, the Black Pig King was the designated "King of Spirit Beasts" who oversaw the valley. Yet, despite his fearsome title, there was something unusual in the creature's gaze—an unmistakable note of curiosity, as if it sought to understand more about Fang Jinyu than mere appearance would reveal.
After completing the delivery of the formula, Fang Jinyu wasted no time. He headed directly to Lingyao Peak—the famed "Herbal Medicine Peak" noted for its import in the cultivation world. Unlike before, when the sect might have provided for his needs, this time Fang Jinyu was determined to handle the matter himself. He paid out of his own pocket to personally refine his Foundation Pill elixir (the "Chuji Pill") and convert his newly harvested raw Foundation fruits into refined pills.
The mission was clear: complete the task at any cost.
For three grueling full days, Fang Jinyu labored in his private alchemy chamber. With practiced precision and an astonishing success rate—his conversion efficiency had reached a remarkable 90%—he transformed over twenty raw Foundation fruits into the treasured Chuji Pills. Finally, after exhausting work, he ended up with no fewer than 213 refined Chuji Pills! In his world of alchemy, every furnace or batch was expected to yield at least ten pills; thus, to accumulate a submission quota of 110 Chuji Pills for the Patriarch's task was a major milestone. Once he handed over these 110 pills, the official mission from the old Patriarch was considered complete. For a moment, a sense of relief washed over him. However, as his eyes fell on the remaining 103 pills still clutched in his hands, a new worry began to gnaw at his mind.
What would he do with these extra pills? Far from being a trivial surplus, they had suddenly become an unexpected burden.
In the cultivation world, the Chuji Pill was not merely another medicinal concoction. Its intrinsic value was immense, and its price could skyrocket almost overnight if mishandled. Retaining so many would not only reveal the true extent of his alchemical prowess—a fact he was keen to keep discreet—but might also attract unwanted attention, both from within the sect and beyond. "Such a unique pill," he mused quietly, "even the best sealing methods can guarantee its potency for only about two years." With that in mind, Fang Jinyu knew he had to devise a plan before these precious Chuji Pills lost their efficacy.
Besides the complexity of their preservation, the Chuji Pills held an esteemed position among cultivators. Almost every cultivator—save for those with a Celestial Spirit Root—required these pills to further their cultivation. And this batch was no small lot; it wasn't the twenty pills he had previously contributed to the Heavenly Spirit Sect. Here he now possessed well over a hundred refined Chuji Pills! The mere fact that he had once offered a modest quantity of twenty had already attracted the attention of a prominent Nascent Soul Elder. Although the circumstances then were unique, it was clear that such impulsive contributions did not go unnoticed.
Fang Jinyu couldn't help but mutter to himself, "With over a hundred Chuji Pills at hand, I could probably even set up my own small immortal sect…" The thought was both amusing and worrisome. Yet, if he were to let these pills merely sit idle (or, worse, expire within two years), he would be loath to see such hard-won treasures wasted. After all, aside from their singular medicinal properties, he had invested thousands of spiritual stones in the entire process—from sourcing rare auxiliary herbal materials to the meticulous refining itself.
Just as he was pondering a solution, a small talisman – a flying dispatch note – whirled into his view at the entrance of his alchemy chamber. It bore no special markings like the ones reserved for direct orders from the Sect Head; instead, it was more like the standard courier talisman used in everyday transmissions. Fang Jinyu recognized it immediately: the dispatch came from Du Man'er.
He recalled well that it was he who had entrusted Du Man'er—a spirited, young disciple and a headstrong little girl—with some responsibilities a while back. Her task was to help keep watch over his workshop and to manage minor errands. "Could it be," Fang Jinyu thought wryly, "that my 'future supporting leg' has got herself embroiled in trouble again?" The very notion brought a small, raised eyebrow as he hurriedly gathered his things and strode out. In his heart, he was secretly pleased by such mischief; the more trouble this little girl stirred up, the sooner she might regain her lost memories and recover her full strength—and then, perhaps, she would be too proud ever to forget her debt of gratitude to him. In Fang Jinyu's eyes, investing in Du Man'er was almost as valuable as any other asset; by keeping her busy and nearby, he could always find an excuse to reward her with a few Qi Condensation Pills, ensuring mutual benefit.
Yet, when he finally met her outside his alchemy chamber, Fang Jinyu realized that he'd misjudged the situation. Contrary to his expectant hopes of a rebellious streak, Du Man'er had turned out to be as obedient and demure as ever—staying well away from the areas around his workshop that might invite further chaos. And this time, it was not mischief that had brought her to him. Instead, she urgently approached him this morning with words brimming with both anxiety and excitement.
"Master Uncle!" she blurted, her eyes wide and earnest. "I know who started that rumor about you last time!"
Fang Jinyu's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "How did you come by that information?" he asked, both astonished and inwardly irritated by how quickly word traveled in the cultivation realm. After all, he recalled that some time ago a gathering of ninth-level Qi Condensation cultivators had been held—an assembly that had turned out to be a trap laden with hidden assassins—and Du Man'er had played a part in that troubled affair, albeit unwittingly. Back then, he had even consulted the Sect Head about the rumors, only to have the Head advise him to drop the matter entirely. The Head had suggested that if someone dared to spread such a rumor, it was best to let things settle rather than waste precious cultivation time on trivial disputes. Although Fang Jinyu sensed that the Head's advice might have been less than sincere, it had at least held a kernel of truth: after all, within the Heavenly Spirit Sect, he was merely an ordinary disciple—a background figure with neither power nor influence to challenge those with established clout.
