With Bai Ruoyue out of the room, Han seized the moment to wrap things up fast—before she could catch him in the act.


    He pulled out a vial.


    “What’s that?” Ao Xuanwei asked, curious.


    “It’s a treasure liquid I snagged recently,” Han explained. “Washes you clean inside and out—boosts your natural talent in a roundabout way.”


    “Might do you some good.”


    Fortune Spirit Liquid, of course.


    He’d shared it with Lu Qingmo and the crew—slipping a drop to the Dragon Lady now wasn’t a stretch.


    As long as its other perks stayed under wraps—limited to cleansing and refining one’s essence—it wasn’t a big deal.


    That effect, rare and valuable as it was, wasn’t unique. Other treasures out there did similar things—not some one-of-a-kind secret.


    If word got out about this perk, folks might envy Han’s luck or try to buy a few drops off him. Prove he’s out, and that’s that—no harm done.


    He’d kept it tight-lipped so far, only sharing with people he trusted.


    Even Ao Xuanwei, the least familiar of the bunch, wasn’t about to flip on him over a single drop—not unless her brain got boiled in Lingyang Lake.


    But the Fortune Gourd itself? That was a whole other beast.


    If a sect or the imperial court got wind of it, endless streams of spirit liquid could balloon their power to insane heights—unimaginable chaos.


    One or two talent-boosting trinkets? No sweat—big sects probably had those stashed away.


    What’s terrifying is the gourd’s ability to churn them out nonstop, practically for free.


    Ao Xuanwei took the vial, popped it open, and peered inside. “I’ve used stuff like this before—super rare. You scoring this? That’s some wild luck.”


    “But most treasures like it don’t do much for me anymore. Keep it for yourself.”


    “You can only use one drop per person—more’s useless. I’ve already had mine.”


    “Oh?” Her interest piqued, she accepted it. “Guess I’ll give it a shot.”


    Tilting her head back, she let the liquid slide down. Her eyes lit up.


    “Wow—what a weird treasure, what a weird power. This stuff…”


    “It’s purifying my bloodline?”


    She beamed, ecstatic. For aquatics, bloodline was everything. Hers was already top-tier—usually, only a realm breakthrough could nudge it higher.


    Yet this drop was working on it directly.


    Jackpot—huge jackpot.


    Han blinked. Bloodline?


    Then it clicked, like a lightbulb flicking on.


    Maybe this was the spirit liquid’s real trick.


    Cleansing and refining—if a bloodline-bearing demon like her drank it, the payoff dwarfed what humans got from a simple body tune-up.


    For a dragon like Ao Xuanwei, even a sliver of bloodline refinement was a big deal.


    So the Fortune Gourd’s a farming and beast-raising tool, huh?


    Her pupils narrowed to slits, a dragon silhouette flashing behind her—white scales gleaming. A faint dragon aura rippled out.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Tai Bai’s trainees felt it—a sudden weight on their chests, a breathless dread like doom was closing in.


    But Han, right next to her, didn’t bat an eye—no pressure from the aura at all.


    He caught the full view: a stunning white dragon, every curve and scale flawless, begging to be touched.


    After a moment, Ao Xuanwei settled, buzzing with joy from the shift inside her.


    She grabbed Han’s hand, gratitude spilling over. “This is huge, Han—how do I thank you?”


    “We’re friends—no thanks needed,” he said with a smile and a shake of his head. “Just keep it on the down-low.”


    “You’ve got my word,” she vowed. “This stays between us—no third ears.”


    “Tea’s here!” Bai Ruoyue bustled in, then froze, staring at their clasped hands.


    Who am I? Where am I? What’s happening?


    Gone for two seconds, and it’s like this?


    What are you doing? What’s next?!


    Is this why you sent me for tea, Little Junior Brother?


    No way!


    Han slipped his hand free, cool as ever.


    He was the passive one here—not his fault.


    Sending Bai Ruoyue off wasn’t what she thought.


    He’d told Lu Qingmo the liquid was a treasure he’d found, “refined” with the Dragon Lady’s help. Showing it to Ao Xuanwei with Bai Ruoyue around would’ve blown the story.


    Bai Ruoyue set the tea down, distracted and sulky.


    “So, you’ll take the dragon scale now, right?” Ao Xuanwei pressed.


    “Guess I can’t say no,” Han said, accepting it.


    It felt sturdy, warm, smooth to the touch.


    How it kicked in during danger, though—he wasn’t sure.


    “Wear it close—can’t stash it in a spatial pouch,” she explained. “It’s got a lifespan—blocks Manifestation or Marrow-Washing attacks three times. Each hit leaves a crack.”


