Chapter 27

Before Master Mo returned to the mountain, Han Li knew it was safe to use the vial temporarily in Spirit Hand Valley, for the entire valley held only him, and no outsiders ever intruded without warning, ensuring no accidents would occur during this period, allowing him to use the small vial freely.

Han Li estimated the time of Master Mo’s return and believed it was impossible for him to find any good medicinal herbs nearby; he would likely have to travel far, possibly into remote, uninhabited mountains and ancient forests, where only such secluded places held any hope of gathering rare medicinal herbs—but even then, the round trip and the time spent searching would take at least a year before he could return to the mountain.

Nearly half a year had passed since Master Mo descended the mountain; Han Li estimated he would return to Seven Mysteries Sect in another six or seven months. In the days before his return, Han Li could only strive to accelerate the growth of as many useful herbs as possible, systematically harvesting materials according to the few rare formulas he knew, and never wastefully squandering the green liquid.

The medicines Han Li planned to prepare—all designed to enhance cultivation and break through bottlenecks—were supreme holy medicines that Master Mo had once wanted to brew but could never gather the required herbs for; each one, if sold on the market, could drive an ordinary family to ruin and spark fierce battles among martial cultivators.

Even Master Mo, with his extraordinary medical skill, had never seen any of these medicines in finished form, let alone prepared them himself. Though Master Mo possessed the formulas for these holy medicines, without the herbs, he could only sigh helplessly to the heavens.

When Han Li had studied medicine under Master Mo, he had been deeply fascinated by these rare formulas; though he had never dared hope he could brew such priceless medicines himself, he had memorized many of them. Master Mo had shown no objection to Han Li’s intense interest—whenever Han Li asked, he would explain every detail without the slightest hint of concealment. Perhaps Master Mo himself regarded these formulas as something useless to eat but too precious to discard.

Now these formulas had become Han Li’s most precious treasure. He diligently followed each formula’s requirements for herb ages, accelerating the growth of herbs without the slightest slack, for time was running short—he must complete these medicines before Master Mo returned, then lock the vial away and never use it again on the mountain.

Han Li had not the slightest confidence he could use the vial before Master Mo without revealing its secret; he knew full well how sharp and cautious Master Mo was, and he had not the remotest intention of ever telling him about the vial.

Han Li felt his relationship with Master Mo was peculiar, far more complex than a simple master-disciple bond.

Master Mo often regarded him with a strange gaze, making Han Li always suspect that Master Mo was hiding some harmful secret against him—especially in the past one or two years, this feeling had grown stronger. This prevented any true closeness or open trust between them, unlike ordinary master and disciple.

In daily life, Master Mo treated him well—he had never struck him or cursed at him, and had spared no effort to create the best possible conditions for his cultivation techniques. Yet between them lingered an invisible barrier, a constant awkwardness hanging in the air.

Master Mo clearly sensed this rift, yet showed no desire to mend their bond; he continued as before, merely pushing Han Li relentlessly to advance in his cultivation. But the strange look in his eyes when he gazed at Han Li had gradually faded, and for a long time now, it had not appeared at all.

Yet Han Li’s sharp sixth sense subtly told him Master Mo had not truly abandoned his hidden agenda—he had merely concealed it skillfully. This made Han Li grow even more wary of Master Mo; under such circumstances, how could he ever reveal the vial’s secret?

Han Li had learned from many historical records one ironclad lesson: “Do not harbor ill will toward others, but never let down your guard against them.”

Whether Master Mo truly intended harm or Han Li’s suspicion was merely a misjudgment, strengthening his vigilance could never be wrong. If Master Mo truly meant him ill, vigilance would protect him. If Han Li’s sixth sense was mistaken, raising his alertness still caused no harm—he would never betray his master or commit acts of apostasy; Han Li remained Master Mo’s good disciple, fulfilling his duties with filial devotion.

Han Li felt uneasy thinking of this—he and Master Mo were likely the only such peculiar master-disciple pair in the Seven Mysteries Sect. He sighed softly.

The vial must never be used again after Master Mo returned—that was certain. No wall is soundproof; even if he Jiaoxing escaped Master Mo’s notice, someone else in the Seven Mysteries Sect might uncover the secret. The safest course was to lock it away as if nothing had ever happened.

Han Li had made all his plans and resolved to secretly store the vial and never use it again. His mind eased, and he drifted into a drowsy sleep on his bed.

In the following months, Han Li secretly used the green liquid in the vial to accelerate the growth of countless precious herbs. With these herbs, he brewed many rare medicines according to the formulas—but many failures occurred during the process; each failure left Han Li heartbroken, for every herb used was an ultra-rare material, and each failure meant countless taels of silver vanished into thin air. Yet he could not blame himself—these were first-time brews for everyone; failure was inevitable. Even Master Mo himself would have failed once or twice attempting these medicines. Han Li consoled himself with this thought.

“Dragon Yellow Pill,” “Pure Spirit Powder,” “Golden Marrow Pills,” and “Nourish Essence Pills”—these rare medicines, seldom seen outside—were all placed in over a dozen small vials, neatly arranged before Han Li. He gazed at the vials, his face bright with joy; with these divine medicines, not only would he easily reach the fourth level of his technique, but even the fifth and sixth levels would require little effort.

Among these medicines, “Dragon Yellow Pill” and “Golden Marrow Pills” offered the greatest aid to his cultivation, both enhancing his power and transforming his body. “Pure Spirit Powder” was one of the world’s rarest antidotes, capable of neutralizing countless deadly poisons. Lastly, “Nourish Essence Pills” were miraculous for both internal and external injuries—no matter how severe the wound, a single pill would not restore life from death, but would drastically alleviate the injury and ensure survival.

Web