Chapter 18. Qing He
Qing He's hand trembled slightly as she brought the teacup to her lips, savouring the warmth that seeped through the delicate porcelain. Her shop, filled with neatly stacked books and the faint scent of aged paper, was brightened by the sunlight pouring through the window.
The gentle steam rising from the tea seemed to swirl in harmony with the rhythm of her thoughts, as if time itself had slowed to match her leisurely pace.
Her gaze drifted to the window, where the city's chaos was visible. The laughter of children, the cries of merchants hawking their wares, the clattering of horse-drawn carts— all the familiar sounds of a mortal city busy with its daily routine. She observed it as one might view the ripples on a distant lake, present yet removed, the mundane happenings of a world she had once left behind and had returned to.
Time, she mused, moved so swiftly for mortals— ten years, gone in a blink.
In the world of the mundane, seasons changed, children grew, and elders passed on. But for her, a decade was no more than a brief interlude, a period where no great disturbances rocked the heavens or stirred the silent flow of her qi. There had been no furious rival sects to contend with, and no ancient blood feuds revived. Just quiet days, evenings filled with novels, and the simple pleasure of anonymity.
She sipped her tea again, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat.
Her lips curled slightly, a rare smile that creased her otherwise serene features. She thought of the grey-haired men who sometimes lingered near her stall, attempting to catch her eye with their clumsy charm. Oh, how they tried— offering small gifts, their flattery almost amusing even in this age. She did not desire their company; they were as uninteresting as stones by the roadside. Yet, she relished the attention, that small acknowledgement of her existence and charm that hadn't faded away even with wrinkles.
After all, who among those who once sought to ascend to the heavens could resist a little admiration? Even the most aloof cultivators, draped in their robes of mystery, couldn't resist the allure of fame.
That was why they competed in endless tournaments, displayed their prowess for the masses, and even paid bards to spin stories of their exploits. Half of the novels cluttering her shelves were ghostwritten by such cultivators, fainty disguised exaggerated accounts of their own lives.
They claimed to be above mortal affairs, yet how many of them yearned for the reverence of those they dismissed as insignificant? The truth was, even the lofty required validation from the masses they deemed beneath them.
She sighed contentedly, closing her eyes to bask in the warmth of her tea and her thoughts. "A good life, a peaceful life," she murmured to herself, savouring the words like a fine cup of tea. It was a mantra she had repeated so many times over these quiet years, almost convincing herself that it could last forever.
But then, the door creaked open, slicing through the tranquillity of the moment. Her eyes snapped open, her gaze sharpening as she peered at the shadowed figure standing at the threshold. Qing He's brow furrowed, her grip tightening around the fragile cup, a small crack spreading through the porcelain.
There he stood— the uninvited guest, the one who could shatter this peace she had worked so hard to weave.
He appeared unassuming enough, dressed in simple robes, his expression as neutral as a calm lake. Yet she could sense the faint, irregular hum of his dantian beneath his surface, like a flame flickering in a breeze. He wasn't much— no prodigious talent, no aura of destiny swirling around him. A cultivator of middling rank, barely a foot into the path that defied heaven's will.
She narrowed her eyes, scrutinising the barely perceptible ripples of energy emanating from him. A third star body forging cultivator, perhaps, or fourth if she was generous. Nothing that should pose a danger to her.
Her lips twisted into a thin line. The youth was no danger on his own— just another hopeful soul chasing the promise of immortality, like so many others who had come before him.
But then she saw it, lurking behind him— a shadow moving with liquid grace. A sleek, pristine white cat, its fur slipped past the door frame, padding soundlessly into the room. The cat's eyes gleamed with an unsettling intelligence, too bright and knowing for any ordinary beast. Qing He's heart tightened at the sight.
That cat. A creature that did not belong in this mortal city.
Qing He's gaze lingered on the spot where the white cat had last been seen, her pristine form slipping away with unnerving ease.
A spirit beast— she was sure of it. And not just any lowly creature that prowled the edges of town, but one with a strength that could hide itself even from her senses. At the very least, it was a peak foundation realm beast, possibly even at the elusive meridian expansion realm. She didn't like either option; beasts of such calibre didn't casually wander into mortal settlements like this, let alone follow around a cultivator of such modest talent.
Yet, the most curious thing of all was the beast's behaviour. Instead of ruling over the weaker being, it followed him, acting like a pet, docile and obedient.
She had seen the cat nestling against his legs, her eyes glinting with a peculiar amusement, almost as if she was playing a game Qing He couldn't quite decipher. And now, for the last two days, she hadn't seen the hide or hair of either the cat or the young cultivator. She had almost convinced herself that they'd moved on, leaving her to her simple life once more.
"So, it comes to this," she muttered under her breath, the tea cooling in her hand, her gaze never leaving the visitor who had just stepped into her quiet corner of her shop.
He strode toward her, a bright smile on his face that was almost annoyingly cheerful.
She straightened, letting out a slow breath to steady herself. "Why are you here today?" she asked, her voice clipped as she peered over her cup of tea. "Back for more books?"
The young man shook his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "No, Senior Qing He. I'm here to fulfil my end of the bargain."
She frowned, setting her teacup down with a faint clink. "Oh?" Her tone held a trace of curiosity, but she kept her expression carefully neutral. "So, you wrote a novel?"
His grin widened, pride shining in his eyes. "Yes. Enough to become a big hit with the young girls."
She chuckled dryly, the noise escaping through her nose. "A big hit, is it?" She studied him for a moment, then reached out as he handed her a thin, bound volume. Qing He's hands brushed the rough pages, feeling the weight of the book and, perhaps, the weight of his ambitions. She squinted at the title and flipped open to the first page.
"Very well then," she said with a touch of amusement in her voice. "Let me read."
The young cultivator watched eagerly as she scanned the opening lines, leaning in slightly as if hoping to catch her first reaction. Qing sighed softly, her fingers tapping the edge of the book. What could this child possibly write, being so young and naïve? she wondered.
Her mind drifted back to the tales she'd read over the decades— stories of grand battles, tragic love, and ascension to heights no mortal could fathom. Surely, he would not grasp the depth that such stories required.
Yet as her eyes traced over the words, a flicker of surprise crossed her face. Her reading slowed, and she glanced up at him, a wry smile tugging at her lips.
"'Liang Shan' and 'Hua Yun'—" she emphasised the names in a tone thick with the cadence of her region, rendering his words awkwardly, "Who is this Sha Ke Per anyway that's credited as the writer of the original?"
The young cultivator's grin faltered slightly, but he regained his composure quickly, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "Shakspeare. It's an old tale from my place of birth," he explained. "I just adapted it to be about cultivators. The original story was about two mortal families who ruled a city, and their children... well, they fell in love despite their families' feud."
She scoffed lightly, a note of disbelief creeping into her voice. "Mortal families ruling a city? What nonsense. How could such a story capture anyone's interest? Mortals can barely keep a village in order, let alone a city."
"It's just a story, Senior Qing He. It's not meant to be taken so seriously. And I made it different, you know— added some of those 'forbidden techniques' and 'ancient bloodlines' that I saw around the books in your shop." He smiled and his words held a hint of pride.
Qing He's lips twitched, and she found herself not knowing whether to take him seriously or not. "Hmm, we'll see if your little story has any depth to it. A tale of love and conflict, adapted to the realm of cultivators… It's not an easy thing to write."
She returned to the pages, immersing herself in the story of clashing clans, forbidden cultivation techniques, and tragic love. Yet even as she read, she kept one eye on the young man, observing the eagerness in his expression. He watched her reactions carefully, as if seeking validation— not so different from those old men on the street, pining for a bit of her attention. And perhaps, in that small way, he was a true cultivator after all.
