Later that day, after a quick meal and a few stretches that definitely didn't count as proper warm-up, Han Yun decided to put the Golden Cow Leeching Plan on hold.
He wasn't in the mood to watch Feng Yiran receive another love letter tied to a flying spirit dove or knock out another overconfident inner disciple with a casual palm strike.
Nope. Not today.
Instead, he headed to the quest board and took a simpler, quieter task—at least on paper.
Task: Collect 10 stalks of Verdant Spiritthread Grass
Location: Northern Slope, Silent Fang Ridge (adjacent to the Western Ridge)
Notes: Only grows in shaded, humid forest areas. Watch out for wild beasts.
Reward: 8 sect tokens + 1 basic Qi-recovery pill
"Verdant Spiritthread Grass?" Han Yun muttered, eyeing the name.
He took the scroll, geared up with some standard talismans and basic defensive pills, and made his way back toward the mountain range—just next to the area he'd previously chased a pig into chaos.
The trek wasn't too rough, but the forest was thick and disorienting. Sunlight filtered down through layers of jade-green canopy, and the mountain mist curled around the roots like lazy spirits.
Han Yun walked for nearly three hours, searching through brush, turning over moss, and checking every damp rock and shady crevice.
Not a single damn stalk of that so-called grass.
He crouched down near a muddy patch, scowling at a particularly ordinary weed. "This better not be it…"
It wasn't.
Standing up again, he sighed and glanced around.
"Who the hell even put this quest on the board?!" he shouted into the trees. "Is this some elaborate sect prank? Does the Verdant Spiritthread Grass even exist on this mountain, or did someone just name their favorite weed and call it rare?!"
A nearby bird took off from a branch, startled by his outrage.
Han Yun slapped his forehead. "I should've just followed the golden cow today…"
But no. He was already here, sweaty and mosquito-bitten, and he refused to leave empty-handed.
He looked around again, narrowing his eyes at a particularly misty patch of forest off to the left.
'Well... if I were an overhyped mystical plant, I'd hide where the lighting sucks and the humidity's high.'
Grumbling, he started heading in that direction.
Well, It had been a long day.
Han Yun had been walking around the forested slope for hours, sweating through his robe, occasionally kneeling down like some devoted herbalist monk to inspect random patches of grass—only to find more not Verdant Spiritthread Grass.
At one point he mistook a snake for a rare herb. That moment alone had shaved a year off his lifespan.
His knees hurt. His back hurt. His pride hurt.
He stood up from the latest false lead, wiped some dirt off his palm, and muttered under his breath.
"If I don't find this damn thing before sunset, I swear I'm going to learn how to curse whoever put this quest up—and their next seven generations."
That made him feel a little better.
Not much. But a bit.
Grumbling to himself, Han Yun pushed further into the forest. The trees grew taller here, the canopy thicker. The sunlight thinned out, turning gold and slanting as evening crept in.
Then, through a curtain of vines and mist, he saw it.
A cave.
Half-hidden by brush, wedged between two mossy boulders like the mountain itself was trying to forget it existed. It was quiet. Too quiet.
Han Yun stopped and stared.
"...Of course," he said flatly. "It's always a cave."
He folded his arms, weighed his options.
On one hand: caves in Xianxia stories were either treasure troves or murder holes. If you were the protagonist, you walked out with a divine inheritance and a bloodline awakening. If you weren't, you walked out in a sack—or didn't walk out at all.
Han Yun squinted at the dark entrance.
"I'm not a protagonist," he muttered. "I'm the guy who scams them."
Still… this was Xianxia logic.
Which meant if the plant was rare, stupidly specific, and annoying to find, it was probably growing right inside that ominous, cursed-looking cave with unknown danger levels and no exit signs.
He stared a little longer.
Then sighed.
"Alright… fine."
He grabbed a talisman, slid it into his sleeve, and took a cautious step toward the cave.
"Let's see what bullshit plotline I'm walking into this time."