Du Man'er's revelation had clearly shaken him. "Who exactly spread the rumor?" he pressed, his tone laced with both impatience and indignation.
"It was someone named Qin Haoyue," she replied without hesitation.
For a moment, Fang Jinyu's eyes flickered in recognition. Qin Haoyue—wasn't that the very person formerly known as the 'domineering CEO'? The name struck him, and a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his inner amusement, mixed with a hint of annoyance. He recalled reading a similar storyline in a novel once, where after Su Yier entered the Lingdu Secret Realm, a female cultivator, driven by jealous obsession over the man she adored, harbored deep resentment toward Su Yier. In her bitterness, Qin Haoyue had taken advantage of a communication gap concerning the secret realm admission quota and had, without mercy, spread rumors aimed at defaming that female cultivator. The plot, though dramatic, had struck him as all too familiar—and now it seemed that history was repeating itself in a fashion that felt almost scripted.
"What is it with all these sordid schemes? Can't we have a more dignified, fitting method of conflict for cultivators?" Fang Jinyu muttered under his breath, chiding the pettiness and trickery of it all. After all, this wasn't some high-stakes drama in the realm of mortal courtships or in a harem rival's quarrel; this was the world of cultivation—a world where cunning and subtlety should ideally be employed in ways that honor one's martial spirit rather than devolve into the intrigue of an imperial palace drama.
Suppressing his exasperation, he continued, "Now, tell me—has this Qin Haoyue already attained the Foundation Stage?"
Du Man'er glanced around quickly before nodding and replying, "They say that after emerging from the Lingdu Secret Realm, Qin Haoyue immediately broke through to the Foundation Stage and is now busy consolidating his cultivation. Once he has fully stabilized his power, it is rumored that the Qin family will host a grand banquet in his honor."
At these words, Fang Jinyu couldn't help but smile in a mix of irony and admiration. "My dear niece, you have brought me a very fortunate piece of information. Here, take this bottle of pill elixir and use it for now. In a few days, I promise to refine a batch tailored specifically for you." His tone was warm yet measured, the kind of reassurance that only a master could offer a promising disciple who had proven herself both diligent and resourceful.
Du Man'er's smile widened at his words, and with a hint of bashful pride she said, "But Master Uncle, there is something else—something about you…" Her voice faltered slightly as if she wrestled with the decision to speak further.
"Speak freely," Fang Jinyu urged gently. "What is it that troubles you?"
Taking a deep breath, Du Man'er hesitated only a moment before continuing, "Now, the entire Heavenly Spirit Sect is buzzing with the rumor that you are too—so they say—and that you are finally becoming known as an honest man…" She trailed off, uncertainty marring her normally confident tone.
Fang Jinyu nearly chuckled at this. In the realm of immortal cultivation, where reputation was everything, being labeled "honest" was hardly the accolade one might desire. To him, such gossip was little more than idle chatter among those who prized superficial attributes over true martial merit. Still, he knew that rumors had a way of spreading quickly, especially when the powerful and influential were involved. In his case, it was not merely an interlude in his daily practice but a matter that cut close to his pride.
He recalled how, not long ago, during an ill-fated gathering of ninth-level cultivators, he had been caught in the middle of a trap that was clearly designed to undermine his reputation. At that time, he had sought counsel from the Sect Head, who, without much enthusiasm, had advised him to let the matter pass. The Head's words—suggesting that, with no real power or background, there was no point in quibbling with those who truly had influence—though pragmatic, stung him deeply. It was as if the very notion of protecting one's honor had been cast aside in favor of expedience. And yet, ever since that incident, rumors had taken on a life of their own, and now Du Man'er's news about Qin Haoyue had only added a fresh layer to the intrigue.
Before he could press further on the implications of these rumors, Du Man'er, her eyes glistening with earnest resolve, said, "Master Uncle, I managed to obtain a rather extraordinary mask—a disguise that not only allows one to pass as a Foundation Stage cultivator but also serves as a sort of token for the secret gatherings of those at the Foundation Stage. Using this mask, I inadvertently infiltrated one of those gatherings and overheard enough discussions to piece things together."
Fang Jinyu's eyebrows rose in genuine admiration. "My dear niece, that is truly a fortuitous acquisition," he exclaimed, a trace of envy mingled with pride in his tone. At the back of his mind, he couldn't help but think how poorly he had been treated in the past; he had never been invited to such an exclusive circle—until now, when a mere mask had finally provided him with an inroad into that rarefied world. In truth, he knew many of these gatherings existed, reserved for those with the right connections and background. As a disciple of ordinary standing, without influential patrons or distinguished lineage, he had always been left on the fringes, excluded from the inner circles. Had it been someone of high pedigree—like, say, Xin Qianqian—then her mere association with a prominent cultivation family might have guaranteed her an invitation with little delay. But for him, it was a hard-won privilege.
