The Immortal Path Is Crowded

Jin walked out of the hall with a strange expression, somewhere between confusion and resignation.

In his right hand, he held a simple spear, without flashy ornaments or extravagant engravings. The shaft was a uniform dark tone, and the blade, with its clean and restrained lines, reflected the light with a muted but steady sheen.

According to the disciple at the counter, it was forged with low-grade spiritual steel—but “low-grade” didn’t mean trash.

That kind of weapon was already capable of conducting a cultivator’s Qi, allowing techniques to be activated without the weapon breaking or dispersing the energy. For an outer disciple in Qi Condensation, it was more than enough… even enviable for many.

Jin adjusted his grip and felt the response of the metal as he walked along the stone path outside the hall, unable to stop recalling what had just happened inside: first, the disciple had bombarded him mercilessly.

Swords “perfect for beginners,” sabers with a “slight power boost,” bows “ideal for ambushes,” and even a hammer that, according to him, “made the enemy’s heart tremble.”

Jin had barely had the chance to open his mouth, and only when he managed to interrupt him, in a tone as calm as it was firm, did he say the only thing he wanted: —A spear, simple and durable, nothing more—, after which the silence that followed was… memorable.

He could still clearly remember the look of disappointment on the young man’s face at the counter, as if he had just watched a customer reject a treasure to buy a common stone.

“...That’s all?” he had asked, incredulous, and recalling it, Jin pressed his lips slightly: yes… just that—a spear that wouldn’t break, a spear that could accompany him.

As he continued on his path, the tip of the spear lightly brushed the air, producing a faint whistle, and Jin lowered his gaze to the weapon, allowing a slight smile to form on his face, because sometimes simple was exactly what he needed.

He stopped for a moment on the path and took out the pouch he had carried with him all day; he opened it, looked inside… and sighed upon noticing how empty it was.

In those eight months, he hadn’t just trained to exhaustion under the watchful gaze—and blows—of senior sister Mei. He had also accepted every internal task that didn’t require leaving the sect: tending spiritual gardens, cleaning cultivation areas, gathering herbs in nearby forests, skinning low-level beasts, and sorting materials.

With all that, after eight months of disciplined work, he had managed to gather four hundred low-grade spirit stones. For an outer disciple, that amount was no small matter. In fact, many would never see that much money gathered at once in their entire lives.

And yet, the spear… Jin tightened his fingers slightly around the pouch as he recalled the number: two hundred and twenty spirit stones. —That’s robbery— he muttered under his breath, frowning.

A spear that, at first glance, looked completely ordinary. No gems, no complex engravings, no striking aura. And yet, more than half of everything he had earned had disappeared in an instant.

—Why didn’t he buy a cheaper one? —The answer was simple.

The more affordable ones he saw were… frankly disappointing. Some had poorly balanced blades, others looked like they would bend just by being looked at, and a few were so crude that Jin seriously doubted they would survive even a single Qi-infused technique.

The other spears were the opposite extreme: too flashy, too ostentatious, covered in unnecessary decorations and priced absurdly—weapons that seemed made for showing off, not for real training or fighting.

This one, on the other hand, felt right: simple, durable, honest; besides, it hadn’t just been the spear.

Jin recalled with a resigned grimace that he had also spent forty more spirit stones on a special cloth to cover it—resistant to dust and moisture—and on a harness system designed to carry it on his back without hindering movement.

Now that he thought about it, the financial blow hurt almost as much as senior sister Mei’s training.

He closed the pouch and stored it again. —Well… —he muttered, glancing at the spear on his back— it’s done; there was no real regret in his heart.

He walked along the sect’s paths with a distant gaze, his mind working at full speed: remaining spirit stones, few.

—Qi recovery pills— he murmured— pills for external wounds, internal ones, basic antidotes, something against toxins, and if possible, one or two for emergencies… and the more he listed, the heavier the pressure at his temple became.

Leaving the sect wasn’t a game. It wasn’t like internal missions where, if something went wrong, you could just step back and ask for help. Outside, negligence was paid with blood.

And with what little he had left after buying the spear, he would have to choose carefully; Jin ran a hand over his face and grumbled to himself: —This is going to hurt more than training—, and with that anticipated headache, he slightly changed his direction.

At the other end of the complex, dominating the area with an impossible-to-ignore presence, stood a magnificent hall, vast and ostentatiously decorated. Columns carved with alchemical motifs, reliefs of ancient cauldrons, and arcane symbols engraved in the stone glowed softly under the sunlight.

The building had three floors; unlike the weapon shop, the flow of people here was constant. Disciples went in and out without pause, some in groups, others alone, with expressions that ranged from anxious to expectant, or outright relieved.

Most wore the black robes of the Jade Peak.

It wasn’t strange—cultivators who focused on body techniques relied heavily on pills. Even so, Jin also noticed the occasional presence of outer disciples from other peaks, identifiable by their different robes and emblems.

Without exception, everyone seemed to take this place very seriously; Jin stopped in front of the entrance, raised his gaze to scan the three floors, and let out a slow sigh: —…This is where my spirit stones come to die.

