A month ago, Fang Jin Yu was shoveling excrement. A month later, he was still shoveling excrement.
To the outside world, Fang Jin Yu maintained that he was grateful for the sect's "gift"—his rare chance to enter the Lingdu Secret Realm. In order to show his appreciation for that opportunity, he claimed he was volunteering to shovel excrement as his modest contribution to the harmonious development of the Tianling Sect. His rationale, "since my parents sacrificed their lives for the sect," painted him as one belonging to the most loyal batch of disciples. In a cursory listen, he did sound genuine—even though a closer scrutiny would reveal every word to be riddled with holes. But who would question him? In that sect, loyalty was everything.
The truth, however, lay in fear. Fang Jin Yu had been tirelessly shoveling filth not out of gratitude alone but because he couldn't be sure whether Su Yi'er's master—the one originally stalking him in that strange narrative—had finally taken his eyes off him. Today, though, was supposed to mark a turning point: according to the mysterious book's description, in one month the master of Su Yi'er would be forced by an urgent matter to leave Tianling Sect, triggering, for the heroine, her very first crisis. Of course, as the main character, she was destined to emerge from that crisis unscathed and even reap tremendous rewards. Yet there was a twist: that very crisis would also mean that Su Yi'er's master would, in a very colloquial sense, be "green"—a sudden betrayal that everyone understands without further explanation. After all, the heroine is fated to eventually possess her "fish pond," a metaphor that in this world speaks for itself. None of this, however, directly concerned Fang Jin Yu; all he cared about was surviving.
A system message flashed in his mental interface: "Today is still a day of shoveling excrement." "Extraction complete: +1 Manual Ability."
Gazing up at the starry sky, Fang Jin Yu let out a long, relieved sigh. Finally, his month of disgraceful labor was drawing to a close. In that very moment, a curious burning sensation ignited in his hands—an almost imperceptible heat as though his arms were suddenly infused with newfound strength. And it wasn't a trick of his mind: his raw physical power had indeed increased.
"Manual Ability"—as its name implied—was the power to act, to get things done with one's own hands. Over the past month, aside from the first day's bizarre bonus (a cheeky +1 in appearance that left him equally amused and perplexed), the ensuing twenty-nine days had bestowed upon him perfectly normal bonuses. He picked up enhancements such as +1 in physical strength, +1 in resistance to foul toxins, and even +1 in reaction speed. Each increment was tied, inexorably, to the daily grind of shoveling that very excrement.
In this torturous month, although his cultivation level had not budged one bit, his overall prowess had improved considerably. His body wasn't just tougher—his collection of spells, which had once fumbled unpredictably, now flowed more naturally and effectively. Amid his ceaseless task of using spells to bury the spiritual beast waste, he even managed to notch "Casting Speed +1" no less than seven times.
Yet, a niggling regret persisted in his mind. It seemed that, despite the mysterious "system" intermittently updating his abilities, he had no proper personal attribute panel. All the improvements—these mysterious "+1" bonuses—had piled up for a month without him ever really knowing their exact value. Even with this external boost, Fang Jin Yu lived his days with the utmost caution, not daring to be even a fraction complacent.
That very night—his last night in the valley—he still had not left the domain of the mutated black pigs. The valley itself was a cold, desolate place where no other living creature stirred apart from those strange, aberrant black pigs. With no one else around, the duty of guarding the valley fell to a Foundation realm cultivator named Li. Bored out of his mind, Li decided to invite Fang Jin Yu for a drink. After all, it wasn't as if anyone besides Fang Jin Yu was present.
Li—known simply by his surname—boasted a superior spiritual root compared to Fang Jin Yu; he possessed dual-type roots. In the language of cultivation, the fewer the types, the better the innate potential. A single-type (often referred to as "Heavenly Spirit root") was considered the best. Disciples blessed with such roots, if they avoided a premature fall or didn't get too conceited, were almost destined to become Golden Core great cultivators. Yet Li, despite having dual roots, lacked any significant backing within the sect's hierarchy. Despite having labored for most of his life, he remained only at the third layer of the Foundation realm. The story went that, in his youth, his entry into the Lingdu Secret Realm had been delayed by a full thirty years. Otherwise, even without a fully formed Core, he should have been at least on the ninth layer by now.
Then, as if the heavens themselves wished to punctuate the scene, the night sky above suddenly blazed with a streak of light—a flash that carried a crushing, earth-shattering aura. In an instant, the light vanished into the distance. Li's smile froze, his features turning momentarily grim. With a casual flick of his sleeve, he remarked, "I'm tired now. You should head down."