Not wanting to let the subject stray, Fang Jinyu steered the conversation back to the matter at hand. "Then tell me, who exactly is responsible for spreading those rumors?" he asked, his tone cool yet tinged with an indefinable intensity.
"It was a cultivator by the name of Qin Haoyue," Du Man'er replied succinctly.
At the sound of that name, a wry smile flickered across Fang Jinyu's face. Qin Haoyue—wasn't that the very personality often paralleled with the image of a domineering executive? The comparison was almost laughable in its absurdity. For a brief moment, memories of a well-worn plot from a cultivation novel rushed back to him—one in which, after Su Yier had entered the Lingdu Secret Realm, a female cultivator, driven by unrequited affection and burning jealousy over the man who held her heart, had repeatedly provoked and challenged Su Yier. Then, learning that Su Yier's secret realm quota was in question, Qin Haoyue had taken it upon himself to launch a preemptive attack by spreading malicious rumors, lavishing blame on that very female cultivator. The storyline had been clichéd yet effective—and here it seemed to be playing out in real life.
Fang Jinyu could hardly suppress a cynical laugh at the thought. "Is it not time to settle disputes in a manner befitting true cultivators?" he mused silently. His inner voice was steeped in scorn for such pettiness—this underhanded scheming, these games of reputation and guile—it was all so unworthy of the higher martial spirit he strove to embody. After all, he thought sardonically, cultivation was not the realm of soap operas or palace intrigues. There was no need for a reenactment of a palace drama reminiscent of the infamous "Empresses in the Palace." Instead, disputes among cultivators should be resolved with dignified contests, measured displays of power, or, at the very least, through mutual challenges that upheld the nobility of the martial arts.
Noticing that Du Man'er had gathered her thoughts, Fang Jinyu pressed further, "And tell me—has this Qin Haoyue attained Foundation Stage himself?"
Du Man'er hesitated a beat before replying, "Word is that once Qin Haoyue emerged from the Lingdu Secret Realm, he immediately broke through into the Foundation Stage. Right now, he is in the process of consolidating his cultivation. In fact, when his training has stabilized, the Qin family is rumored to host a celebratory banquet in his honor."
A wry smile played on Fang Jinyu's lips as he considered the implications. "My dear Du Man'er, you have truly brought me an unexpected opportunity," he said, his tone laced with equal parts gratitude and irony. He quickly moved to show his appreciation. "Take this bottle of elixir, and use it for the time being. In a few days, I will personally refine a batch of pills suited exactly to your needs."
Du Man'er's face brightened in delight as she accepted the offer. "Master Uncle, this bottle will suffice," she declared happily. It was evident that her proactive assistance had not only endeared her to him but had also begun to cement her importance as a trusted aide in his daily affairs.
Then, after a brief pause and a cautious glance upward as if gathering the courage to broach a sensitive subject, she added, "But Master Uncle, there's one more matter… and it concerns you."
Fang Jinyu regarded her with calm, encouraging eyes. "Speak, there is no need to hold back," he said softly.
She lowered her gaze for a moment, hesitating before finally confessing, "It seems that throughout the entire Heavenly Spirit Sect, rumors are spreading that you are… that you are an honest, straightforward man." The trailing ellipsis in her words hinted at an unspoken question, as if she wondered whether such a reputation would serve him well.
Fang Jinyu's mind churned with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, an "honest" reputation might sound praiseworthy to the uninitiated, but in the cutthroat world of immortal cultivation—where power, influence, and behind-the-scenes maneuvering held far greater currency—a label of naive honesty could be a double-edged sword. In truth, he had always believed that true strength lay in the ability to navigate deception and intrigue, not in the simple virtue of frankness. He recalled the words of the Sect Head, who once told him, almost dismissively, that as an ordinary disciple without any true backing, one should not aspire to wrestle with those who held real power and pedigree. Was it truly desirable for him to be known as "honest" in a world where cunning was the norm?
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Du Man'er, noticing his downward shift in countenance, quickly added, "There is more, Master Uncle. According to what I have heard, the rumor was actually spread by someone—they call him Qin Haoyue. It seems that after he emerged from the Lingdu Secret Realm, he broke into the Foundation Stage and is now busy solidifying his power. And when he finishes doing so, the Qin family will hold a grand banquet in his honor." Her voice was steady yet laced with an undercurrent of mischief, as if savoring the irony of how rumors could both elevate and undermine a man's reputation simultaneously.
Fang Jinyu felt a swirl of both amusement and vexation. "So it appears the schemer behind this rumor is none other than Qin Haoyue," he said slowly, his tone a mix of wry resignation and barely concealed irritation. He recalled that in a novel he had read, a similar plot had unfolded—one in which a jealous rival, driven by unrequited affection, had intentionally fabricated scandalous lies. It was a narrative so familiar to him now that he could almost recite it verbatim. "Really," he mused aloud, "can we not settle our disputes in a way befitting true cultivators, rather than wallowing in petty battles of wit?" The thought was both a complaint against the triviality of such intrigues and a quiet protest against the culture of gossip that so often plagued the halls of the sect.
