Chapter 7: Life Is as Fleeting as Grass

Master Seda’s face turned ashen, whether from Yilan’s death, or from Gao De’s calm after killing him—or both—no one could tell.

“How dare you kill him? You are all my apprentices, my personal property; only I have the right to decide your life or death.”

“I know,” Gao De nodded, a look of helplessness crossing his pale face. “But he wanted me dead, so I had to let him die first.”

“After all, I don’t want to die.” He raised his head, meeting Master Seda’s gaze directly, his expression earnest.

“You killed my apprentice without my consent—that’s stealing my property. You must pay with your life,” Master Seda said coldly, unmoved.

“Better to die by the Master’s hand than by this villain’s,” Gao De said, glancing at the stiff corpse on the bed. “Besides, he was the one truly trying to seize your property.”

“Yilan told me himself yesterday that he wanted me dead. My worthless life means nothing—but if I delay your alchemical progress, that would be a grave mistake.” Gao De spoke with implication—this was the true source of his courage to assassinate Yilan at night.

Gao De was certain: no matter what Master Seda felt inside or how he would react to Yilan’s death, he would never let Gao De die right now.

Because at this moment, Gao De held irreplaceable value to Master Seda—he was the only apprentice to have survived the trial potion so far.

If Master Seda wanted to succeed in brewing the alchemical potion quickly, the next trial would absolutely require Gao De.

Therefore, before the next trial, Master Seda would not let him die.

The next trial was the sword of Damocles hanging over Gao De’s head—and also his amnesty.

The facts proved it.

For a master with absolute power and authority like Master Seda, the fact that he did not immediately erase Gao De upon discovering Yilan’s death, but instead kept talking to him, meant Gao De had value—he was someone Master Seda could not yet eliminate.

But Gao De’s goals went further than that.

He took a breath, then spoke again to Master Seda:

“Master, Yilan defied your authority first; I merely defended myself afterward. Moreover, I can do everything he did—and without disrupting my own duties. Losing him brings you no loss, and saves you one more mouth to feed.”

“Self-defense? Hah. You call this self-defense…”

“A despicable power grab!” Master Seda scanned the chaotic room, as if he now understood everything. He spoke coldly: “Even if Yilan deserved his fate, how he is punished is my decision—not yours. Your nighttime assassination crossed the line.”

“You’ve been trialing my potions. Had I succeeded, you would have received great rewards—and I would have truly taken you as my apprentice.”

“But your overconfidence has cost you that chance.”

“You will regret today’s actions,” Master Seda snorted before Gao De could respond, turning away. “You’ll take over his duties—but you’ll get nothing more than his work.”

Clearly, Master Seda understood perfectly Gao De’s leverage—and what he truly desired.

Watching Master Seda leave, Gao De felt not the slightest ripple of emotion from his “threat.”

As for Master Seda’s claim that he would receive great rewards upon the potion’s success, Gao De first disbelieved it—this old fox would never be so kind. Second, he knew the probability of success was vanishingly low.

In Master Seda’s eyes, Gao De’s survival after the trial meant he was nearly there.

But Gao De knew the truth better than anyone: Master Seda was still far from success.

As for the claim that he would regret today’s actions—that was laughable.

If he didn’t resist, the next trial would be his death. Why should he care about what came after?

This nighttime assassination of Yilan seemed reckless—but it was the result of Gao De’s careful planning.

The consequences were minimal—he couldn’t possibly be worse off than he already was.

The gains, however, were many: he eliminated a major threat while preparing himself psychologically for killing, adapting to this ruthless world.

Most importantly, he gained Yilan’s former privilege: free access to the herb garden. Only by stepping outside could he find more chances to escape his current predicament.

The unexpectedly activated crescent gem was an added bonus.

*Splash!* A basin of water washed away the last trace of blood. Gao De wiped sweat from his brow.

Though Yilan’s death was temporarily settled, the scene still had to be cleaned—otherwise the blood would be horrifying, and the corpse would soon rot.

Master Seda assigned no one to handle it. As the killer, Gao De took it upon himself to clean up.

The room was now spotless.

“His body should be buried behind the mountain,” Amy volunteered. “All the previous trial apprentices were buried there.”

Gao De nodded, offering no objection.

One held his legs, the other his shoulders, and they lifted Yilan’s corpse.

Amy stared at his roommate—the man he had lived with daily, now strangely alien—and after long hesitation, whispered to Gao De: “I never thought you’d do something like this.”

He spoke timidly, for after seeing Yilan’s corpse, he felt a primal fear toward Gao De.

Most people fear killers.

“If someone wanted to kill you, what would you do?” Gao De asked.

Amy froze, unable to answer.

He understood Gao De’s meaning—but he knew he himself would be paralyzed in such a situation, incapable of such decisiveness.

Seeing Amy’s fear, Gao De no longer held back as he had before. “Come on. Lead the way.”

After burying Yilan’s body, Gao De and Amy returned to the herb garden.

It was just time for the apprentices’ breakfast.

Both had worked hard—Gao De especially, having killed and buried a man—and were starving. They hurried to the dining hall.

The apprentices inside fell silent the moment Gao De entered, leaving only the sound of chewing.

Having witnessed Yilan’s corpse firsthand, the impact on these children—technically still apprentices—was immense.

Now they saw him as a tiger.

Gao De acted as if he noticed nothing. He took a tray of breakfast, found an empty seat, and sat down.

He bit into a black barley loaf soaked in pea soup.

The taste was still indescribably awful—but it no longer felt impossible to swallow.

Whether from hunger—or something else—he didn’t know.

As he swallowed his breakfast, Gao De reviewed his schedule for the day.

Though he had killed a man in the dead of night, his duties still had to be done.

This morning: tending to certain herbs in the garden and feeding the gray mice. Afternoon: preparing basic spider venom potion. Night: cultivation.

Day after day—fixed, monotonous.

He drank the last sip of warm pea soup, stood, bid Amy farewell, and headed toward the back courtyard.

That was where the herb cultivation area lay.

Yesterday, through his roommate Amy, Gao De had gained a rough understanding of the garden’s layout and zones—he could now navigate independently.

(End of Chapter)