"No wonder he disdained cauldrons. When he could purge impurities just in his hands, the cauldrons would just make it in efficient for him." Han Yu understood.
According to the biography, Lin Shao Deng had never truly identified the energy he used.. He didn’t na it as Soul Qi, nor did he ever publish formal studies on it. Most considered his "True Essence" ramblings to be the result of a mild overdose of Enlightennt Mushrooms mixed with a failed pill.
After all, how could a healer suddenly tap into a power that most cultivators didn’t even believe existed?
But Han Yu knew better. He used Soul Qi. He saw the needle. It was real.
"Wait..." Han Yu flipped the page.
There was a section that described the later years of the Needle Finger Alchemist. According to the author, Lin Hao Wen had begun making strange declarations—claiming that true alchemy wasn’t about pills at all.
It was about the understanding of life itself. That the greatest concoctions didn’t co from fla and tal, but from the direct interface between soul and essence.
He tried to teach others his thods... but no one succeeded.
Because no one else had access to Soul Qi.
Han Yu’s fingers gripped the edge of the page. "So I’m the only one who can follow his path...?"
The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying.
The biography went on to say that Lin Hao Wen disappeared not long after declaring that he would "refine a pill using nothing but willpower and the essence of the stars." Many thought he’d gone mad and wandered off into the wilderness to die. Others claid they saw him decades later, unchanged, poking a dragon’s tail with a glowing finger in so distant mountain range.
Han Yu closed the book, his eyes burning with quiet awe.
The man wasn’t just an alchemist. He was a pioneer. A borderline lunatic. But one who had clearly walked the fringes of soul cultivation before anyone else had the vocabulary for it.
And now Han Yu had his technique in hand.
More than that, he had a potential road forward.
A roadmap written in nonsense, sealed in dust, and only decipherable by soone equally weird.
Han Yu grinned and muttered under his breath, "Maybe I really do need to poke a dragon."
He leaned back, his hands behind his head, the sun filtering through the paper window above. The Soul Pricking Finger... the Soul Stinging Needle... these were just the beginning. If the Needle Finger Alchemist had co this far by accident, then what could Han Yu achieve on purpose?
"Li i’s going to freak out when she sees this," he said with a smug smile.
Then he sat up with a start.
"...Wait, I have to hide this from Li i. Otherwise she will make poke a dragon."
The next day Han Yu strolled down the bustling market street with a subtle spring in his step, his fingers casually tapping the old book tucked under his arm.
A smug grin tugged at his lips as he passed street vendors, quarrelling rchants, and squawking spirit beasts tethered to wooden posts. Even the sight of a man haggling loudly over pickled snake intestines couldn’t sour his mood.
He felt... victorious.
Not only had he gotten his hands on a rare soul qi technique—hidden beneath layers of obscure prose and questionable floorboards—but he had also discovered sothing far more valuable: a potential path forward in his cultivation. Sothing unique. Sothing his.
The Needle Finger Alchemist—Lin Shao DEng—had once seed like a random eccentric, a footnote in the history of alchemy.
But now? Now Han Yu saw him as a trailblazer. A kindred soul. A man whose legacy had been grossly underestimated.
And Han Yu was determined to unearth more of that legacy.
Which was why he soon found himself back in one of the more reputable bookshops near the scholar’s quarter, approaching a long wooden counter lined with scrolls and inkstones. A bored-looking clerk glanced up at him from behind a pile of registers.
"Excuse ," Han Yu said, placing the biography on the counter. "Do you happen to have any of the Needle Finger Alchemist’s techniques? Skills? Anything like that?"
The clerk raised a brow, clearly more interested in his half-eaten bun than the inquiry. "You an Lin Shao Deng? The one who poked people?"
"Yes," Han Yu said, tapping the book. "That one. I’m looking for any of his cultivation techniques or special skills. Needle Finger-related manuals, maybe a follow-up to this book?"
The man chuckled dryly. "Yeah, good luck with that."
Han Yu blinked. "So... no?"
The clerk leaned forward, lowering his voice as if to impart so ancient wisdom. "Look, friend. No one keeps his techniques. Never have. Most people thought they were just gibberish. Said to be full of nonsense and half-finished thoughts. If you’re looking for pill recipes, sure—we’ve got so minor compendiums with his more stable concoctions. But actual skills? Nah. They’re long gone. Burned, lost, or tossed out."
Han Yu frowned. "What about collectors? Private libraries? Anyone known for hoarding old techniques?"
The man scratched his chin. "Well... the Mist Eye Sect’s known for preserving obscure skills. If anyone’s hoarding Lin Shao Deng’s madness, it’s probably them. So of the bigger sects might have pieces locked away too, but good luck getting access. You’d need rank or reputation."
Han Yu’s eyes lit up. Mist Eye Sect... and maybe the big ones...
That ant Twin Leaf Peak Sect might also have sothing. He’d barely scratched the surface of their Skill Pavilion—and he’d never even been allowed near the more advanced or restricted sections.
Who knew what strange manuals were collecting dust in those vaulted chambers? He might’ve walked past a Needle Finger scroll a dozen tis and never known it.
Hope surged through him.
He gave the clerk a friendly nod. "Thanks for the info. You’ve been... surprisingly helpful."
The clerk grunted and resud chewing his bun. "Just don’t co back crying when the next thing you read tells you to poke a demon bear in the spleen."
Han Yu smiled. "If I do, I’ll bring a big stick."
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