"No matter," he decided, thrusting the focus back onto the matter at hand. "Tell me—who exactly was it that let this rumor slip out?"
Du Man'er leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It was a cultivator by the name of Qin Haoyue," she said succinctly.
At this, Fang Jinyu's eyes narrowed slightly, and he couldn't help but think with a bitter twist at the corner of his mouth: wasn't that the "domineering CEO" from last time? The memory of that notorious figure, who had once made headlines for his audacity, made him grimace inwardly. His recollections only deepened when he remembered that during Su Yier's entrance to the Lingdu Secret Realm, the scandal had been ignited by a wave of jealousy and treachery—with Qin Haoyue playing a pivotal role by launching his own preemptive strike through rumor-spreading. That chapter had passed almost too quickly for Fang Jinyu's concern at the time, but now it had resurfaced with a vengeance.
In his inner voice, Fang Jinyu grumbled, "Must we really play out these palace intrigue games in the immortal realm? This treachery is hardly worth the theatrics…" He couldn't help but compare it, almost disdainfully, to the frivolous power struggles and royal harem dramas of mortal courts. "We are cultivators, not contestants in some extravagant drama meant to entertain the masses."
Just as the conversation seemed to reach a natural lull, Du Man'er cleared her throat slightly and looked to him with an expression that mixed contrition and determination. "Master Uncle, there is one more thing I must tell you," she began, hesitating for just a moment as though weighing her words carefully.
Fang Jinyu inclined his head patiently. "Speak, Du Man'er, I am listening."
Her voice dropped to a hushed tone as she confessed, "It appears that throughout the Heavenly Spirit Sect, there's a growing rumor that you are a genuinely honest man. They say it so often—as if it were a badge of honor. But I wonder if such honesty might not be mistaken for naivety in our world." Her words trembled on the edge of hesitation, suggesting that there were even deeper currents behind the rumor than mere word-of-mouth.
Fang Jinyu paused thoughtfully, regarding Du Man'er for several long seconds. In the cold light of true cultivation, the virtue of honesty was hardly what one would aspire to possess. To be infamous for being "honest" in the eyes of scheming elders and condescending peers was not a distinction he desired. Yet, at the same time, he recognized that such a reputation might shield him from harsh suspicions for a time. The irony of it all was not lost on him. "My dear Du Man'er," he murmured softly, "your news has given me much to consider. But let it be known that while honesty is a virtue, in our world it is rarely so simple as it seems."
After a pause, she ventured one last piece of information. "Master Uncle, you must understand—rumor has it that Qin Haoyue, the very same cultivator who has been fueling these whispers, has already advanced to the Foundation Stage. And they even say that the Qin family is preparing to hold an extravagant banquet in his honor once his cultivation is fully consolidated."
Fang Jinyu's gaze hardened, and his mind raced with implications. Outside of mere rumor or seminar, the very idea that Qin Haoyue was being celebrated by his own family embarrassed him deeply. "Ah, Du Man'er," he said finally, "thank you for granting me this important insight. I now see the situation more clearly. You have served me well—and for that, you deserve a token of my appreciation." He reached for a small vial of alchemical medicine and handed it to her with a warm smile. "Take this, for now, and use it sparingly. In a few days, I shall prepare a new formula that will suit your needs perfectly."
Du Man'er accepted the vial with a glow of satisfaction. "Thank you, Master Uncle," she replied, her eyes bright and hopeful. Yet, as she did so, she hesitated once more and added in a quieter voice, "Master Uncle, there is another matter concerning your reputation..."
Fang Jinyu, detecting a further nuance in her tone, gently pressed, "What is it? You may speak freely—you have nothing to fear with me."
For a long, weighted moment, Du Man'er searched his face as if trying to determine whether he would scold her for any minor indiscretion. Finally, she spoke: "It seems that now the entire Heavenly Spirit Sect is abuzz with the rumor that you are, well, an honest man. They say you're too straightforward—almost naïve, if you will. And people often use such sentiments to judge a cultivator's merit."
Fang Jinyu sighed inwardly. In a world where power was measured by cunning, subtle manipulation, and carefully guarded secrets, being branded as "honest" was almost an insult—a mark that could undermine one's strength in the eyes of influential peers. But he also knew that such matters were ephemeral and often driven by the petty jealousies and misunderstandings of those around him.
With a faint, ironic smile, he murmured, "So be it. Let the world believe what it may." In truth, he was more concerned with the practical repercussions: his current predicament with the surplus Chuji Pills, the challenge of preserving their potency for longer than two years, and the danger of revealing too much about his true alchemical skill. For if word of his near-perfect conversion efficiency spread, it might incite envy or even the adversarial plots of rival sects.
Indeed, Fang Jinyu knew that the Chuji Pill was an exceptional medicine, one whose value could skyrocket in this volatile world of cultivation. Yet, holding on to so many pills risked exposing his secret conversion rate—and that would create a host of troublesome questions from both within the sect and from external enemies who might covet such power. "This is a special type of pill indeed," he thought, "and even the best sealing methods can only guarantee its medicinal potency for two whole years." And so his mind turned, seeking a way to liquidate or disperse this surplus without compromising his reputation or inciting a fanatic hunt by those who would use this information against him.