For cultivators at the Qi Condensation stage—and even more so for those at the Foundation realm—sleep was no longer the necessity it once had been. Clearly, Li's statement was nothing more than an excuse. Yet as he watched Fang Jin Yu rise and head away, his eyes still fixed on the sky, Li added quietly, "That was the sword aura of a sword cultivator stretching out like a rainbow. Such commotion can only come from a Golden Core cultivator. In the future, if you come across him, run for as long as you can. Even a brief glance might cost you your life."
Fang Jin Yu's heart leapt with relief at Li's words, and he quickly clasped his fists in gratitude. Not only did he thank the older cultivator for the ominous warning, but he also absorbed every bit of the useful information contained within those few sentences. It meant more than he realized: Tianling Sect was not one known for its sword mastery. Though they possessed sword techniques, few ever mastered them to any significant extent. The only person who had managed to harness sword techniques to break through to the Golden Core stage was none other than Su Yi'er's master.
Still, Fang Jin Yu lingered in that cold, silent valley until dawn. With the quiet grace of a swallow, he activated his wind-manipulating technique and effortlessly returned to the peak where his modest cave was nestled. As he made his way home, his mood lightened considerably. At long last, the fate that had destined him to be a mere expendable footnote—a character that should have survived only one chapter—had begun to show signs of being defied.
Yet even as he rejoiced, a voice in his mind reminded him of the road ahead: "There are still six months until the Lingdu Secret Realm opens." "In these six months, I must not drop my guard. Whether it's Su Yi'er or any of her companions, I must keep my distance."
For what does it mean to be the protagonist? They are the vortex of all misfortune—everything problematic converges around them. Although his cultivation in the Qi Condensation stage (Level Nine) seemed respectable, every peak in Tianling Sect boasted at least a dozen others of similar caliber. With the sect comprising seventy-two peaks in total, getting tangled up with main-character issues was a death sentence—one that even ten lives would scarcely suffice to balance.
In the midst of these heavy thoughts, a playful voice rang out from outside his cave. "Senior Brother, you're back!" a bright, mischievous little girl called. "Senior Brother, have you been marinated?" she teased, her tone both teasing and affectionate. For a moment, her eyes shone with pure joy at seeing him, but the next instant she scrunched up her nose and scampered away, as if repelled by an overpowering stench.
Thanks to memories of his previous life, Fang Jin Yu recognized the little girl instantly. Her name was Xin Qianqian. She, too, was a disciple of Tianling Sect—but she hailed from the neighboring Shennü Peak, a mountain exclusive to female disciples. Their acquaintance dated back to a time when she had encountered trouble outside the peak; by chance, Fang Jin Yu's former self had stepped in to help, and from then on, they'd been on friendly terms.
"Junior Sister Xin, what brings you here?" he inquired in a tone that balanced cordiality with reserved distance.
With a shy smile and a gentle tone, Xin Qianqian replied, "Senior Brother, I've brought you something." Producing a small jade bottle from beneath her clothes, she offered it to him.
Fang Jin Yu's eyes immediately widened as he recognized the contents of the bottle—it was Hundred Flowers Dew, a prized specialty of Shennü Peak. In Tianling Sect, this rare elixir was valued significantly—a single vial would normally command a price of twenty spiritual stones. To put that into perspective, Fang Jin Yu had labored in the Spirit Beast Valley for an entire month just to earn those twenty stones; other lower-level assignments might yield barely ten stones a month.
Unlike the novels he'd once devoured, Tianling Sect did not hand out a monthly ration of spiritual stones to ordinary disciples unless they shouldered a duty. Moreover, the sect did not function like a video game with NPCs dispensing daily quests. Within Tianling Sect, the higher a cultivator's level, the greater the freedom. New disciples were bound by strict morning and evening lessons, but upon reaching the fourth level of Qi Condensation, their cultivation became a personal matter—although each year, every disciple was still required to serve one month of duty. For Fang Jin Yu, at Qi Condensation Level Nine, that monthly duty was thankfully waived. This exemption was the sect's way of allowing capable disciples to focus on breaking through into the Foundation realm. A Foundation cultivator, after all, not only enjoyed a lifespan of nearly two hundred years but also could unleash spells with destructive force comparable to several Qi Condensation practitioners combined. In addition, those who advanced to the Foundation stage and took on duties received an extra bounty in spiritual stones, sometimes even doubling their monthly income.
"It's Hundred Flowers Dew," Xin Qianqian explained matter-of-factly, "I heard that you helped out in the Spirit Beast Valley. Just bathe with this elixir three times, and it will completely erase that awful stench from your body."
"Thank you, Junior Sister Xin," Fang Jin Yu said sincerely as he accepted the jade bottle. He knew he needed this remedy immediately; otherwise, for the next several months his overpowering odor might follow him wherever he went.
