The trek back was a grueling test of endurance. Mo Liangye moved through the pre-dawn gloom of the Back Mountains, each step an agony. His arm throbbed where the wolf's claws had torn flesh, the cheap salve doing little more than sting. Exhaustion weighed him down like lead shackles, his Qi reserves scraped dry.
He forced himself onward, driven by a cold, unyielding will forged in the crucible of past suffering. He skirted patches of dense shadow, ears straining for any sound that didn't belong – the snap of a twig, the rustle of leaves indicating something larger than a forest rodent. Once, the imposing silhouette of an inner disciple on patrol flashed briefly on a distant ridge, causing Mo Liangye to instantly melt behind a thick tree trunk, holding his breath until the figure passed. Exposure now, injured and depleted, would be disastrous.
He stumbled on a loose root, his injured arm jarring painfully as he caught himself. A low groan escaped his lips before he clamped them shut. Weakness, his mind hissed. Pain is temporary. Failure is permanent. He pushed himself upright, ignoring the dizziness, and resumed his silent, determined pace.
Finally, as the first rays of true dawn painted the sky in hues of grey and pale orange, the familiar, oppressive boundary of the Pale Cloud Sect's outer disciple area came into view. He slipped back through an unguarded section of the perimeter, melting into the early morning shadows like he belonged there, just another insignificant disciple returning from a fruitless night of foraging.
Inside the dubious safety of his dilapidated room, the flimsy wooden bar slid shut across the door. Only then did Mo Liangye allow himself to lean heavily against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He slid to the floor, the rough wood cool against his back.
First, inventory. He carefully retrieved the spoils from his worn pouch, laying them out on the floor: the cloudy Tier 1 Shadow Cat core, the larger, clearer Tier 2 Three-Eyed Wolf core pulsing with faint cold energy, the somewhat ragged pelts and fangs, and a few stalks of Iron Skin Grass.
He examined his arm wound under the dim light. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but the flesh was torn, inflamed, and already showing signs of bruising. The cheap Iron Moss Salve felt like little more than useless grease. "This won't do," he thought, his gaze hardening. "Healing needs to be faster. Every hour spent recovering is an hour not spent preparing for the competition."
He considered the Tier 2 wolf core. Its energy could accelerate healing, certainly faster than relying on ambient Qi alone. It was a difficult choice – use it for recovery now, or save its potent energy for attempting a cultivation breakthrough later?
"Recovery first," he decided after a moment's cold calculation. "A crippled body cannot fight, cannot cultivate effectively. The breakthrough can wait until I have more resources. For now, survival and basic function are paramount."
But before cultivation, he needed to convert the less critical spoils into something more useful. Contribution points, perhaps even a spirit stone or two if he was lucky, though he doubted it with just these materials. He needed better salve, at the very least.
Forcing his aching body upright, Mo Liangye concealed the precious Tier 2 wolf core and the wolf pelt (his most valuable items) back under the loose floorboard. He gathered the Tier 1 core, the Shadow Cat scraps, and the wolf fangs, tucking them into his pouch. He splashed some cold water on his face, smoothed his robes as best he could to hide the tear on his sleeve, and adopted his usual impassive mask before heading out towards the Contribution Hall.
The area around the hall was already buzzing with more activity than usual. Disciples hurried back and forth, some faces alight with anticipation for the competition, others grim with the pressure. The air crackled with a nervous energy Mo Liangye found distasteful but necessary to navigate.
He joined the short queue at the "Beast Materials Exchange" counter. The deacon on duty today was different – a stout man with a perpetually bored expression, who barely glanced at the items Mo Liangye placed before him.
"Tier 1 core, low quality," the deacon droned, poking the core with a grubby finger. "Shadow Cat pelt, torn. Claws… standard. Wolf fangs… decent. Six points." He flicked a small wooden token carved with the number '6' onto the counter.
Mo Liangye's eyes narrowed slightly. Six points? That was blatant robbery, even by the sect's standards. The fangs alone were worth two or three points for crafting arrowheads.
He pushed the token back gently. "Deacon, the fangs are from a Tier 2 beast, sharp and undamaged. Worth at least three points. The core and pelt, perhaps three together." His voice was level, devoid of emotion, stating facts rather than pleading.
The deacon finally looked up, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Trying to teach me my job, outer disciple? Six points. Take it or leave it. Don't waste my time." He gestured dismissively towards the next person in line.
Mo Liangye met the deacon's gaze for a brief second, his own eyes like chips of ice. He saw the dismissal, the ingrained arrogance towards outer disciples. Arguing further would achieve nothing but attract unwanted attention. He needed to remain unseen, underestimated. For now.