As these worries churned in his mind, the sudden arrival of the talisman—again—broke his reverie. This time, however, it was not a mandate from the top but rather a personal message. Flicking his eyes briefly toward the floating seal, Fang Jinyu immediately recognized it as the one he had previously given to Du Man'er. In a way, it was almost as if fate had orchestrated their meeting once again. "Perhaps it is time to see just what trouble my future 'supporting leg' might have gotten into now," he mused. A subtle, wry smile tugged at his lips; despite all the complications, he secretly relished the idea that every bit of mischief on her part might one day translate into a long-forgotten debt of gratitude—one he could repay with even more alchemical gifts.
Without further delay, he stepped out, eager to rendezvous with Du Man'er and learn what new matter she wished to address.
Meeting her near the outer courtyard of the alchemy chamber, Du Man'er wasted no time. "Master Uncle," she began, her voice trembling with urgency, "I have discovered who is responsible for spreading those slanderous rumors about you last time!"
Fang Jinyu's eyes narrowed with a blend of curiosity and irritation. "And how did you come to know such details?" he demanded, the question tinged with disbelief. He recalled all too clearly how, during a recent gathering of ninth-level cultivators, a plot—veiled in murderous intent—had been hatched. At that gathering, the seeds of conspiracy were sown and the rumors had been set loose. Back then, when he had personally consulted the Sect Head about the matter, the Head had curtly advised him to stop prying into affairs best left undisturbed. "They've already tidied up the loose ends, you see," the Head had said. "There's no point in wasting precious cultivation time for a rumor." Although Fang Jinyu suspected that the Head's words might have been half-truth, the advice had sunk in. After all, how could a low-ranking disciple such as himself—without power, influence, or a powerful background—afford to clash with those who possessed all three?
Yet now, Du Man'er's news had shattered that complacency. "It was a cultivator by the name of Qin Haoyue," she said directly.
The name hit Fang Jinyu like a cold splash. Qin Haoyue—the very same man whose personality and ruthless ambition had earned him a reputation akin to that of an imperious CEO in a mortal corporation. The irony was not lost on him: a man so brazen, so willing to manipulate rumors to elevate his standing, now found himself the topic of hushed whispers throughout the sect. Fang Jinyu felt his lips twitch uncontrollably; he remembered having read a similar storyline in a novel—a narrative in which, after Su Yier entered the Lingdu Secret Realm, a female cultivator driven by jealousy had repeatedly provoked her beloved, only to have Qin Haoyue seize the moment to inflict his own brand of ruin. That plot had been all too familiar, a recycled drama that now played out in his very own world.
In an inward, sardonic tone he thought, "Must we persist with these palace-like intrigues in the immortal world? Does every dispute require an overblown, theatrical display?" To him, such petty conflicts were not worth the effort—after all, he was not in the business of competing over trivial honors like those found in a royal harem. True cultivation, he believed, was a solitary pursuit of inner strength, not a contest of superficial reputations.
Clearing his throat, Fang Jinyu shifted the conversation back to his immediate concern. "Then, tell me, who is it that spread these slanderous words?" he inquired firmly.
Du Man'er lowered her voice to a hush. "It was Qin Haoyue," she repeated. For an instant, Fang Jinyu allowed himself a brief moment of cringing recognition, for the name conjured images of arrogance and scheming, and he silently cursed the irony of it all.
After a beat of silence, Du Man'er continued in a more measured tone. "Master Uncle, I also managed to secure a very unusual mask—a disguise that does more than allow one to pass as a Foundation Stage cultivator. It doubles as a token used in secret gatherings, those inner circles of Foundation practitioners. By wearing this mask, I inadvertently gained access to one of these exclusive assemblies and was able to overhear details that confirmed everything." Her voice brimmed with equal parts excitement and nervousness as she recounted her daring adventure.
Fang Jinyu's eyes lit up with a mixture of admiration and wry amusement. "My dear niece, you have indeed acquired quite an opportunity!" he exclaimed, a note of both praise and mischievous envy in his tone. Inwardly, he began to compare his own experiences—a life spent on the outskirts of prestigious gatherings simply because he lacked influential patrons or a renowned family—with the privilege that a clever disguise such as hers could afford. "Had it been someone born of notable lineage—say, like Xin Qianqian—she would have been taken in by influential elders in no time." He allowed himself a bitter laugh at the inequities of fate.
Determined not to let the conversation drift farther away from the pressing matter, Fang Jinyu leaned forward. "Now, Du Man'er, let us return to the heart of the issue. Who exactly started the rumor?" he asked, his voice low and steady.
"It was a cultivator by the name of Qin Haoyue," Du Man'er replied once more, clearly resolute.
Fang Jinyu's face contorted ever so slightly—an inconspicuous grimace that betrayed his inner irritation. Memories of past encounters with Qin Haoyue, and of similar situations in the past, flashed through his mind. "So it was he again," he murmured bitterly. "Then, when did he attain the Foundation Stage?"
Du Man'er hesitated a fraction of a second before answering, "I've heard that after emerging from the Lingdu Secret Realm, he immediately broke through to the Foundation Stage and is now busy consolidating his power. And once that consolidation is complete, the Qin family plans to hold a grand banquet in his honor."
