Chapter Fifty-Six: The Gift

Human connections begin with gestures. Only by giving first can true relationships flourish.

To befriend a young cultivator in the middle stage of Qi Refinement, one must make some investment. Watching He Song’s departing figure, Ping’er pondered for a moment before ultimately shaking her head and heading upstairs to the second floor.

Her personal reception of He Song today had been a mere whim. Now that she held the position of one of the Spirit Arts Pavilion’s stewards, she typically spent her days on the second floor. Since the gift had already been delivered, all that remained was to wait.

In the market square, He Song walked slowly home, his gaze drifting now and then to the small box in his hand. The box was exquisitely crafted, seemingly carved from some precious mundane wood. Judging by its fine patterns, it would surely fetch a high price in the mortal world. But this was the realm of cultivation. Here, such a delicate wooden box was valuable only for its appearance.

What truly mattered was the tea leaves inside. To He Song’s discerning eye, they were indeed of high quality—certainly better than what he usually drank alone.

“Fellow Daoist He, if you ever find drinking tea alone dull, do call me. My days on duty at the Spirit Arts Pavilion are dreadfully monotonous.” As he made his way home, Ping’er’s words echoed in his mind, spoken after she presented him the tea.

She had said it so casually, as if in passing, yet it felt as though she was hinting at something. He Song could not quite decipher her meaning. Still, since she had already given him a gift, her words were unlikely to be idle.

Unable to make sense of it, he decided not to dwell on it. When the time came that he truly drank alone, he could simply summon Ping’er with a voice transmission. When that day arrived, her intentions would become clear.

Upon returning home, He Song placed the box into his storage pouch, then entered the meditation chamber, settling cross-legged within the ever-thickening spiritual energy of the Gathering Array to cultivate.

Days passed in a blink.

One day, just after casting the Spiritual Rain Technique for half an hour over the spirit fields he managed, a transmission crane descended from the sky and landed before him.

Spiritual light flickered on the paper crane. When He Song released his own aura, the crane transformed into a thin sheet of paper that floated into his hand.

“Fellow Daoist He, I have returned from Qingyuan Immortal City. Come quickly to the Spirit Construction Pavilion. There is an urgent matter to discuss. —Wei Fan.”

Scanning the message, He Song put away the paper and immediately set out for the Spirit Construction Pavilion.

Wei Fan had returned.

Though He Song did not know what urgent business awaited, he suspected it concerned him. But how could something from Qingyuan Immortal City relate to someone like him, who had always resided in the Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market?

With these doubts lingering, He Song quickened his pace and soon arrived at the Spirit Construction Pavilion.

On the second floor, as soon as he entered, he saw Wei Fan toying with a small object.

Wei Fan was alone.

“Come, sit. Old Meng picked out a gift for you in Qingyuan Immortal City. Take a look,” Wei Fan called to He Song, waving the object in his hand—a small jade bottle, its stopper shimmering with crystalline luster. Through the translucent jade, one could glimpse the pills inside.

He Song approached and took the bottle. Opening it, a dense medicinal fragrance filled the air, making his mind tremble. Simply inhaling the scent, he felt his spiritual power increase ever so slightly.

“This is... a mid-grade Gathering Qi Pill?” He Song asked, uncertain, recalling his readings on Qi Refinement pills.

There were several types of pills for the Qi Refinement stage. The Fasting Pill, which was of no grade; the Breathing Pill, a low-grade pill for early-stage cultivators; the Gathering Qi Pill, a mid-grade pill for those in the middle stage; the Condensing Qi Pill, a high-grade pill for late-stage cultivators; and the Breakthrough Pill, used to surmount stage bottlenecks.

Except for the Fasting Pill, whose recipe was simple enough for novices, all others required a skilled alchemist to produce and thus were expensive. A bottle of ten Breathing Pills cost ten spirit stones; ten Gathering Qi Pills cost thirty. Condensing Qi Pills were even more costly, at one hundred spirit stones per bottle, while Breakthrough Pills were pricier still.

If He Song’s bottle truly contained mid-grade Gathering Qi Pills, its value was at least thirty spirit stones. Meng Guan had brought him such a generous gift from Qingyuan Immortal City—he hardly knew what to say.

“It’s indeed Gathering Qi Pills. Old Meng said he wanted to thank us. He bought me a bottle of Condensing Qi Pills, you get Gathering Qi Pills, and for himself, a Breakthrough Pill,” Wei Fan confirmed, shaking his head with a sigh. “After three years in the mines, plus his previous savings, Old Meng really amassed quite a few spirit stones.”

Whether Wei Fan sighed over Meng Guan’s quick spending or something else was unclear.

He Song sat beside him, examining the jade bottle for a moment before carefully tucking it into his storage pouch. He had never used such precious pills before—not even the lower-grade Breathing Pills. He had always cultivated by absorbing the spiritual energy of the market’s arrays, with little experience of medicinal pills. Now, with a whole bottle gifted by Meng Guan, he couldn’t help but feel curious to try them. Yet as the novelty wore off, he simply put them away.

Pouring himself a cup of tea, He Song asked casually, “Where’s Old Meng? Did he reach the late stage of Qi Refinement? Why did only you return, when the two of you left together?”

Had they not been old friends, He Song might have suspected Wei Fan of foul play. But the bottle of Gathering Qi Pills in his possession and Wei Fan’s calm demeanor dispelled such thoughts immediately. After so many years of friendship, he trusted their characters.

Still, he wondered why Meng Guan had not returned with Wei Fan. Had the allure of the city made him forget home?

He looked at Wei Fan, waiting for an answer.

“Old Meng is still in the city. After breaking through to the late stage of Qi Refinement, he told me he wants to develop himself there. The Bamboo Mountain market is too small—only in the Immortal City can a late-stage cultivator truly belong.” Wei Fan’s expression was unreadable as he replied in a low voice.