Aaryan rolled the Emberthorn Root between his fingers, its wiry, deep-red stalk rough against his skin. A rare treasure for cultivation—one that most would never even see, let alone hold.

His grip tightened slightly.

He had been cautious until now, resisting the urge to recklessly chase power. But for the first time, the thought of advancing stirred something close to excitement within him.

He had fought, struggled, endured—always at a disadvantage. But what if, just once, he could move ahead instead of merely keeping up?

Aaryan exhaled slowly.

He knew the cost of strength better than anyone

But If it could push him forward—why should he refuse?

His hesitation wavered. His decision solidified.

Without further delay, he broke off a small piece of the Emberthorn Root and placed it on his tongue.

Bitterness spread across his tongue, followed by a sharp, tingling heat that coiled in his chest. For a brief second—nothing. Then—a pulse. A tremor. His muscles tightened instinctively, his breath hitching as the heat pressed against him—not scorching, but invasive, testing. His vision wavered slightly, his heartbeat slowing for a fraction too long before—another pulse. This time, steadier. Expanding.

Warmth unfurled beneath his skin—not scorching, but controlled, like embers stirred to life by a single breath. His pulse steadied, his breath deepened, his body felt more present than it ever had before.

It’s working.

Aaryan flexed his fingers, noting the way the usual stiffness faded into something fluid, effortless. His awareness expanded—he could feel the faintest shift of air against his skin, the tension in his muscles loosening ever so slightly.

And this was only from a small portion.

He glanced at the rest of the root in his hand.

A smirk ghosted across his lips. If this much had an effect… what would the rest do?

With a decisive motion, he ground the rest of the Emberthorn Root into a coarse paste, mixed it with water, and swallowed it in one go.

The heat surged—sharp, coiling, unbearable for a breathless moment. His pulse hammered, vision swam—then, slowly, his body adapted, the chaos settling into order, adjusting as if something within had unlocked.

The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest felt different—more controlled, more deliberate. It wasn’t just deeper; it filled him completely, as though every inhale carried power, and every exhale refined it.

His senses expanded in unison, the dim cave sharpening—every crack in the stone, every shimmer of moisture suddenly distinct. He clenched his fists, marvelling at the power humming beneath his skin, the faint dripping of water deeper within the cave, the subtle shift in the air—as if the world itself had opened to him.

A shift. A realization.

He wasn’t just recovering. He had crossed the threshold.

Anima—1st Level.

A slow breath. A slow smirk.

Finally.

For the first time since entering the sect, he felt truly different—not just recovering from battle, not just surviving, but gaining ground.

But then…

His fingers brushed the empty space where the Emberthorn Root had been. Gone, just like that. Power consumed. Irreversible.

For a moment, a rare smile touched his lips. He had taken a gamble, and it had paid off. But his wariness returned just as quickly. This wasn’t just a breakthrough—this was a move on the board.

He just didn’t know the cost yet.

Aaryan flexed his fingers, testing the newfound strength in his grip. His body felt lighter yet more solid, his breath deeper, steadier. Every movement carried a sense of precision—like his body had finally caught up to his mind.

The breakthrough had changed him.

But how much?

He crouched, pressing a hand to the rough stone floor of the cave. His senses stretched outward, picking up details he would have missed before—the faintest tremor in the earth, the cool condensation forming along the cave walls, the distant murmur of wind outside. His awareness had expanded.

This was the power of advancing.

And yet… what if he had more resources like this?

The Emberthorn Root had given him a clear path forward. It was fast, efficient. How much more could he grow if he had more?

The idea wasn’t unreasonable. He had entered the sect with nothing—no family name, no powerful backers, no stockpile of cultivation resources. If he wanted to keep up, he needed to take every opportunity he could find.

And right now, he had one.

His fingers brushed against his sleeve, where the last remnants of dried Emberthorn Root clung to the fabric. But that wasn’t the only thing he had.

The beast core.

he Scorpion-Tail Wolf’s core was still in his possession. It was valuable, something cultivators and alchemists alike would pay well for. He had originally planned to keep it, but now…

Selling it should give him enough to buy something useful.

Something to strengthen himself further.

He exhaled, fingers tapping lightly against his knee.

Then what?

For once, he hesitated—not from weakness, but from the unfamiliar chance to choose something more. Survival had always been his only concern. Yet now… what was he chasing?

A brief chuckle left his lips, almost self-mocking.

A break wouldn’t kill him.

As his eyes flickered toward the cave entrance, where morning light filtered in through the mist. A name surfaced in his mind, unbidden yet steady.

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Kalyani.

