Rebirth as a Wind Cultivator - Chapters 92 to 95

Chapter 92: Practice Circles

Lin Xiulan stuffed the spirit egg into its padded cloth pouch, tucking the bag beneath her robes with a frustrated grunt. The egg pulsed warmly against her side, drawing a trickle of qi from her meridians even when she wasn’t actively feeding it.

“Just like a damn Tamagotchi,” she muttered, adjusting her robes to hide the slight bulge.

She paced her quarters, fingers drumming against her thigh. Getting booted from Elder Chang Liu’s combat class had initially seemed like a blessing. But reality was sinking in. Combat skills weren’t optional for cultivators; they were fundamental.

Xiulan flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. “I need a plan.”

The herbology texts she’d borrowed sat in a neat stack on her desk. She knew the names and appearances of most herbs from the game, but actual alchemy required precise preparation methods, temperature control, and qi infusion techniques.

Golden Meridian Pill mastery didn’t translate into being a genius.

“Bastard devs,” she snorted, sitting up. “Make the starter pill easy so noobs can level up, then hit them with the real shit once they’re invested.”

She pulled out her notes on the Five Elements Manual and flipped through them. The Tree Sigh Method had come easily enough with Ming’s help—perhaps too easily.

Ming had seemed surprised by her progress. So maybe we she was doing a good job?

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. She tucked her notes under a book and crossed to the door.

Ming stood in the doorway, her normally composed face pinched with annoyance. The senior disciple didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“I got you into a new combat class,” Ming announced. “A remedial one for struggling students.”

Xiulan suppressed a groan as she invited Ming inside. So they have make-up classes here too? Actually, that’s kind of nice. At my college, you just failed and retook the class next year.

“What’s this class like?” Xiulan asked, closing the door behind Ming.

“It’s not led by an elder. One of the outer disciples teaches it, with an inner disciple oversees testing.” Ming stopped and turned to face Xiulan. “It’s held in an outer section of the pavilion.”

“And our schedule?”

“We have another mission next week,” Ming said, straightening a stack of books on Xiulan’s desk. “Until then, focus on your classes. Elder Wang’s alchemy is important, but combat training is essential too.”

Xiulan nodded. “As long as I have time to practice on my own, I can make progress.”

“You’ve already had practical experience and self-training,” Ming said, her expression softening slightly. “But you should learn methods from those who came before. There’s value in established techniques.”

Xiulan considered this for a moment. “Why don’t you just teach me everything?” she asked. “You’re my senior sister, and we’re not technically part of Aeris Pavilion, right? You could teach me everything I need to know.”

Ming turned and smiled—a genuine smile that reached her eyes. “I will if needed, but it’s better to get more than one perspective. Different teachers offer unique insights.”

Xiulan felt a weight lift from her shoulders. If everything went wrong with the Pavilion, at least Ming would be there.

“When does the class start?” Xiulan asked, expecting to have at least a day to prepare herself.

Ming’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Right now, actually.”

“Now?” Xiulan blinked in surprise. “I thought we were just touring the facilities today.”

“The best learning happens when you’re not overthinking it,” Ming replied, gesturing for Xiulan to follow her. “Besides, I’ve already informed the instructor of your arrival.”

They walked together through corridors until they reached a small training hall. Inside, several disciples were already gathered, their cultivation levels varying from body refining to early qi gathering.

At the front stood Tan Zhu, the same blue-robed guardian disciple who had spoken to her at Wu Xing’s class earlier. He was organizing practice scrolls on a small table.

When he looked up and noticed her, a flicker of recognition crossed his face, but he simply nodded and continued preparing for the lesson.

“Please take your seats,” he said, addressing the room. “Today we’ll be detailing Master Wu Zhi’s Thousand Fighting Strokes Manual.”

Xiulan slid into an empty seat and noticed a blank scroll and ink pot waiting on the desk. We’re copying a manual? Not actual fighting?

She turned to ask Ming, but her senior sister grinned mischievously, waved, and—

“See you later!” Ming whispered before slipping out the door.

Ah! She abandoned me! Xiulan stared at the empty doorway in disbelief as Tan Zhu cleared his throat to begin the lesson.

Xiulan copied each line of the manual as Tan Zhu read aloud, her brush flowing smoothly across the scroll. The classroom remained silent except for the occasional scratch of brushes and Tan Zhu’s clear voice. Every few minutes, he sketched diagrams on a large slate at the front of the room, illustrating the positioning of hands, feet, and weapon grips.