Yet in the back of her mind, the shadow of that spirit beast lingered, reminding her that things were never as simple as they seemed.
Qing He adjusted her glasses, the faint flickering of candlelight casting shadows over her face as she began to read the first page of the young cultivator's manuscript. The story started with two rival guardian sects— one, the Skyshroud Sect, known for their mastery of sword qi, and the other, the Verdant Stream Sect, masters of spirit arts. The protagonists, a young man from Skyshroud and a woman from Verdant Stream met under a red maple tree that grew on the boundary between their sects.
Despite the tension between their factions, the two found themselves drawn to one another, their chance meetings turning into whispered conversations about the nature of cultivation, their dreams, and the harsh duties they bore for their respective sects. Qing He smirked as she read this part, recognizing the telltale signs of a budding romance, laced with the tension of forbidden encounters. It was the kind of tale that drew in young hearts, the thrill of love crossing boundaries.
As she read further, the sect elders grew suspicious of their young disciples' secret meetings. The lovers, caught between loyalty to their sects and their feelings for each other, decided to meet one last time under a legendary maple tree. The young cultivator wrote of a moonlit night, where spiritual energy shimmered around them, and the air was thick with unspoken words and regrets. He captured the scene well, she had to admit— his prose managed to evoke the coldness of the night and the warmth of their last embrace.
But, as such stories go, tragedy soon followed. The elders of the Skyshroud Sect struck first, unleashing a storm of sword qi that tore through the forest where the two met. Not to be outdone, the Verdant Stream elders retaliated with devastating spirit arts, turning the moonlit scene into a battlefield of clashing auras.
The couple tried to escape the carnage, but their enemies would not relent. With a final, desperate use of forbidden techniques, they turned their power inward, choosing to end their own lives rather than let the sects tear them apart.
As she reached the last lines, describing their hands clasped together, their qi fading like the last breath of the maple leaves around them, Qing He realised her tea had long grown cold. She set the manuscript down, feeling the heaviness, and bittersweetness of the story settle in her chest. Slowly, she raised her gaze to the young cultivator, who watched her with a hopeful, yet nervous, smile.
"This is actually pretty good," she said, her voice tinged with reluctant admiration. She leaned back, fingers tapping on the armrest of her chair. "How were you able to write something like this?"
The young man's smile grew wider, though he maintained a humble air. "It's an adaptation, like I said. I heard it as a tale rather than read it whole. Took some time to adapt it properly— to make the dialogue flow and fit the immortal world, you know? But it turned out well."
She studied him for a moment, tapping her finger thoughtfully against the book. "It might actually work. You should consider a career as a writer rather than a cultivator. I'm sure many sects would be willing to sponsor someone who can weave stories like this. It's rare to find a talent like yours."
He chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head. "I'll think about it. If my current path doesn't work out, maybe I'll take up your advice." He paused, and then his expression turned serious as he shifted the topic. "About the book... are you satisfied with the one that I wrote? Will you give me what I seek?"
Qing He glanced at him, then back at the manuscript he'd written. "It's nicely done, even if I haven't had a chance to test whether the young girls would find it captivating. But the writing is solid, so I'll give you a chance." She stood up, smoothing out her robes. "Besides, I found a book that might interest you. Come with me."
She led him to a narrow stairway at the back of the tea shop, the wooden steps creaking softly beneath their feet. The white cat appeared again, slipping through the shadows to follow them, its eyes glinting with that same amused intelligence. The young man followed her, his curiosity piqued as they made their way to a small room, where a worn bookshelf stood against one wall, filled with ancient tomes.
She motioned to a simple chair by a small table. "Sit. And don't touch anything," she warned, casting him a stern look before turning to search through the bookshelf.
He sat obediently, watching as she thumbed through dusty scrolls and leather-bound volumes until she found what she was looking for. Carefully, she pulled out a thin, worn book and placed it in his hands.
"I think this one might be to your liking," she said, her tone softer than before as if a hint of nostalgia touched her words. "But remember, I don't give out my treasures lightly."
With that, she left him in the room, heading back down the creaking stairs. As she reached her desk again, she couldn't help but glance once more at the manuscript he had left behind. She traced a finger over the cover, considering the young man's story. It had been a while since a tale had stirred something in her— something that made her want to read it again, to see if she had missed any layers beneath its simple telling.
She settled back into her chair, opened the first page, and began reading once more, this time savouring each word and searching for the subtext that might lie hidden beneath the prose. Because she was sure, there was more to it than what was presented.
And she always liked a good, calm challenge.
***
In the comparatively dark back room, Chen Ren took a moment to survey the shelves, his eyes glinting with curiosity. It was clear that Qing He had more information tucked away than she let on. Ancient scrolls and old tomes, their spines cracked with age, filled every inch of the wooden shelves. He felt a twinge of excitement, knowing that this place held more than just dusty records— it held secrets.
He sat down at the small table and glanced at the book Qing He had handed him. Its cover was simple and unadorned, but the faded ink on the spine read The Tinge Flora and Hidden Beasts by Wu Yanshi. He flipped open the first page, the scent of old parchment wafting up, mingling with the faint aroma of incense from the shop below.
The book started with an introduction about the author, a wandering cultivator who had spent decades exploring remote regions, recording details about plants and creatures seldom seen in the more civilised parts of the realm. It was a rare find— one that could easily be overlooked by someone less knowledgeable.
As he read through the pages, Chen Ren skimmed past the sections on rare herbs that grew deep in spirit-infused mountains and hidden valleys, focusing instead on what could be found closer to the city.
His goal was clear: herbs with pleasing fragrances. If he could find a plant that had properties to soothe the mind or to subtly ward off lesser spirit beasts, even better. And then there were the beasts themselves— any parts that could be used for their alchemical properties would be a bonus.
He paused at a passage about hoofprint fern, a rare plant known for its golden-veined leaves that glowed in the moonlight. It had calming properties, often used by cultivators to enhance meditation. But it thrived only near ancient, undisturbed lakes— far from the bustling life of the city.
Next, he found a description of violet dawnroot, a bright red herb with a subtle, citrusy scent. It was said to help focus the mind when burned as incense. It grew on the sunlit slopes of hills, needing space and elevation. He frowned— while not impossible to acquire, it was not the convenient solution he sought.
Flipping a few more pages, he found a section on spirit beasts, each profile painstakingly recorded with details of their habits and habitats. A sketch of a nightstalker lynx caught his eye— a creature known for its shadow affinity and prized for its dark-furred pelt, which could be used in making concealment talismans. But it was far beyond his current strength, even if he did manage to track one down.
He moved on, noting its properties but knowing it was out of reach.
After a while, he stumbled upon a simple entry: silvermist blossom. The name didn't seem particularly grand, but the more he read, the more it piqued his interest. It was a humble herb, found near riverbanks, with delicate petals that shimmered faintly in the morning mist.
The blossom emitted a gentle fragrance that was said to calm nerves and aid in sleep. But more than that, it had a subtle effect of repelling lesser spirit beasts and pests, making it valuable to protect those who worked with other, more temperamental herbs.
This was the kind of plant he had been looking for— something easy to find locally, with practical uses that could enhance the atmosphere of his quarters and keep unwanted pests at bay. He traced a finger over the illustration, imagining them blossom along the rivers that wound near the outskirts of the city.
***
A/N - Thank you for the support. If you haven't followed, please follow it. We are aiming for 4k RS.