At these words, Fang Jinyu's thoughts churned. He could not help but feel that the celebration of Qin Haoyue was as much a display of family pride as it was an opportunity to upstage him—a reminder that in the intricate web of sect politics, every detail could have hidden implications. "Truly, it seems the tides of fate favor those with the right connections," he muttered under his breath. "But that does not mean I shall stand idly by."
After a moment's pause, Fang Jinyu thanked Du Man'er warmly. "Du Man'er, you have served me well today. For your intelligence and quick action, please accept this potion of our refined elixir. Use it until I can personally prepare a new batch specifically for you." She accepted the vial with a bright smile and a nod of sincere gratitude.
Then, as if gathering courage for one final revelation, Du Man'er lowered her gaze again and hesitated. "Master Uncle, there's one more thing—another matter concerning you…" she began hesitantly.
Fang Jinyu's eyes softened as he replied, "There is nothing you need fear. Please, continue."
She took a shallow breath before speaking the words that had weighed on her heart. "It appears that throughout the entire Heavenly Spirit Sect, rumors have been spreading that you are an honest man." Her voice was small, yet filled with a mixture of worry and bafflement. "They say you are so… so honest that you are practically naïve. I wonder if such a reputation might make you a target—or, alternatively, earn you undeserved respect."
Fang Jinyu's mind whirled. To be considered "honest" in his circle was a dangerous double-edged sword. On one hand, honesty might allow him to avoid certain intrigues; on the other, it might signal vulnerability to those who were accustomed to the subterfuge and cunning required to survive in the more ruthless circles of cultivation. In all his years within the Heavenly Spirit Sect, he had learned that power was often measured not by one's virtues, but by one's ability to mask them when necessary.
After a long pause, he finally replied, "My dear, reputation is a fickle thing. In our realm, honesty can be both a blessing and a curse. Nevertheless, I must remain true to my path." His tone was measured and calm—a stark contrast to the storm of internal doubts that sometimes rumbled beneath his composed exterior.
The conversation then drifted naturally toward the immediate practical challenges he faced—the matter of the surplus Chuji Pills. Fang Jinyu recounted to Du Man'er, with a slightly rueful smile, the intricate details of his recent alchemical success. "After spending three full days refining, I managed to convert all of my Foundation fruits into Chuji Pills. My conversion efficiency was astonishing—around ninety percent. Out of twenty-something raw fruits, I ended up with 213 refined pills! Naturally, every furnace batch typically yields at least ten pills, and I had submitted 110 pills to fulfill the Patriarch's requirements. That part is complete." He paused, his eyes darkening as he continued, "But now, the remaining 103 pills... what to do with them?"
He explained the dire dilemma: the price of Chuji Pills was expected to surge rapidly, and possessing such an overwhelming quantity would not only risk exposing his true conversion rate but also attract a storm of unwanted trouble. "You see," he confided in Du Man'er as if speaking to a trusted confidante, "Chuji Pills are extremely unique. Even if you use the best preservation method known to us, you can ensure that their medicinal efficacy will remain intact for only two years. Beyond that, the pills will lose their potency."
Fang Jinyu's tone grew pensive as he wrestled with the problem. "I must think of a way to either distribute them discreetly or liquidate them without drawing attention," he murmured. "Because in our world, the Chuji Pill is prized not only for its potent medicinal properties, but also for its status. Almost every cultivator—aside from those blessed with the rare Celestial Spirit Root—relies on these pills, and the fact that I now hold more than a hundred of them… it could be both a treasure and a curse."
He reflected on how, on a previous occasion, merely contributing twenty Chuji Pills to the Heavenly Spirit Sect had provoked the scrutiny of an influential Nascent Soul Elder. Although the circumstances had been extreme, it was evident that even a modest display of alchemical talent could have unintended consequences in such a politically charged environment. "One hundred Chuji Pills," he thought bitterly, "could practically form the core of a small immortal sect on their own."
Lost in thought, Fang Jinyu almost did not notice a small talisman drifting into view near the doorway of his refining chamber. This time, it was not the impenetrable decree of the Sect Head but a personal message—one he recognized immediately as coming from Du Man'er. In fact, he had entrusted her with that very talisman not long ago, instructing her to keep a watchful eye on his affairs and to alert him of any significant developments.
With a small, wry smile, he said aloud, "It seems my future supporting leg may once again have stirred up a bit of trouble." A part of him secretly hoped that if Du Man'er were to get entangled in mischief, it would create an opportunity for her to later repay his kindness—a prospect he regarded as a worthy investment. After all, her resourcefulness and determination had become increasingly valuable assets to him over the years.
Before long, however, he discovered that his expectations were misplaced. Du Man'er was as obedient and well-behaved as ever; she kept to the designated areas and did not venture anywhere near his refining zone. And now, on this day, it was she who came to him with urgent news.
"Master Uncle," she said in a hushed tone, her voice trembling with a mix of excitement and apprehension, "I have discovered who was behind that rumor about you!"
Fang Jinyu's curiosity peaked, and he quickly replied, "Who spread the rumor?" His tone was a mix of incredulity and concern; he could not believe that matters of slander had become so widespread that even Du Man'er was privy to them.
