From a loser to an immortal sage

Chapter 450 Striving for Resources to Overcome Difficulties

As the wind from the training ground, carrying the scent of peach blossoms, slipped into my collar, I was tucking a ginkgo leaf into Chu Qing's hair.

The tip of her wooden sword was still covered with morning dew, shimmering in the sunlight—this sword was carved by a handyman at her request with three months' worth of monthly wages. The crooked peach blossoms on the hilt were more elaborate than the magic I taught her.

“Instructor Xiao,” Wang Erniu sidled closer, the faint blue light in his spiritual veins brightening slightly, “Senior Sister Zhou said our Qi-replenishing powder is half a percent less this month.” He scratched the back of his neck, a corner of his coarse cloth Daoist robe fluttering in the wind, revealing a faded undergarment beneath. “I… I discussed it with my junior sister; we can use it sparingly.”

My throat suddenly felt tight.

The "Inner Disciple Resource Book" that I found three days ago is still lying on my desk. The quota for new disciples is one-third of that for old disciples, but Chu Qing's ginkgo leaf can spin five times, and Wang Erniu's Qi-inducing technique is seven days faster than mine back then—they shouldn't be tied down by this little bit of medicine.

“Go and fetch Senior Brother Lin.” I straightened Wang Erniu’s collar, my fingertips touching the damp sweat on the back of his neck. “You two practice the Object Manipulation Technique first; I’ll go ask Hall Master Zhao.”

As the noise of the training ground faded into the distance, my palms were sweaty as I clutched the resource application.

Master Zhao's meditation room is on the third level of the Discipline Peak. The bluestone path is wet with morning dew, and every step feels like stepping on one's own heartbeat.

"Instructor Xiao?" The young boy guarding the door poked his head out. "The headmaster is checking the accounts; please wait a moment."

The door to the quiet room was ajar, and I heard the clatter of abacus beads mixed with Hall Master Zhao's low shout: "Reduce the cold iron quota for the three outer peaks by 20%, and the alchemy furnaces for the inner elders... cannot be waived any further!"

After waiting for the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the sound of the abacus stopped.

As I stepped inside, clutching my application, Hall Master Zhao was holding a thick, weightless "Resource Compendium," his eyes beneath his thick eyebrows like two swords tempered with ice: "Instructor Xiao, here to ask for things again?"

"This disciple wishes to secure a 30% increase in Qi-replenishing powder for the new disciples, and to exchange twenty wooden swords for black iron swords." I submitted the application. "Their Qi-cultivation progress is 20% faster than in previous years, and the assessment is in three months..."

"Stop." Hall Master Zhao slammed the ledger shut, making the teacup jump. "Does Instructor Xiao know that the spiritual veins are depleted this year, and all the peaks are reducing their quotas?"

The outer sect competition has just ended, and the inner sect is about to refine breakthrough pills. Even the elders' medicinal baths have been changed from once every seven days to once every ten days. "He tapped his knuckles on the table, "What you brought are just a bunch of little kids who have just entered the Qi Refining stage. What do you want with a Xuan Tie sword?"

A wooden sword, lacking a solid foundation, breeds arrogance!

My nails dug into my palms.

Three months ago, when I knelt in the servants' quarters begging for a wooden sword, I said the same thing—"What does a good-for-nothing like you need a sword?"

First, sweep the floor clean.

But things are different now. Chu Qing can ride on ginkgo leaves and fly over the peach branches of the training ground. Wang Erniu's spiritual veins have come alive. They are not useless people, but seeds that need swords.

“Master Zhao,” I said, my voice trembling, “last year the pass rate for new disciples was 30%, this year… we can reach 70%.”

"Seventy percent?" Hall Master Zhao suddenly laughed, his wrinkles deepening into deep furrows at the corners of his eyes. "Could it be that Instructor Xiao has been blinded by the children's progress?"

For a fledgling in the Qi Refining stage, just having food to eat is a blessing. He returned the application, the words "New Disciple Resource Supplement" on the cover scratched by his fingernails. "This month's Qi Refining Powder quota will be secure; don't push your luck."

The wind blew into the quiet room through the back window, making the application pages rustle.

When I stood up, clutching that page of paper, my knuckles were white.

Master Zhao had already lowered his head and was working on his abacus. The gilded "Discipline Hall" plaque above his head swayed so brightly that it made my eyes ache.

As I left the quiet room, I heard hushed conversations coming from the corridor.

"I heard Instructor Xiao went to ask for resources again. Does he really think he's some kind of inner sect elder?"