Chapter 19. Foresting
Chen Ren hunched over a small desk in his room, the only light came from a half-melted candle. His brush moved swiftly, filling the scroll with characters that came to his mind. He paused, the tip hovering over the paper as he thought of the recent encounter with the old lady at the teahouse. A smile tugged at his lips, just barely there.
The deal with her had been sort of a gamble of its own, but one that turned out better than he had expected.
He had proposed writing a story, one of those romantic tales popular on Earth, but not just any tale— one that could tug at heartstrings and spark a fluttering in the hearts of young women.
There was a problem, though. He had never really read those kinds of books back in his world, just watched them in movies. So, he took the fragments he remembered, twisted them with his imagination and stuff he had read about cultivation, and poured them into the scrolls over the last two days.
Writing here had come with its surprises. His thoughts, once sluggish when it came to putting words down on paper, now flowed like a river. Once he had finished the story, Once he finished the story, Qing He's approval arrived quickly, allowing him to obtain the book on herbs and beasts he had been searching for.
Yet, the true treasure wasn't just in the book she'd given him. It was in the dusty, cluttered shelves he'd glimpsed behind her, shelves filled with scrolls and tomes that looked far more valuable than mere stories. Cultivation manuals, techniques, and perhaps even secret arts lay within that room. If he played his cards right, he might get access to those secrets too.
But those aspirations would have to wait. Chen Ren put the scroll aside, pushing thoughts of ancient techniques and hidden power from his mind for now and focusing on his task at hand, from where he was in his room.
Alright, so, focus! He forced himself to look at the notes he'd made in his notebook.
His first goal was much simpler: herbs.
Since his noodle stall was working well, he had thought a lot on his second business idea and landed on a product that he would be able to earn a lot out of, especially with Tang Yuqiu— fragrances, makeup and hygiene products.
It was an idea born from a class he'd taken back in his previous life when perfumes and their crafting had been little more than an idle curiosity. Yet now, that knowledge held the potential for a lot of profit.
He picked up another sheet, dipping his brush once more as he began to scribble notes. Memories of perfume-making techniques surfaced, thoughts threading through the delicate process of creating a fragrance.
He jotted down the key ideas that had lingered in his mind: the use of essential oils for heart notes, the balancing of top notes like citrus to create an immediate scent, and the heavier, lasting base notes— musk, sandalwood, or even something rarer. It was a process that required patience, an art of blending nature's essence into a single, captivating aroma.
Chen Ren's brush moved swiftly, laying out the steps for his perfume-making process as he included his earthly knowledge with the herbs he had read about.
He wrote about selecting top, middle, and base notes that he thought would fit— whispering lily for the initial burst, martha wood for depth, and silvermist bloom to anchor the blend.
He detailed how to combine them, starting with a few drops of each in a small bottle, adding alcohol to carry the fragrance, and letting it rest for days to meld the scents. He noted the importance of testing the mixture on the skin, adjusting with more alcohol if too strong, and recording each variation to refine what he'd have made—
A faint, high-pitched sound cut through his focus, like the creak of old wood or the whisper of an unseen presence.
Chen Ren's hand stilled, his breath catching in his throat as his senses sharpened. His gaze darted around the murkily lit room, the tension coiling through his muscles like a spring.
Did one of the creditors send an assassin after me? No, it shouldn't be. But I still need to check.
He slowly pushed back from the desk, his eyes scanning the corners, each shadow stretching longer than it should under the wavering candlelight.
The silence hung heavy, every beat of his heart echoing in his ears. Then, he spotted the source of the sound— a small, scraggly rat, scuttling along the edge of the room, its tiny claws scraping against the wooden floor.
Chen Ren exhaled, a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He leaned back, feeling the tightness in his shoulders ease.
The rat was a scrawny creature, its fur matted and rough, the pale light casting shadows over its twitching whiskers. It paused for a heartbeat, its tiny eyes glinting like dark beads in the candlelight as it met Chen Ren's gaze. A cornered look passed between them— one of primal fear on the rat's part and a flash of something else, a sudden whim, in Chen Ren's.
He stood up slowly, the wooden chair creaking beneath him. His lips twisted into a grin.
"I didn't know I had rats in my room," he muttered, brushing a loose strand of hair behind his ear. Then, an idea took root, his grin widening. "Maybe I can try catching it... as a treat for that high-and-mighty cat." He chuckled under his breath at the thought and, without further hesitation, lunged toward the rat.
But the rat, sensing the danger, moved at a godly speed. It darted between his legs, slipping past the edge of the desk, and scrambled over a stack of scrolls piled in the corner. Chen Ren, not to be outdone, dove after it, his fingers just brushing against the coarse fur before it wriggled free, leaping toward his bed.
He nearly stumbled, catching himself on the bedpost as he shifted through the tight space of his room, his mind racing to keep up with the rat's frantic scurrying. He winced as his elbow knocked into a porcelain cup, sending it spinning across the desk before it wobbled back to a stop.
He had to be careful— one wrong move and he'd leave a mess for Tang Xiulan to clean up, not to mention the damage to his already limited belongings.
The rat seemed to sense the challenge, scampering with renewed speed, its tiny claws skittering over his notes, then darting under a small chest that held his writing supplies. Chen Ren huffed in frustration, quickly closing the distance, leaping to block its path. For a moment, they both froze— Chen Ren, with his arm outstretched, and the rat, quivering in the corner.
With a final quick motion, he managed to trap the creature beneath his hands, feeling it squirm against his palms. He grinned, ready to praise himself for the little victory, but then a voice from the doorway cut through his moment of triumph like a blade.
"What are you doing, human?" It was a low, annoyed tone, carrying the unmistakable haughtiness of a creature who had seen far too many years to be amused by such antics.
Chen Ren froze, turning slowly to see Yalan standing in the doorway, her amber eyes narrowed to slits, the tip of her tail twitching impatiently— she regarded him with a disdainful look that could have made any mortal feel foolish.
He raised his hands, displaying the wriggling rat with a sheepish grin. "I thought you might appreciate a fresh catch," he offered, trying to inject a bit of charm into his voice. "You know, a snack?"
Yalan's glare sharpened, her whiskers twitching with irritation. "Do you think I would stoop so low to eat such a filthy creature?" she replied, her voice dripping with scorn. She cast a disdainful glance at the rat. "Even a hungry stray would turn its nose up at such a pitiful offering. I have some standards, human. If you want to feed me, try something more... refined. I'd rather eat mud than a rat."
Chen Ren flinched, his shoulders sagging as he sighed and released the rat, which immediately darted away, disappearing into a crack in the wall. He watched it vanish with exasperation and amusement, muttering under his breath, "Well, I tried my best for you, you know."
Yalan, however, only smirked, a flash of amusement in her eyes that quickly turned serious. She flicked her tail toward the door. "If you truly wish to be useful, stop playing with vermin and start moving. We need to make our way to the forest and return before midnight. The window of opportunity is closing and we need to get on with your training."
Chen Ren straightened, dusting off his hands as he eyed her warily. "What's this about, anyway? And what kind of training are we talking about?"
Yalan turned her head. "You'll find out when we get there," she said. "Now, hurry up. The herbs we seek will not wait, and neither will your training."
***
Chen Ren moved through the mist that curled around the city, his steps careful yet swift, Yalan walking silently at his side.
The lanterns that hung from the edges of rooftops did little to pierce the thick veil that blanketed everything in sight. The mist clung to him, cold and damp, and each breath drew in tendrils of vapour that seeped into his lungs.