A rare flicker of warmth settled in his chest.

She had been one of the few constants in his life before he came here. Stern, yes—but never unkind. In a world where strength dictated worth, she had treated him as something more than just another nameless orphan.

He hadn’t seen her since entering the sect.

Maybe it was time.

And if he was visiting, he wouldn’t go empty-handed.

A small smirk played on his lips. He might as well put his earnings to good use. Cultivation resources were important, but not everything had to be about getting stronger. Some things were worth more.

With that thought, his plan took shape.

Sell the beast core. Get her something worthwhile—perhaps something to aid longevity or enhance vitality, things mortals valued.

Then, see what else the area had to offer.

And if luck was on his side, he might gain more than just a moment of rest.

Aaryan adjusted the cloth wrapping around the Beast Core, feeling the smooth, hardened surface beneath his fingertips. It was warm, pulsing with a faint energy that only a cultivator could perceive. He exhaled slowly.

The choice lingered. Selling the core could fund his advancement, give him access to resources that would push him further. But it could also afford something else—something that didn’t revolve around survival and strength.

For once, he let the uncertainty settle.

He stepped out of the cave, the morning mist curling around his feet as he moved toward the sect’s Exchange Hall. Unlike the open marketplaces of the outer world, the sect handled trade with careful regulation. The hall was the only sanctioned place to sell to the sect itself or barter with other disciples who had set up stalls. For most, it was a necessity. For him, it was unfamiliar terrain.

The path wound through the sect grounds, past towering stone pillars engraved with ancient scripts. Aaryan kept his pace measured, his senses still adjusting to the Emberthorn Root’s effects. Every breath felt deeper, his awareness sharpened. He caught the distant scent of burning incense from the cultivation chambers, the crisp morning air tinged with damp stone and earth.

The Exchange Hall loomed ahead—an imposing structure of dark wood and slate, its entrance marked by a wide threshold where disciples moved in and out, some carrying small pouches, others inspecting scrolls and trinkets.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of herbs, parchment, and ink. Disciples moved between stalls, some browsing with practiced ease, others hesitating before making their inquiries. Vendors sat behind their tables, some leaning back with confidence, others calling out occasional offers, eager to make a sale. The atmosphere was subdued but busy—a quiet hum of trade and exchange.

Aaryan’s steps slowed as he reached the herb vendor’s stall, his gaze flickering over the neatly arranged rows of powdered roots, dried petals, and vials of shimmering liquid. The sharp, earthy scent of medicinal herbs curled in the air, familiar yet foreign in this moment.

His fingers twitched at his side, reaching—almost—before curling away. He exhaled through his nose, tension shifting from his grip to his shoulders.

Strength.

Security.

The logical path. Yet…

Just across from this stall, tucked between the busier vendors, sat a stand that barely drew glances. No rare elixirs, no high-grade pills—just a modest display of everyday trinkets. The vendor, an older disciple with an air of quiet patience, didn’t call out like the others. His wares lay neatly arranged: silk pouches embroidered with care, polished wooden combs, and a row of hairpins inlaid with small jade stones. Simple things. Ordinary things A reminder of a life beyond cultivation.

His fingers tightened around the Beast Core. He had never allowed himself a choice like this before.

His thumb brushed over the cloth-wrapped surface, the warmth of the core grounding him. It had always been simple before—take what was needed, leave the rest. No wasted effort, no pointless desires.

And yet, he couldn’t step away.

Aaryan exhaled slowly, forcing his grip to loosen as he stepped toward the merchant’s stall. The vendor was a thin man with narrow eyes and an ever-present calculating smile, his fingers deftly arranging the goods on display—various elixirs, beast materials, and low-grade spirit stones. At Aaryan’s approach, his gaze flickered to the cloth-wrapped object in his hand, and his smile widened.

“Ah, a rare customer,” the merchant said smoothly. “You’ve got something interesting there. Let me take a look.”

Aaryan unwrapped the Beast Core just enough for its faint glow to peek through. The merchant’s expression barely shifted, but his fingers drummed against the wooden counter in a practiced rhythm—a sign of interest, but also of calculation.

“Not bad,” the merchant mused, rubbing his chin. “Of course, cores like this aren’t too rare, and the market is saturated right now. I’d say… thirty Essence Stones. A fair deal, considering demand.”

Aaryan’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t a seasoned trader, but he wasn’t a fool either. “That’s less than half its worth.”

The merchant sighed, spreading his hands. “You’re young. New to this, aren’t you? Trust me, I’m doing you a favor. I could say twenty-five.”