Han Yun stepped into the cave slowly, the damp air brushing against his face like cold breath. His footsteps echoed softly off the stone walls as he moved deeper, one hand gripping a small bundle of freshly crafted talismans.
They weren't anything fancy—just basic bomb and flash types he'd made a few days ago after skimming through the talisman crafting manual he'd bought from the system. This was his first real test run.
No techniques. No flashy martial arts.
Just him, a few scraps of talismans, and pure hope the ink wouldn't smear mid-fight.
Every step forward was cautious. His eyes scanned the uneven stone floor, the shadows along the walls, the faint smell of something wet in the air—not blood, but something old and mossy, like it hadn't been disturbed in a long time.
So far, it seemed... normal. Just a cave.
No beast growls. No glowing inheritance. Not even bones on the floor.
But still—something about it felt off.
He paused near a fork in the tunnel, staring into the dark left path. The air there felt different. Thicker. Like the Qi here had twisted over time into something colder, heavier. His skin prickled. Not from spiritual pressure—but pure instinct.
Han Yun stood still, heart beating slow.
"I hate how quiet it is," he whispered.
The kind of quiet that made you feel like something was watching you... even when you couldn't hear a thing.
His grip on the talismans tightened slightly. He didn't know what was waiting further in. Could be a beast. Could be some formation. Could be just another dead end with a piece of grass growing dramatically on a cliff edge.
But his gut told him whatever it was—it wouldn't be easy.
And if things went bad?
It was going to be down to him and these half-baked talismans.
Han Yun took a breath.
Then stepped deeper into the dark.
Han Yun's foot brushed over something soft near a stone wall.
He crouched down, pulled a vine aside—and there it was.
A small, delicate stalk of Verdant Spiritthread Grass, faintly glowing with a green shimmer, nestled between two damp stones like it had been waiting just for him.
His eyes widened, and he almost teared up on the spot.
"Oh, you beautiful, pain in the ass thing…"
He plucked it carefully, like cradling a newborn, and gently tucked it into the small spirit pouch at his waist. Before sealing it, he gave it a kiss like a man who'd just found water in the desert.
"Thank the heavens. Or the sect's herb spirit. Or... I don't know, whatever local deity runs this miserable forest."
He stood, brushing off his robe. His mood lightened instantly, but the further he looked ahead, the darker the cave became.
A realization crept in slowly like cold water trickling down his back.
The cave's bigger than it looks.
Much bigger.
The walls seemed to stretch wider now, the floor sloped slightly downward. He hadn't noticed before, but the Qi in the air wasn't just thick—it was heavy. Old.
The light behind him was faint now.
Ahead? Just shadow.
Han Yun stood at the edge of that darkness, squinting.
He didn't hear anything. No rumbling. No beasts. Not even the faint hum of a formation.
But that was the worst part.
Because something felt off.
Something in that silence told him—this wasn't just a cave. This was the kind of place that had plot flags. And not the good kind. The kind where people walk in thinking they'll get a treasure and leave as a backstory for someone else's motivation arc.
He clutched the pouch tightly, his other hand brushing over the talismans tucked in his sleeve.
"…Alright," he muttered to himself. "Got the grass. Mission success. Smart man would leave now."
But he didn't move.
Because he was also curious.
And curiosity was dangerous—especially when paired with opportunity.
Han Yun stood there, staring into the dark, still not taking a step forward.
Just thinking.
And hesitating.
Han Yun stood there, at the edge of the dark, heavier part of the cave, staring into the void like it owed him money.
Every part of his logical brain was screaming, "Turn around, walk out, submit the quest, live to scam another day."
But unfortunately—
"I was never really a smart man," he muttered with a shrug.
And just as he took one step further—
Ding!
The system panel snapped open in front of his eyes with a soft blue flash.
[System Alert: Opportunity Detected]
[Target: Feng Yiran]
[Type: Hidden Trial / Inheritance Event]
[Proximity: Close]
[Warning: High-Risk Zone. Destiny Threads Active.]