The city's boundary had always been like this at night. No matter how clear the day was, once the sun dipped below the horizon and everything turned dark, the fog rolled in, settling over the city like an ancient habit.
Chen Ren had overheard countless theories about it since arriving— rumours spun by merchants, old scholars, and idle cityfolks who enjoyed the mystery of it all.
Some said it was the work of the sect master from the Soaring Sword Sect, his power so great that he could summon an array to ward off beasts from the nearby forest, keeping them from straying too close to the city's walls. Others believed it was the result of a natural formation, a confluence of spiritual energies that gathered each night, creating a fog that acted as a barrier.
Then there were the more mundane explanations— tales of strange plants that grew along the city's borders, exhaling mist as they absorbed the moon's light, or ancient streams hidden beneath the earth, releasing the vapour into the cool night air. Whatever the cause, the fog had been a fixture of the city for centuries, an unchanging fact of life that everyone learned to accept.
Chen Ren, however, had little interest in deciphering its origins. It served its purpose tonight, helping to mask his movements as he and Yalan slipped through the twisting paths that led to the city's edge.
The mist muffled the sounds of their footsteps, and he moved like a fox, covering a large distance in a matter of minutes, again thankful for the fact that he had been transmigrated as a cultivator.
As they approached the outer gates, the outline of two guards materialised through the fog, their figures indistinct but solid against the shifting veil of mist.
Their armour clinked softly as they turned, their expressions obscured beneath helmets that reflected the faint glow of nearby lanterns. But when Chen Ren revealed the faint glimmer of his cultivation aura, they barely gave him a second glance.
One of them, an older man with a streak of silver in his beard, grunted a curt acknowledgement and bowed slightly before waving him through without so much as a question.
Since the city had cultivators, guards seemed to let them be and not interfere. He was sure that he wasn't the only one who had thought of training in the nearby forest.
Chen Ren slipped past the gate with a nod, feeling the slight tension in his shoulders ease. He had grown used to this reaction from most guards— he had discovered that most common folk treated cultivators with a blend of awe and wariness. It was a small advantage, but one he'd learned to use well.
The mist beyond the gate was thicker still. He could barely see through the thick fog.
But he knew that the forest should be in the distance. Chen Ren's breath formed soft clouds before him, mingling with the drifting vapour as he trudged forward, Yalan moving with unerring grace beside him.
"Keep up," Yalan said, her voice a low murmur that barely disturbed the quiet. "We don't have time to waste. If we delay too long, we'll miss our chance."
Chen Ren gritted his teeth, adjusting his stride to match her pace. The mist wrapped around them, swallowing the city behind and leaving only the path ahead.
He moved deeper into the forest, the shadows shifting around him as the mist thinned, replaced by the looming silhouettes of ancient trees. He had initially planned to gather the herbs in the morning when the sun would illuminate the undergrowth, making the search easier. But Yalan had insisted on venturing out at night, her reasoning delivered with her usual disdainful tone.
According to her, training under the moon's glow would force him to adapt to the challenges of nighttime. Nocturnal beasts often come out during this hour and if he was going to learn how to deal with cultivation shenanigans, it was important to fight them.
"Nocturnal beasts have their dangers," she had said, her tail swishing with a faint hiss through the air. "Many of them become stronger under the moon's lunar qi, their instincts sharper. It's the perfect time for training. Besides, no one will be around to interrupt us."
Chen Ren had reluctantly agreed, knowing that she had a point. Moreover, nighttime brought out not only predators that moved with deadly grace, but also certain plants to bloom— herbs that hid their true qualities during the day, their petals and leaves only unfurling in the moonlight to release their potent essence.
He had a few of such herbs in his list and if he wanted to make a perfume that could truly captivate people, he needed to gather them.
The forest was alive with soft rustlings and distant calls, sounds that threaded through the quiet like a constant, murmuring breath.
He moved carefully over the uneven ground, the notes he had scrawled earlier clutched behind him in a bag. The mist lingered here, draped low over the ground, obscuring the roots and rocks that threatened to trip him with every step.
His eyes moved between the shadows, scanning the undergrowth for any sign of the herbs he sought
After what felt like hours of searching, he spotted the faint glimmer of moonlight reflecting off a cluster of leaves, their edges lined with a pale, silver sheen. He crouched down, brushing aside the underbrush to reveal a low-growing plant, its buds glowing faintly in the dark.
"Martha wood," he muttered to himself, recognizing the herb from his notes. It was known for its fragrant oil and smelled like lavender, a key ingredient that could add a lingering, mysterious scent to his perfume.
Carefully, he plucked the leaves, mindful not to damage the delicate roots that held the plant to the soil. He tucked them into a small pouch, his fingers working with the precision of someone who had done this before, albeit in a different world.
He straightened up, his gaze sweeping the shadows again, his ears straining for any signs of movement.
With Yalan by his side, Chen Ren didn't feel the same sense of dread he might have if he were alone.
She rarely showed it, but he could sense her power, a quiet, coiled strength beneath her haughty demeanour. If something truly dangerous emerged, he knew she could handle it. It allowed him to focus on his task without constantly looking over his shoulder, without that creeping fear that something might be stalking him through the darkness.
He found another herb tucked near the base of a twisted tree, its flowers closed like tiny fists, waiting for the moonlight to coax them open. This one, a whispering lily, was known for its faint, almost ethereal scent that could lend a subtle layer to his creation. He gently harvested the blossoms, placing them next to the other leaves in his pouch.
Satisfied with his progress, he started toward a small riverbank nestled deeper in the woods. He simply followed the waters, trying to find what he needed: silvermist bloom.
But before he could move further he felt Yalan suddenly halt in her tracks. Her ears twitched and she fixed her gaze toward a dark cluster of trees beyond the lake's edge.
"It seems like you might finally encounter a beast worthy of my taste," she remarked, her voice cutting through the quiet like a blade.
Chen Ren stopped, turning to face her. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his brows furrowing as he tried to peer through the shadows.
"A beast is nearby," Yalan replied, a hint of amusement in her tone. "A Tier 1 creature, nothing you should fear. But it's enough for some practice. You need to fight it."
He stiffened, glancing toward the darkness where Yalan's eyes were fixed. His pulse quickened a mixture of nervousness and reluctant excitement stirring in his chest.
"Are you sure I can fight it? I don't think I told you before, but the only beast I fought in my world was a small swarm of mosquitoes," he admitted, feeling the weight of his unease settle over him. "Also, I only know one fist technique, and even that isn't very polished."
"It's just a Tier 1 beast. If things go poorly, I'll pull you out before you get hurt," she replied, the confidence in her tone leaving little room for argument.
Chen Ren swallowed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him.
He knew that if he wanted to survive in this world, he had to confront this fear sooner or later. The structure of this world, built on the strength of cultivators and the endless struggle against beasts and rivals, demanded courage. Better to start with a small step under the watchful eye of his unusual mentor than to be caught unprepared when real danger came knocking.
"Alright," he said slowly, nodding as if to reassure himself. "Let's do this." He clenched his fists, feeling a tingling in his core as he tried to steady his breathing, and began to move forward.
They moved deeper into the forest until the trees began to thin, following the shimmering surface of the river. The mist had settled low here, hugging the ground and drifting like ghostly veils over the water's edge. But what drew Chen Ren's attention wasn't the serene view— it was the grisly scene unfolding just a few steps from the shore.
Near a cluster of gnarled roots that twisted into the water, a creature crouched, tearing into the carcass of a normal deer with savage hunger.
