Chapter 5 - Duty and Discovery

Muhsan's journey back to the Samang Sect was unhurried. He relished the solitude of the mountains, inhaling the crisp air laced with the faint scent of wild herbs. Such peace was a rare luxury amid his responsibilities.

"Ahh, it's good to be like this sometimes," he murmured, exhaling deeply. At times, he spun through the air, letting the wind whip around him. Other times, he floated lazily, taking in the scenery. Dense forests, winding rivers, and villages nestled in the valleys stretched below. It was a welcome contrast to the structured life within the sect.

These moments were fleeting. As an elder candidate and the right hand of the alchemy department, his days were consumed by managing herb gardens, sourcing medicinal plants, and overseeing the creation of pills and potions. Even so, he allowed himself this brief reprieve.

"The sect will survive a day or two without me," he chuckled, adjusting his robes as he hovered above a scenic ridge.

Yet, even in stillness, his thoughts returned to his cultivation. He had been stuck at the fourth level of the Foundation Establishment stage for too long. It was not a matter of talent or resources. He had exhausted many of the sects best, but the bottleneck refused to break. Perhaps he lacked a crucial insight, or maybe it was simply a matter of time.

This trip had been, in part, an effort to find rare herbs that could aid his breakthrough. Such discoveries were fiercely contested among cultivators, since even a slight advancement could tip the scales. He had not found anything for himself this time, but the journey had not been wasted.

The Red Veined Horse Cabbages were a significant find. Though not high-grade spiritual herbs, they played a vital role in creating blood-coagulating potions that were essential for treating wounds, especially among younger disciples who were still prone to injury. In their early Qi Condensation stage, these disciples remained mostly mortal, their bodies yet to be tempered by spiritual energy. The cabbages inner core fortified their constitutions, preparing them for the arduous path of cultivation.

Muhsan recalled his own past. As a young disciple, he had once suffered a deep wound during a sect mission. The pain had been sharp, and the blood loss had been dangerous. In that moment, he had realized the importance of external medicines. Had he been forced to expend his spiritual energy to heal, he would have been left vulnerable, unable to defend himself, cast talismans, or use spells. The blood-coagulating potion he had carried had saved him.

The memory deepened his appreciation for the cabbages. The sect had long struggled to cultivate them, their efforts yielding little success. That was until Eshmund.

It had been luck that led Muhsan to the boys hidden crop. While flying over the mountains, he had noticed unusual patches of dirt between the rocks. The arrangement was too deliberate to be natural. Investigating further, he had discovered not only the cabbages but also their young caretaker. The boys harvest was careful and precise, his hands steady beyond his years. It was rare to see such diligence in someone so young.

"Meeting the boy already made this trip worthwhile," Muhsan mused aloud.

His thoughts turned to the sects newest disciples, many around Eshmunds age. Most entered no stronger than martial artists, their bodies still unrefined by cultivation. Martial arts provided a foundation, but only those with spiritual roots could step beyond mortal limits. Even so, discipline and physical training were valuable in the early stages.

Eshmund stood apart, not for his strength, but for his resourcefulness. He had done what seasoned cultivators and herbalists could not. He had successfully grown these rare cabbages in an inhospitable terrain.

"It is impressive," Muhsan murmured. "To succeed where others have failed The boy has potential."

Regret flickered across his face. He should have checked Eshmunds spiritual root. If the boy possessed the aptitude for cultivation, he could be recruited into the sect, perhaps even as his own disciple.

"And if he does not?" he pondered aloud. Even without a spiritual root, the boys skill in herb cultivation was invaluable.

Many mortals supported the sect, working as farmers, craftsmen, or merchants. In return, they received protection and resources, with some even gaining access to medicines that extended their lifespans. Eshmund, with his unique talent, could prove to be a vital asset.

His choice to plant the cabbages in a secluded, rocky area rather than on his familys land suggested independence. The Isagani family owned an apothecary, but the boy had chosen secrecy, avoiding prying eyes. That alone spoke volumes.

The next time their paths crossed, Muhsan would see for himself.

It was likely Eshmunds first encounter with a cultivator, yet his reaction had been strikingly measured. Most children stared in awe, but Eshmund had remained focused, cautious, yet composed.

Even his approach to selling the cabbages had been deliberate. He neither undersold nor overplayed his hand, displaying an understanding beyond his years.

"Perhaps," Muhsan mused, "the boy is more than just talented. He might be someone the sect can trust."

