Chapter 54

Chapter 54: Seizing the Herb Garden, Treasure Light Bursts Forth

A chasm split the boundary between the outer and inner layers.

When Zhao Chun looked down, she saw only dense darkness. Wind howled up from the depths. Between the two sides, iron chains were woven into a rough net, the gaps wide enough for two people to pass through.

Without real skill, you couldn’t cross at all.

For Meng Han and Zhao Chun, it wasn’t difficult.

Meng Han, at Foundation Establishment, simply leapt and landed on the far side in a single bound. Zhao Chun’s footwork was among the best of her peers; she tapped lightly across the interlaced chains, borrowing force again and again, and reached the other side in only a few breaths.

Exclamations rose behind them. She was only at the sixth layer of Qi Refining, yet her movement wasn’t inferior to late-stage cultivators. People murmured that she must be a sect genius, traveling under the protection of an elder.

The chasm also created another sort of livelihood.

Those with superior movement could carry others across—for a fee.

Rogue cultivators who specialized in it waited at the edge, watching for customers.

Zhao Chun couldn’t help thinking that cultivators really could turn anything into profit.

The inner layer of the Windflame Sect was grander than the outer. Buildings rose in imposing lines, their surfaces still gleaming after thousands of years. Everything about it screamed masterful forging.

Within the inner layer were multiple herb gardens. East of the main hall lay the grand garden. Past the hall and deeper inside were smaller gardens—private holdings of past elders and great cultivators, filled with rarer plants.

“Those private gardens were divided up cleanly by the Nine Sects long ago,” Meng Han said. “Even if a few seeds were left behind, either they’re still too young, or Foundation Establishment veterans have already fought over them. They won’t reach us.”

When he said “Foundation Establishment,” he didn’t mean someone like himself who had only recently formed a Spiritual Foundation. He meant cultivators who had stayed in the realm for decades—late-stage experts, even those half a step from Essence Condensation.

With that in mind, they headed for the grand herb garden, where they could compete with late-stage Qi Refining cultivators and those newly at Foundation Establishment for a slice of fortune.

The grand garden lay within a watery pocket world. The moment Zhao Chun stepped inside, her senses sharpened. The scent of plants drifted in, clean and deep. Cool, damp air wrapped around her skin.

Spiritual qi was abundant here. Cultivating in this place would bring clear benefits.

Herb gardens like this were often built at the source of a main or branch spiritual vein. Nurtured by such qi, plants grew faster, and their potency deepened.

That was also why cultivators weren’t allowed to meditate here. If they stole the qi meant to nourish herbs, they would ruin the opportunities meant for countless others.

Though it was called the grand herb garden, it was smaller than the wilderness-like outer garden. The mountains and streams were clearly artificial, like a miniature landscape. Still, it was lush, thriving, and full of life.

No one had tended it for a long time. Plants grew tangled and dense, forcing them to brush aside branches just to move forward. They didn’t dare cut anything. Spirit herbs were too valuable, and there were stories of people who damaged plants and were later captured by the Nine Sects and punished severely.

Fighting was forbidden inside the garden. It was first come, first served—everyone relied on speed, perception, and skill.

That suited Zhao Chun well.

She couldn’t compete with Foundation Establishment cultivators, but she didn’t fear most Qi Refining cultivators. She moved through the brush in a blur, snatching multiple wood-rich herbs. She even found a Scarlet-Crowned Sunblossom, fire-aspected, its petals flickering like flames in the breeze.

Its stem had also turned a vivid, blazing red—over three hundred years old.

A top-grade Mortal Rank spirit herb.

The moment she took it, eyes turned. Late-stage Qi Refining cultivators stared. Even some Foundation Establishment cultivators began to watch her with interest.

Meng Han stepped half a pace closer and let out a soft, cold snort.

The onlookers swallowed their curses and backed off.

