The faint scent of dried herbs and medicinal paste drifted through the small back-alley clinic, slowly pulling the young cultivator from the depths of heavy unconsciousness.
Blinking against the dim light, the 5th-Level Qi cultivator sat up, testing her limbs.
The severe tearing across her torso was neatly bandaged, and the lingering fire-venom of the serpent-tailed hound had been entirely purged from her blood.
Seeing the old apothecary sorting jars across the room, she cleared her throat and asked how she had arrived there.
The old man didn’t look up from his mortar.
“A young fellow and a massive white hound brought you in before dawn. Paid your fees in full and left you under my care.”
A flash of genuine surprise crossed her face.
In the cutthroat reality of the wilderness, few strangers bothered to haul a bleeding cultivator back to civilization at their own expense.
Expressing her sincere gratitude to the apothecary, she immediately pressed him for details, securing Airan’s address in Zone C before stepping out into the cramped alleys. Visit NovelPing for the full chapter.
It took her only a few minutes to locate the modest courtyard.
When she knocked, the wooden door creaked open to reveal Airan standing in the threshold.
He welcomed her calmly, gesturing inside, and gently asked how she had managed to sustain such severe injuries out in the mountain ridges.
Sitting at the small wooden table, the girl sighed, running a hand through her hair.
“I’m a rogue cultivator,” she explained.
“I was out searching the outer ridges for middle-grade medicinal herbs to sell for a better margin, but I miscalculated and stumbled right into the hunting grounds of a serpent-tailed hound.”
Her words struck a chord, pulling Airan’s thoughts briefly back to his early years—to the time he had been mauled by a low-level beast and left bedridden for months, struggling just to survive.
As she continued, Airan began to piece together her situation.
Because she depended entirely on gathering wild middle-grade herbs herself, her supply was inconsistent.
She explained the harsh bottleneck of her trade: without precise temperature control and proper ingredients, a furnace could easily fracture or blast apart, and low-rank alchemists frequently struggled even with basic components, leaving her with a meager success rate of only 3 out of 10.
Listening closely, a sharp, calculated idea began to form in Airan’s mind.
He had the means, the safe channels through Max, and the cautious distance required to acquire materials without drawing suspicion.
If he quietly sponsored this girl—supplying her with a steady stream of stable herbs while she refined her craft—her success rate and rank would inevitably climb.
Should she eventually break through to become a middle or high-rank alchemist, the mutual benefit would be astronomical.
More importantly, establishing a deep, cooperative relationship with a certified pill refiner right inside Zone C would give Airan an invaluable shield, turning a random encounter into a long-term asset for his quiet ascent.
Author’s Note: Thanks for reading Chapter 18!
Airan’s journey from a penniless herb collector to a spirit distiller starts here.