"Exactly! Those menial disciples she brought with her should be grateful they can even reach the Qi Refining stage, let alone want the Xuan Tie Sword?"

"Last time I saw that little girl Chu Qing using a wooden sword to pick at ginkgo leaves, it was hilarious—does she think she's some kind of powerful expert in the Artifact Manipulation Realm?"

I stopped in my tracks.

At the corner, two disciples dressed in moon-white Taoist robes were leaning against a pillar. One was Senior Brother Chen, who ranked third in the outer sect competition, and the other was Xiao Liu, a personal disciple of Hall Master Zhao.

Senior Brother Chen twirled the Xuan Tie sword in his hand, the cloud patterns on the blade gleaming coldly in the sunlight—it was the reward he had just received last month.

“Instructor Xiao.” Xiao Liu saw me and smiled like a flower with thorns. “You didn’t get it?”

That's right, our Discipline Hall is the fairest; we can't tolerate favoritism.

Senior Brother Chen laughed along, the Xuan Tie sword twirling in a silver arc at his fingertips: "If Instructor Xiao really cares about his disciples, why not share his monthly salary with them?"

I heard you just received a reward of twenty taels of silver last month for being promoted to instructor.

Blood rushed to the top of his head.

I gripped the application paper tightly, my fingernails almost piercing through the back of the paper.

Three months ago, when I was sweeping fallen leaves in the servants' quarters, they didn't even give me a second glance; now that my disciple can cultivate qi, they're suddenly pointing fingers at me and demanding justice?

“Senior Brother Chen is right.” I forced a laugh, my voice colder than the wind in the corridor. “Once my disciple manages to push you out of the top ten of the outer sect in the assessment, then I’ll ask you to teach me how to divide the monthly salary.”

Their smiles froze on their faces.

As I passed them, the Xuan Tie Sword clattered to the ground—Senior Brother Chen's hand was trembling.

The road back to the training ground suddenly became very long.

The peach blossoms fell to the ground, like crushed rosy clouds.

As I walked around the peach branches, a petal slipped from the corner of my sleeve and landed on the application paper, covering the three characters "Mysterious Iron Sword".

"Instructor Xiao!"

A familiar, crisp voice entered my ears.

Chu Qing was clinging to the wooden fence of the martial arts arena, the ginkgo leaves in her hair fluttering in the wind, holding a cloth bag in her hand: "Senior Brother Lin made some jujube soup, saying you definitely didn't eat breakfast!"

When she ran over, the plum blossom embroidery on the cloth bag brushed against the back of my hand—it was something she had embroidered while staying up all night, with crooked stitches.

Unwrapping the cloth bag, the sweet aroma of jujubes mingled with the steam, and Wang Erniu peeked out from behind her: "I... I gave half a Qi-replenishing powder to my junior sister. Her spiritual meridians were shining like lamps when she was practicing Qi cultivation today!"

The morning mist had dissipated at some point, and sunlight streamed into their eyes, dazzlingly bright.

I suddenly remembered that snowy night when I first transmigrated. I was squatting in the woodshed of the servants' quarters, looking at the stale porridge frozen solid and thinking: How can a useless person live to become a sword?

The answer is now right before our eyes—the loser needs a sword, but even more so, he needs a hand to deliver it.

“Starting tomorrow,” I scooped up a spoonful of jujube soup, the sweetness spreading from my tongue to my heart, “we’ll practice for two extra hours.” Looking into Chu Qing’s bright eyes, I folded the application paper into a small ball and stuffed it into my sleeve. “On the day of the assessment…let them see that our swords are harder than black iron.”

On the peach tree in the training ground, a ginkgo leaf was swept up by the wind and flew up, swirling towards the direction of Discipline Peak.

I watched it disappear into the clouds, when suddenly I heard footsteps behind me.

"Instructor Xiao."

I turned my head.

Elder Li stood beneath the peach tree, his silvery-white beard fluttering in the wind, a yellowed copy of "The Essentials of Controlling Objects" clutched in his hand. "I overheard your conversation in the quiet room," he said, handing me the book, his fingertips brushing against a crumpled piece of paper in my sleeve. "Regarding resources... I'll do my best."

The wind lifted his Taoist robe, revealing half a broken jade pendant at his waist—it was the pendant he was punished by the elders for fighting for spiritual veins for his disciples.

I took the book, and a note fluttered from between the pages, the ink still wet: Tomorrow at dawn, in the back alley of the alchemy room.

Chu Qing screamed from the training ground: "Instructor Xiao, look!"

I flew up carrying jujubes on a ginkgo leaf!

