The inn courtyard lay quiet beneath swaying lantern light. Warm gold flickered across wooden beams and the tiled roofs beyond, the evening breeze carrying the faint scent of wine and smoke.

  Upstairs along the balcony, Li Wei sat cross-legged on a bench, jaw clenched, fingers twitching faintly as heat pulsed through his meridians. The fire qi had settled unevenly, leaving a dull tremor in his arms.

  Feng leaned against a railing post, flexing his injured hand. Lightning instability crackled faintly beneath the skin, barely visible, but enough to disrupt control.

  Ru Yan crouched nearby, hands folded neatly in her sleeves, watching both of them with a calculating gaze.

  “Without refined pills,” she said quietly, “your meridians may scar. Nerves will settle improperly. Your future output could permanently decrease.”

  Li Wei exhaled sharply. “That Prince caused us enough trouble already.”

  “The markets are restricted,” Feng added. “Fresh medicinal herbs won’t circulate here.”

  A faint flicker of qi drew Zhi Yuan’s attention. He stepped forward and knelt beside Li Wei, eyes scanning the heat accumulation beneath the skin, the subtle misalignment in flow. He shifted his gaze to Feng, observing the erratic charge threading through damaged pathways.

  He did not touch. He only watched.

  “They don’t need pills,” Zhi Yuan said softly.

  Ru Yan’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  “Protein for tissue repair. Electrolytes for nerve conduction. Vitamin C for—”

  Feng blinked. “What?”

  Zhi Yuan paused.

  “Right. Wrong vocabulary.”

  He rephrased calmly. “Meat. Bone broth. Salt. Bitter greens. Fresh fruit, if available.”

  Li Wei frowned. “You mean… actual food?”

  “Yes. Proper nourishment strengthens internal recovery. Pills are merely condensed shortcuts. The body already knows how to repair itself.”

  Ru Yan studied him carefully. “You speak like a physician.”

  Zhi Yuan did not answer. In his mind, processes aligned neatly—cellular reconstruction, fluid regulation, structural protein synthesis. But outwardly, he only nodded.

  Cultivation world.

  Ru Yan straightened. “If fresh medicinal herbs are unavailable here… perhaps elsewhere.”

  Li Wei hesitated. “I know of a place.”

  They turned toward him.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “West from here. One hundred and eighty thousand li. The Five Elements Mount.”

  Ru Yan’s eyes widened slightly. “Five days of travel at minimum. In your current condition, you may not survive the journey.”

  Zhi Yuan rose slowly and turned toward the east balcony rail. “Exact direction.”

  Ru Yan stepped beside him and pointed toward the distant horizon.

  “There. The Five Elements Mount glows with five hues—gold, wood-green, water-blue, fire-red, and earth-brown. It is unmistakable.”

  Zhi Yuan followed her finger.

  He smiled faintly.

  “Exit.”

  The lantern flames bent inward.

  For a single breath, the air folded.

  The scent of wine vanished. The wooden balcony dissolved into streaks of muted color.

  Then—

  The courtyard was gone.

  They stood beneath a vast open sky.

  The air was thinner. Cooler. Crisp with the scent of wild growth and mineral earth.

  Before them rose the Five Elements Mount, its peaks faintly shimmering in layered hues—metallic gold catching moonlight, deep forest green threading along slopes, veins of red rock glowing dimly beneath the surface.

  Li Wei staggered slightly.

  Feng stared.

  Ru Yan did not move for several seconds.

  “That… was not a movement technique,” she said quietly.

  Zhi Yuan glanced at them. “You wanted fresh ingredients.”

  He turned toward the mountain path.

  “So where do we find our fresh fru—”

  CRACK.

  All four heads snapped upward.

  “Aaaargh—!”

  Leaves exploded outward as a body tore through the branches of a nearby tree. A slim figure tumbled down through foliage and landed in a tangled heap at the base of the trunk.

  Dust rose.

  A groan followed.

  A boy rolled onto his back and stared at the sky for a moment before sitting up. He brushed leaves from his sleeves, calm despite the fall, and rubbed one arm thoughtfully.

  “I misjudged the branch integrity,” he said. “Acceptable loss.”

  Li Wei blinked. “Did someone just fall out of a tree?”

  The boy stood. He appeared no older than twelve. His robes were simple, sleeves slightly oversized. His qi was shallow, but perfectly steady—like still water undisturbed by wind.

  He reached into his sleeve and retrieved a pear.

  “Fire injury,” he said, glancing at Li Wei. “Overheated channels. You require cooling moisture first.”

  Ru Yan’s gaze sharpened. “And you know this how?”

  The boy shrugged mildly. “Sweet fruit restores fluids. Pears cool internal heat, ease dryness, and stabilize turbulence.” He tossed the pear toward Li Wei. “Consume this. Then meat and salted broth. Two days without strain.”

  Zhi Yuan watched carefully.

  Hydration. Electrolyte balance. Anti-inflammatory effect.

  Logical.

  “That works,” he said simply.

  The boy smiled faintly. “Of course it works.”

  He stretched his shoulders as if he had merely descended a staircase. “Lightning instability?” he asked, glancing toward Feng.

  Feng lifted his injured hand slightly.

  “Ground first,” the boy said. “Circulate fluids. Avoid forced discharge. Salt assists conductivity regulation. Do not overexert.”

  He yawned lightly. “Pills complicate what nature resolves.”

  Li Wei stared at him. “You’re just falling from trees and handing out pears?”

  “Climbing trees,” the boy corrected mildly. “Falling is incidental.”

  Ru Yan folded her arms. “You are remarkably calm for someone who just fell several meters.”

  “That is precisely why I fell,” the boy replied. “Calmness requires testing.”

  Feng crossed his arms, studying him.

  Measured. Detached. Analytical.

  Annoyingly familiar.

  Zhi Yuan observed the boy’s internal flow carefully.

  No hidden power. No suppressed cultivation. Just balanced circulation and disciplined fundamentals.

  Academic.

  Methodical.

  Lazy in posture—but not in thought.

  The boy tilted his head slightly toward Zhi Yuan.

  “Let the body perform its intended function,” he said.

  Zhi Yuan met his gaze.

  Understood.

  Above them, clouds drifted slowly past the five-colored peaks. Birds stirred within distant branches. The mountain breathed quietly around them.

  Li Wei took a cautious bite of the pear.

  Heat within his meridians softened almost immediately.

  Hydration first. Protein next. Circulation steady.

  Recovery initiated. Cultivation world.

  Not pills. Not prestige. Not sect backing.

  Just balance.

  And sometimes, fate did not descend from the heavens. It fell out of a tree.