Han Yun blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…You've got to be shitting me."
Of course it was a Feng Yiran opportunity.
He stared deeper into the tunnel, exhaling through his nose.
So this is where it is. A hidden trial?
That explained the weird Qi, the unsettling stillness, the almost too-deep layout. It wasn't just a random cave. This place was waiting for someone.
Not him, obviously.
No, it was waiting for Feng Yiran. The chosen one. The guy with the plot armor so thick, you could bounce a celestial tribulation off it.
But Han Yun was here first.
And in the world of Xianxia, timing was everything.
Then he looked up at the tunnel like it was staring back.
"…Well. If I die, at least let me die robbing fate."
He reached into his pouch and grabbed two talismans, sliding one between his fingers like a dagger.
Han Yun held one of his freshly made fire talismans between two fingers, muttering the activation chant like a man reciting his grocery list. A soft whoosh of flame ignited at the tip, hovering just above his hand like a flickering lantern.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what plot convenience looks like up close."
With the dim firelight guiding his way, he walked deeper.
The walls shifted—narrow at first, then wide again. The air grew colder, damper, and carried a subtle metallic tang that made the hair on his arms stand up. But still, nothing lunged at him, nothing whispered from the dark, and no glowing pedestals revealed themselves in dramatic bursts of spiritual wind.
Eventually, after what felt like forever, Han Yun stepped into the deepest chamber.
It was... a room.
Stone floor. Slight dome ceiling. Completely quiet.
And most importantly—completely empty.
He stood there, flame bobbing gently in his hand, staring at the barren stone like it had personally offended him.
"...Huh?"
He stepped forward slowly, turning in a slow circle.
No glowing jade. No bones. No corpses of failed trial-goers. Not even a suspiciously placed stone sword or a floating ring.
Just rock.
He scratched his head. "The hell is this? Did I take a wrong turn?"
He opened the system panel again.
…
Nothing.
He stared at the panel. It didn't flicker. It didn't glitch. It just… said nothing.
Han Yun's expression slowly twisted.
"Oh, don't you dare."
He walked around the chamber, checking every corner, rubbing his hands along the walls like some desperate treasure hunter who lost his map. He knocked on suspicious-looking rocks, tapped the floor for hollow spots, even tried muttering "open sesame" at one point.
Still nothing.
An hour passed.
His hair was dusty. His legs were tired. His back hurt.
Finally, he dropped into a squat in the middle of the floor and looked straight up at the ceiling.
Then at the system panel.
Then back to the ceiling.
And finally lost it.
"HELLO?!" he shouted. "You said 'opportunity nearby!' WHERE? Huh?! You got me walking around like a spiritual idiot for an hour! I rubbed rocks! I did everything except chant ancient hymns while standing on one leg—is this your idea of a joke?!"
The system still didn't respond.
He threw his hands up.
"I swear if Feng Yiran walks in here and touches one stone and the wall opens up, I'm gonna lose my shit!"
Still. Nothing.
Han Yun glared at the fire talisman still floating above his hand.
"…Well, at least you work."
After what felt like the longest, most humiliating scavenger hunt of his life, Han Yun finally stood up from where he'd been sitting in spiritual defeat.
"…Maybe it really isn't meant for someone like me," he muttered, dusting off his robes.
He glanced around the empty stone chamber one last time. No glowing light. No dramatic rumble. No secret treasure. Just the quiet echo of his footsteps and the faint flicker of his dying talisman flame.
"I'm not a protagonist," he sighed. "I don't get 'fated trials.' I get pig-chasing, herb-fetching, and being publicly overshadowed by walking bloodlines in pretty robes."
He turned to leave, dragging his feet a little, feeling like the cave had personally trolled him.
And then—on his way out, still mid-sulk—he walked past the same big, slightly lopsided rock he'd rubbed, tapped, and even begged to open earlier.
