After binding with a genius, I became an immortal by exploiting loopholes.

After finishing his speech, the manager left without lingering.

The footsteps gradually faded away, disappearing in the direction of the mine.

Sun Han lay on the bed, staring at the beams on the roof.

At that moment, he had only one thought in his mind.

How will I face my parents when I get back?

That ox was the most valuable thing in the house.

His parents sold it to raise enough money for his spirit-testing fee.

The day he left, his mother stood at the village entrance and watched him until he was far away before turning around.

His father squatted on the edge of the field without saying a word from beginning to end, but he knew that his father was afraid that he would lose control once he opened his mouth.

Now he's going back.

He brought nothing back with him except for a limp.

When the laborers in the same room finished their work and came back, they tiptoed in and whispered about how much ore the mine had produced that day, which group's wages had been deducted, and what the canteen would serve tonight.

Nobody spoke to him.

Sun Han closed his eyes in despair.

A dull thud echoed from deep within the mine, one strike after another, as if someone were hammering his chest with a pickaxe.

In the evening, the servant in the same room pushed open the door and said that someone was looking for him outside.

Sun Han, leaning on a hastily whittled wooden stick, limped to the door.

He didn't recognize the person who came. It was a middle-aged monk wearing a gray deacon's robe, with a thin face and a green token hanging from his waist.

The mine manager stood beside him, slightly bowing, a smile plastered on his face, and speaking in a softer voice.

Sun Han had been working at the mine for several months and this was the first time he had seen the manager act like this.

"You're Sun Han?"

The middle-aged cultivator glanced at him, his gaze lingering on his right leg wrapped in cloth. "Pack your things and come back to the sect with me."

Sun Han stood there, stunned, almost losing his balance on the wooden stick in his hand.

"Return...to the sect?"

"The Spirit Plant Hall has been notified, and your new place has been arranged."

The middle-aged monk spoke in a calm tone, as if he were giving instructions on an ordinary task.

Sun Han felt a buzzing in his ears and barely heard what was said afterward.

"The Hall of Spirit Plants?"

He murmured and repeated, "Disciple...disciple may ask, what exactly happened?"

"Someone intervened and asked me to bring you back to the sect."

The middle-aged cultivator gave a brief answer.

Sun Han opened his mouth, wanting to ask who it was, but the words seemed to be blocked in his throat.

He gripped the wooden stick tightly, his knuckles turning white, and it took him a long time to manage to squeeze out a sound.

"Senior brother..." he began, his voice slightly hoarse, "May I ask who...who helped you?"

The middle-aged cultivator glanced at him and shook his head: "I don't know either. I was just asked to take you back. You'll know when we get to the sect."

Sun Han did not ask any further questions.

He leaned on a wooden cane and limped as he followed the middle-aged monk out of the mine tunnel.

As dusk fell, the gray, barren mountain of the Spirit Mine receded further and further behind him. He glanced back; the dark, gaping mine entrances seemed like eyes, silently watching him leave.

......

Standing once again on the sect's bluestone path, Sun Han felt a sense of unreality.

He left here a few months ago, led away by a disciple in charge.

That day, there were more than twenty other people who were eliminated along with him. They lined up and walked down the mountain path.

He walked in the middle of the group, keeping his head down the whole time, not daring to look at the remaining fairy seedlings on both sides of the road.

He remembered that the wind was very strong that day, making the leaves on both sides of the mountain road rustle. The line ahead grew shorter and shorter, and by the time they reached the spirit mine, it was already dark.

I never thought I'd be able to come back.

Even more unexpectedly, it was retrieved from the mine.

He leaned on a wooden cane and followed the middle-aged cultivator through the corridor of the Spirit Plant Hall.

On both sides were rows of tightly closed wooden doors. Occasionally, one or two spiritual plant cultivators would hurry by, their gazes lingering briefly on his leg wrapped in cloth before quickly looking away.

He kept his head down, unsure whether those gazes held pity or something else.

Perhaps both.

The middle-aged monk led him to a side room, told him to wait, and then turned and left.

Sun Han sat in a chair, a wooden stick resting against his legs.

The side room was very quiet, so quiet that he felt a little uncomfortable.

The spirit mine is always filled with the sounds of hammering, shouting, and falling gravel, while here there is only the occasional chirping of birds from outside the window.

He looked down at his leg, which was wrapped in strips of cloth, and then at the flickering flame of the oil lamp on the table. Only one thought kept running through his mind—who could it be?

The door was pushed open.

Sun Han looked up and froze.

The person standing outside the door was neither a disciple nor the manager of the mine, nor any of the faces he had expected.

It's Lu Qingchen.

"How's your injury healing?"

Lu Qingchen stood at the door for a moment, then walked in and sat down opposite him.

His tone was casual, like when they shared a room at Yuxin Peak, casually asking, "How's your cultivation progress today?"

Sun Han opened his mouth, as if something was stuck in his throat.

He had so much to say—he wanted to ask how he knew he was in the Spirit Mine, how he found the connection, and why he was helping him.

But these words stuck in his throat, and he couldn't utter a single one.

Finally, he could only ask in a hoarse voice, "It's you?"

"Um."

Sun Han lowered his head, staring at his right leg wrapped in strips of cloth, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Qingchen..." His voice was broken, "I..."

"After you recover, come with me to Aoki Manor."

Lu Qingchen interrupted him, her voice not loud, but every word clear, "I've arranged everything over there."

He spoke very simply, as if he were talking about something extremely ordinary.

Sun Han opened his mouth.

It felt like something was stuck in my throat, and it was incredibly sour and astringent.

He wanted to say something, his lips moved, but no sound came out for a long time.

In the end, he simply nodded heavily.

Her eyes were red.

Lu Qingchen didn't say anything more, her gaze falling on his right leg wrapped in cloth.

"Let me see your legs."

Sun Han hesitated for a moment, then stretched his leg forward.

Lu Qingchen squatted down, gently massaged his knees and ankles, and asked him a few more questions.

Sun Han answered each question, his voice a little strained.

Lu Qingchen stood up, remained silent for a while, and said, "The bone was set crooked, but it may not be impossible to set it properly in the future."

Sun Han suddenly raised his head.

"Some healing spells and elixirs have the effect of regenerating and reshaping bones."

Lu Qingchen spoke calmly, as if he were talking about something perfectly ordinary, "When my cultivation level improves in the future, or when I've accumulated enough spirit stones, I might have a chance."

Sun Han's eyes gradually brightened.

It was the look in his eyes as if he had suddenly seen a glimmer of light in the depths of despair—he thought he would be bound to this wooden stick for the rest of his life.

"Really?" His voice trembled slightly.

"real."

Sun Han's lips twitched, and then he slowly smiled.

This was the first time he had smiled in days, a smile that was both bitter and radiant.