A gleaming aluminum medical case? An intricately crafted brass injector?

Back at Harmony Rickshaw Yard, Xiangzi had glimpsed the clanging trams outside the embassy district. Later, beyond West City, he’d seen the massive floating dock suspended in the sky. By now, he thought he’d seen all this world’s oddities.

But these meticulously crafted, assembly-line products sent a chill up his spine. This shouldn’t be this world’s technology.

Perhaps noticing his unease, a yellow-robed disciple spoke softly, “Don’t panic, Junior Brother. Steady your mind.”

Her voice was like silver bells. Xiangzi looked up and saw a face he hadn’t expected—blessed by the heavens, blending delicate beauty with martial valor.

He’d first seen that stunning face on his initial mining route, when Wen San and Uncle Jie were still alive. Stirred by some hidden emotion, Xiangzi calmed himself, lowering his head and clasping his fists. “Thank you, Third Young Miss Li.”

Li, now an inner disciple, paused, a captivating smile curving her lips. An outer apprentice calling her by name didn’t surprise her—she’d grown used to such attention and gazes over her years in the hall. She didn’t notice the flicker of suppressed ferocity in Xiangzi’s eyes.

—

“Inspection complete. Please, Courtyard Masters, verify.”

Third Young Miss Li bowed, her clear voice ringing toward the high platform.

“Approved.”

“Approved.”

Gruff voices echoed from above. A middle-aged Hundred Herbs Courtyard senior solemnly lifted the injector, addressing Xiangzi gravely. “Junior Brother, you’ve used the Marrow-Washing Pill. The Bone-Strengthening Broth trial is similar, but beyond skin and bones, you must guard your will and spirit.”

Xiangzi nodded firmly. Master Liu had nagged him about refining the medicine and holding his spirit the whole way—his ears were calloused from it.

“When you’re ready, call me,” the senior continued. “But I warn you, the Bone-Strengthening Broth’s power fades after one incense stick.”

Xiangzi smiled, clasping his fists. “I’m ready, Senior Brother. Inject it.”

The Hundred Herbs senior, who’d administered countless injections, paused. Knowing the term “injection” was one thing, but this calm? He’d seen apprentices wail or feign composure—mortal flesh facing a ninth-grade life-or-death trial always feared. Failure meant losing one’s martial path at best, or skin splitting and bones shattering at worst. Yet this kid seemed eager.

With a wry smile, the senior raised the injector. “Assume your stance!”

Xiangzi grinned, sinking into position. An inexplicable, overwhelming aura surged. Rooted to the earth!

—

“Yo, this kid’s stance is solid, but at his age, the Bone-Strengthening Broth might be tough,” a white-haired, purple-robed man on the platform chuckled, his chest embroidered with a golden herb—the mark of the Hundred Herbs Courtyard Master.

Master Liu scoffed. “Old Zhang, what do you know? This is called biding one’s time for a breakthrough! Not everyone’s like you, soaked in tonics since childhood, yet stuck at seventh grade, unable to pass the Membrane Condensation Barrier!”

Old Zhang bristled. “Who’re you talking about? You’re so great—how come you haven’t passed that barrier either?”

Master Liu grinned, his mouth twisting. “Me? A nobody from nothing, no tonics in my youth. I barely made ninth grade near twenty. Where’s the chance or time to break through?”

His barbed words silenced Old Zhang, whose face flushed with anger.

“Hey, you sly old dog, that’s why you’re coddling this kid? I heard his treatment’s beyond any first-class apprentice. If he fails the ninth grade, how’ll you explain it to the old hall master?” Old Zhang shot back.

Master Liu shrugged. “What’s it to you? The old hall master put me in charge of this trial, not you. Not convinced? Chase him to Shen City and cry on his leg like you used to.”

“You… you!” Old Zhang sputtered.

“What ‘you’? Straighten your tongue before you talk. No wonder you’re stuck hoeing herbs your whole life!” Master Liu taunted.

As the two courtyard masters bickered, the others looked away, feigning ignorance. In the hall’s five courtyards, Miscellaneous and Hundred Herbs were the least prominent. Liu and Zhang were evenly matched, no masters by any stretch. But as the old hall master’s junior brothers, they outranked the others in seniority. In the outer and inner sects, martial prowess ruled, but at the courtyard master level, who dared ignore seniority? The old hall master might seem jovial, but his fists hit hard

.

“Hmph!” The two old brothers turned away simultaneously.

But Master Liu’s eyes glinted, and he grinned. “How about a bet?”

At “bet,” Old Zhang perked up but, seeing Liu’s face, turned away silently.

“What, Old Zhang, scared?” Liu prodded.

Old Zhang spun back, fuming. “Scared of what? Name it!”

Liu grabbed his sleeve. “I hear you refined a Spirit Essence Fruit last month. Let’s bet that! If this kid passes the ninth grade, it’s mine. If not, my mid-city house is yours.”

At “Spirit Essence Fruit,” the other courtyard masters turned, eyes gleaming—it was clearly extraordinary. Even inner disciples gasped—stingy old Liu wagering his house?

A true high-stakes gamble!

Old Zhang’s expression flickered, then he gritted his teeth. “Fine, we bet!”

Master Liu smiled leisurely. “Then we’ll see.”

Another purple-robed courtyard master interjected, “Uh, Master Zhang, this kid was poisoned last night while refining the Marrow-Washing Pill—with Five Ores Powder.”

“I don’t care about seven or eight powders—” Old Zhang froze, jaw dropping.

Five Ores Powder? An apprentice endured it during the Marrow-Washing Pill?

“You damn dog, Liu, why didn’t you tell me?” Old Zhang’s mustache quivered.

Master Liu chuckled. “The bet’s set. Only a pup backs out.”

“Argh, you’ll be the death of me!” Old Zhang roared, tugging his purple robe.