It resembled a rat and was nearly as large as a wild boar, its matted, bristling fur slick with dark stains of fresh blood. Its long, crooked teeth gleamed in the moonlight as it dug into the flesh, muscles rippling beneath its coarse hide with every vicious bite. Tufts of fur were missing in places, revealing patches of rough, scarred skin, as if it had survived countless brawls in its time.
Its eyes, small and beady, glowed with a faint red light, casting an eerie reflection on the bloodied ground around it. Even crouched over its meal, the creature exuded a wild, untamed ferocity, the scent of blood mingling with the damp air, sharp enough to make Chen Ren wrinkle his nose.
The deer lay limp beneath the monstrous rat's claws, its legs bent at unnatural angles, neck twisted and broken.
Chen Ren swallowed hard, his breath catching as he tried to keep his voice steady. "This... This thing is really Tier 1?" he asked, his gaze flicking nervously from the rat beast to Yalan. "It looks tough."
Yalan, perched on a nearby rock with a bored expression, simply flicked her tail and gave him a sidelong glance. "It's nothing you can't handle," she replied, a hint of a challenge in her tone. "Don't worry."
But Chen Ren couldn't quite quell the nerves that tightened in his chest as he took in the rat beast's powerful limbs and the sharp, glinting claws that dug into the deer's flesh. Compared to the small rat he had fought, this one looked more like a predator than prey.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping forward, feeling the cool air hitting his face.
The rat beast's ears twitched, and it jerked its head up, crimson eyes locking onto Chen Ren.
Its mouth hung open, revealing rows of sharp, crooked teeth stained with the remnants of its meal. They stared at each other, the air thick with the tension of the encounter. The creature's nostrils flared as it took in his scent, and for a heartbeat, everything was still— just the faint rustle of leaves and the quiet lap of water against the shore.
Then, with a guttural snarl that seemed to rattle the very trees, the rat beast lunged. It moved with a speed that belied its bulky frame, a blur of matted fur and flashing claws.
Chen Ren's breath hitched, and his feet seemed to root themselves to the spot as he watched the mass of muscle and fangs hurtling toward him, his mind going blank with the sudden rush of terror.
The ground seemed to shake beneath the creature's charge, and all Chen Ren could do was brace himself as every cell of his body came alive with the sound of snapping branches and the beast's roar that almost deafened him.
Chapter 20. Spicy herbs
The air seemed to thicken as the rat beast charged, its claws scrabbling across the rocky ground. Chen Ren's muscles tensed, his mind blanked for a split second, time stretching unnaturally. Fear prickled at the edge of his thoughts, locking him in place. He could almost hear the rhythmic pounding of his own heartbeat as he froze, watching the beast bear down on him. But then, a stray thought broke through the haze— move.
Electricity crackled around his fists as he snapped out of his stupor, and with a forceful exhale, he drew upon the power of the [Thundering Fist], a technique he'd drilled countless times.
His right arm whipped forward, muscles straining, and his fist collided with the rat's bony shoulder. A shockwave of energy burst from the impact, throwing the rat several feet backward, its body skidding across the dirt.
Chen Ren's breath came in sharp gasps, and he glanced down at his fist, still tingling with residual energy. Surprise lit up his face. So this... is [Thundering First?] But before he could dwell on the thought, a sharp voice cut through his reverie.
"Focus! The bloodsnout isn't finished yet." It was Yalan's voice, stern as always, her amber eyes locked on the struggling beast.
Bloodsnout… So, that's what this ugly thing is called!
His gaze snapped back to the rat, just in time to see it push itself up from the ground, its bloodshot eyes fixed on him. It let out a high-pitched screech that echoed through the trees, its rage palpable. Without a moment's hesitation, it charged at him again, the ground trembling beneath its heavy footfalls.
Chen Ren felt the rush of panic claw at him but forced it down, inhaling deeply. He clenched his fists, letting the lightning pool around his legs. The air around his calves crackled, and in the blink of an eye, he moved— his body disappearing just as the rat's claws slashed through the empty space where he had stood.
Chen Ren reappeared several paces away, lightning still crackling around his legs. This was [Lightning Step], a movement technique that he had practised in the back alleys of the city, a technique that channelled lightning through the body, making him as quick as a lightning flash.
The previous Chen Ren used it often. Hence, despite his lack of practice, his body seemed to remember the rhythm of it, every muscle attuned to the technique's flow.
He dashed to the side, blurring into motion, leaving arcs of electricity trailing behind him.
The bloodsnout's claws slashed at him again and again, but each time, they met only the empty air. With every dodge, Chen Ren countered with a strike, his fists slamming into the rat's body, the impact ringing through the forest like distant thunder.
Yet, even as his attacks connected, a sinking realisation grew in his mind. Each punch drove the rat back, but its tough, bristly hide absorbed the brunt of his blows. Bruises formed beneath its fur, but the beast barely slowed, its rage driving it forward through the pain.
Chen Ren risked a glance towards Yalan, his unspoken plea for guidance clear in his eyes. But she simply watched from the shadows, her expression unreadable. She shook her head, a silent message: This is your battle.
His thoughts swirled as he ducked under another wild swipe from the rat. What am I doing wrong?
The [Thundering Fist] technique was supposed to be a powerful, decisive blow— one that could shatter bones and rend flesh. Yet, his attacks barely seemed to scratch the surface of the bloodsnout's defences.
He could move swiftly with [Lightning Step], weaving through its attacks like a dancer amidst a storm, but speed alone wasn't enough.
Another exchange, and this time, he could feel the strain in his muscles, the growing fatigue of maintaining the lightning coursing through his legs.
He gritted his teeth, pushing through the exhaustion.
A [Thundering Fist] should be devastating, not just pushing a beast back. The realisation stung. He was failing to channel the true essence of the technique, unable to draw out the full power that should have existed behind each strike.
His movements slowed, and the rat sensed it, lunging with renewed ferocity. And as its claws grazed his cheek, drawing a thin line of blood, Chen Ren's mind sharpened.
He could feel the raw energy flickering within him, untapped and wild. I need to channel it, direct it, or this fight will end in blood— my blood.
Chen Ren's mind raced, recalling the manuals he had painstakingly studied.
[Thundering Fist] wasn't just about brute force. It was about control, about channelling the energy with precision, not letting it scatter wildly around his fists. Until now, he had merely been releasing bursts of electricity with each punch, the power dispersing before it could pierce through the target.
The realisation hit him like a jolt of his own technique. I need to focus on it. Condense the energy into a single point, then let it explode.
As the thought crystallised, he looked up to find the bloodsnout charging at him again, its bloodied eyes gleaming with fury that could've killed Chen Ren if it had power. But this time, he was ready.
He sidestepped the creature's lunge with the speed of his [Lightning Step], the world blurring for a split second as he vanished from its path. With a surge of energy, he propelled himself upward, leaping over the rat's gnashing teeth and clawed limbs. Twisting mid-air, he turned to face its exposed back, gathering the lightning into his palm.
With a deep breath, he let the energy concentrate, feeling the charge intensify until his entire arm buzzed with barely-contained power. The air around his hand crackled, the sound like a rumbling thunderstorm.
"[Thundering Fist]!" He thrust his hand forward, releasing the technique in a blinding flash of blue and golden light.
Electricity arced out, a condensed, crackling bolt that struck the bloodsnout directly in the back.
A sharp, sizzling noise filled the air as the lightning surged through the beast's body, its muscles seizing violently. Then, with a sickening sound, a portion of its chest exploded outward in a spray of flesh and blood. The rat's shriek was cut short as its body crumpled to the ground, twitching before finally lying still.