A follower of a sect must conduct themselves in accordance with the sects rules and teachings. Their actions do not only reflect on them but also on the sect as a whole. Any misstep could bring unwanted trouble and tarnish the sects name.

Some cultivators love to fight, eager to test their abilities and seize valuable cultivation resources. While sparring is a common practice, there are always those who exploit it for personal gain, disregarding the consequences.

Those who understand how to carry themselves with discipline, avoid unnecessary conflicts, and uphold the sects reputation are highly valued. After all, cultivation is a path to immortality, not an excuse to get killed in reckless battles.

As Muhsan neared the Samang Sects territory, the towering mountain peaks formed a sharp outline against the sky. The familiar landscape stirred a deep sense of belonging. His thoughts drifted to his early years in the sect, when he had been young, orphaned, and lost. The Samang Sect had given him not only purpose but also the chance to cultivate his skills and understand the true nature of power.

Nestled at the base of a vast mountain range in the northern empire, the Samang Sect spanned hundreds of square kilometers, encompassing medicinal herb gardens, training fields, and research halls. Mist clung to the peaks, thick with spiritual energy, a place where cultivators could feel closer to the heavens.

Beyond the mountains, a deep, uninhabited jungle stretched endlessly, home to magical beasts that occasionally wandered into sect lands. Further beyond lay the desert ruins of the Lightning Dragon Country, once a mighty nation, now a barren wasteland after its destruction by a Deity Transformation cultivator five thousand years ago.

The sects secluded position provided both security and resources. While difficult to reach, it allowed them to protect their secrets, maintain neutrality, and cultivate without interference. Though not the largest sect in the empire, the Samang Sect had carved out a respected place for itself, balancing martial prowess with alchemy, healing, and a philosophy of harmony between mind, body, and spirit.

Its leader, a formidable Core Formation cultivator, governed with a steady hand. Unlike the empires Nascent Soul cultivators, who held god-like influence, he prioritized stability over conquest. This philosophy extended to the sects role in the empire, where they aided in construction, controlled magical beasts, and managed resources, maintaining a strong network of alliances and trade relations.

The sect was divided into several departments, with alchemy being one of the most prominent. Cultivators and mortals alike played a role in its operation where non-cultivators managed herb farming, craftsmanship, and trade in exchange for protection and resources. Unlike many sects that disregarded mortals, the Samang Sect fostered cooperation, ensuring prosperity for both.

As the right-hand man to the Elder of Alchemy, Muhsan oversaw the medicinal herb gardens, where rare plants like the Red Veined Horse Cabbage were cultivated in terraced fields along the mountainsides. These herbs were vital for potions, energy-enhancing pills, and healing elixirs that sustained the sects disciples.

Despite its influence, the sect remained limited compared to those led by Nascent Soul cultivators. Breaking through to that stage required decades of persistence and deep understandingsomething only a rare few could achieve. Yet, the sects strength lay not in sheer power but in its principles. This approach had earned its respect throughout the empire, ensuring its place among the most esteemed cultivation sects.




Most sects in the empire focused solely on martial strength or were dominated by Nascent Soul cultivators, often disregarding mortals as mere tools. The Samang Sect stood apart. It was more than a center of power; it was a living institution that fostered cooperation between cultivators and mortals. Its land reflected this philosophy, blending cultivated fields, training grounds, and natural landscapes to support both the magical and the mundane.

Even in martial training and cultivation, the sect emphasized discipline, balance, and inner peace. For its disciples, cultivation wasn't just about gaining strength. It was about understanding ones place in the world, mastering the self, and achieving harmony between the spiritual, mental, and physical realms. This philosophy distinguished the Samang Sect from the aggressive, power-hungry methods of many others, making it a powerful yet neutral force within the empire.

As Muhsan descended toward the sect, its towering spires emerged from the forest below. The setting sun cast long shadows over the stone walls, bathing the courtyards in a warm glow. Despite the long days spent in the field, the sight of the sect always brought him peace. It was a place of learning and growth, welcoming both those seeking the path of immortality and those who simply wished to study.

Landing lightly near one of the sects pavilions, Muhsan stored his flying tool away with practiced ease.

"Senior." He was immediately greeted by a few younger disciples who bowed, cupping their hands in respect while approaching him, knowing he had just returned from a mission. Muhsan took out the bundles from his storage ring and a few jade boxes containing magical spirit herbs and placed them on the ground.

"Ill have to trouble you juniors to handle these and send them to the Alchemy Hall" , he said, pointing to them bunch of items he just taken out.