“Notice how the weight shifts here,” Tan Zhu explained, drawing a curved line to show a fighter’s movement. “Master Wu believed balance preceded power. Without proper stance, even the strongest strike fails.”

Xiulan studied the diagrams. Unlike Elder Chang Liu’s combat class, this approach made sense to her. Theory before practice, fundamentals before application. She recognized several stances from what she had already been taught, but found the detailed explanations illuminated nuances she’d missed.

As the class ended and students gathered their materials, Tan Zhu approached her desk.

“Miss Lin, may I have a word?”

Xiulan looked up from rolling her scroll. “Of course.”

The other students filtered out while Tan Zhu waited patiently.

“I oversee a small practice group after these lessons,” he said once they were alone. “Nothing formal—just students working on practical applications of what we study. I think you would be a good fit.”

“Advanced?” Xiulan raised an eyebrow. “After getting kicked out of Elder Chang’s class?”

Tan Zhu smiled. “Some learn better through demonstration than drilling. I think you might benefit from our approach.”

“What exactly does your group do?”

“We practice forms together, spar lightly. Some students teach techniques they’ve mastered to others. It’s collaborative.” He paused. “Not required, of course. Just an opportunity.”

Xiulan considered the offer. Tan Zhu seemed straightforward, without Lei Shan or Wu Xing’s arrogance.

“Why not? I could use the practice.”

Tan Zhu nodded. “Excellent. We’re meeting now, if you’d like to join.”

Yeesh. Today was going to wring her around, wasn’t it?

The training ground wasn’t far—an open courtyard with packed sand flooring. About a dozen students already practiced in pairs, wielding wooden staves with varying degrees of skill. None wore outer robes, instead dressed in simple pants and undershirts to allow freedom of movement.

“We only use training weapons here,” Tan Zhu explained, gesturing toward a rack of wooden implements. “No real blades, no aggressive qi techniques—just physical skills and basic protective qi to prevent injuries.”

Xiulan surveyed the courtyard. No one appeared to be showing off or trying to humiliate others. Just focused practice.

“This is great,” she said, genuinely relieved. “Much better than a bully trying to inflate their ego.”

She removed her outer robe, carefully ensuring the spirit egg remained safe and secure in the cloth. The egg pulsed in the back of her mind rapidly several times as she distanced from it. It was… anxious at the separation?

Tan Zhu followed her without noticing anything. “I’ll be your first opponent, if that’s acceptable. It helps me gauge where to start.”

Xiulan selected a wooden spear, testing its weight and balance. The length felt familiar. “Sure. That suits me just fine.”

Tan Zhu chose a wooden sword and led her to an empty section of the courtyard. They bowed formally before taking ready stances.

“Begin whenever you’re ready,” he said.

Xiulan realized this would be just physical skill against physical skill. No qi strengthening techniques or abilities… this wasn’t something she usually practiced. She tightened her grip on the spear and lunged forward.

Tan Zhu sidestepped with surprising speed. His wooden sword tapped her extended spear, redirecting its momentum. Before Xiulan could recover, he stepped inside her guard, hooked his foot behind her ankle, and—

“Oof!”

Her back hit the sand with a thud, knocking the wind from her lungs. The spear clattered beside her.

“What the hell?” Xiulan blinked up at Tan Zhu, who extended a hand to help her up. “How did you—”

“Sixteen years of practice,” he answered with a modest smile. “Ready to try again?”

Xiulan took his offered hand and stood up.

It was a reminder of just how later in life she had got started at this. That gap had been hidden so far by her advantages, but when it just came to plain human skill and talent?

She needed to push herself more. “Let’s go again.”

###########

Chapter 93: Classroom Connections

Xiulan trudged down the corridor toward Elder Wang’s alchemy classroom, her mind spinning with calculations. There were over a dozen different ingredients needed for the qi refining stage elemental pills she needed to make for herself and her friends.

She sighed. This little food cart business barely covered its ingredients, let alone make a profit. And after those jerks got face-fulls of burning eye root...

A small smile crept across her lips at the memory. Su Yin’s unexpected intervention had scattered Lei Shan’s friends like startled chickens. Still, the incident highlighted her isolation.

Gathering ingredients myself would be ideal, but when? Xiulan rounded a corner, nearly colliding with a hurrying disciple. I can’t just wander into the forest between classes. And missions with Ming aren’t focused on herb-gathering.

The trip to Themis and back had shown there wasn’t a lot of time for foraging for spiritual herbs and plants. Although they had collected the spirit stones from the fox’s lair.