Chen Ren landed lightly, his feet crunching on the wet ground.
He stared at his hands, electricity still sparking faintly from his fingers. Awe flickered in his eyes, but when he looked down and saw the blood and gore splattered on his palms and staining the edges of his robes, a wave of nausea hit him like a punch to the gut. He stumbled back, swallowing hard, and turned toward the nearby lake.
Kneeling at the water's edge, he plunged his hands into the cold, clear water, scrubbing away the sticky remains with frantic motions. His stomach twisted, the taste of bile rising in his throat. He focused on the sensation of the water, trying to drown out the memory of the flesh peeling off under his attack.
Yalan approached him, her steps soundless on the forest floor. She sat down gracefully by the lake, watching him, her eyes were squinted in amusement as she licked her paw. "I'd rate that a four out of ten."
Chen Ren paused, water dripping from his fingers. "Four out of ten? Seriously? Why so low?" He shot her an incredulous look, half expecting some sort of praise.
Yalan flicked her tail, her expression unchanging. "You took too long to figure out the proper way to use the technique. A lowly beast like that shouldn't have been able to push you so far. And then you nearly vomited at the sight of a bit of gore— how will you handle tougher beasts? Not to mention, you ruined the carcass. A blast like that makes it nearly inedible."
Chen Ren blinked, turning to look at the mutilated rat's corpse lying by the water's edge. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of eating something so grotesque. He glanced back at her, his expression incredulous. "You would actually eat that... thing?"
Yalan gave him a small, enigmatic smile. "Of course. If you cook it, that is. Beast meat is often more nourishing than that of regular animals. And despite their unsavoury appearance, these bloodsnouts live in the caves near lakes. They keep themselves clean in the waters."
Chen Ren took another look at the bloody mess that was once the rat, its twisted body and vacant eyes staring into nothingness. He shuddered, the idea of roasting it turning his stomach once more. "I... think I'll pass," he muttered, stepping away from the remains as if they might spring back to life.
Yalan only chuckled, her tail flicking in amusement. "Suit yourself. But remember, next time, aim for the head— it makes for a cleaner kill."
Chen Ren wiped the last of the blood from his hands and stood up, casting one more wary glance at the rat's mutilated corpse.
With a deep breath, he turned his focus to the task that had originally brought him into the forest— gathering herbs. The moonlight filtered through the trees, illuminating the silver-green leaves of a plant he recognized. Its flowers had a faint blue hue, and as he reached down to pluck a few, he brought one to his nose, inhaling its soft, earthy scent.
The fragrance was subtle yet refreshing, carrying a hint of sweetness. He found himself smiling, thinking, This would make a decent perfume. It was a strange thought amidst the chaos of battle, but he'd always been intrigued by the simple things.
He tucked the herb carefully into his satchel, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders. The tension of the fight melted away, replaced by a sense of relief.
"Well, that's that. Job's done for today," he muttered, stretching his limbs.
As he turned to head back, Yalan's voice cut through the night air. "And what about those spicy herbs you were talking about back at the tea stall?" She glanced at him with a raised brow, her eyes glinting with curiosity.
Chen Ren paused, then snapped his fingers as if just remembering. "Oh, those aren't for perfume. I wanted to get those herbs to experiment with... try turning them into a sauce."
Yalan tilted her head, a curious expression crossing her feline face. "A sauce?" she echoed, as if tasting the unfamiliar word on her tongue.
Chen Ren nodded eagerly, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Yeah, it's something you pour over food— like noodles— to give it more flavour. I think if I get the right balance of spice and seasoning, it could really take off. It might even be a hit in the city."
Yalan's eyes narrowed as she considered his words. "Spicy herbs? Those are usually burned around campsites to ward off beasts. I'm not sure how much of their heat humans can actually tolerate." She spoke matter-of-factly, her tail twitching as she gauged his reaction.
Chen Ren laughed, shrugging lightly. "That's why I need to experiment! Find the right blend, you know? But I haven't seen any of those herbs near the lake." He glanced toward the deeper, shadowy parts of the forest. "According to what I've read, they grow deeper in, near a cliffside. I've also heard that stronger beasts roam around there, which... well, might be a problem. But I don't want to travel further tonight. I'm tired, and it's been a long day."
Yalan arched her back, stretching gracefully as she looked up at him with a knowing smile. "So, you want to keep up with your training then?" Her tone held a playful challenge.
Chen Ren glanced down at his fists, still tingling faintly with the lingering sensation of power coursing through them. He met Yalan's gaze and nodded slowly, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, I do. As gross as that fight was... it was fun too. There's a thrill in using my techniques, testing my limits. It's one thing to have power, but using it is a whole different matter. In the city, I can barely let loose."
Yalan's smirk widened, and she padded closer, her tail swaying behind her like a pendulum. "Good. Then I'll make sure to train you well. I wouldn't want my student to embarrass me by struggling with a mere rat beast again."
Chen Ren rolled his eyes, but a hint of warmth seeped into his expression. "Sure, sure. Just don't push me too hard, or I might end up needing those herbs to treat my wounds instead of using it for cooking."
Yalan's laughter echoed softly through the forest, a surprisingly melodious sound. "Rest for now, then. But don't think you'll be slacking off next time we're out here." With that, she turned and slinked away, disappearing into the shadows between the trees.
He knew she wasn't going too far away, too used to having an eye on him always.
Chen Ren exhaled, his smile fading into a thoughtful expression as he glanced deeper into the forest where the spicy herbs— and greater challenges— awaited. He'd have to face those soon enough, but tonight, he let the tension melt from his shoulders, savouring the cool night air.
***
Tang Yuqiu sat at the large mahogany table in her room, her fingers tapping impatiently against the wood. Before her lay an open book of accounts, its pages filled with neat columns of numbers and records. She stared at them, but the content seemed to blur together, refusing to hold her attention.
With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the book away slightly. Lately, it seemed she couldn't concentrate on anything— her mind was too restless, too caught up in something else.
It wasn't just business, either. Meals felt tasteless, and even the simplest pleasures like the morning walk through the garden held little appeal. Just a few days ago, her closest friend had invited her to a cosy tea stall where a popular novel was being recited. It was the kind of thing she would usually enjoy, but she had turned her down without a second thought. Why?
Because Chen Ren had promised her something.
A new product he'd spoken of with such conviction, insisting it would work wonders and become a sensation. But what was it, exactly? How was it supposed to work? He had never elaborated, and she hadn't thought to ask at the time, thinking he'd reveal it soon enough.
Now, that curiosity had become a constant itch, gnawing at the edges of her thoughts. Why hasn't he shown up yet? What could he possibly be doing that's taking so long?
Her fingers stilled their tapping, and she muttered under her breath, "Is he not going to show up at all?" Frustration tightened in her chest, and she pressed a hand against her forehead, her brow furrowing deeply. If he's tricked me again, I swear I'll have Father kick him out for deceiving me. The idea brought a bitter satisfaction, but beneath it, an unfamiliar twinge of disappointment. She hated feeling like she was waiting on someone— especially Chen Ren of all people.
As she was caught up in her thoughts, a sudden knock at the door startled her. She straightened, smoothing her robes as her maid poked her head in.
"Miss Yuqiu, Young master Chen Ren is here to see you."
Tang Yuqiu's eyes widened in surprise. "Send him in, quickly!"
The maid nodded and withdrew, leaving the door ajar. A moment later, Chen Ren stepped into the room, his expression relaxed. At his hip, a small pouch was tied securely, its contents hidden but somehow intriguing. Tang Yuqiu's gaze immediately locked onto the pouch before flicking back to Chen Ren's face.
