The gift of the Heartwood Leaf was a silent revolution in Li Chen's life. It didn't bring him friends, but it earned him a sliver of wary respect. He was now "Elder Guo's oddity," a title that carried more protection than outright admiration.
The following week, a new assignment came down that involved all the Outer Disciples of their intake: a major harvest of Silverline Moss from the "Whispering Woods," a dense forest at the base of the mountain. This moss was a crucial reagent for healing poultices, and the sect needed a large quantity before the rainy season rendered it unusable.
The disciples were divided into groups. By some twist of fate—or perhaps the subtle hand of a bored administrator—Li Chen, Bai Lian, and Zhang Fan were all placed in the same group of ten, led by a stern Inner Disciple named Jun.
The journey down the mountain was a cacophony of youthful energy. Disciples joked, bragged about their progress, and pointed at strange flora and fauna. Li Chen walked quietly, his eyes cataloging the changing ecosystem. Bai Lian walked beside him, occasionally pointing out a rare herb with a soft, "Look, Li Chen, that's a Twining Soulflower. It only blooms when two grow together." It was a simple, peaceful observation.
Zhang Fan, trying to reclaim his dominance, regaled his clique with loud theories about how he would use the mission contribution points to exchange for a powerful fire-attribute technique.
The Silverline Moss grew in deep, shaded groves near a stream. Inner Disciple Jun demonstrated how to harvest it without damaging the delicate, silver-veined fronds. "Be efficient. Be careful. We regroup here at noon. Do not wander far."
The work was tedious. The moss was slippery and clung tightly to the rocks. Li Chen, applying the same patience he used in the herb garden, found a rhythm, his movements economical and precise. He noticed the moss thrived in a specific micro-climate where the mist from the stream met a particular type of shale rock.
Bai Lian worked near him, her movements graceful. "It's so peaceful here," she murmured, the sound of the stream almost swallowing her words. "Sometimes, in the kitchens, it's all shouting and steam. This is... nice."
Li Chen gave a small, genuine nod. It was the first time he'd acknowledged a shared feeling with another person since arriving. "The water's song is steady," he replied. "It doesn't rush."
It was a moment of simple, quiet connection, a small, relaxing respite from the constant pressure of cultivation.
The peace was shattered by a yelp of pain, followed by a string of curses.
It was Zhang Fan. He had gotten frustrated with a stubborn patch of moss and, instead of carefully working it loose, had channeled a burst of fiery qi into his hand to tear it free. A faint wisp of smoke had risen from the moss, and a moment later, Zhang Fan was clutching his hand, his face pale. The skin around his fingers was already swelling, turning an angry, purplish-red.
"Idiot!" Inner Disciple Jun barked, striding over. "The Silverline Moss releases a mild toxin when burned! It's in the briefing! Were you not listening?"
Zhang Fan hunched over, shame and pain warring on his face. "It... it burns..."
Jun sighed in exasperation. "We don't have the antidote here. We'll have to take him back to the sect. This will set the whole group's progress back." The other disciples in the group groaned, shooting angry glares at Zhang Fan.
Li Chen had been observing. He walked over to the stream and began carefully harvesting a different, broad-leafed plant with a bluish tint that grew at the water's edge.
"What are you doing, dirt-digger? Looking for more weeds?" one of Zhang Fan's friends snapped.
Li Chen ignored him. He brought the leaves over, along with a handful of wet, cool clay from the bank. "The scroll in the pavilion mentioned the Blue-Dew Plant often grows near the moss," he said to Jun. "Its sap can neutralize the toxin." He crushed the leaves, mixed them with the clay, and formed a cool, wet poultice.
He didn't wait for permission. He approached Zhang Fan, who flinched away.
"Don't touch me!" Zhang Fan snarled, though it was weakened by a wince of pain.
"Do you want to keep your hand?" Li Chen asked, his voice flat. The question hung in the air, stark and real. The other disciples fell silent.
Slowly, hesitantly, Zhang Fan extended his injured hand. His pride was a shattered thing at that moment. Li Chen applied the poultice gently, his movements sure. The effect was almost immediate. Zhang Fan let out a shuddering sigh as the cooling sensation fought back the burning pain, the swelling already beginning to recede.
The group was utterly silent, watching the boy they mocked literally hold the solution in his hands.
Inner Disciple Jun looked at Li Chen, a new, appraising light in his eyes. "You read the supplementary scrolls."
Li Chen simply nodded, finishing his work. "The clay draws out the heat. The plant does the rest. He should be able to continue with light duty in an hour."
The dynamic had shifted irrevocably. Zhang Fan wouldn't meet anyone's eyes, the pain in his hand now secondary to the deep humiliation and a confusing, grudging debt. The funny moment of his arrogant failure had turned into a painfully clear lesson he couldn't ignore.
As they resumed work, Bai Lian came to stand by Li Chen. "That was very kind of you," she said softly.
Li Chen looked at the stream, then at Zhang Fan, who was sitting alone, nursing his wounded hand and his wounded pride. "It wasn't kindness," Li Chen said, his voice low. "An unstable element in the group is a weakness for everyone. Stabilizing him stabilized the team."
It was a cold, logical assessment, and yet, the action itself had been one of compassion. Bai Lian looked at him, her head tilted, as if trying to solve a profound puzzle. She saw not a heartless calculator, but someone whose actions were so deeply rooted in a principle of balance that kindness and logic became the same thing.
The mission continued, but the air was thick with unspoken thoughts. As Li Chen returned to harvesting the moss, his fingers brushing over the silver veins, he felt a strange, almost imperceptible vibration from a nearby rock formation. It was out of sync with the mountain's pulse. A subtle wrongness. It was the first hint of a plot that would unfold not in a single chapter, but over the coming arc, a secret hidden in the very earth beneath their feet.
The battle for the day wasn't against a monster, but against impatience and poison. And Li Chen, once again, had proven that the deepest strength often lies not in striking first, but in understanding the battlefield itself.