"Sure, senior," the juniors quickly picked up the bundles and made their way to the Alchemy Hall.

Meanwhile, Muhsan proceeded to his own courtyard. As he walked, the familiar sight of his fellow cultivators and juniors hard at work reminded him of how far he had come. He too, had once been a beginner, struggling with the foundations of cultivation and honing his skills as a young disciple. The early stages had been difficult: the lack of power, the constant struggle to improve, the discipline required. It hadn't been easy. But it was all worth it. Every hardship, every moment of doubt had led him to where he was now.



He stopped in front of the main temple, looking up at the towering structure. Inside, the elder cultivators would be discussing new herbs and methods of cultivation. Muhsan had always appreciated the wisdom of the elders, who had seen countless generations of disciples come and go. The ancient texts, hidden techniques, and long history were all at his fingertips, and yet, even after all these years, he still felt there was so much more to learn.

Perhaps he would share his thoughts on the cabbages with the elders, but he had already promised Eshmund not to disclose anything about him, and he intended to keep that part a secret as they had agreed. The elders might have suggestions on how to cultivate the cabbages better or even enhance their properties. Or perhaps they would encourage him to find more of them. He decided he should plan a better way to approach the elders about it first, lest he inadvertently implicate the young boy. Either way, it felt good to return to the sect with something valuable both for himself and for the disciples who could benefit from it.

His elder, the one in charge of the Alchemy Department, had high expectations of him. With the sects reputation and growth depending on the quality of the pills and potions produced, Muhsan knew the importance of his role.

As the discussion in the main hall came to a close, Elder Qiyang exhaled deeply, his gaze settling on Muhsan with a trace of concern. "Muhsan, you've done well acquiring these herbs, but you're spreading yourself too thin. You cannot manage everything alone"

Muhsan inclined his head. "I understand, Elder, but finding reliable hands is difficult. Many disciples prefer tasks that yield immediate rewards rather than tending to fragile herbs day after day"

Elder Qiyangs fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of his chair. " Its an issue that plagues our sect, he admitted. Everyone wants the power of a great alchemists pill, yet few are willing to nurture the ingredients that make them possible." He shook his head, then sighed. "I, too, must focus on my cultivation. My lifespan is not limitless. The longer I delay, the harder it will be to break through".

Muhsans brows furrowed slightly. He had known the elder was nearing a critical point in his cultivation, but hearing it so plainly made the reality feel heavier. The Alchemy Department was already stretched thin. If Elder Qiyang entered seclusion for an extended period, the burden on him would only increase.

"We can hire temporary workers", Muhsan suggested after a moment. "But those without the necessary skill will do more harm than good. A single misstep can ruin an entire field of rare herbs"

Elder Qiyang nodded. "True. That's why I propose we do more than post simple tasks. We need an open recruitment." He studied Muhsan carefully. "Not just any disciples, but those with the temperament and talent for herb cultivation. Train them properly, and you wont have to struggle like this forever"

Muhsan considered the idea. Training a new batch of disciples would take time, but if they found the right people, it would be worth it in the long run. His thoughts flickered to Eshmund again, though he kept his face neutral.

"Ill arrange it," he said. .. "But until then, I still need someone for the current workload".

"Post another request. Increase the reward if necessary" , the elder instructed. Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "And while you're at it, go eat something. I know you're planning to stop by the diner for more than just a meal."

Muhsan coughed lightly, unable to hide his embarrassment. I merely intended to check the task board while eating.

"Hah".. Elder Qiyang chuckled. Go, then. But remember, responsibilities do not wait for indulgence.

Muhsan gave a final respectful bow before stepping out of the main hall, the lingering voices of the elders fading behind him. The weight of their discussion still sat in his mind, particularly the value of the Red Veined Horse Cabbages, the need for capable hands, and the potential of the boy, Eshmund.

But for now, he allowed himself a rare moment of indulgence.

The evening air carried the scent of roasted meats, stir-fried vegetables, and freshly steamed buns as he made his way toward the sects communal diner. The large, open hall was filled with disciples, some eating in silence, others chatting about their training and missions. Along the far wall, cooks and their assistants worked swiftly, preparing meals in exchange for contribution points.

Muhsans gaze swept the room before settling on a familiar figure..

Daulina's Diner was a humble yet vibrant establishment nestled near the heart of the Samang Sects grounds. It wasn't just a place for food, it was a haven where cultivators could take a break from their rigorous routines, enjoy a hearty meal, and recharge. The scents of simmering broths, freshly baked bread, and fragrant herbs wafted through the air, a stark contrast to the austere, focused energy that permeated most of the sect.