    She didn’t bother mentioning Day Roaming or Bone Forging hits—Han was Day Roaming himself; he wouldn’t need it against peers.


    “If the attack’s too strong, it might burn all three uses at once.”


    “So it’s a last-resort lifesaver—don’t get cocky with it.”


    Han nodded, getting it.


    Don’t go picking fights just because you’ve got a shield.


    Ao Xuanwei glanced at Bai Ruoyue and pulled out another gift. “Bai Ruoyue’s close to Bone Forging—under twenty and already there? That’s prodigy stuff.”


    “Here’s a Vitality Fruit—consider it a congrats.”


    Breaking from Viscera to Bone Forging wasn’t just about tempering bones—the big leap was true qi turning into true essence, gas to liquid. Massive upgrade, but a grind to pull off.


    The Vitality Fruit smoothed that shift.


    Han’s crew had nabbed similar plants in Black Mountain—stashed away for later.


    Bai Ruoyue snapped out of her funk, waving it off. “Too much—I can’t take it.”


    “Take it,” Ao Xuanwei insisted. “Han’s catching flak from Tianlong because of me—Tai Bai’s in the crossfire too.”


    “I owe you both.”


    “And one Vitality Fruit? Doesn’t touch what Han’s done for me.”


    That bloodline boost from the liquid? Worth way more than a few fruits.


    Bai Ruoyue shot Han a suspicious look. What’d you do for her now?


    “Take it,” Han added.


    Reluctantly, she accepted, wrestling with herself.


    Take gifts, owe favors—now what?


    “Any direct clashes between Yunjiang Dragon Palace and Tianlong Gate?” Han asked.


    “Plenty,” Ao Xuanwei nodded. “The Four Seas dragons rarely meddle on land, and Yunjiang’s aquatics don’t hit Western Sea—so Tianlong, tied to them, butts heads with us most.”


    “Lingyang Lake’s mixed up with Tianlong too.”


    “Got it,” Han said, mulling it over. Straight-up, no-nonsense bad blood.


    “If Tianlong gets pushy, don’t sweat it,” she said. “I’ll have the palace send some muscle to Black Cloud—just in case.”


    She’d thought it through—not using Han, but genuinely watching his back.


    He grinned. “In Black Cloud, they can’t do much.”


    “Their disciples? Pretty average, honestly.”


    “To you, yeah,” she agreed, full of faith. “Unless their true transmission hotshots show, the rest are ants in your path.”


    She hung around a bit longer, chatting happily with Han.


    Curiosity got him asking about big names like Azure Sky Divine Lord and Wheel King.


    “Gotta head back to the palace,” she said eventually. “I’ll round up those seeds and send them over.”


    “No need to trek out here yourself,” Han protested.


    “I’ll send shrimp soldiers and crab generals to find you, then.”


    After seeing her off, Bai Ruoyue pounced, grabbing Han. “Little Junior Brother, what went down in there?”


    “Nothing!” he yelped.


    Wrongly accused!


    It took some fast talking to calm her down.


    “Man, Little Junior Brother, you’re a magnet,” she sighed. “Who knows when you’ll ditch us—Tai Bai’s too small for you.”


    “Senior Sister, I’d stick around even if you bailed,” he said, voice layered with meaning.


    Per Lu Qingmo, once Master Bai Tian hit True Blood, he might whisk Bai Ruoyue off—out of Black Cloud, off to who-knows-where.


    Probably some noble house—maybe not a princess, but close enough, outclassing Black Cloud’s backwater vibe.


    Then it’d just be Han and the crew holding down Tai Bai’s honor.


    He’d leave eventually too, sure—but he wouldn’t be the first out the door.


    “Tai Bai’s my home—where would I run?” Bai Ruoyue, clueless about that future, scoffed at his words.


    Hmph, excuses!


    That night, Han showed the dragon scale to Lu Qingmo. She gave it props—top-tier stuff, dragon-crafted, a solid lifeline.


    It screamed Yunjiang Dragon Palace’s stance loud and clear.


    “Young Master, I did it!” An Lang’s cheer cut through his training.


    She zoomed over, beaming. “Look!”


    A smooth, round pill sat in her palm.


    “You made that?” Han asked.


    “You bet!” she said, chin high. “Pretty great, huh?”


    Future Pill Immortal in the making.


    “It’s a Hemostasis Pill—for external wounds. Perfect for mortals and Flesh Realm martial artists.”


    Basic beginner pill—top seller among low-tier stuff, easy to whip up.


    “Not bad,” Han said, generous with praise.


    An Lang grinding solo off a legacy and getting results? That was damn impressive.


    Alchemy’s a beast—tough start, brutal middle, hellish end.


    Okay, it’s just tough all over.