Xiulan paused outside the classroom door. Master Qingfeng or Ming would help if I asked, but they think in decades, not months. She touched the small pouch containing her spirit beast egg, feeling its gentle warmth against her fingers. We don’t have that luxury.

She needed a breakthrough—not just for herself but for Feng Yu, Mei Chen, and Ren Chun too. Her allies. The people she trusted.

Five years seemed like plenty of time when I first arrived, but now... Xiulan pushed open the classroom door. Now it feels like sand slipping through my fingers.

Elder Wang stood at the front of the room, arranging materials on her demonstration table. The silver-haired woman looked up as Xiulan entered.

The elder’s smile pierced through Xiulan like a spotlight on stage. Emerald eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. Xiulan straightened her posture and headed to her usual spot.

Tao Jun already occupied the bench, his slender frame hunched over a worn notebook filled with meticulously drawn herb diagrams. He glanced up and acknowledged Xiulan with a quick nod.

“Morning,” he murmured, sliding his materials to make room.

Xiulan pulled out her own notebook and furnace tools. “Thanks for saving the spot.”

Before Tao Jun could respond, a flurry of movement erupted behind them. Su Yin materialized, practically bouncing on her toes, brown eyes wide with excitement.

“Move over!” Su Yin nudged Tao Jun’s shoulder. “I’m sitting here today.”

Tao Jun blinked rapidly, mouth opening slightly. He shot a questioning look at Xiulan.

Xiulan studied Su Yin’s face, searching for any trace of hostility or mischief. Finding none, she shrugged to Tao Jun.

Tao Jun scooted further down the bench, creating space between himself and Xiulan. “Uh... sure.”

Su Yin dropped onto the bench between them, unpacking her supplies with unusual enthusiasm.

Xiulan frowned. What was going on?

“What?” Su Yin caught Xiulan staring and grinned. “Is there something on my face?”

Elder Wang tapped her jade ruler against the demonstration table. The sharp sound cut through the classroom chatter.

“Today,” Elder Wang announced, “we discuss elemental ingredients essential for cultivation breakthroughs.”

Xiulan straightened. This was exactly what she wanted to learn.

Elder Wang gestured to a row of labeled jars. “The five elements—metal, wood, water, fire, and earth—each require specific catalysts to facilitate advancement through cultivation stages.”

Xiulan grabbed her brush, ink flowing across the page as she captured every word. Su Yin leaned slightly toward her, spying on her notes.

“Fire-natured breakthroughs,” Elder Wang continued, lifting a crimson root, “require heat-absorbing ingredients that stabilize the cultivator’s internal temperature during expansion of meridians. Without proper stabilization, the cultivator risks meridian collapse or qi deviation.”

Xiulan’s brush paused. This could help Feng Yu with her fire abilities.

“Earth-natured ingredients,” Elder Wang held up a dark, soil-encrusted tuber, “ground the cultivator, preventing qi from dispersing during foundation strengthening.”

Xiulan scribbled additional notes in the margins.

Su Yin nudged her. “Isn’t this too basic to take notes?” she whispered.

Xiulan shrugged without looking up. “It’s important.”

“For our next class,” Elder Wang said, “we’ll create basic Fire Essence and Earth Foundation pills. These formulations support progression through early to mid-Qi Gathering stage.”

Xiulan flipped through her schedule book, checking dates against the mission timeline Ming had mentioned. If they departed after tomorrow’s morning classes and returned within three days, she’d make it back for the practical session.

“The Fire Essence pill requires three key components,” Elder Wang listed. “Cinnabar grass for heat regulation, sun-dried spirit moss for energy conversion, and—most importantly—flame crystal powder as the catalyst.”

Xiulan’s hand cramped from writing so quickly. The recipe, she already knew, actually. But the specifics?

“Earth Foundation pills,” Elder Wang continued, “utilize stone marrow, ground beetle shells, and amber sap. The proportions must be precise—two parts marrow to one part shell to half part sap.”

When Elder Wang concluded her lecture, Xiulan had filled seven pages with detailed notes. Her fingers ached, but satisfaction warmed her chest. This was one of the missing pieces from her lopsided knowledge.

“Remember,” Elder Wang said as disciples began packing their materials, “study these formulations thoroughly. Next class, we begin practical application.”

“Hey,” Su Yin said. “Want to study together for the practical lesson? I’ve got access to all the samples needed.”

Xiulan blinked, surprised by the offer. “Why would you want to help me?”