I watched her skipping figure and clenched the note in my hand.

As Elder Li's footsteps faded into the distance, I heard him sigh softly, "But... things are difficult with Hall Master Zhao."

The bluestone slabs in the back alley of the alchemy room were still covered with night dew. When I arrived, clutching the note Elder Li had given me, he was standing under the old locust tree with his hands behind his back. A few strands of his silver beard were lifted by the wind, like spider silk covered with frost.

“Instructor Xiao.” As he turned, I noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “Master Zhao…it’s tough.” He pulled a celadon bottle from his sleeve and handed it to me. “This is my secret stash of bone-healing ointment, for the children.”

I held the porcelain bottle, my fingertips touching its icy surface: "Didn't the elder say...to do our best?"

“Last month, the tribulation lightning on West Peak shattered three spiritual veins,” he sighed slowly, as if chewing on a hard pebble. “The Elders’ Council cut this year’s resource quota by forty percent. Hall Master Zhao has to keep an eye on the peaks to prevent trouble, so how could he dare to set a precedent for new disciples?” His gaze fell on the bulging crumpled paper in my sleeve pocket—the resource application I had rewritten last night. “I mentioned it to you in the council hall the other day, but Elder Zhang dismissed it with the argument that ‘outer disciples are not fit to be pillars of the inner sect.’”

The withered branches of the old locust tree crackled overhead, and a withered leaf fell onto Elder Li's shoulder.

He reached out to brush it off, and only then did I see the calluses on his knuckles—just like my hands, which had been used for three years as a handyman, worn out from years of labor.

“Alright,” he patted the back of my hand, “you should think of another way.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “By the way, the trial stone in the training ground should be replaced at 3:45 AM today.”

I watched his hunched back disappear into the alleyway, cold sweat seeping from the porcelain bottle in my palm.

The wind swirled the locust leaves, sweeping past the application paper at my feet—it had fallen out when I was taking out the porcelain bottle earlier, and the three characters "Xuan Tie Jian" were blurred by the dew.

The noise from the training ground drifted over from half a mountain, mixed with Chu Qing's laughter.

I stuffed the application paper back into my sleeve pocket and walked back, my heels crunching over the fallen leaves, each step feeling like walking on cotton.

Turning past the peach grove, you'll see a group of people gathered around the wooden fence of the martial arts training ground.

Wang Erniu's booming voice rang out: "Junior Sister, don't force yourself!"

My heart skipped a beat. When I ran over, Chu Qing was squatting on the ground rubbing her wrists. A ginkgo leaf in her hair was askew behind her ear, and a half-cracked wooden sword lay at her feet.

She looked up and saw me, quickly hiding her injured hand behind her back, but her eyes shone with an unnatural brightness: "Instructor Xiao!"

I...I just tried to review the Art of Controlling Objects, and the sword...the sword cracked by itself.

I crouched down and took her wrist.

The lump under her skin looked like a small walnut; touching it made her gasp, but she forced a smile, biting her lip: "It doesn't really hurt, it's just a little numb."

"Who told you to practice with this broken wooden sword?" Wang Erniu's eyes were red as he pulled out an oiled paper package from his pocket. "I found a piece of broken black iron at the handyman's workshop the other day. I was thinking of making a tassel for you... but Senior Sister Zhou said a wooden sword is easier on the hand..."

"I wanted to practice it myself!" Chu Qing exclaimed anxiously, tugging at Wang Erniu's sleeve with her other hand. "Instructor Xiao said our swords are harder than Xuan Tie!"

My throat tightened, and I looked down to see the bloodstains on Chu Qing's palm—the wooden sword had cracked and pierced her skin, and tiny red beads of blood seeped out, looking like red beans in her fair hand.

Three days ago, she was showing off this sword to me, saying that the peach blossoms on the hilt were rounder than before.

"To the pharmacy." I picked Chu Qing up in my arms, her hair brushing against my chin, carrying the sweet scent of jujubes. "Let's go now."

"No!" She suddenly grabbed my collar, pressed her forehead against my shoulder, and said in a muffled voice, "The medicine at the pharmacy costs money. I... I saved up three months' salary, enough to buy half a plaster..."

The wind in the training ground suddenly stopped.

I looked at the withered ginkgo leaf in her hair and remembered how she held up the wooden sword three days ago and said, "I want to fly over the highest peach branch." I remembered the Qi-boosting powder that Wang Erniu secretly gave her and the annotations of "The Art of Controlling Objects" that Senior Brother Lin stayed up all night to give them—these children even try to save their pain.