Before departing, Xin Qianqian added in a hurried whisper, "Senior Brother, your smell is really strong today. I must go now—oh, and Chen Baxing and his gang have been looking for you. Please be careful, I have a bad feeling about them." The little girl, unable to endure the overwhelming "bewitching" stench clinging to him, dashed down the mountain.
Watching her disappear into the distance, Fang Jin Yu's thoughts turned troubled. "Chen Baxing?" he murmured. He knew that among the Qi Condensation disciples of Tianling Sect, Chen Baxing was notorious—a man rumoured to orchestrate shady business with a ragtag band of followers, involved in illicit trades and even suspected of murder and pillaging. And yet, as the mysterious book described, this very rogue managed somehow to survive until the end. The only reason for his longevity was his obsessive passion for Su Yi'er; no matter how dangerous, he would do anything to win her favor—even if it meant risking his life to please her.
Fang Jin Yu wondered, "I've never met Chen Baxing, and in my previous life I never crossed paths with him. So why are his men now searching for me?" Puzzlement mingled with a sense of impending dread. After a brief moment of thought, he decided he needed to wash up—clearing not only the physical stench but also the weight of uncertainty from his body.
The Hundred Flowers Dew was as exquisite as its reputation suggested. With just one drop, a heady fragrance filled the entire room with the scent of blooming flora. After a thorough bath, he emerged feeling remarkably revitalized. The fatigue and grime collected from a month of arduous duty seemed to have washed away, leaving him with a fresh surge of clarity and strength.
"Next, I'll try something new," he mused aloud with a determined glint. "Let's see what I can extract from a day's cultivation!"
Now, as he prepared for this new challenge, Fang Jin Yu felt a mixture of cautious hope and steely resolve. Though his cultivation level remained stubbornly stagnant, the mysterious system's subtle bonuses had boosted his overall ability—and his strokes with mystical arts felt smoother, his spells quicker, as if every moment of humiliation had quietly forged his hidden potential.
Dusk settled over the peak as he prepared to spend his final night in the valley of the black pig spiritual beasts. The night was cold and lonely, the only sound the occasional low grunt from the mutated beasts. Earlier, Li—despite his casual dismissal—had warned him of a distant, almost celestial sword aura and the peril such encounters posed. For Tianling Sect, which was not known for its sword cultivators, the only person capable of reaching the Golden Core solely through sword techniques was Su Yi'er's master. That piece of advice, small though it had been, resonated deeply with Fang Jin Yu, scaling his caution in a world where every shadow could hide catastrophe.
With dawn's early light creeping over the horizon, Fang Jin Yu activated his wind manipulation technique once more. As easily as a leaf carried on a gentle breeze, he soared from the valley back to his solitary mountain peak. His heart, though heavy from the burdens of the past month, beat with newfound optimism. He walked toward his cave—a modest dwelling that now symbolized the first small victory against a world that had once deemed him expendable.
His thoughts echoed in his mind: "I've managed to defy fate—if only a little. But there's still half a year until the Lingdu Secret Realm opens. During these six months, I must be ever vigilant. I must steer clear of Su Yi'er and anyone who might be connected to her. The protagonist always draws trouble, and I never want to be caught in that vortex again."
His cultivation, at Qi Condensation ninth level, was decent by appearance—but every peak in Tianling Sect housed at least a dozen cultivators of his caliber. With seventy-two peaks in the sect overall, even a minor entanglement with the problems of the protagonist could easily spell doom for someone like him. Even if he had ten lives, it wasn't enough to withstand the storm of chaos swirling around the central figure.
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out from outside his cave. "Senior Brother, you're back!" a small, sprightly voice called. Then came a teasing, "Senior Brother, have you been marinated?" The little girl's playful tone was filled with affection, even as she quickly pinched her nose and scurried off—clearly overwhelmed by the potent odor that clung to him like a second skin.
Because of memories from his previous life, Fang Jin Yu recognized the little girl instantly. Xin Qianqian was not only a fellow disciple of Tianling Sect but also a friend from Shennü Peak, where only female disciples resided. Their bond dated back to a time when she had encountered trouble on an errand, and he had lent her a helping hand. That moment had forged a quiet familiarity between them.
"Junior Sister Xin, is there something you need?" he asked in a tone that was respectful yet distant.
With a gentle smile and twinkling eyes, Xin Qianqian produced a small jade bottle from her satchel and offered it to him. "It's Hundred Flowers Dew," she explained cheerily. "I heard you helped out in the Spirit Beast Valley. Just bathe with it three times and it will completely wash away that dreadful stench."