Su Yin’s expression shifted, something unreadable flickering across her face. “Let’s just say I’m interested in how you knew all those herbs last time.”

Xiulan’s eyebrows pinched together as she studied Su Yin’s eager face. The sudden friendliness felt like a trap.

“I can’t help with that,” Xiulan said flatly.

Su Yin’s enthusiasm deflated and her shoulders dropped. The hurt in her eyes made Xiulan’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

Maybe that was too harsh. Xiulan sighed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She couldn’t exactly explain that her knowledge came from playing “Phoenix Kingdom Chronicles” in another life. That would end with her locked in a madhouse—or worse.

“Look,” Xiulan softened her tone. “If you want to know how I recognized those herbs, you’ll need to ask Senior Ming or Master Qingfeng.” She met Su Yin’s gaze directly. “It’s not something I can explain myself. Please understand.”

Su Yin studied Xiulan’s face for several heartbeats before nodding slowly. “Fine. Keep your secrets.” The words sounded accusatory, but her expression had shifted from hurt to something more like respect. “My offer to study together still stands, though.”

Xiulan allowed a small smile to form. “I’d like that.”

Tao Jun cleared his throat loudly. “What about me?” He gestured at the three of them crowded onto the bench. “Am I just decorative furniture now?”

Su Yin rolled her eyes. “You can join too—if Xiulan doesn’t mind?”

She considered Tao Jun. During Wang’s first class and the sessions since, he’d been quietly competent, never antagonistic like Lei Shan or dismissive like some other disciples.

“Three is better than two,” Xiulan agreed. “When should we meet?”

Su Yin bounced excitedly on the bench. “Tomorrow morning? Really early. I can get us into the small herb garden behind the alchemy hall.”

“You have access to that?” Tao Jun asked, eyebrows rising.

Su Yin smirked. “I have my ways.”

“Tomorrow morning works for me,” Xiulan said, mentally calculating how this would fit with her other commitments. “But I might need to leave early. I have... arrangements.”

“Ooh, mysterious,” Su Yin teased. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re prepared for the practical, even if you have to rush off.”

Xiulan rolled her eyes. This girl was going to be a handful.

As they packed up their supplies, Xiulan felt a strange lightness. She hadn’t expected to find allies among her classmates, especially not after the incident with Lei Shan.

Just be careful, she reminded herself. Trust is earned, not given.

###########

Chapter 94: Pills

Dawn barely touched the horizon when Xiulan arrived at the small herb garden behind the alchemy hall. Mist clung to the ground, wrapping around rows of neatly arranged plants. The air smelled of damp earth and something sharper—the medicinal tang of cultivation herbs.

Su Yin leaned against a stone wall, tossing a small vial between her hands. Tao Jun sat cross-legged on a wooden stool, sketching diagrams in a worn notebook.

“You made it,” Su Yin remarked, catching the vial mid-toss.

Xiulan adjusted her satchel. “We aren’t locked out are we?”

“I told you—I have access.” Su Yin pushed away from the wall and approached the locked gate. She produced a small key from her sleeve and twisted it in the lock. The gate swung open with a creak. “Elder Wang’s great-granddaughter has certain privileges.”

Tao Jun closed his notebook. “Which you abuse regularly.”

“It’s not abuse if I’m actually learning something.” Su Yin led them into the garden. “Besides, Elder Wang knows. She pretends not to notice because I maintain the rarer specimens on weekends.”

Xiulan followed without commenting. She had never expected nepotism to be absent in the Pavilion.

The garden opened into a series of circular beds, each containing plants grouped by element affinity. Fire-natured herbs glowed faintly in the dim morning light—cinnabar grass with its red-tipped leaves, spirit moss dried to a golden hue, and tiny flame crystals growing like ruby clusters on black stems.

“These are exactly the ones we need,” Xiulan murmured, crouching to examine the flame crystals.

Su Yin puffed up visibly. “I cultivated those myself. Three months of precise temperature control and daily qi infusions.”

Tao Jun rolled his eyes. “And you’ll never us forget it?”

“Because it’s impressive!” Su Yin protested.

Xiulan moved to the earth-element section where stone marrow plants pushed up through rich soil, their tuberous roots partially exposed. Beetle shells had been ground and worked into the soil around amber sap trees, creating a balanced ecosystem.

“So,” Su Yin clapped her hands, “shall we practice? I’ve got permission to harvest small amounts for study purposes.”

Tao Jun produced three small mortar and pestle sets from his bag. “I brought these. They’re not as good as the ones in the alchemy hall, but—”

“They’ll work fine,” Xiulan assured him.