With a confident nod, Du Man'er announced, "It was a cultivator by the name of Qin Haoyue." The simplicity of her declaration belied the impact it carried. Fang Jinyu's gaze sharpened at the mention of the name. As he had suspected, Qin Haoyue—the same man with the domineering reputation, the one who seemed to relish in stirring trouble—was at the root of the malicious gossip.
Fang Jinyu felt a surge of mixed emotions. On one hand, there was anger mingled with disappointment; on the other, a wry amusement at how predictable human nature could be. "Of course," he thought bitterly, "the troublemaker never changes." He recalled how, after Su Yier had entered the Lingdu Secret Realm, a female cultivator—driven by deep-seated jealousy because of her infatuation—had been targeted by the rumor-mongering of Qin Haoyue. In that old tale, Qin had not hesitated to cast aspersions and defame the woman in order to advance his own standing. And now, once again, he set about his familiar scheme.
Before Fang Jinyu could voice further objections, Du Man'er took a breath and continued, "But that is not all, Master Uncle. I also managed to obtain a very peculiar mask—a disguise that not only helps one pass as a Foundation Stage cultivator but also serves as a token to gain entry into the exclusive gatherings of Foundation practitioners." Her eyes shone with pride as she explained how, by donning the mask, she had inadvertently infiltrated one of these secret assemblies and eavesdropped on conversations that confirmed the details of the rumor. "Thanks to that mask," she said quietly, "I learned more about Qin Haoyue's current status and his plans."
Fang Jinyu could not help but smile at the ingenuity of his niece. "My dear," he said warmly, "what an extraordinary stroke of luck! Your resourcefulness is indeed commendable—truly, you have secured a rare opportunity for us." Internally, he mused on the disparities of fate. He knew of several such exclusive gatherings, yet because of his ordinary background and lack of influential connections, he had never been invited in. Even a single proper introduction by someone of high esteem, say a descendant of Xin Qianqian or another esteemed family, would guarantee entry. Alas, for him, opportunities like these were few and far between.
Determined now to get to the heart of the matter, Fang Jinyu asked directly, "Then tell me—who exactly is responsible for spreading that nasty rumor?"
Du Man'er hesitated for only a moment before replying, "It was Qin Haoyue." Her tone was matter-of-fact; it left no room for ambiguity.
Fang Jinyu's eyes gleamed with a mixture of anger and resignation. "I see," he murmured. "So that wretched schemer strikes again." He could not help but recall that familiar scenario—a plot so reminiscent of a tale he had once read, where a jealous heart incites strife and spreads scandal for personal gain. The memories of that story, involving tumult between cultivators over the sacred entrance to the Lingdu Secret Realm, surged up and made him shudder slightly.
Suppressing an inward sigh, he added dryly, "All this petty rivalry—is it not beneath the dignity of true cultivators? Must we really stoop to such baseless intrigue, as if we were characters in some palace drama?" Although his remark cut sharply, it was more an expression of his inner frustration than a direct rebuke of those involved.
Du Man'er smiled shyly at his remark, and then, with a slight lowering of her voice as if to draw him into greater intimacy, she said, "Master Uncle, please do not misunderstand—the rumor may be petty, but it has already caused quite a stir in the Heavenly Spirit Sect. And you must know that it doesn't simply vanish; the saying goes that reputation, once spread, is hard to reclaim."
Fang Jinyu allowed himself a brief, ironic chuckle. "Yes, reputation is indeed a double-edged sword," he said softly. "But we must persevere regardless, for our path is chosen by strength and steadfast purpose, not by idle gossip."
A silence then fell between them—a silence heavy with the weight of unspoken burdens and the quiet determination of those who have endured many storms. For a long time, Fang Jinyu remained lost in thought. The surplus Chuji Pills, the precarious nature of his reputation, and the scheming of rivals all mingled into a tapestry of intricate complications that defined life as a cultivator in the Heavenly Spirit Sect.
At last, he broke the silence in a tone both resolute and tinged with melancholy, "I must now find a way to handle these extra Chuji Pills. If I simply let them lie idle until they expire within two years, it would be such a waste—and worse yet, it could expose my true capabilities to those who might seek to take advantage of me." His eyes glimmered with the fire of determination, not unlike the steady blaze that fueled his alchemical experiments.
As fate would have it, the conversation with Du Man'er had awakened within him a spark of cleverness. Perhaps, he thought, it was time to discreetly sell or distribute these pills to trusted allies in the sect—those who could benefit from their rare properties without unwittingly revealing the depth of his talent. An idea began forming, tentative at first, but growing steadily clearer with each passing moment.
Before he could further develop his strategy, Du Man'er hesitated again, glancing around as if uncertain whether she should broach another delicate subject. "Master Uncle," she said at last, "there is one more matter… one concerning your personal reputation within the sect."
Fang Jinyu's expression turned inquisitive. "What is it?" he prompted gently. He sensed that, in the rigid environment of the Heavenly Spirit Sect, even a simple trait like honesty could be twisted into a weapon against you.
