Feng Lin stood straight amidst the ruins, his breath slightly uneven after the battle. He wasn’t injured, but fatigue weighed on his muscles—a consequence of his still-fragile body. Yet, a cold excitement coursed through his mind. He could feel the subtle changes within him, the telltale signs of an impending breakthrough.

  He closed his eyes, focusing on the circulation of his energy. His body, once weakened by poison, was still far from its optimal state, but he had recovered enough to take another step forward. He sat cross-legged on the ground, ignoring the corpse beside him.

  With precise control, he guided his Qi through his meridians, reinforcing his weakened bones. The energy condensed, refined itself, and seeped deep into his skeleton like a river nourishing barren land. A dull pain slowly rose, then intensified, as if every bone in his body was being shattered and reforged in an instant.

  Feng Lin gritted his teeth, enduring the pain without flinching. It was a necessary step. Bone Refinement was just one stage of the cultivation path, but it marked a turning point. His bones, once as fragile as those of a sickly child, were strengthening—becoming denser, more resilient. Every cell in his body absorbed the energy of the surrounding world, accelerating the process.

  Then, suddenly, a sensation of lightness flooded his being. He reopened his eyes, a cold and piercing gleam in his gaze. He had just reached the second stage of Body Refinement: Bone Tempering. His body was still thin, but he could already feel the difference. His physical strength had increased, his movements were more fluid, and the exhaustion that had weighed on him moments ago had partially faded.

  A faint smile appeared on his face before vanishing just as quickly. This was just a small step. He was still far too weak to claim anything in this cruel world.

  Rising to his feet, he finally turned his attention to the corpse a few meters away. His opponent hadn’t been a formidable expert, but he had been a cultivator nonetheless. And every cultivator possessed valuable resources.

  Feng Lin approached the lifeless body, his eyes quickly scanning the scene. He crouched and searched the man’s pockets, his fingers probing for a spatial artifact, a valuable item—anything that could aid him. But there was nothing.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Hmph. A pathetic thief, not even capable of owning a spatial ring?” he muttered, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

  His gaze fell on a small pouch tied to the corpse’s belt. He unfastened it and opened it with a precise movement. Inside, a few medicinal herbs were carelessly stacked. Feng Lin examined them closely.

  They must have been stolen from somewhere—perhaps an old abandoned garden or a poorly guarded residence. Their condition was poor: the leaves were wilted, the stems half-dried. Most had lost their medicinal properties, leaving behind mere shadows of what they once were.

  “Tch. Even these are barely useful…”

  He recognized a few. Some would have been valuable in the past, but in their current state, they weren’t worth much. Still, he didn’t discard them immediately. Even low-quality herbs could have some use, whether to dull pain or temporarily stabilize an unstable condition.

  Feng Lin closed the pouch and slipped it into his sleeve. They weren’t ideal, but he might find a use for them later.

  He stood up and cast one last glance at the corpse. With an indifferent gesture, he nudged it aside with his foot. This man had been nothing more than an insignificant obstacle on his path.

  Feng Lin resumed his walk through the massive, dilapidated alchemy hall. The place bore the marks of time and decline: collapsed shelves, cracked alchemy furnaces, and pill residues scattered across the dust-covered floor. He moved slowly, his gaze scrutinizing every corner, hoping to find something still usable.

  He pushed open a half-ajar door and stepped into a side room. The scent of withered plants lingered in the air—a sign that this place had once held precious medicinal herbs. He approached an old wooden cabinet and opened it with a precise motion. Inside, several glass jars lay shattered, leaving behind only fragments of unusable powder.

  “Hmph, everything is in ruins…” he murmured, closing the drawer.

  He continued his search, passing through another section of the hall. In a corner, he spotted an old alchemy furnace, covered in a thick layer of dust. As he approached, he noticed a faint metallic glimmer beneath a pile of ashes. Brushing the debris aside, he uncovered a small silver tong, once used to handle burning-hot pills. Though of limited use, he took it anyway—better to leave nothing to chance.

  After several more minutes of searching, he realized that almost everything had been looted or rendered worthless by time. He straightened, his cold gaze sweeping the hall. It was time to leave.

  Feng Lin exited the alchemy hall without a backward glance. His footsteps echoed in the silent corridors as he made his way toward the Feng family’s main residence. Even if this clan had fallen into disgrace, there had to be some forgotten treasures left behind—hidden, overlooked, or simply misunderstood by generations too weak to grasp their true value.

  His thoughts were clear: recover anything that could accelerate his progression. Cultivation techniques, weapons, artifacts—it didn’t matter. If he could use it, he would take it.

  As he neared the residence, he wondered if those Feng family wastes had any idea what they had lost. Perhaps some ancient legacy still lay buried somewhere? A sealed chamber, a forgotten treasure, an ancient inscription? No matter what he found, he was ready to seize it.