They pushed deeper into the garden and gathered more. Meng Han had come with a casual air, but on the way back he spotted a patch of Yellow-grade Jade-Thread Cliff-Creeper Grass—perfect for his element. He plucked it cleanly, beating two Foundation Establishment cultivators to it.

The two men looked alike. Brothers.

Their faces darkened. They followed quietly behind Meng Han and Zhao Chun as they left the garden, intent on robbery.

They didn’t realize Meng Han had noticed long ago.

The moment they stepped outside the garden’s boundary, Meng Han turned and met them head-on.

The brothers struck him three times in quick succession. Their attacks landed solidly—yet they couldn’t break his outer defense. Meng Han didn’t budge.

Then he threw a punch.

One brother was sent flying several meters, blood streaming from mouth and nose. The other’s expression flashed with shock. He grabbed his brother, crushed a talisman, and fled at full speed.

“Senior Brother—excellent!” Zhao Chun said, impressed. Meng Han had looked effortless. Even if several more rogue cultivators like that came, they wouldn’t be his match.

Meng Han chuckled. “There are differences even among Foundation Establishment cultivators. When you reach Foundation Establishment, you’ll understand. Rogue cultivators without sect or school can’t be compared to sect cultivators.”

Zhao Chun’s brows lifted. “Because of their foundations?”

Meng Han nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

He explained as they walked: sect disciples at late Qi Refining usually went out to temper themselves and search for spirit objects to form their Spiritual Foundation. Sects had long inheritances—records of what spirit objects did, where they appeared, which suited which path. Disciples could study and choose. And if they searched too long without success, the sect even had spirit objects that could be borrowed, with the cost repaid later through additional sect duties.

“Rogue cultivators,” Meng Han continued, “often have no guidance. Once they reach late Qi Refining, they rush to break through, ignoring qi loss and shaky foundations. They also don’t understand spirit objects. Even if they find one, they don’t know whether it suits them. They form a Spiritual Foundation that barely helps them—and the gap from sect disciples only grows.”

He emphasized the same point more than once: a cultivator’s Spiritual Foundation must match their path. If it didn’t, Essence Condensation would be nothing but a dream.

Zhao Chun listened and felt her understanding deepen. It also made her quietly resentful. Li Shu had failed to explain so many fundamentals—things she now had to learn from an unrelated Senior Brother.

Meng Han did add that not all rogue cultivators were so rootless. In the Eastern Domain’s rogue cultivator cities, factions formed around master-and-disciple lines. Though not as orthodox as a sect, they were far stronger than the drifting bottom tier.

They spoke as they traveled—

Until a sky-shaking boom erupted ahead.

The ground trembled beneath their feet. From the direction of the main hall’s rear mountain, rocks cracked and burst apart. A flash of golden light flared inside, bright enough to sting the eyes.

Cultivators all around reacted instantly, launching into the air and rushing toward it.

Normally, when a treasure emerged, golden light came first—and colorful clouds followed, the sign of “treasure born in rosy light.” But this phenomenon was different: light scattered wildly, yet no colored clouds formed.

Strange.

Zhao Chun’s brow tightened. Something had changed there—something unknown.

Because of their cultivation, even if a great opportunity truly appeared, she and Meng Han might not be able to compete with the strongest. Yet turning back without even looking felt like surrendering fate itself.

Wealth was always sought in danger.

Zhao Chun steadied her breath and looked to Meng Han. His eyes held the same reluctant yearning.

“Senior Brother,” she asked, “do you want to take a look?”

Meng Han’s face hardened. “That place will be full of powerful cultivators. I can’t guarantee I’ll protect you.”

He gripped her shoulder, voice low and serious. “You’ll need to keep yourself safe.”

“We’re cultivators,” Zhao Chun said, meeting his gaze. “We can’t place our lives in anyone else’s hands. If we go, I’ll guard myself. I won’t drag you down.”

Meng Han held her gaze for a beat—then nodded once. “Then let’s go.”

He seized her and leapt forward, carrying her toward the heart of the golden light.