Aaryan’s response was cut short by a subtle shift in the air. A ripple of silence spread through the Exchange Hall. Merchants straightened their backs, disciples stiffened mid-trade. Even those who had been haggling moments before fell into hushed murmurs.

Footsteps. Steady, measured.

Overseer Dharun entered the marketplace.

Aaryan recognized him immediately. The man’s presence alone was enough to change the air in a room. Draped in a dark robe with the sect’s insignia embroidered in silver, Dharun’s gaze swept over the market, assessing without hurry, his hands clasped behind his back. He wasn’t an elder, but his authority was unquestioned.

Aaryan turned back to the merchant, who was now visibly tenser, his fingers stilling against the counter. A moment ago, he had been prepared to swindle Aaryan with confidence. Now, his gaze darted toward Dharun, then back to Aaryan, as if recalculating the risk.

Aaryan allowed the silence to stretch, watching the merchant squirm. Then, he exhaled and tilted his head slightly. “I wonder,” he mused, voice deliberately casual, “what the overseer thinks of merchants undercutting disciples in the sect market.”

The merchant’s face twitched. “I—understand the value of fairness, of course.”

Dharun’s sharp gaze flicked toward them, interest piqued but expression unreadable. He studied the Beast Core in Aaryan’s hand before arching a brow. “Selling something valuable?”

Aaryan met his gaze evenly. “I was considering it.”

Dharun hummed, a thoughtful sound that did little to ease the tension. “A Beast Core like that can be useful in the right hands.” His eyes flicked to the merchant, who swallowed hard and kept his head down.

Aaryan let his grip shift slightly, tapping his fingers against the cloth-wrapped surface, as if reconsidering. “Of course, I could always find another buyer. Someone willing to make a fair offer.”

The merchant’s fingers twitched. “Wait, now—”

Dharun said nothing, merely watching. The silence stretched just long enough to force the merchant into action.

“Seventy,” the merchant blurted. “A—A more accurate valuation.”

Aaryan raised a brow. He made a show of considering, watching the merchant sweat under Dharun’s silent observation. Then, he smiled faintly. “Eighty.”

The merchant hesitated, but with Dharun standing nearby, there was no room to argue. “Fine,” he muttered. “Eighty Essence Stones.”

Aaryan slid the Beast Core across the counter, watching as the merchant hastily counted out the stones, eager to end the exchange.

He picked them up, weighing them in his palm. They felt right—no tricks. Only then did he glance at Dharun. “Thank you, Overseer.”

Dharun barely glanced at him, waving a hand dismissively. “I didn’t do anything.” His tone was indifferent, his attention seemingly elsewhere.

Aaryan lingered between two stalls—one overflowing with rare herbs, the other displaying simple trinkets. The sharp scent of crushed leaves and dried roots filled the air, a reminder of what he should be prioritizing.

Yet his gaze flickered to the other stall.

Dharun, noticing, smirked. “Planning to invest in yourself?”

Aaryan didn’t answer. The jade pins caught the light, glinting with a subtle green sheen. Among them, a single comb stood out—polished wood with delicate carvings along its spine. The scent of perfumed oil drifted faintly from a row of vials, something warm, familiar. Not home—he had none—but it reminded him of Kalyani. A trace of oil she once wore, or maybe just the way she carried warmth in a place that had never truly been his.

His fingers grazed the jade pin.

I should be.

And yet, his hand closed around it, slipping it into the pile of purchases without hesitation.

Dharun watched, at first unimpressed. A few cheap gifts, then? Something to ease his conscience while keeping the bulk for himself. He had seen it before.

But then—Aaryan kept going.

Instead of stopping after selecting the jade pin, the comb, and the perfumed oil, he turned toward a pill shop. Dharun’s interest flickered back. Finally prioritizing cultivation? But no—the pills he chose were not for himself. Mortal-use restoratives. Strength, vitality… longevity. Thoughtful choices, meant for someone else.

And this time, he spent nearly everything.

Dharun’s fingers, idly tapping his sleeve, finally stilled.

Only a few Essence Stones remained in Aaryan’s pouch. With those, he returned to the herb stall—not for an expensive breakthrough elixir, but for a single plant. Soma Root. A steady, nourishing herb, strengthening one’s foundation over time.

Dharun exhaled silently, watching with quiet amusement.

Not entirely selfish. Not entirely selfless.

As Aaryan turned, Dharun spoke again, softer this time. “Interesting choice.”

Aaryan met his gaze evenly. “Some things are worth more than cultivation.”

Dharun studied him for a long moment before letting out a quiet hum. “A rare perspective.”

The sounds of trade and quiet murmurs surrounded them, but neither moved to leave.