Chapter Seventy-Nine: I am Yuchen, a humble Taoist. Greetings, fellow cultivator!

Zhao Fan, dressed as a servant, was sweeping the courtyard outside. Suddenly, something struck his head, sparking a flicker of irritation within him. He turned to look around, but saw no one; instead, lying on the ground was what appeared to be a jade-like apricot pit.

He quickly set down his broom, stepped forward, picked up the apricot pit, and examined it closely in his palm. The pit was smooth and spotless, without a trace of fruit flesh remaining. If not for its light weight, it would have been indistinguishable from a finely carved piece of jade.

Zhao Fan glanced toward the nearby courtyard, which belonged to his eldest senior brother, Zhao Yu—the Sect Master of the Pill Cauldron Sect and the direct disciple of Hu Sheng, the immortal alchemist. This apricot pit must have been tossed out from there.

Thinking this, he was about to throw the pit away when a group of disciples approached, chatting and laughing. Seeing them, Zhao Fan stepped aside to avoid being noticed.

“Have you heard? The Medical Dao Gathering this time is causing quite a stir! The Red Pine Dao Palace is really stealing the spotlight!”

“It’s just an ordinary sect, really. Claiming to establish some path of merit—what a joke!”

“Exactly! That so-called Bitter Apricot Pit, our Sect Master has already examined it. It’s not even a spiritual fruit—probably just a way for mortals to embellish their reputation!”

The group carried on their conversation, oblivious to Zhao Fan in the shadows. All of them hailed from distinguished families—after all, only those of noble lineage could enter the Pill Cauldron Sect to cultivate. Servant disciples like Zhao Fan were, in their eyes, no different from household staff, not worth a second glance.

Once the disciples had passed, Zhao Fan stepped out from his hiding place. He had heard about the Medical Dao Gathering in Jinzhou, but had never connected it to the apricot pit in his hand until overhearing their conversation. Only then did he realize its significance.

This apricot pit must be one of the ten thousand distributed that day. He wondered if the rumors were true: that with sufficient merit, one could exchange it for spiritual herbs and pills. Was it real, or merely a myth?

With this thought, he lost the desire to continue sweeping and hurried back to his own quarters.

The Pill Cauldron Sect was wealthy and, to display their celestial grandeur, even servant disciples were assigned independent residences, though the main halls and towers were far more luxurious. Zhao Fan, for his part, had been given a shabby little house and a modest courtyard.

He entered, checked that he was alone, locked the door, and lit an oil lamp. Then, rummaging through his belongings, he retrieved a tightly concealed wooden box.

Opening it revealed a three-legged golden toad, its mouth agape, ancient and peculiar in design—comical yet tinged with authority.

He placed the golden toad on the altar, lit a medicinal incense kept in the box, and set it reverently before the toad. The fragrance filled the small room, lingering in the air.

At that moment, the golden toad on the altar opened and closed its mouth, inhaling the clouds of smoke until none remained. As the incense burned away, the toad grew increasingly lifelike; its pitch-black eyes seemed to glimmer with a hint of spirit.

A long yawn echoed from the toad’s mouth, followed by a sonorous sigh. “Who awakens from the great dream first? I alone know my life! What year is it now, I wonder?”

The tone was languid, but carried a touch of the air of a master.

The toad’s eyes then fixed upon Zhao Fan, who knelt respectfully before it.

Sensing Zhao Fan’s aura, the toad was startled. “Zhao boy! What year and month is it now? Why haven’t you established your Dao foundation yet?”

Zhao Fan blushed, waving his hand. “Senior Golden Toad, it’s only been a few months since we last met!”

The toad grumbled, disappointed in Zhao Fan. “Didn’t I tell you to awaken me only after you’d established your foundation? Once this spiritual incense is used up, how will you summon me next time?”

Zhao Fan looked embarrassed, forcing a smile. “Senior, not to mention establishing a foundation, these past months in the Pill Cauldron Sect I’ve been doing nothing but chores—sweeping courtyards, never touching spiritual herbs or pills. I can’t sense the spiritual force you spoke of, and haven’t cultivated a single strand of mana!”

The toad was dumbfounded. “That can’t be right. You swallowed my sect’s secret Heaven-Mending Pill, gained a Dao seed and spiritual root—how can you not cultivate?”

It finally realized something was amiss. Opening its mouth wide, it drew in the air, only to find not a trace of spiritual energy.

For a long moment, the toad was silent, its demeanor suddenly tinged with despondency.

A sorrowful look crept across its face. “So this is the Age of Decline... Grandmaster Tian Yan’s calculations were wrong! How unlucky I am!”

Previously, when Zhao Fan had awakened it in the minor spiritual mansion, there was still some spiritual energy left, so it hadn’t noticed. Now, outside, the absence was immediately apparent.

Zhao Fan was equally stunned. Had his path to immortality ended before it even began?

He had been a youth gathering herbs in the mountains, who one day found a hundred-year-old spiritual herb on a cliff. He’d hoped to sell it for some money. But then he heard that the Pill Cauldron Sect was recruiting disciples—anyone who contributed spiritual herbs could join.

The sect’s founder, Hu Sheng, was said to be a great master, revered by officials across Guan Prefecture.

So Zhao Fan spent everything he had to present the herb, only to become a servant disciple.

Months ago, after being mocked by formal disciples, he accidentally fell into the Pill Spring, unexpectedly entering a stone chamber where he acquired the golden toad and a Heaven-Mending Pill.

The toad, upon awakening and explaining things, told him he had gained a celestial fate.

Following the toad’s instructions, Zhao Fan eagerly swallowed the pill and went home to cultivate, but never sensed the so-called spiritual force.

He considered consuming more herbs to try again, but in the Pill Cauldron Sect, spiritual herbs were guarded more closely than life itself—far beyond a servant’s reach.

Moreover, his daily chores left him no chance to venture out and try his luck.

Now, hearing the toad’s explanation, it seemed that the world was devoid of spiritual energy. How was he ever to cultivate?

For a while, both man and toad were sunk in gloom.

The toad, its air of mastery lost, spoke helplessly. “It seems this is likely our last meeting. Tell me, what did you summon me for this time?”

Without spiritual incense, it would soon sink into endless sleep, never to witness Zhao Fan’s foundation or unlock the sect’s inheritance.

Zhao Fan remembered his purpose, took out the apricot pit, and asked the toad, “This may be my only hope of cultivation now. With your vast experience, can you examine it for me?”

He then recounted the entire story of the Jinzhou Medical Dao Gathering.

The toad frowned, suspecting Zhao Fan had been deceived. In times when spiritual energy was abundant, such things might have been genuine, for spiritual herbs were as plentiful as wild grass. But in this Age of Decline, where would so many herbs come from?

Still, doubt aside, it instructed Zhao Fan to place the apricot pit in its mouth.

There was no harm in examining the item’s origins; it would serve as the final bond between them.

A faint golden light emanated from the toad, intent on tracing the apricot pit’s source.

Soon, it saw a lush apricot tree growing in a mountain valley, and a noble white deer beneath its boughs.

Astonished, it suddenly sensed a mysterious aura, transmitted through the apricot pit and connecting to itself.

When the toad’s spiritual tracing touched this aura, it seemed to behold an indescribably noble presence.

Then, it heard a gentle, jade-like voice by its ear, as if spoken by a young Daoist:

“I am Yu Chen. Greetings, fellow cultivator.”