As they walked away, Wen Shiru glanced back over his shoulder. He t Wangchen’s gaze.
For a second, the mask dropped.
Wen Shiru’s eyes were cold as if he was saying, ’You are just a mad dog. Keep barking, and I will put you down.’
Wangchen’s eyes replied: ’Touch what is mine, and I will freeze the blood in your veins.’
Wangchen watched them go, his chest heaving slightly. The happy mory of the hotpot was gone, replaced by the bitter taste of rivalry.
He touched the white tassel on his sword again, grounding himself.
’He is in the kitchen,’ Wangchen told himself, calming the storm in his heart. ’The Young Master is safe. He is waiting for . Let the Sun shine over there. I will keep the Moon to myself.’
He leaned back against the tree, closing his eyes. But this ti, there was no smile.
Only the cold, hard resolve of a Villain who had just realized that the entire world was trying to steal his treasure.
***
The System Shop interface hovered transparently in front of Lin Ji’an’s eyes, glowing with the tantalizing, predatory light of a micro-transaction mobile ga.
[Weekly Free Item: One (1) Sack of Ordinary Flour.]
[Daily Deal: 100-Year Spirit Ginseng. Price: 500 Points.]
[Flash Sale: Indestructible Mithril Wok. Price: 5,000 Points (20% Off!)]
"Five thousand points?" Ji’an hissed, nearly dropping the basket she was carrying. She kicked a pebble off the mountain path in frustration. "For a wok? Is it made of the tears of a phoenix? Does it cook the food for while singing lullabies? That is robbery! Highway robbery!"
She swiped the screen away with a scowl.
Since entering the Sect, her cultivation had skyrocketed.
Thanks to the unlimited supply of the low-quality ingredients in the kitchen and her Harmonious Five-Grain Constitution, she wasn’t just cooking; she was basically eating experience points.
Every taste-test of a dish, every inhalation of spiritual steam, pushed her cultivation forward.
She was now at Foundation Establishnt Stage 5.
To put that in perspective: Most Outer Disciples were still struggling in Qi Condensation.
Even the elite Inner Disciples like Wen Shiru were hovering around Foundation Establishnt Stage 1 or 2.
"I’m overpowered," Ji’an muttered, adjusting her gray servant robes. "But I’m also broke."
The Sect provided basic resources, but "basic" ant bland. The kitchen pantry had rice and pork, but it lacked soul.
It lacked the rare herbs, the spiritual basil, the magma-peppers, the moonlight-garlic, that turned a al into a masterpiece.
Buying them from the System was too expensive. Buying them from the rchant Guild required money she wanted to save for her retirent bakery fund.
That left Option C: Strategic Reallocation of Sect Resources.
Or, as normal people call it: Stealing.
.
.
.
The dicine Peak was strictly off-limits to unauthorized personnel. It was guarded by formations, beast-keepers, and the grumpy elders of the Alchemy Division.
However, Lin Ji’an had two things they didn’t account for:
The Yin-Yang Void Locket, which masked her presence so effectively that she was practically a ghost.
The nose of a Michelin Star chef who could sll a sprig of rosemary from three miles away.
She slipped through a gap in the periter fence, which she had found by following a fat spiritual rabbit earlier that morning, and entered the Holy Herb Garden.
"Holy..." Lin Ji’an almost felt she was in heaven.
It was a paradise.
Rows upon rows of glowing plants stretched out before her. The air was thick with a sweet, dicinal fog.
"Jackpot," Ji’an whispered, wiping a bit of drool from her lip.
She tiptoed past a sleeping guard dog, a Three-Eyed Hound that was currently snoring. And zeroed in on a patch of purple vegetation.
[System Scan: Purple-Cloud Basil (Rank 2 Spirit Herb).
Usage: Alchemy (Pills of Clarity).
Effect: Clears the mind.]
"Wrong," Ji’an corrected the System ntally. "Usage: Pesto. Effect: Deliciousness."
She pulled out a small trowel. "Don’t worry, little plant. I’m not going to burn you into a pill. I’m going to massage you with pine nuts and olive oil."
She dug it up with practiced speed, shaking off the dirt and shoving it into her spatial bag.
Next was a patch of Crimson Fire Roots. To alchemists, these were dangerous, explosive ingredients for fire-attribute bombs.
But to Lin Ji’an, they were the perfect substitute for Szechuan Chili Peppers.
"Co to papa," she crooned, reaching for the red, glowing roots.
She was having the ti of her life. It was like a buffet where everything was free if you were fast enough.
She humd a little tune, hopping from one patch to another, filling her bag with "soup stocks" and "garnishes."
She was just reaching for a Golden-Thread Scallion when a cold voice sliced through the humid air like a razor blade.
"You have nimble fingers for a thief."
Ji’an froze. Her hand was hovering inches from the scallion.
’Busted,’ she thought. ’Plan B: Deny everything.’
She stood up slowly, dusting off her knees. She turned around with a look of polite confusion.
Standing on a large rock ten paces away was a young man.
He was dressed in the pristine white robes of the Inner Sect, but unlike the others, his robes were sharp, tailored to perfection, and devoid of any dust.
He stood with his arms crossed, a longsword strapped to his back. His face was undeniably handso, with a sharp jawline, high nose, and eyes that looked like they judged the world and found it wanting.
Lu Jianheng, the Sword Sect Young Lord, is one of the love interests.
"Thief?" Ji’an asked, tilting her head. "That is a harsh word, Brother. I am rely... weeding."
"Weeding?" Lu Jianheng raised an eyebrow. The arrogance in his expression was palpable. "By putting the ’weeds’ into your spatial bag? Do you take for a fool, or are you just stupid?"
"I take you for soone who shouldn’t be skipping class," Ji’an parried, crossing her arms. "Aren’t the Inner Disciples supposed to be listening to lectures right now? Why is the Young Sword Lord hiding in the garden?"
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