The rationalization helped calm the chaos in his thoughts. Long Aotian's shoulders relaxed slightly as he crossed the threshold into the resource hall.
The difference in atmosphere hit him immediately.
Outside, the air had been thin and ordinary. Inside the resource hall, spiritual energy hung thick. It pressed against Long Aotian's skin like a gentle current, warm and invigorating. Each breath filled his lungs with more than just air—he could feel traces of energy flowing into his body with every inhale, though without a functional dantian, he couldn't absorb or retain it.
The hall itself was larger than it appeared from outside. Tall shelves lined the walls, each one packed with carefully organized materials. Jade boxes containing rare herbs. Racks of weapons ranging from simple iron swords to ornate spears inlaid with silver. Scrolls bound in leather and silk, their contents ranging from basic cultivation techniques to advanced martial arts.
Display cases stood at intervals throughout the room, showcasing the more valuable items under protective glass. Long Aotian spotted a fist-sized spirit stone radiating soft blue light. A pill bottle containing what looked like Meridian Cleansing Pills. A jade pendant carved into the shape of a phoenix.
This was just the outer district's resource hall. The treasures available here were far from the most precious items the Xiao clan possessed, but for someone like Long Aotian, they might as well have been priceless.
Several disciples browsed the shelves, most of them wearing the grey robes of outer clan members. A few glanced toward Long Aotian when he entered, their expressions ranging from curious to disdainful. None approached him.
Long Aotian walked toward the exchange counter at the back of the hall. Behind it sat the manager—a middle-aged man with a perpetually sour expression and thinning hair pulled back into a small topknot. Manager Wu managed the outer resource hall and had a reputation for being difficult when dealing with low-ranking disciples.
As Long Aotian approached, he saw Manager Wu's face shift through several expressions in rapid succession. Recognition. Contempt. The beginning of a sneer.
Long Aotian felt a headache forming behind his eyes. This was going to be tedious.
"I would like to redeem my contribution points for some spiritual medicine," Long Aotian said evenly, keeping his voice neutral and respectful.
Manager Wu opened his mouth, his expression already twisting into something unpleasant. The sneer deepened, and Long Aotian could practically see the excuses forming on the man's tongue. Not enough authority. Points earned from menial labor aren't sufficient. The spiritual medicines are reserved for real disciples.
Then Manager Wu's ears caught something.
Murmurs drifted through the hall as several disciples who'd witnessed the scene outside began whispering to those who hadn't. The words carried clearly in the quiet space.
"…sent Xiao Rong flying with one hit…"
"…seventh stage Body Tempering, and he couldn't even block it…"
"…knocked him out cold, teeth everywhere…"
Manager Wu's sneer froze mid-formation. His eyes widened slightly, and he glanced past Long Aotian toward the entrance, as if expecting to see evidence of the claim. When his gaze returned to Long Aotian's face, calculation had replaced contempt.
The manager was only at the second stage of Body Tempering. If the rumors were true—if this crippled boy had somehow gained enough strength to defeat someone at the seventh stage—then antagonizing him would be unwise.
Manager Wu's mouth snapped shut. He swallowed whatever he'd been about to say and forced a smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Of course, of course." His tone had shifted entirely, becoming almost obsequious. "May I see your contribution token?"
Long Aotian reached into his robe and withdrew a small wooden token carved with his name and rank. He'd accumulated these points three years ago when he was still considered a genius—rewards for completing missions, excelling in training, participating in clan competitions. After his dantian shattered, he'd never touched them, saving every single point.
Manager Wu took the token and examined it, his eyes narrowing as he calculated the total. After a moment, he set it down on the counter and gestured toward the shelves.
"You have enough for several basic herbs or one mid-grade material. What are you looking for?"
Long Aotian had already memorized what he needed based on the Pill God's knowledge. "Two stalks of Moonshade Grass and one Crimson Flower."
The manager's eyebrows rose slightly. Those were specific choices—not the random selections of someone browsing out of curiosity. Moonshade Grass was a yin-attribute herb, while Crimson Flower leaned heavily yang. Someone knowledgeable would recognize them as complementary materials often used in body cultivation.
However, manager Wu said nothing. He simply nodded and moved to retrieve the requested items from their designated shelves.
Long Aotian waited patiently, his hands resting at his sides. Around the hall, he could feel eyes on him. The other disciples watched with varying degrees of interest and suspicion. Whispers continued, spreading the story of what had happened outside.
Elder Wu returned with three small jade boxes. He opened each one briefly to show the contents—slender stalks of pale blue grass that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it, and a single crimson flower with petals that looked like solidified flame.
"Moonshade Grass, two stalks. Crimson Flower, one." Elder Wu's voice was professional now, stripped of the earlier disdain. "This will consume all your contribution points."
Long Aotian nodded. "That's acceptable."
The exchange was completed quickly. Elder Wu marked the contribution token as spent and handed the jade boxes to Long Aotian, who tucked them carefully into his robe. The herbs were fragile and required gentle handling to preserve their medicinal properties.
Long Aotian turned and walked back toward the entrance, aware of the stares following his every step. He kept his expression neutral, his pace steady. Just before he reached the door, he heard one final whisper.
"Do you think he's been hiding his cultivation this whole time?"
He didn't pause to answer. Let them wonder. Let them guess. The truth was far stranger than anything they could imagine.
Long Aotian stepped through the doorway and back into the courtyard.
The crowd from earlier had dispersed somewhat, though several people still lingered near where Xiao Rong's unconscious body had been. Someone had dragged the youth to the side and was attempting to wake him, with limited success.
Long Aotian had taken three steps away from the resource hall when he suddenly heard a scream.
"DIE!!!!"
The word carried pure rage, raw and unfiltered. Long Aotian's head snapped up just in time to see a shadow hurtling toward him with terrifying speed.
Xiao Rong. Somehow conscious again, and apparently furious enough to attack in broad daylight in front of witnesses.
Long Aotian didn't think. Didn't calculate angles or assess threat levels. Instinct took over—pure, simple reaction honed by three years of surviving beatings and ambushes.
His arm moved before conscious thought caught up.
He swung his palm out in a wide arc, almost casual in its execution. The motion resembled swatting at an annoying fly more than defending against a serious attack. His hand connected with the side of Xiao Rong's face just as the youth entered striking range.
PAH!!!
The sound was sharper this time. Louder. Clearer. It cracked across the courtyard like a whip, making everyone within earshot flinch.
Xiao Rong's charge halted instantly. His entire body pivoted around the point of impact, spinning through the air like a top. More blood sprayed from his mouth—along with several additional teeth—and his eyes rolled back in his head before he'd even completed one full rotation.
He crashed to the ground for the second time that morning, landing in an even more undignified heap than before. This time, he didn't move at all. Didn't twitch. Didn't groan. Just lay there, truly and completely unconscious.
Silence fell over the courtyard once more, somehow even heavier than before.
Long Aotian stood with his arm still extended, palm open, looking faintly surprised by his own actions. He stared at Xiao Rong's motionless form, then slowly lowered his hand.
Around him, the remaining onlookers stood frozen, their expressions mixing shock, disbelief, and in some cases, genuine fear.
Long Aotian's gaze swept across them once, cold and measuring. Then, without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving Xiao Rong lying in the dirt behind him.
The jade boxes containing his purchased herbs rested securely in his robe, and he had cultivation to attend to.
Everything else could wait.