"Thank you," Fang Jin Yu replied warmly as he accepted the precious bottle. He needed every advantage he could muster—if not for this remedy, his overpowering odor might doom him in the coming months. Before she left, Xin Qianqian added hurriedly, "Senior Brother, your smell is too strong. I must take my leave now. By the way, Chen Baxing and his gang have been looking for you. Please be careful—something tells me that if they catch up with you, you're in for a world of trouble."
As Xin Qianqian scampered off down the mountain, Fang Jin Yu observed her retreating figure with a mixture of concern and reflection. "Chen Baxing," he muttered to himself. He knew well that among the Qi Condensation disciples of Tianling Sect, Chen Baxing had earned a notorious reputation—a troublemaker who led a motley crew, ran illicit businesses, and was rumored to have been involved in several violent incidents. Yet, according to the book's account, this same scoundrel somehow survived until the end. His unyielding passion for Su Yi'er had been his folly; if she desired something, he would go to any lengths—even nearly to his death—to ensure she got it. For a man like that, his destiny was inextricably linked to hers.
Fang Jin Yu could not help but wonder, "I've never had any dealings with Chen Baxing. Why, then, are his men now out for me?" The question puzzled him, and after a moment's thought, he decided the answer lay in clearing away both the physical and metaphorical grime. He resolved to take a thorough bath to refresh himself—a necessary step if he was to continue surviving in this treacherous, unscripted narrative.
After his cleansing wash with the Hundred Flowers Dew—a fragrance so potent that even a single drop could transform the atmosphere of an entire chamber—Fang Jin Yu felt as if the fatigue and despair of the past month had been swept away. His mind was quieter now; he was ready for the next challenge.
"Next, I'll try to see what I can extract from a day's cultivation!" he declared with a spark of determination.
In that moment, standing tall beneath the infinite vault of stars, Fang Jin Yu knew that despite being cast as nothing more than expendable filler in someone else's tale, he had managed to accumulate small but significant improvements. The month of shoveling had been degrading, yet it had granted him bonuses—enhancements to physical strength, manual dexterity, reaction speed, and even quicker casting—that might someday be the very tools needed to redirect his fate.
Yet even as he savored these modest victories, a sober thought echoed within him: with the Lingdu Secret Realm still half a year away, his greatest challenge was yet to come. He must remain ever alert and keep his distance from Su Yi'er and all those around her—after all, the protagonist is always at the center of every storm, and being drawn into that vortex of afflictions could very well mean a premature end to a life already marked for sacrifice.
And so, with both cautious optimism and a steeled resolve, Fang Jin Yu stepped forward into the new day. A future fraught with danger and uncertain rewards awaited him—but he had learned something vital from his month of toil. Even in the humblest of tasks, the seeds of transformation could be sown.
As he prepared to set aside his bucket and pick up his cultivation tools, he murmured to himself, "Next, I'll see what I can extract from a day's cultivation!" His voice was steady—a quiet vow that he would harness even this seemingly mundane day-to-day routine to forge a fate that defied the cruel narrative once written for him.
In this chapter, we witness the paradox of a cultivator who, despite being forced into menial work, finds subtle ways to improve his abilities. Fang Jin Yu is caught between the drudgery of exile and the burden of destiny, where even cleaning up after mutated spiritual beasts can yield invisible power-ups. Yet every bonus—be it an increment in manual ability, physical strength, or casting speed—is a reminder that his survival, however marginal, is a victory in a world where the protagonist is the epicenter of all calamity.
His interactions with Li, the duty overseer, and Xin Qianqian, the playful yet poignant reminder of his past connections, layer his journey with equal measures of humor, regret, and determination. The warnings about Chen Baxing and the revelations about Su Yi'er's master further underscore the lethal intrigues swirling around him. Even as he bathes away the stench of his labors with Hundred Flowers Dew, Fang Jin Yu knows that every day is a battle—both against the external forces of fate and the internal dread of being nothing more than a footnote in someone else's chronicle.
Now, looking to the future and the impending opening of the Lingdu Secret Realm, our unlikely hero braces himself for the six long months ahead—a time during which his every move could decide whether he escapes the vortex of troubles that follow main characters, or collapses under the weight of destiny. His resolve is firm; his heart is hardened by humiliation, but tempered by hope. In that determination lies the promise that even a character destined to be expendable might one day seize control of his own story.
And so, with the final echoes of the night retreating and a new dawn breaking over Tianling Sect, Fang Jin Yu prepares for the next step in his arduous journey. "Next, I'll try to see what I can extract from a day's cultivation!" he repeats, his voice mingling with the cool morning breeze—a quiet challenge to fate itself.