Daulina inherited the diner after her parents, both mortals, passed away several years ago. Before their passing, they had run the diner with a simple but effective system. One that she continued to uphold after their deaths. The sects contribution points became the primary currency for most patrons, allowing sect members to pay for their meals without the need for silver. However, there was always the occasional cultivator who preferred to use regular currency, mostly to avoid the hassle of tracking points.

Despite the simplicity of the diners operation, there was something almost magical about it. It wasn't just the food, though that was certainly a highlight. It was Daulina herself. Her calm, graceful presence made the diner feel like a place where time slowed, where cultivators could relax and shed the weight of their responsibilities, even if just for a moment.

Every time Muhsan returned from a journey, he made it a point to stop by her diner, his heart inexplicably drawn to her warmth and the way she carried herself. There was a quiet understanding in her eyes, a calm that spoke to the depths of her own cultivation journey. Though he never admitted it aloud, Muhsan couldn't help but feel a flutter in his chest every time their paths crossed.

Daulina, for her part, found herself intrigued by the tall, composed cultivator who always seemed to bring her the most delicate and thoughtful gifts - rare herbs, elegantly crafted trinkets, and occasionally, something from the outside world that he thought she might like. His visits, although fleeting, were always filled with warmth and care, and she couldn't deny that she enjoyed the attention.

"Junior Sister Daulina," Muhsan greeted her with a soft smile, his voice smooth and respectful. "I trust your day has gone well?"

She returned the smile, wiping her hands on her apron before stepping forward. "As well as any day can in the diner. Back from the outside? What would you like? The usual?"

Muhsan chuckled, though there was a glint of something deeper in his eyes. "Perhaps but I was hoping you might surprise me today. I could use something to lift my spirits after a long day."

She raised an eyebrow, her playful smile never faltering. "Something to lift your spirits? Ill see what I can do."

As she busied herself with preparations, Muhsan casually leaned against the counter, his gaze softening as he watched her. "You manage this place well," he said, his tone warm. "Your parents would be proud."

For a brief moment, Daulina's smile faltered, her fingers pausing mid-motion. But she quickly composed herself, turning to gather ingredients with a practiced ease. "I like to think so," she replied, her voice steady but laced with a hint of nostalgia. "They were simple people, but they had a way of making everyone feel welcome. I suppose I try to follow in their footsteps."

Muhsan admired the grace with which she worked, noticing how she balanced the weight of both the sect's expectations and her own responsibilities with quiet strength. Even after everything she had been through, she seemed to grow more grounded with each passing day. He couldn't help but feel a little proud of her, though their paths had always been so different.

"You could visit more often, not just after your missions," Daulina continued, her voice soft but direct. "It'd be nice to have some company now and then."

Muhsans smile warmed, though there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Ill take you up on that offer, Junior Sister Daulina. It's just that my duties don't leave much room for personal time. I hope one day, I'll find the balance I need."

Daulina stood behind the counter, her sleeves neatly tied back as she expertly ladled Chicken Ginger soup into a disciples bowl. The warm kitchen light flickered against her fair skin, her brows furrowing in focus as she worked.

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Muhsan's lips. He reached into his sleeve, placing his contribution token on the counter, then retrieved a small, wrapped bundle from the folds of his robes. He steadied his breath before stepping closer to her.

"Here," he said, his voice smooth, though there was an underlying sincerity.

Daulina paused, wiping her hands on her apron before taking the bundle. She ran her fingers over the wrapping, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "What is it?"

"A rare spirit fruit from the western mountains," Muhsan explained casually. "Sweet, with a bit of warmth to it. Good for stabilizing cultivation." His voice was light, but the care behind the gesture was clear.

For a moment, Daulina didn't reply. Then, a blush colored her cheeks as a small smile tugged at her lips. She tucked the gift into her apron pocket with a shy, "Thank you."

Their eyes met, and in that moment, something unspoken passed between them. Around them, the hustle of the diner continued, but to Muhsan, it felt as if the world had slowed down.

Clearing his throat, he broke the silence. "I should probably eat my meal now."

She smiled, nodding. "Ah, yes. Go pick a table, and Ill bring it to you."

As Muhsan made his way to an empty table, he couldn't help but smile. There had been no breakthroughs in his cultivation, no grand discoveries on this trip, but somehow, this moment, right here, made the journey feel worthwhile.