As the morning light gently broke, Liu Yiyi stood in front of Chen Yang's door, holding a food box.

Today, she wore a light blue servant attire, yet it couldn't hide her graceful figure.

When Chen Yang opened the door, she gave a faint smile, her eyes and brows showing a hint of weariness.

"Brother Chen, I brought you breakfast," she said softly, her gaze inadvertently sweeping across the room.

Chen Yang stepped aside to let her in.

Inside, the faint herb fragrance from last night's elixir refining still lingered. He instinctively shifted his body to block the clay bowl on the table corner.

Liu Yiyi placed the food box on the table and sighed lightly, "On my way here this morning, I ran into a few servant disciples staring at me again."

"You're beautiful, it's only natural they'd take a few more glances," Chen Yang replied casually, opening the food box. Inside were several white, plump buns, still steaming.

Liu Yiyi, however, was unfazed, her bright eyes looking directly at Chen Yang. "Brother Chen, do you think I'm pretty?"

Chen Yang was taken aback, awkwardly smiling without responding.

He took out a bun and bit into it, the meat filling was delicious and juicy.

Since joining the Greenwood Gate, it had been a long time since he had such a thoughtfully prepared breakfast.

Watching him eat, Liu Yiyi suddenly said, "I know how hard it is for servant disciples. Back at the Spring Red Mansion, I've seen all kinds of patrons. I know men need an outlet when they're under pressure."

Chen Yang almost choked on his bun, quickly drinking water to ease it down. "Yiyi, don't joke about such things."

"I'm not joking," Liu Yiyi said seriously, her fingers gently caressing the edge of the food box. "As long as Brother Chen nods, I can stay tonight."

Chen Yang put down the bun, speaking earnestly, "I respect you as a sister, how could I entertain such thoughts?"

A complex emotion flashed in Liu Yiyi's eyes, but she soon smiled again. "Don't misunderstand, Brother Chen. I'm not a frivolous woman. It's just..." She paused, her voice soft, "I just wanted to ease your worries seeing you so often unhappy."

She stood up, her skirt swaying lightly. "Since Brother Chen is unwilling, I won't mention it again. Just remember, if you ever change your mind, you can always find me at Butterfly Valley."

With that, she turned and left, leaving behind a faint fragrance in the room.

Chen Yang escorted her to the door, watching her departing figure, a warmth rising in his heart.

In recent days, Liu Yiyi was the only person who brought him a bit of warmth.

He returned inside, slowly finishing the remaining buns.

Just as he tidied up the food box, a commotion arose outside the door.

Several servant disciples crowded at the entrance, their faces filled with curiosity and envy.

"Brother Chen, did Miss Liu bring you food again?"

"She's really nice to you!"

"When she came in earlier, many of the brothers were staring!"

Little Douzi was also among the crowd, chuckling. "Brother Chen, you should've seen it. When Sister Liu came, those guys' eyes nearly popped out! If it weren't known that you two are sworn siblings, someone would've caused trouble by now."

Chen Yang smiled, saying little.

But the gloom in his heart seemed to lighten a bit with this simple care.

After the crowd dispersed, Chen Yang closed the door, his expression gradually calming.

He took out the clay bowl, his gaze deep.

In the following days, Chen Yang immersed himself in cultivation.

Using the magical bowl, he continuously replicated Pure Origin Pills.

Each replication required spiritual fluid equivalent to two low-grade spirit stones.

Day and night, he transformed clear water, the spiritual fluid in the bowl decreasing and replenishing.

The cultivation process was far more challenging than imagined.

The Pure Origin Pill's potency was intense, each consumption felt like undergoing a baptism.

Spiritual energy rampaged through his meridians, bringing a tearing pain.

Chen Yang often broke into a cold sweat but gritted his teeth and persevered.

After the first pill, he felt his dantian burning, spiritual energy galloping like a wild horse.

He operated the basic breathing technique, guiding the energy through his meridians.

After three cycles, the energy finally calmed, his cultivation noticeably improved.

With the third pill, he sensed the barrier of the second level of Qi refining.

The energy crashed against the bottleneck, each impact bringing piercing pain.

He clenched his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead.

Finally, at dawn, the barrier shattered, energy surged into new meridians.

After the fifth pill, he had adapted to the pain.

Energy flowed smoothly within, his cultivation steadily advancing.

He began pondering how to better harness the pill's power, ensuring no spiritual energy was wasted.

On the seventh night, Chen Yang consumed the tenth Pure Origin Pill.

This time, the potency was especially fierce. Energy surged like a tide, assaulting the barrier of the third level of Qi refining. He trembled, a trace of blood seeping from his lips.

Just as he was about to falter, the scene from that night flashed in his mind: Zhao Yanran in Yang Tianming's arms, the collapsed wooden bed, the air filled with an ambiguous scent.

"No!" he growled, a fierce glint in his eyes.

Energy suddenly erupted, breaking through the barrier.

The third level of Qi refining!

He slowly opened his eyes, feeling the surging spiritual power within.

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This breakthrough was more difficult than the previous two combined.

But it also made him realize that hatred can sometimes be a motivator.

Yet he quickly restrained his aura, suppressing his cultivation to appear at the first level of Qi refining.

Years of rural life taught him a valuable lesson: a man without sin, yet possessing a treasure, invites trouble.

If others knew of his rapid advancement, it would surely arouse suspicion.

Moreover, he had the bowl capable of replicating elixirs.

Such a treasure, if discovered, would tempt even the sect elders.

In the quiet of the night, Chen Yang began to plan.

He thought of Zhao Yanran's three senior brothers.

Yang Tianming!

The Senior Brother Yang Zhao Yanran spoke of, with an eighth-level Qi refining cultivation, a standout among inner disciples.

He specialized in metal-element cultivation methods, his attacks fierce, his demeanor arrogant, looking down on others, yet he was particularly attentive to Zhao Yanran.

That day, he openly displayed intimacy with Zhao Yanran, disregarding Chen Yang's feelings.

Senior Brother Lin, Lin Yang!

Seventh-level Qi refining.

He excelled in wood-element spells, his mind meticulous, seemingly gentle but deeply scheming.

It was he who first suggested making Chen Yang a servant, ostensibly offering a way out, but in reality, aiming to trample Chen Yang underfoot.

Senior Brother Li, Li Yan!

At the peak of the sixth level of Qi refining, his fire-element cultivation method domineering, his temper volatile, most disdainful of outer disciples and servants.

These three were not weak, and wielded considerable influence within the inner sect.

In a direct confrontation, Chen Yang stood no chance.

But now, with the bowl, everything was different.

Given enough time, accumulating enough elixirs, surpassing them was not impossible.

Chen Yang's gaze was steady.

He recalled once more that night, Zhao Yanran in Yang Tianming's embrace, the shattered wooden bed, the air thick with musk fragrance.

His fists clenched unconsciously.

One day, he would make those three pay the price.

Moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating Chen Yang's resolute profile.

In the herb garden, all was silent, save for a few night insects chirping softly.

Chen Yang took out the bowl, beginning a new round of refining.

Clear water poured in, spiritual light flickered, elixirs floating within.

This night was still long.