Su Yin retrieved a small knife with a bone handle from her belt. “I’ll harvest. You two set up the work area.”

While Tao Jun arranged the tools on a flat stone table at the garden’s center, Xiulan prepared three sets of measurement scales. In her previous life, precision had been crucial in gaming alchemy—a lesson that transferred perfectly to real cultivation.

Su Yin returned with carefully selected samples: three flame crystal clusters, several sprigs of cinnabar grass, a handful of sun-dried spirit moss, two chunks of stone marrow, a dozen beetle shells, and a small vial of amber sap.

“Watch closely,” Su Yin instructed, separating the ingredients into three equal portions. “The Fire Essence pill requires care. Grind the flame crystals first, but not too fine—you want particles about the size of salt grains.”

Xiulan took her portion of flame crystals and began grinding, applying steady pressure. The crystals resisted at first, then suddenly yielded with a flash of heat that warmed her fingers.

“Good,” Su Yin nodded approvingly. “Now add the cinnabar grass and continue grinding. The heat from the crystals will activate the grass’s properties.”

Tao Jun worked methodically beside them, his movements precise but slower. “How long have you been doing this?” he asked Su Yin.

“Since I was eight,” Su Yin replied without looking up from her mortar. “Elder Wang started me on basic herb identification before I could even write properly.”

“That explains a lot,” Xiulan murmured.

Su Yin glanced up sharply. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that you clearly have experience,” Xiulan clarified. “It shows in your technique.”

Su Yin’s expression softened slightly. “Well... yes. I should hope so after all this time.” She added the spirit moss to her mixture. “This is the tricky part. You need to fold the moss in without crushing it completely. Three clockwise turns with the pestle, then two counterclockwise.”

Xiulan followed the instructions precisely, watching as her mixture began to glow with a faint orange light. The scent changed—spicier, with undertones of something like cinnamon.

“Now for the Earth Foundation pill,” Su Yin continued, setting aside her Fire Essence mixture. “The principle is similar, but reversed. Earth requires stability rather than activation.”

She demonstrated crushing the beetle shells into fine powder. “The shells provide structure while the stone marrow adds density. The amber sap binds everything together.”

Tao Jun struggled with his beetle shells, which kept slipping under his pestle. “These are harder than they look.”

“Try applying pressure from the center outward,” Xiulan suggested.

Su Yin raised an eyebrow. “That’s... actually correct. Where did you learn that?”

Xiulan shrugged. “Just figured it out.”

Su Yin didn’t look convinced but continued her demonstration. “The Earth Foundation mixture should feel heavy in the mortar—like wet sand.”

As they worked, Su Yin grew increasingly animated, explaining variations and shortcuts with obvious pride. “Elder Wang’s class will be simple if you follow these steps.”

“You seem very confident,” Tao Jun noted.

“Because I know what I’m doing.” Su Yin measured amber sap with practiced precision. “Elder Wang’s practical exam is always the same—she gives you ingredients and expects you to produce a basic pill. If you’ve practiced properly, it’s straightforward.”

Xiulan watched Su Yin’s movements carefully, noting how her wrist flicked at specific moments to distribute ingredients evenly. There was genuine skill there, regardless of Su Yin’s attitude.

“There,” Su Yin announced, holding up her completed mixtures. “Perfect proportions for both pills. Elder Wang will have nothing to criticize.”

Tao Jun examined his own work critically. “Mine’s a bit lumpy.”

“You rushed the beetle shell grinding,” Su Yin pointed out. “But it’s salvageable. Add a tiny bit more amber sap—just a drop—and work it through again.”

Xiulan held her mixtures up to the strengthening morning light. The Fire Essence glowed orange-red, while the Earth Foundation had a solid, matte appearance with flecks of iridescence from the beetle shells.

“These look right,” she said, pleased with the results.

Su Yin leaned over to inspect Xiulan’s work. Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Not bad for a first attempt. Your Fire Essence has good color.” She hesitated, then added, “You have steady hands. That helps with alchemy.”

“Are we ready to form these into pills now?” Tao Jun asked, finally satisfied with his mixtures.

“Of course,” Su Yin replied with a mischievous grin. She reached behind a large ceramic pot and produced a small bronze pill furnace, its surface etched with flowing patterns of clouds and flames. “I borrowed this from the alchemy pavilion.”

“Borrowed?” Tao Jun’s eyes widened. “Or took without permission?”