"With all due respect," she began cautiously, "it seems as though many are saying that you are an unusually honest man..." Her voice trailed off as if fearful of inciting further gossip. "They say that you are too honest—so much so that, in this world, it is seen as a weakness. Honestly, Master Uncle, it makes me wonder if such a reputation might attract even more trouble than it is worth."
Fang Jinyu stared at her for a long moment. In his heart, he knew all too well the double-edged nature of such a label. In a realm where power was measured by cunning and guile rather than by simple moral purity, being "honest" could indeed be turned against you. "You speak truly, Du Man'er," he finally replied, his voice quiet yet firm. "But let it be known that I have never wished to be defined solely by conventional virtues. In our world, one must navigate many shadows. For now, let us set aside these idle comments and focus on the tasks before us."
And so, with that, the conversation drifted to a close—even as both master and apprentice knew that there were many layers yet to be unraveled in the intricate web of sect affairs. For now, though, the surplus of Chuji Pills demanded his immediate attention, and the scheming of rivals such as Qin Haoyue would have to wait for their own reckoning in time.
In the days that followed, Fang Jinyu set about arranging a discreet plan to manage the extra pills. He contemplated various strategies—secret auctions, controlled distributions, or even lending them out in exchange for favors that might later serve to bolster his own standing. The very thought of letting his true alchemical efficiency be exposed by the sudden influx of these special pills pricked his pride. Yet he knew that to do nothing was a luxury he could not afford. In the cutthroat environment of immortal cultivation, even the smallest misstep could become a vulnerability.
As the plans churned in his mind, he recalled the cold, calculating glances he had received from some high-ranking elders—clues that his real talent might one day be their downfall, or even the source of envy that would fuel their schemes against him. But for now, as he organized his thoughts in the solitude of his private study, a newfound determination took root: he would use every advantage at his disposal and, if need be, transform even this apparent burden into an opportunity. After all, in the realm of divine alchemy, every ingredient—even one as mystical as the Chuji Pill—was a double-edged sword that could either forge greatness or bring ruin.
Yet as the days passed, one event after another began to unfold within the corridors of the Heavenly Spirit Sect. Rumors continued to swirl, and Du Man'er, ever the quick-minded agent of intelligence, kept him updated. One afternoon, as he was reviewing his newly drafted plans for the safe dispersal of the surplus pills, she approached him with a curious glint in her bright eyes.
"Master Uncle," she said softly, "may I have a word?"
"Of course, Du Man'er," Fang Jinyu replied, setting aside his preparations. "You seem to have something else on your mind."
Taking a deep breath, she continued, "It appears that beyond the matter of the Chuji Pills and even beyond the rumor about your honesty, there's another rumor that has been circulating among the sect's disciples. They say that because you are so unassuming and honest, you are the very embodiment of integrity in our world. Some even claim that while others dupe and scheme behind closed doors, you stand apart with your steadfast simplicity and genuine character."
Fang Jinyu felt a flicker of amusement mixed with exasperation. "Really now," he said dryly, "is that what people have chosen to focus on?" Internally, he wondered whether the constant comparisons to a certain ideal of honesty were meant to undermine his true intentions, or if it was simply the propensity of gossip to magnify the smallest traits into scandalous reputations. In either case, he knew that such labels could prove dangerous if left to fester unchecked.
Du Man'er, ever perceptive, noted the slight twisting of his lips and added, "I know it may seem trivial, but in our world, reputation is currency—and sometimes, not having the right reputation can be more burdensome than any punishment. I thought you should know that many in the sect are discussing this, and I feared it might come to affect you in ways you have not yet considered."
Fang Jinyu's eyes narrowed in thought. "I appreciate your concern, Du Man'er," he said slowly. "I have always believed that in our path of cultivation, the pursuit of power must be tempered by wisdom. Yet, even the purest virtues can become a double-edged weapon when wielded by those who would exploit them. Rest assured, I will take your words to heart—but for now, let us see to the practical matters at hand."
Thus, with the weight of his responsibilities pressing down upon him—the urgent need to manage a surplus of Chuji Pills without compromising his secrecy, and the need to navigate the labyrinthine intrigues of sect politics—Fang Jinyu steeled himself for the challenges ahead. Every decision, every minor act of alchemy, was imbued with significance. In a world where one's reputation could be as fragile as porcelain and as powerful as a forged steel blade, he knew that each move had to be calculated with both precision and heart.
As he returned to his study, the image of the Black Pig King's inquisitive eyes and the murmurings of the sect's gossip lingered in his mind like distant thunder. The duel between appearance and reality, between cunning and sincerity, was far from over. And in the secret recesses of the sect, where alliances were as shifting as mist and the future was always uncertain, Fang Jinyu resolved to remain true to his path—no matter how many rumors or obstacles stood in his way.
Thus the stage was set for the next chapter of his journey—a journey that would test his spirit, his wit, and his resolve. The alchemical arts, the sacred responsibilities of a cultivator, and the merciless intricacies of immortal society all awaited him like a vast and unwritten scroll. And in that moment, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows over the ancient stone walls of the Heavenly Spirit Sect, Fang Jinyu allowed himself a single, quiet thought: Even if the world sees me as an honest man, I will one day prove that true strength lies not in idle virtue but in the courage to transform every hardship into a stepping stone toward greatness.