"So, are you here with the product you promised?" she demanded, a hint of sharpness in her tone that masked the curiosity bubbling beneath.
Chen Ren smirked slightly and gave her a nod. "Obviously. I wouldn't break a promise, would I?"
His tone was casual, but there was a glint in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat.
Tang Yuqiu leaned forward slightly, her impatience returning tenfold. At last, she thought, trying to keep the eagerness from showing on her face. Now, let's see what you've got up your sleeve, Chen Ren.
Chapter 21. Refining and extracting
"Have a seat." Tang Yuqiu motioned him to sit.
Chen Ren settled into the seat across from her, his expression calm, though his mind raced beneath the surface. He studied her quietly, noting the wariness in her eyes as she glanced his way— suspicion and impatience mixed into her gaze.
She was a woman with a strong but steel will, and her presence carried a sense of authority that even experienced merchants would tread carefully around. But Chen Ren knew she needed him, and a sharp look wouldn't deter him.
After a moment, he spoke with a deliberate casualness, leaning back slightly in his chair. "I'm sitting here, yet you didn't even have your maid bring tea for me. Aren't you concerned for your guest's comfort, young miss?"
Yuqiu's lips curled into a wry smile but didn't reach her eyes. "You've already had more than your fill of free tea, Chen Ren. Why should I offer more?"
Chen Ren's expression soured at the comment, a faint frown crossing his brow. He straightened, meeting her gaze head-on. "Honestly, what is your problem with me?"
The teasing light vanished from her face as she fixed him with a glare that could cut sharper than any blade. "You really don't remember, do you?"
The question hung in the air, and Chen Ren felt extremely uneasy. He drew in a deep breath, letting the moment stretch as he gathered his thoughts, reflecting on the burden left by the actions of the man whose body he now inhabited.
The previous Chen Ren's karma truly follows me like a shadow, he thought, a rueful pang twisting through him. He had inherited not just this life, but all the regrets and mistakes that came with it.
He lowered his head slightly, a gesture of contrition. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice steady but subdued. "I'm sorry for trying to take advantage of you while I was drunk. I know that's not an excuse, and I shouldn't have acted that way, even if I wasn't in my right mind. But I am not the same man anymore. I would never do something like that again. All I hope for is that we can put it behind us and move forward with this business deal, with mutual respect."
He paused, glancing back up to meet her gaze directly. "I won't ask again. I've apologised, and there's nothing more I can do to make it right. It's up to you whether you forgive me or not. But I'd appreciate it if you could keep your sharp words to yourself, regardless."
Tang Yuqiu's expression shifted, the hard edge in her eyes softening as she blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. For a moment, she simply gaped at him, as if struggling to reconcile this Chen Ren with the one she remembered. Her mouth opened and closed, but no biting retort came forth.
After what felt like an eternity, she lowered her head, letting out a breath she didn't realise she'd been holding. "I... understand," she said quietly, her voice lacking the usual bite. "Perhaps... we should move on to discussing the business idea."
She hesitated for a moment, then turned toward the door. "But first, I'll have them bring tea. It seems only proper."
***
Chen Ren adjusted himself in his seat as the maid poured tea between them, the steam curling upward with a faint floral scent. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "Apologies for taking a bit longer than expected. I wanted to come sooner, but... well, the work was delicate and required time. But now, I've got something that might not only make me wealthy— but make you even wealthier."
Yuqiu raised both her eyebrows. "What is it, then?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral, though he could see a flicker of curiosity behind her eyes.
Chen Ren reached into his sleeve, pulling out a small pouch. He placed it on the table between them with a soft thud. "See for yourself," he said, leaning back slightly, gesturing for her to open it.
With a sceptical glance, Tang Yuqiu untied the pouch and carefully drew out a small glass vial, its contents a vivid, crystalline blue that caught the light and shimmered with a subtle radiance. She turned it over in her hands, examining it from every angle, then shot him a puzzled look. "And what exactly am I supposed to do with this? Drink it?"
Chen Ren chuckled softly, shaking his head. "No, nothing like that. Just place a drop or two in your palms."
Yuqiu hesitated for a moment but uncorked the vial, releasing a faint, enchanting aroma that immediately filled the space between them. Her eyes widened as she caught the scent, recognizing what the item was. She placed a few drops in her palms and rubbed them together, the fragrance blooming in the air around her— subtle notes of rare flowers, mingling with the warm undertone of exotic spices.
Her expression shifted, surprise giving way to realisation as she stared at him with eyes wide open. "Your idea was... fragrances?" she asked, a hint of disbelief creeping into her voice.
Chen Ren nodded, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Yes. I believe it's the perfect product for us to make a breakthrough. I've done my research— talked to Tang Xiulan, and assessed the market. The perfume industry here is lucrative, with even a modest share promising substantial returns. And beyond the gold, think of the connections we'll forge with the wealthy madams of the large clans. This could open doors for us."
Yuqiu's expression remained guarded, though a faint glimmer of interest flickered in her eyes as she considered his words. But she didn't let her scepticism drop entirely. "I understand that, but this is not an easy market to break into. Do you have any idea how much a single bottle of this can cost? Even if you've made a good batch, that doesn't mean the wealthy families will accept it. Reputation, refinement, exclusivity— these all matter here. What makes you think you can compete with established names?"
Her voice sharpened at the end, challenging, as if testing the strength of his resolve. Chen Ren met her gaze squarely, knowing that this was the crux of their negotiation. If he could convince her, they would have a chance to carve out a place in this competitive world.
Chen Ren leaned forward, his tone calm yet carrying an edge of urgency. "It's fifteen silver for the lowest-grade perfume out there. The merchants and the established shops cast exorbitant prices on such things, knowing they can get away with it," he said.
Yuqiu sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Yes, that's precisely why this isn't a simple venture. The production cost alone is immense, and I don't have a massive stockpile of silver to burn through on a risky investment like this." Her voice grew sharper as she continued, her doubts spilling forth. "Moreover, the real challenge is matching the quality. We'd need at least a small string of qi trapped within the fragrances. Even for normal ones, we would need sect connections, or we won't be able to procure a batch of these. Without that, our product would be no better than a roadside vendor's attempts at perfume. It wouldn't stand a chance against the ones currently in the market—"
Before she could finish, Chen Ren interrupted, raising a hand. "I don't think you quite understand."
She stopped mid-sentence, frowning at him. "Understand what, exactly?" she asked, crossing her arms, her impatience barely masked.
Chen Ren gestured to the vial still sitting between them on the table. "How much do you think that vial is worth? Smell it again, take your time."
Yuqiu glanced down at the small container, uncorking it again and bringing it close to her nose. She let the scent flow over her, taking in the subtle complexities of the aroma. Her brows furrowed slightly as she assessed it, her thoughts turning. "If I had to guess... twenty, maybe twenty-five silver wen, at least. Even without a strong qi presence, its fragrance is refined."
Chen Ren's lips curled into a small smile, shaking his head. "No. I got it for zero money. It didn't cost me a single copper."
Yuqiu's head snapped up, her eys widening as she looked at him with disbelief. "What?" she blurted out.
"It just took some trouble gathering the right herbs and figuring out how to process them into a perfume," Chen Ren replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the surprise playing across her face.
In this world, perfumes and fragrances were a luxury, but not in the way one might expect. They were most commonly sourced from the sect mountains— remote, mystical ranges where scented plants with spiritual properties grew in the shadow of ancient cultivation grounds.