Su Yin waved dismissively. “Elder Wang lets me practice with the smaller furnaces. She says I have potential.” She placed the furnace between them and began arranging kindling beneath it. “Now, watch carefully. The temperature has to be perfect.”

Xiulan observed as Su Yin guided them through the process, explaining how to channel qi into the furnace to maintain precise heat levels. The herbs began to transform, releasing fragrant steam as they condensed into small, glistening spheres.

“You need to circulate your qi like this,” Su Yin demonstrated, her fingers tracing delicate patterns above the furnace. “Too much and the pills crack, too little and they won’t form properly.”

Xiulan attempted to mimic the movements, feeling her qi respond as it flowed from her dantian through her meridians and into the furnace. The mixture inside began to glow faintly.

Tao Jun leaned forward, his face illuminated by the furnace’s warm light. “I think it’s working!”

The sun had fully risen now, burning away the morning mist and illuminating the herb garden in golden light. Xiulan glanced up at the sun’s position and suddenly jumped to her feet, leaving her half-formed pills simmering in the furnace.

“I’m going to be late!”

“Late for what?” Su Yin asked, suddenly interested. “We’re just getting to the good part!”

“A meeting.”

“What kind of meeting?” Su Yin pressed, following Xiulan as she gathered her belongings.

“It’s... private.”

Su Yin’s face scrunched into a pout.

“It’s about cooking,” Xiulan relented with a small laugh. “Relax, it’s not secret herbs or anything.” She paused dramatically. “Or maybe it will be?”

###########

Chapter 95: Plates

“Cooking?” Su Yin’s pout deepened. “Your food cart?”

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Xiulan offered, already backing away. “Thanks for the lesson!”

She escaped through the Pavilion’s winding corridors. Glances followed her progress. Becoming Master Qingfeng’s direct disciple had turned her into something of a curiosity. Junior disciples whispered as she passed. Senior disciples evaluated her with calculating eyes.

The attention made her skin crawl. In Blackmere, Master Qingfeng had provided periodic guidance without the constant scrutiny.

Alright, maybe she was lying to herself slightly. As the Lin Family’s daughter, it was something she should have been used to, especially considering what had happened, but…

Urgh. She turned down a service corridor that led toward the kitchens, grateful for the relative quiet.

The smell hit her first—savory aromas mingled with sweet undertones and the sharp bite of unfamiliar spices. The kitchen sprawled across a massive chamber, with multiple cooking stations, enormous wok burners, and preparation tables where disciples chopped, diced, and arranged ingredients.

She spotted the head cook standing at a central station, simultaneously directing three assistants while testing a sauce with a small spoon. His auburn hair was tied back in a practical knot, and his foundation-forming aura manifested as a subtle pressure that kept the kitchen organized despite the chaos.

“Simmer it longer,” he instructed one assistant without looking up. “The qi needs to concentrate further.”

Xiulan approached cautiously, waiting for acknowledgment.

Eventually, he looked at her.

“Senior Shen Yue?” Xiulan asked.

“You’re the one Sister Ming recommended.” Not a question. “Wait there. I’ll be finished in a moment.”

Xiulan observed his technique as he worked. His movements were economical. Each action served a purpose, whether adjusting flame intensity with a flick of qi or blending ingredients.

A young woman with a sturdy build and practical braids sidled up beside Xiulan. “You’re Lin Xiulan? I’m Pan Xia.”

Xiulan felt a bit confused at the attention. “Nice to meet you?”

“So you have food ideas from... elsewhere?” Pan Xia asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

Before Xiulan could answer, Shen Yue clapped his hands once, dismissing his other assistants. “Let’s talk in the side room. Pan Xia, bring tea.”

The side room was small but well-appointed, with a round table and comfortable chairs. Scrolls depicting various food ingredients lined the walls, annotated with cultivation benefits and preparation methods.

“Ming says you have unique culinary concepts,” Shen Yue stated, sitting across from Xiulan. “I rarely take time for such meetings, but she was insistent.”

Pan Xia entered with a tea service, setting it down before joining them.

Xiulan straightened her posture. “I believe there’s an opportunity to create fast, accessible cultivation foods based on... foreign recipes.”

“Foreign from where?” Shen Yue asked.

“They’re... family recipes,” Xiulan improvised. “Concepts I’ve developed by combining different traditions.”

She outlined her ideas—sandwiches that could be prepared quickly from sliced meat and bread. Portable pizza-like dishes. Ground meat formed into patties and seasoned.

Pan Xia grew increasingly excited as Xiulan spoke. “All of these ideas are new!”