He adjusted the spear on his back, squared his shoulders, and took his first step into the pill hall, mentally preparing for the inevitable blow to his pouch.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Jin paused without realizing it: the interior of the hall was… too elegant.

Not ostentatious in a vulgar way, but refined, as if every detail had been placed with intention. The floor was covered with polished greenish tiles engraved with circular patterns. The walls were lined with dark wooden shelves holding jade bottles, sealed boxes, and small chests marked with subtle runes.

The atmosphere was different from outside: the Qi, though only slightly, was denser here, smoother and more stable, like a calm current wrapping around the body, and Jin felt his breathing slow down without meaning to.

And the scent… herbs, roots, resins, freshly refined medicinal pills.

For some reason, it wasn’t unpleasant at all. On the contrary, it had an almost calming effect, as if it cleared the mind and organized one’s thoughts. Jin noticed the tension from spending his spirit stones loosen slightly.

Wow… he thought, this really feels like a serious place, and he took a few more steps, observing his surroundings.

There were many disciples, but the atmosphere was unusually quiet. There were no arguments, no bargaining, no noise. Most spoke in low voices or simply pointed at what they wanted. In fact, if not for the measured voices of the attendants behind the counters, the place could have passed for a temple.

Jin walked calmly, passing by several identical counters, each attended by disciples in clean robes with focused expressions. Some customers looked like veterans, others like nervous newcomers, but all shared the same quiet respect.

Finally, Jin approached one of the free counters, lightly rested his hand on the polished surface, and raised his gaze just as the disciple attending him lifted his own with a slow gesture.

He had noticeable dark circles under his eyes, his hair tied back carelessly, and an expression that made it clear he had spent hours—perhaps days—repeating the same process over and over. There was no enthusiasm on his face, no pride, not even a trace of the legendary arrogance Jin had expected from anything related to alchemy.

Jin blinked once and thought, Huh? I thought everyone here would be arrogant…

Images flashed through his mind: young genius alchemists looking down on others, elders casting disdainful glances, inflated prices out of sheer pride. But in front of him there was only a tired attendant, probably a low-ranking outer or inner disciple, tasked with selling, not refining.

Well… to be fair, Jin thought, these aren’t alchemists, just workers. He cleared his throat and spoke calmly: —I need several pills for a mission outside the sect.

The disciple nodded without changing expression, pulling out a registry tablet as Jin began listing: —Low-grade Qi recovery pills, a few; pills for treating external wounds; something for minor internal injuries; common antidote pills; and… a basic pill to stabilize Qi.

Each item was met with a mechanical nod. The disciple moved efficiently, retrieving bottles from the shelves behind him.

When the last bottle was placed in front of Jin, the disciple stated the total without any emotion. Jin paid in silence, feeling each spirit stone leave his pouch with very real pain.

A while later, Jin exited the great hall; the sun greeted him directly, but this time he paid it no attention. He lowered his gaze to his pouch and opened it slightly, counting mentally: —Twenty… only twenty low-grade spirit stones —he murmured.

The pouch, which had once held the result of eight months of work, now felt insultingly light. In his hands, he carried exactly what he needed to survive outside the sect, but in his pouch… almost nothing. Jin let out a long, resigned sigh: Definitely, he thought bitterly, going on adventures is expensive.

Jin stood on a small dark wooden boat, barely large enough to carry a dozen disciples at once. The vessel floated smoothly, supported by a levitation array engraved into its base, as it slowly descended from one of the sect’s access points toward the foot of the mountains.

The wind struck his face strongly, while before him the world unfolded on an absurd scale.

Eight colossal mountains rose like pillars holding up the sky itself, wrapped in ethereal clouds and streams of spiritual energy visible even to a cultivator of his level. From up there, the sect looked like a collection of palaces suspended in the void, connected by bridges, terraces, and platforms that defied all mundane logic.

Jin swallowed. —…We’re literally in the sky —he murmured, and for a moment he wondered how the hell he was supposed to return afterward: would he fly, climb, or just wait for someone to pass by and pick him up like it was nothing?

Then he remembered, with a mix of resignation and irony, that this was part of the sect’s “educational method”: allowing disciples to go out into the real world, face real dangers, and stop seeing themselves as fish in a golden pond.

An opportunity, they called it. Jin snorted in annoyance. Opportunity, my ass, he thought, and they even charge for it: five low-grade spirit stones just for a one-way trip.

His hand instinctively went to the pouch at his waist, now embarrassingly light. The memory of those five stones vanishing for a simple trip made his eye twitch slightly.

Around him, the other disciples remained silent. Some observed the landscape with restrained excitement; others with nervousness. There were those who seemed to have gone out multiple times, and others who were clearly leaving for the first time, like him.

The small boat continued descending, passing through layers of clouds until, little by little, the ground began to take shape. Endless forests, wild hills, and plains stretched out like a green and brown tapestry.

The real world. Jin inhaled deeply; outside the sect there would be no ever-present protection arrays, no elders watching from the shadows, no clear rules keeping him safe.

Only him, his spear, a few pills… and fifteen miserable spirit stones. A crooked smile appeared on his face: Well, he thought, since I paid, it better be worth it. The boat began to slow down; the adventure was finally about to begin.