He didn't even look at it this time.
No. This time, in sheer frustration, he kicked it.
Hard.
"You're just a stupid—OW!—useless boulder like this stupid—"
Click.
Han Yun froze.
The sound was subtle. Too subtle.
Then the ground beneath him—only beneath him—let out a low, grinding groan.
CRACK.
The stone floor beneath his feet vanished. Not collapsed—vanished—like it had never existed.
His eyes widened.
"Oh shi—!"
And then he was falling.
Plunging straight into a pitch-black abyss with only his own scream echoing off the stone walls.
"WHYYYYY IS IT ALWAYS A HOLEEEEEE—!"
The light from his talisman flickered wildly as he spiraled into darkness, arms flailing, mind racing—
'This is it. I'm dying. This is how I die. I knew it. Kicked a rock. Universe said no.'
Down he went, swallowed by the abyss, as the cave closed its secrets behind him.
As Han Yun tumbled through the darkness, wind howling past his ears and the dim fire from his talisman flickering violently overhead, panic clawed at his chest.
"This is the worst possible scenario!" he shouted into the void. "Worst! Number one—fall damage! Number two—something awful waiting down there!"
His voice echoed like the cave itself was mocking him.
His arms flailed for anything—anything—to grab onto. Jagged rock. Loose roots. A divine rope left behind by fate? No? Okay. Pain it is, then.
His fingers finally snagged a rough edge jutting from the wall. He latched on instinctively, feet slamming against the side of the shaft, trying to slow himself.
It worked.
Kind of.
The friction burned through his sleeves. The stone ripped at his palms.
His momentum slowed—slightly—before his hand slipped again.
"GAHH—!"
He caught another ledge lower down, then another—each time gritting his teeth through the jolt of pain.
By the third grab, his palms were raw, bleeding, his fingers throbbing with every heartbeat. A sharp edge scraped deep into the skin just below his knuckles, the sting almost making him let go again.
The fall hadn't stopped—he was just falling less murderously now.
"Shit, shit, shit—"
One final desperate snag of a branch—or maybe a bone? He didn't check—slowed his descent enough for him to crash onto a sloped pile of gravel and moss near the bottom with a loud grunt.
Thud!
He rolled down the last few feet, groaning as he hit the floor.
Face-first.
Silence.
Then—
"…I think I still have all my limbs," he muttered, voice muffled against the dirt.
He lay there a few seconds longer.
Han Yun groaned as he rolled onto his side, every joint screaming in protest. His palms stung with every twitch, skin torn raw and sticky with blood. Gravel clung to his robe like insult on top of injury.
"Okay... not dead," he muttered, forcing himself up with a shaky grunt. "That's a win. That's a win, right?"
It wasn't.
He staggered to his feet, clutching his throbbing hand to his chest like a wounded dog, teeth clenched. Blood seeped down his wrist and soaked into his sleeve, but he shoved the pain aside.
With his good hand, he reached into his pouch and pulled out another fire talisman, activating it with a quick flick and a muttered word through gritted teeth.
A soft, warm flame lit up above him, revealing the space he'd fallen into.
It was… massive.
The bottom of the abyss wasn't just some broken pit. It was a cavern, a huge one—its stone walls glistening faintly with moisture, the air heavy with dampness and age. In the center, a small pool of still water reflected the flickering firelight, disturbed only by the soft drip… drip… of condensation falling from above.
Han Yun took a shaky step forward, breath shallow.
"Why is there always water in creepy ancient caves," he mumbled.
Beyond the pool, a narrow path extended forward into the darkness—arched stone, smooth and deliberate, like something built, not formed naturally. Someone had been here. Or something.
He stared at it.
He didn't want to go forward. Every instinct in his body screamed to climb back up and leave this madness behind.
But… he'd already fallen. He was bleeding. In pain. Covered in dirt. All for what?
"To turn back now?" he said aloud, bitterly. "No way."