Han Yu wasn’t wrong. Even in his hometown, there were elderly Qi Refining cultivators. Reaching the Core Condensation Realm certainly slowed aging—but not to this extent.
A hundred-year-old might not look ancient, but they’d at least look like someone you’d avoid in a tavern brawl.
"That’s... just a side effect of a pill I ate," Li Mei admitted.
Han Yu furrowed his brows.
"Did you just say you made an anti-aging pill?" he asked slowly.
Even for Han Yu, that sounded like a big deal. A huge deal.
He could already see the business opportunity. Who wouldn’t want to stay young? There would be millions of female cultivators lining up for this.
"You’re telling me... you made a pill that could earn enough spirit stones to buy the sect, and you’re just here... rubbing rat feet with peanut oil?"
"Research takes many forms," Li Mei said, flipping her notepad with unnecessary drama. "Also, I’m not giving that pill to anyone. The last person I tested it on grew a second youth... and a second nose."
"...What the..." Han Yu blinked.
"Besides, I made that pill accidentally when I was still a new disciple and just getting into alchemy. I didn’t even take proper notes, so I don’t exactly know what I added to it." She sounded genuinely regretful. "I’ve tried to recreate it, but nothing’s worked. The other pill I kind of managed to replicate only reduced the age of that servant by five years... and added another nose."
Han Yu stared at her in silence, trying to process what sort of divine madness he had stepped into.
He took a sip of water, looked back at the glowing rat feet, and sighed deeply.
"Well... if you ever manage to make it again, I have an investment deal to talk to you about."
"I’ll think about it," Li Mei replied, already reaching for another pill.
"For now though, time to test out another pill!" she said with excitement.
"What does this one do?" Han Yu asked fearfully.
"That’s what we’re going to find out," Li Mei said, eyes sparkling in a way that should’ve been illegal.
"Fuck me..." Han Yu muttered.
He downed the pill with copious amounts of water, praying to every celestial beast in the heavens that this wouldn’t be how he died.
A minute passed. Nothing.
"Huh... nothing," Han Yu said, surprised. "A dud?"
"Shouldn’t be," Li Mei replied, flipping through her notes. "It had the extract of a ten-year-old Red Lingzhi, Galloping Flame Steed Blood, and some miscellaneous vitality crystals."
"How much does all that cost?" Han Yu asked, alarm bells ringing.
"Like... three hundred spirit stones?" she said, way too casually.
Han Yu choked on literal air.
"Three—THREE HUNDRED SPIRIT STONES!?" He felt like he had just eaten a treasure vault. "You fed me a three-hundred-spirit-stone pill?! And it doesn’t even work?! You couldn’t have just given me the spirit stones?! I’d have turned my life around!"
"It’s just three hundred spirit stones." Li Mei waved it off like he was overreacting. "I spent more on the last pill you ate. Though that one at least gave you clairvoyance, so... fair trade."
"H-How much was that worth?" Han Yu asked with dread.
"A thousand spirit stones."
Han Yu’s brain shut down.
He swayed, spun in a slow circle like a sad top, and collapsed to the ground with a soft thud.
"Now I can’t even tell if this was due to the pill or just shock," Li Mei said, scratching her head.
She crouched beside the unconscious boy for a moment before shrugging. Her eyes slowly drifted toward the pot of stew bubbling on the fire. Inspiration struck.
"Hehe, he won’t mind these, will he?" she giggled, adding a few ’extras’ into the pot—one of which looked suspiciously like a human-shaped femur.
Han Yu didn’t know how long he’d been out, but when he came to, the air was filled with the smell of something savory and suspicious.
"What smells so good?" he mumbled, blinking himself back to life.
His stomach let out a threatening rumble, as if declaring war on his insides.
"You’re awake! And here I thought you wouldn’t wake up before dinner." Li Mei said, stirring the pot like a suspicious witch from a folktale.
"You made food?" Han Yu asked, cautiously optimistic.
"Of course! All for you."
That alone made Han Yu deeply suspicious.
"Something’s wrong..." he whispered.
He spotted several empty boxes near the pot, each labeled with names like ’Explosive Lotus Root’, ’Howling Herb’, and ’Snake Vine (Possibly Venomous)’.
"At this point... I’m afraid to even ask what’s in the soup."
Li Mei gave him her most innocent smile. "Don’t worry. Only three ingredients are technically forbidden by the sect."
Han Yu stared into the bubbling pot with a mix of horror and fascination.
"So... technically forbidden?" he asked, voice cautious, like a man unsure if he was about to eat soup or summon a demon.
"Yes," Li Mei nodded. "They’re only listed under ’Absolutely Do Not Ingest Unless You Have a Death Wish’—not outright banned."
"Wonderful," Han Yu muttered, leaning back as the pot continued to bubble ominously. "If I grow a tail, I’m suing."
"You’d need spirit stones to sue," Li Mei replied smoothly. "And you’re still two failed errands and one sock theft away from being demoted to Mop Boy Fourth Class."
"Speaking of the sock," he said, narrowing his eyes, "how did they find out it was me?"
Li Mei blinked. "Oh. That? Easy. Rat snitch."
"Yeah. Warlord Sniffles apparently told the kitchen mice, who told the East Storeroom mice, who squeaked at a bird, who chirped to Elder Jiang’s parrot, who then shouted ’Sock thief Han Yu! Sock thief Han Yu!’ during morning meditation."
Han Yu looked like he aged five years on the spot. "You’re telling me I got exposed... by a game of rodent telephone?!"
"It’s a surprisingly effective intelligence network," Li Mei said matter-of-factly, flipping through her notes. "They once helped me smuggle fermented ghost mushrooms across sect lines."
Han Yu buried his face in his hands. "This sect is insane."
"No," Li Mei said with a smug grin. "This sect is efficient."