By the time she was not even twelve, Fu Huan had already reached the 30th rank of spiritual power—a feat beyond impressive. Yet she increasingly realized that the wise, yet limited, dean of such a small town could no longer guide her toward her third soul ring. She spent more and more time experimenting with whale fat, intuitively understanding: the older the substance, the better it was absorbed. However, its effect was one-time only—subsequent uses brought diminishing returns.
Though her seminars brought a modest but stable income, they were not enough to support her growing ambitions. She often slipped away into the smaller spirit beast forests nearby. There were no precious herbs to be found there, but she eagerly experimented, trying to combine the medicinal properties of local flora. Within weeks, she created a simple potion that accelerated the healing of shallow wounds, though its commercial value was marginal. Days passed in alchemical trials, nights in rigorous cultivation. While she remained stuck at the 30th rank without the third ring, her understanding of spiritual power deepened, and her accumulated energy waited patiently, rather than dissipating.
Two months passed this way. Her increasingly frequent absences began to worry Tang San and Xiao Wu, who suspected the direction of her secret excursions, but dared not question her directly.
Then, finally, inspiration struck. A discovery both commercially valuable and of broad appeal: the side effect of whale fat—skin rejuvenation. What woman, especially one on the path of spirit cultivation, could resist the chance to become more beautiful? This essence didn't grant physical strength, but it brought a desirable radiance and elasticity to the skin. Even when heavily diluted, it outperformed the most luxurious cosmetics. Its complex formula—achieved through precise combinations of several herbs and high-temperature processing—was virtually uncrackable.
Under the pseudonym "Moonveil," Fu Huan presented twenty small vials of her essence at a local auction. The hall greeted the new product with guarded curiosity that soon turned to mockery.
"What childish trinket is this?" someone scoffed from the back.
But when an elderly woman, her face lined with age, was invited onto the stage, and a drop of "Moonveil" was delicately applied to her cheek by the auctioneer, the hall fell silent. Within minutes, the treated side of her face visibly brightened, fine lines smoothed out, and her skin took on a rested, youthful glow. A wave of surprise swept through the crowd.
Previously bored ladies suddenly leaned forward with shining eyes, eager questions flying as bids began to pour in. The price soared rapidly, and even haughty aristocrats—who had scoffed at first—were now competing with palpable excitement. One by one, the vials were sold. By the end of the auction, the total sum reached 200,000 gold coins—a staggering success for Fu Huan.
A month later, with sufficient funds secured, she set out for a secret high-tier auction. One of the featured lots: a piece of ancient whale fat, over 50,000 years old. The item caused an immediate stir among powerful bidders.
When the shimmering chunk was brought out, excited murmurs filled the room. The starting bid was high—100,000 gold coins—but Fu Huan, looking far too young for the room, calmly lifted her paddle.
She outbid seasoned merchants and arrogant nobles alike.
"Who is this girl?" grumbled a red-faced baron whose bid had been topped for the third time.
"What does she even need such a rare material for?"
Suspicious and condescending glances were cast her way, but she paid them no mind. Her eyes were fixed on the prize.
When the price surpassed 1 million gold coins, only a few remained in the running. Among them was a notorious wealthy trader, famous for his greed. A fierce bidding duel followed.
Finally, Fu Huan offered 1.5 million.
Silence fell. Then came a collective gasp.
The gavel came down. The lot was hers.
Clutching a heavy pouch of gold and hiding the precious substance beneath her cloak, Fu Huan left the auction hall. Yet she felt eyes on her—sharp, lingering. She quickened her pace, weaving through the narrow alleys of the sleeping city. Footsteps echoed behind her.
She was being followed.
Instinct, sharpened by years of solitary survival, kicked in. She turned a corner swiftly, slipped into a dark passageway between two shops, and pressed herself against the cold stone wall. Her heart pounded, but her breathing remained quiet and steady.
The steps drew close. Then... faded.
After waiting long enough to be sure the danger had passed, she slipped from her hiding place and made her way to the outskirts of the city, where a modest inn awaited.
Back in the safety of her room, she bolted the door and filled the tub with a blend of healing herbs. With reverence, she retrieved the precious chunk of ancient fat. Melting it down, she sank into the hot bath.
Heat surged through her body. Her meridians throbbed—expanding, healing, growing stronger. For two hours, she lingered in a strange half-dream, filled with sensations of transformation.
When she emerged, her skin glowed, and her body brimmed with a newfound strength.
She was ready. She could now absorb a spirit ring over four thousand years old.
It was time to return to Notting City. She had outgrown it. Nearly four months had passed since reaching the 30th rank, and her twelfth birthday was approaching.
Though she didn't want to say goodbye, she spoke frankly with the dean, explaining that she had to move on. The wise old man, though saddened, understood.
"Go, Fu Huan," he said with a warm smile tinged with sorrow. "In less than ten years, I want to hear tales of your greatness. Stay safe—the road ahead is long."
"I'll remember your words, Dean," Fu Huan replied, deeply grateful. "I have something worth becoming stronger for."
The next morning, as she tried to leave the academy quietly, the door creaked open. Tang San stood there.
Fu Huan looked away awkwardly, guilt weighing on her. She didn't want to explain. But he said nothing—instead, he simply walked up and hugged her tightly.
"Take care, Fu Huan," he whispered. "I hope we meet again."
Xiao Wu, having learned of her departure, burst into the room in her usual whirlwind of emotion, eyes brimming with tears.
"Fu Huan! You're leaving? No! You... you have to come back! Promise me!" she cried, clinging tightly. "Good luck... and write to us!"
With a heavy heart but unshakable resolve, Fu Huan left the academy behind—carrying with her the warmth of her first true friends, and a hope that their paths would cross once more.