Shen Yue remained expressionless, occasionally sipping his tea. When Xiulan finished, he set down his cup with deliberate care.

“What you’re proposing,” he said slowly, “is essentially creating an entirely new category of cuisine.”

Xiulan shifted uncomfortably. “When you put it that way...”

“It would require extensive testing. Especially when considering how one would infuse cultivation elements into the new meals.” He tapped his fingers on the table. “The resource investment would be substantial.”

“But the potential return—” Xiulan started.

“Is speculative at best,” Shen Yue finished. “These foods would need to offer genuine cultivation benefits beyond mere convenience to justify their development.”

Pan Xia leaned forward eagerly. “But Senior Shen, imagine the market for convenient, tasty cultivation foods! Every disciple in every sect would want them. Especially if they are so novel!”

“If they worked,” Shen Yue countered. “And if they didn’t compromise cultivation efficiency.” He fixed Xiulan with an evaluating stare. “What’s your cultivation level?”

“Qi Gathering Early,” Xiulan admitted.

“And your culinary training?”

“Limited,” she confessed. “But I understand flavor combinations and basic cooking principles.”

Shen Yue nodded as if confirming something to himself. “As I suspected. You have ideas, but lack the technical foundation to execute them properly.”

Xiulan’s heart sank. Her fast-food plan for making spirit stones seemed to crumble with a few words.

“However,” Shen Yue continued unexpectedly, “the concept itself isn’t without merit.”

Pan Xia brightened almost as fast as Xiulan did.

“So we’ll try it?” Pan Xia questioned.

“Not ‘we,’” Shen Yue corrected. “You. If you’re willing to mentor Sister Lin in proper cultivation cooking techniques, I’ll allocate a small budget for experimental ingredients.”

“Me?” Pan Xia blinked in surprise.

“You’ve been requesting more responsibility,” Shen Yue reminded her. “Here it is. Start small—perhaps with one recipe. If you produce something with genuine cultivation value, we’ll discuss expanding the project.”

Xiulan looked between them. “You’re giving us a chance?”

“A small one,” Shen Yue emphasized. “Pan Xia knows the basics of qi infusion in food preparation. Learn from her first, then adapt your... foreign ideas afterward.”

Pan Xia’s initial shock transformed into determination. “I won’t disappoint you, Senior Shen.”

Shen Yue rose from his seat. “See that you don’t. I expect a progress report in ten days.” He nodded to Xiulan. “Your idea has potential, but it requires proper foundation. Build that first.”

After he left, Pan Xia turned to Xiulan with barely contained excitement. “This is my chance to move up from inventory management! When can we start?”

Xiulan smiled. “How about today? I have classes and a mission that will take up the next three days otherwise…”

“Today then! I’ll secure us a small work station and basic ingredients.” Pan Xia stood, practically bouncing with energy. “Senior Shen rarely gives opportunities like this. If we succeed...”

“We will,” Xiulan assured her.

Over the next few hours, they secured a workstation in the Herb Hall’s auxiliary kitchen—complete with a spirit-infused stone countertop and adjustable cultivation flame—while Pan Xia used her connections to gather the necessary permissions and basic ingredients they would need for their experimental cooking session.

While she waited, Xiulan flipped through some basic cultivation cooking manuals.

“Found it!” Pan Xia announced triumphantly, returning with a small clay jar. “Premium spirit salt. Essential for any cultivation dish.”

Xiulan nodded, marking her place in the text. “The manual mentions that. Says it helps stabilize qi distribution during cooking.”

“Exactly!” Pan Xia beamed. She arranged the gathered ingredients in neat rows—wheat flour, healing herbs, premium cuts of spirit beast meat, and various seasonings. “Ready for your first lesson?”

Xiulan closed the book and joined Pan Xia at the preparation table. “I’ve memorized the basic theory, but seeing it done will help.”

“Theory only gets you so far.” Pan Xia measured out a generous portion of flour and dropped it into a wooden bowl. “Watch carefully. Most junior disciples start with cultivation steam buns because they’re simple but effective.”

Pan Xia demonstrated, mixing the flour with spirit water while channeling a steady stream of qi into the mixture. The dough glowed faintly as it absorbed the energy.

“The qi needs to circulate evenly,” Pan Xia explained. “Too much in one spot ruins the balance. Too little makes it useless for cultivation.”

Xiulan observed intently. “The manual said these help with recovery?”

