The air at the Sunken Peak tasted like copper and burnt herbs.
Han Fei wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead, his hands stained black with soot. Before him lay a mountain of "Spirit Trash"—shattered jade slips that wouldn't hold a single cultivation chant, rusted breastplates from the last Sect War, and thousands of black, charred pellets known as Dross Pills.
"Move it, Charcoal-Root!" a voice barked.
A young disciple in a clean, silk robe kicked a wooden crate toward Han Fei's shins. The crate spilled over, revealing a pile of cracked Spirit Stones that had been drained of 99% of their energy.
"The Alchemy Pavilion had a bad batch of Foundation-Building pills," the disciple sneered. "They're toxic now. If you breathe in the fumes too long, your meridians might actually melt. Not that you have many left to lose, right?"
Han Fei didn't look up. He just gripped his rusted shovel. "Understood, Senior Brother Liu."
"Good. Clean it up by sundown, or you don't get your grain ration."
As the disciple walked away, laughing with his cronies about the "Sect's Janitor," Han Fei reached out to pick up one of the toxic, blackened pills.
In his world, a person's worth was measured by their Spirit Root. His was the Charcoal Root—a mutation so weak it was said he could barely light a candle, let alone ascend to immortality.
But as his fingers touched the toxic pill, a cold, mechanical chime echoed in the back of his skull.
[System Initializing...]
[Host Identity Confirmed: Han Fei]
[Current Environment: Grade 1 Energy Landfill]
[Detected: "Toxic Dross Pill" (Grade 0.1)]
[Action: Decompose for Source Essence?]
Han Fei froze. Decompose? He looked at the blackened pill. To any other cultivator, this was poison. To him, the System was highlighting it with a faint, golden outline.
Yes, he thought, his heart hammering against his ribs. Decompose.
[Decomposition Successful!]
[Extracted: 0.01 units of Pure Spirit Qi]
[Extracted: 1x "Medicine Hardening" Fragment]
[Note: All toxins have been neutralized and converted into 1g of Carbon.]
A sudden, cool warmth flowed from the pill, through his fingertips, and settled into his chest. It was small—microscopic, even—but for a man who had spent eighteen years unable to absorb a single drop of world energy, it felt like a tidal wave.
Han Fei looked at the mountain of trash surrounding him. For the first time, he didn't see a graveyard.
He saw a throne.