Silently, he picked up the six-point token. His hand clenched around it for a moment before he forced it to relax, tucking the token away. He then moved to the herb counter, exchanging the few stalks of Iron Skin Grass for a single, pitiful contribution point.
Seven points total. Barely enough for anything worthwhile. His gaze swept across the hall and landed on Zhao Feng, holding court near the "Points Redemption" counter. Zhao Feng slammed a thick stack of contribution tokens onto the counter, laughing loudly as he received several vials of shimmering Qi Gathering Pills.
The contrast was a physical blow. Zhao Feng squandered resources Mo Liangye risked his life for. The injustice, the sheer unfairness of the system, fueled the cold fire in Mo Liangye's core. Patience, he reminded himself. Their time will come.
He left the hall, his expression unreadable, and headed towards the small, makeshift market area. He needed a better healing salve immediately. He approached a stall run by a weary-looking female disciple.
"Healing salves?" Mo Liangye asked, his voice flat.
The disciple pointed listlessly. "Iron Moss, three points. Green Jade Salve, twenty-five."
Twenty-five points. Impossible. He held up his seven-point token. "This is all I have. My arm… wolf claws." He gestured vaguely towards his injured limb, letting the torn sleeve speak for itself.
The female disciple glanced at his arm, then back at the token, her expression softening slightly with shared understanding, perhaps. Outer disciples all knew the struggle. "Twenty-five is the set price..." she started, then hesitated. She looked around quickly, ensuring no deacons were watching. "...But I have this one."
She pulled out a slightly different bottle from under the counter. The jade-colored paste inside looked the same, but the bottle was unsealed, and about a tenth of the contents were missing. "Dropped it this morning, seal broke. Can't sell it for full price. Ten points."
Mo Liangye's mind worked instantly. Used goods? But Green Jade Salve… its effect is ten times better than Iron Moss. Worth the risk if the quality hasn't degraded. "I only have seven points," he stated simply, holding out the token.
The female disciple chewed her lip, then sighed. "Ah, fine. Take it. Just… be careful out there. Those mountains aren't kind." She took the seven-point token and handed him the opened bottle of Green Jade Salve.
"Many thanks," Mo Liangye said, a rare, almost imperceptible nod accompanying the words before he turned and quickly walked away. A small victory, won through circumstance and perhaps a sliver of shared hardship, but a victory nonetheless.
Back in the solitude of his room, Mo Liangye wasted no time. He carefully applied the Green Jade Salve to his wounds. A cool, soothing sensation immediately spread through the injured tissues, far superior to the cheap salve. He could almost feel the inflammation receding, the torn flesh beginning to knit together at an accelerated rate.
With the immediate pain lessened, he retrieved the Tier 2 Three-Eyed Wolf core. Its cold, potent energy felt invigorating in his hand. He sat cross-legged and began the absorption process, guiding the wilder Qi through his meridians using the 'Flowing Cloud' technique.
It was like comparing a stream to a river. The Tier 2 energy surged through him, powerful and demanding. His meridians, accustomed to the trickle of ambient Qi or Tier 1 cores, strained under the influx. But Mo Liangye gritted his teeth, using his mental fortitude and the subtle resilience granted by the God Seed to withstand the pressure and refine the energy.
Hours passed. Slowly, the potent energy of the wolf core was assimilated, replenishing his Dantian completely, pushing his Mid-stage Qi Refining foundation towards its absolute peak. The Qi circulated vigorously, nourishing his body, accelerating the Green Jade Salve's healing effect. By the time the core crumbled to dust, his arm wound had already begun to scab over, the pain reduced to a dull ache.
He stood up, feeling significantly recovered, though still far from his peak potential. He assessed his situation. Qi reserves full, wounds healing rapidly. But the God Seed remained dormant, unfed.
"The core helped recovery, but did nothing for the Seed itself," he mused, a familiar coldness settling in his gaze. "It craves purer energy. Spirit stones."
"I have none. The competition... it's the only viable path now. Winning rounds might grant points or minor rewards. Defeating stronger opponents... their resources might become mine." A predatory light flickered in his eyes.
"But first, I need that breakthrough. Late Stage Qi Refining. The Tier 2 core pushed me to the brink. Perhaps... perhaps the ambient Qi here, combined with intense focus..." It was a long shot without spirit stones, but he had to try. The competition was less than a month away. Every bit of strength mattered.
He settled back into a meditative posture, the Green Jade Salve cool on his healing wounds, his replenished Qi circulating smoothly. His mind, however, was already far away, calculating odds, devising strategies, and anticipating the moment he could finally unleash his fangs in the upcoming arena. The calm before the storm.