Master Liu led the way, his usual laziness replaced by a rare vigor. Clad in a pristine purple robe, he exuded an uncommon air of authority. Perhaps due to last night’s commotion, two stern-faced Wind Justice Courtyard seniors accompanied him.

The procession drew many eyes, but Xiangzi, accustomed to scrutiny, remained unfazed. His long-awaited Bone-Strengthening Broth was within reach, yet his heart was strangely calm.

Uncharacteristically, he felt no fear of failing to withstand the medicine. Or rather, he had little to fear—what was a single life? Having lived twice, what could he dread? At worst, he’d return it to the heavens.

Besides, since escaping the Li family mines, his life no longer felt like his own. The path he now walked was paved with the blood of Wen San, Big-Mouth Li, Uncle Jie, and the rickshaw yard brothers.

The morning sky blazed with vibrant dawn, painting the carved beams and painted eaves in flowing gold. It was a sight unseen in the rickshaw yard. If Wen San were here, he’d be yammering for hours, making a fuss. This was the grandeur Uncle Jie had chased his whole life but never grasped.

Xiangzi’s hand brushed the old bundle on his back, the cold touch of two short spears seeping through the coarse cloth. The chill spread from his palm to his heart, anchoring his resolve.

He rose slightly on his toes, his gaze piercing the bustling East City, the grimy South City, the lifeless refugees beyond Yongchang Gate, and the familiar mining routes—straight through the oppressive Li family mines.

The sun blazed, the sky empty but for endless golden light. Xiangzi squinted, a faint smile curving his lips.

Third Brother, Uncle Jie… if there’s such a thing as spirits in the heavens, you’d better watch closely. Xiangzi’s about to reach the ninth grade.

—

After passing through several corridors, the path opened wide. The ninth-grade trial was held in the outer sect’s Martial Performance Hall.

It was Xiangzi’s first time in the outer sect. Compared to the ornate pavilions of the apprentice courtyard, the outer sect was solemn and austere. Black-robed disciples hurried through uniform gray-brick and red-tile buildings.

Inside the hall, the high platform was lined with young men in yellow robes and a few middle-aged figures in purple. Master Liu clasped his fists toward the platform, whispering, “Stay focused. Don’t gawk. By hall rules, apprentice ninth-grade trials are overseen by inner disciples and courtyard masters.”

With that, he ambled to the platform, joining the purple-robed figures. Xiangzi was surprised. Yellow robes marked inner disciples, while purple signified either the hall master’s personal disciples—like Lin Junqing—or courtyard masters. But Master Liu, that scruffy old martial artist, was one of the five courtyard masters?

Xiangzi exhaled, reining in his gaze. Didn’t expect my little apprentice trial to draw such big names.

—

On the platform, a burly young man with hands behind his back yawned lazily. As a Wind Justice Courtyard deacon, he’d been up half the night and dragged here at dawn, his face betraying impatience.

Everyone knew his slothful nature, but even the courtyard masters ignored it—what could they say? This guy’s been an oddball since joining the hall.

But when he spotted Xiangzi below, he paused. A junior beside him, sensing his interest, whispered, “This guy joined the apprentice courtyard just over a month ago, but his skin-tempering and bone-forging are already impressive. Word is, his foundation’s solid. Last night’s mess was tied to him.”

“Oh?” The burly youth sat up, a faint smile forming. “This is the kid who endured the Five Ores Powder?”

“You bet! That stuff’s deadly, and he powered through,” the junior said, grinning. “Didn’t you see? Master Liu from the miscellaneous courtyard treats him like a treasure.”

“What, Brother Wan’s got a soft spot for talent? Thinking of pulling him into the Wind Justice Courtyard?” the junior teased.

Wan Yuxuan scoffed. “Wind Justice sounds grand, but it’s dull. If this kid’s got real talent, he should join the Four Seas Courtyard, roam the world, and live freely.”

The junior flinched, his eyes darting to a nearby purple-robed middle-aged man—the Wind Justice Courtyard master. The stern master’s lips twitched, but he seemed deaf to the comment.

The junior forced a smile, lowering his voice. “Brother Wan, you jest. Only ninth-grade peak martial artists can enter the Four Seas Courtyard. Even if he makes ninth grade, he’d need to serve a half-year assignment first. No way he’d qualify straight off.”

Wan Yuxuan didn’t reply, only smirking playfully. He recognized the kid. Back at the Li family mines, he’d personally given him a demon bear heart. Was he a rickshaw puller or a guard back then? He couldn’t recall.

Back then, Wan Yuxuan had only noted his solid stance work. He hadn’t expected to see him here, a nobody daring the ninth-grade life-and-death trial in mere months, earning Master Liu’s favor. Even by Wan Yuxuan’s standards, that deserved a “not bad.”

Especially since he’d endured the Five Ores Powder. Coming from the Wan family, he knew more about mineral medicines than most—having been steeped in their dangers since childhood. The “Martial Bone Prodigy” grew curious about this kid.

—

Under the guard of two yellow-robed inner disciples, a box was wheeled out on a vine chair. Xiangzi’s eyes narrowed at the sight of it.

He’d never imagined seeing such a thing in this world. The sleek, silver-gray aluminum alloy box gleamed with lacquered shine, its black grooves sharp and precise. A bold, crimson enamel “M” marked the lid’s center.

Pressing the “M,” white mist billowed as an inner disciple lifted a cylindrical object from a brass base. It was bizarre—child’s-arm thick, with an amber glass shell and a cold-gleaming brass plunger. A matte metal needle protruded from its center.

Xiangzi’s eyes tightened, suppressing a storm of shock. An injector!

Through the amber glass, a viscous, bubbling, five-colored liquid shimmered with a dim, eerie glow.

This… is the Bone-Strengthening Broth?