“Basic ones restore physical energy.” Pan Xia kneaded the dough before shaping it into small buns. “Add different herbs for different effects—blood replenishment, meridian clearing, minor healing.”

After setting the buns to steam, Pan Xia turned to Xiulan. “Your turn. What did you want to try?”

“Burgers,” Xiulan suggested. “They’re similar to meat patties but served between bread. Simple to make.”

Pan Xia tilted her head curiously. “Burg-ers?”

“Trust me,” Xiulan smiled. “We’ll need to grind the meat first.”

Pan Xia produced a stone mortar and pestle. “Like this?”

“That works, but it’ll take forever.” Xiulan glanced around the kitchen. “Do you have any mechanical grinders?”

After some searching, they found a simple hand-cranked device used for medicinal herbs. Pan Xia watched with fascination as Xiulan fed chunks of spirit beast meat into the grinder.

“The key is seasoning while grinding,” Xiulan explained. “Salt, pepper, and spirit herbs mix more evenly this way.”

Pan Xia nodded. “Meat dishes are more complex than buns. The qi channels differently through animal protein than plant matter.”

“How so?” Xiulan asked, forming the ground meat into flat patties.

“Meat can contain more qi but it is lost much faster.” Pan Xia explained. Her fingers glowed subtly as qi flowed into the meat. “See how it absorbs differently? But...”

The qi suddenly disappeared, and Pan Xia frowned. “Grinding it up and it’s… even more different from normal cuts.”

“Let me try something else,” Pan Xia said, retrieving a small jar from her collection of cooking supplies. “Spirit binding powder might help. We use it for medicinal pastes.”

She sprinkled a pinch into the meat mixture and worked it through with her hands. When she channeled qi again, the meat glowed briefly before fading.

“Better, but still not right,” she muttered. “The structure is completely different from whole cuts.”

Pan Xia tried several more approaches—varying the qi intensity, adding different herbs, even attempting to create artificial meridian pathways through the ground meat. Each attempt showed slight improvement, but the qi refused to stabilize completely.

“This is fascinating,” she said, eyes bright with the challenge. “No one’s tried to infuse ground meat before. We’re creating something entirely new!”

They didn’t have much luck infusing any of the ground beef. It was going to need something to stabilize it. Pan Xia started to experiment a little.

“Maybe a different binding agent?” she suggested, reaching for another jar. “Or perhaps we need to think about how the qi flows through the entire burger, not just the meat.”

Xiulan returned to studying while Pan Xia finished cooking. The kitchen filled with mouthwatering aromas as both the steam buns and burger patties neared completion.

Finally, Pan Xia assembled the burgers according to Xiulan’s instructions, placing the patties between sliced bread with simple vegetable garnishes.

“Moment of truth,” Pan Xia said, handing one to Xiulan.

They bit into their creations simultaneously. The flavor was excellent—juicy, savory, with the distinctive richness of spirit beast meat.

“Mmm!” Pan Xia’s eyes widened in appreciation. “The taste is wonderful!”

Xiulan chewed thoughtfully, focusing on the qi sensation. “But no cultivation effect.”

“The taste is perfect, but the qi dissipated completely during cooking,” Pan Xia said, examining her half-eaten burger with a critical eye. “We’re onto something, though. Maybe next time we could try infusing each component separately, or creating a special sauce that carries the qi.”

As they cleaned the workstation, Xiulan found herself genuinely enjoying Pan Xia’s company.

“Same time tomorrow?” Pan Xia asked.

“I can’t,” Xiulan said apologetically. “I have a mission for the next few days, and then an alchemy practical right after.”

Pan Xia’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “That’s fine! I can keep experimenting while you’re gone. By the time you return, I might have solved our qi-binding problem.”

“You don’t mind working alone?” Xiulan asked.

“Not at all! This is the most interesting project I’ve had in ages,” Pan Xia grinned. “Besides, Senior Shen gave us this chance together. I won’t waste it just because you have other duties.”

“Thank you,” Xiulan said sincerely. “I’ll come find you as soon as I’m back.”

Halfway back to the quarters, she realized that…

Was she making friends here?

Su Yin, now Pan Xia, and even Tan Zhu from the combat practice circle and Tao Jun from her alchemy class. People who shared her interests and supported her ideas.

That was nice… but it also made her miss Feng Yu and Mei Chen. It was impossible not to worry about them.

The fact that they weren’t that far away, and only separated by the institutional distance kept by Treasure Pavilion and Skyward Institute didn’t help.

I should arrange a meeting with them again soon, Xiulan thought. Once I have something worthwhile to show them.