It wasn't rare for these mountains to produce a special kind of flora, their essence subtly infused with traces of qi due to the constant exposure to the spiritual energies of cultivators. Each month, as the plants' juices overflowed, they would trickle down the mountain streams, gathered by sect members and sold to the right buyers at an extravagant price.
These perfumes, carrying even a faint whisper of qi, commanded a high value in the market. Some of the highest-quality vials contained a quarter of a single circle of qi, enhancing their appeal and providing a subtle, refreshing aura to those who wore them. Naturally, only the wealthy could afford such a luxury, and most of the business clans that dealt with the sects guarded their supply lines closely, ensuring that the rare scented extracts reached only the hands of upper-class ladies and noble families.
It was this rarity that made perfumes a coveted item, their status reinforced by the aura of prestige they carried. To most merchants, entering this market would be an uphill battle, requiring both deep pockets and strong connections to the sects. And yet, here Chen Ren was, claiming he had managed to produce something similar without the backing of a powerful sect or the blessings of a business clan.
Yuqiu stared at him, struggling to process his words, her suspicion momentarily overshadowed by curiosity.
Chen Ren leaned forward.
"I have a way to extract perfumes from ordinary herbs. It's a method I've been working on— mixing and refining, and I'm still figuring out the details. But the potential is there, and I'm proposing a way for us to produce good-quality perfumes using nothing more than common herbs." He paused for a moment, gauging her reaction before continuing. "With this method, we could sell our products at a price far below the current market rate. Five to seven silver per bottle— something that would appeal to the middle class, while still maintaining a high standard of quality. And for the wealthier clientele, we could create premium blends, tapping into their desire for exclusivity."
He spoke slowly, laying out the structure of his idea, briefly mentioning the production process, the markets they could target, and the profits they might stand to gain. As he spoke, Yuqiu's initial scepticism gave way to a growing interest, her eyes widening slightly with each new detail. She couldn't hide the calculations running through her mind, the potential profits and market shares practically dancing before her eyes. By the time Chen Ren finished speaking, she was leaning forward, her focus entirely on him.
When he paused, she finally managed to find her voice, though it was tinged with a blend of wonder and wariness. "This all sounds promising, but... what is the method you're talking about? How do you plan to turn ordinary herbs into something that can rival the fragrances from the sect mountains?"
Chen Ren met her gaze evenly, his expression turning serious. "Before I tell you, we need to perform a qi oath. I know you're a mortal, but I can ensure that you'll feel the weight of the oath as well. This isn't something I'm willing to share lightly."
Yuqiu looked at him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. The idea of an oath must have sounded strange to her, especially since she had no experience with cultivation. But after a moment's thought, she nodded, a hint of trust creeping into her expression.
"All right. I'll trust that you aren't lying to me, Chen Ren."
Chen Ren inclined his head and took a deep breath, feeling a slight twinge of discomfort in his chest as he prepared for the next step. He drew on his qi, letting it flow through his core, channelling the energy into a thin thread that he weaved into a pattern in the air. His hands moved, fingers tracing symbols that seemed to shimmer faintly before vanishing into the space between them.
The qi oath was a form of soul-binding that cultivators used when sealing a pact or safeguarding a precious secret.
It wasn't a complex technique, but it required precision and intent, and once completed, it carried an unbreakable weight.
For Chen Ren, the knowledge of the oath came easily— something that the previous Chen Ren had been familiar with, passed down through techniques he had learned before his life took a turn. Yet, as he performed the ritual, he felt a sense of necessity, an understanding that compared to the influence and resources of the Tang Clan, he was merely a single cultivator, vulnerable without the protection of this oath.
A faint ripple of energy settled into the air between them, the atmosphere shifting subtly as the oath took hold.
"I promise not to share the method of fragrance making you would share with me without taking your permission for it. If I break the oath, my life will be forfeit," she said, making the oath.
Though Tang Yuqiu couldn't see the qi threads, she shivered slightly as the heaviness of the promise settled over her, a subtle pressure that spoke of the seriousness of the bond they had just created. Chen Ren lowered his hands, letting the last traces of energy fade away, and met her gaze with a steady expression.
"Now," he said softly, "I can share the method with you, and you can be sure that it will remain between us."
***
Chen Ren sat before a variety of herbs spread across the table before him in his room. The air was thick with the scents of dried petals, roots, and leaves he had painstakingly collected. He had spent his precious time testing different combinations, boiling and refining them, until he'd discovered the right mixture that could hold a fragrance rather than just a fleeting scent.
Tonight, he was ready to try distilling the first batch of what he hoped would become a new path to wealth.
Tang Yuqiu stood in front of a wall, her eyes fixed on him as he worked on the process.
He leaned over a small clay pot, carefully heating a mixture of herbs he had ground into a fine paste. A second vessel, half-filled with clear water, sat next to it.
Chen Ren adjusted the flame beneath the pot, focusing his qi to maintain the precise temperature needed. It was a delicate process, one he had repeated over and over to perfect. He watched as the steam rose, carrying with it the rich, floral scent of the herbs. The steam condensed against a cool surface, trickling down into a small glass vial set underneath.
The scent that filled the room was unlike anything found in the lower markets— sharp yet sweet, with an undertone of earthy richness.
As the last drops settled into the vial, Chen Ren lifted it and swirled the liquid inside. The result was a vibrant blue colour, glowing softly under the candlelight. It was far from the purest or most refined fragrance, but it was crafted entirely from herbs that could be found outside of the expensive sect-run sources.
He placed a cork in the vial and stood up, his expression satisfied but cautious. Chen Ren knew that this product needed testing before it could be sold.
He looked back at Yuqiu's widened eyes.
When he handed her the vial, he spoke his thoughts aloud "We need to test this for any side effects. I used herbs that are known to be consumed safely by people, but it's best to make sure that it doesn't cause any harm when used on the skin. Safety comes first, even if the ingredients seem harmless."
Yuqiu took the vial with a look of awe. She swirled it around the vial as how a man with experience would swirl a glass of fine wine. Her eyes widened as she inhaled the scent, marvelling at its complexity and the clear, natural notes it carried. "This method... it's unlike anything I've ever seen," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "How do you even know how to do this, Chen Ren?"
He couldn't help curling his lips upwards. "Why would I tell you all my secrets? Just know that it's going to make us rich if we play our cards right."
She stared at him for a moment, processing his words, then nodded slowly. "Yes, it will," she agreed, her mind already racing through the possibilities.
Chen Ren's expression grew serious as he leaned closer, meeting her gaze directly. "And for that to happen, you need to put in the work. My part was to create the product and develop the method. Now, it's your turn to show what the Tang Clan's resources are truly worth. You'll need gatherers to collect herbs, workers who had performed a similar qi oath to distil and bottle the perfumes, and a distribution plan. From creating the product to packaging it, everything has to be handled with precision. And we can't afford delays— these perfumes are cheap to produce and quick to make. We need to seize the market before anyone else catches wind of what we're doing."
Yuqiu nodded, her eyes focusing on the vial at hand. Her earlier hesitation had vanished, replaced by a sharp focus. She even managed a small, confident smile. "Don't worry, Chen Ren. I'll make sure our perfume business becomes the best in the city."
Chen Ren's smirk widened, and he shook his head slowly. "I wouldn't have come to the Tang Clan if I just wanted to dominate the city's market. No. I want this business to reach beyond our borders, spread through other cities and become a household name across the entire empire. This is just the start."
Yuqiu's eyes flashed with something akin to ambition— something he found himself familiar with whenever he thought about his plans.
"Then we'll make it happen. For both of our sakes."
Chen Ren inclined his head.