Han Yun's eyebrow twitched.
Oh?
The gossipers, both disciples, were huddled near the board's edge, whispering like it was sacred news from heaven.
"I mean, the guy was literally dressed like a turnip farmer when he showed up," one of them added, voice hushed. "But the moment that black light came out of that stone, pfft—status reset. Instant golden boy."
Han Yun, still keeping his back turned, slowly blinked.
...Instant golden boy, huh?
He rubbed his chin slowly, pretending to look thoughtful while internally thinking, This Elder Bai dude...
Smart as hell. Snake bastard. Cold blood and warm smile combo. I respect it.
Because really, Han Yun couldn't even blame him. In a world where talent was everything, where fate bent to the will of those blessed by heaven, it didn't matter if the boy came from a rice field or a garbage heap.
Black-grade talent didn't care about birth status. And neither did ambition.
"If a walking fortune magnet like that landed in my sect, I'd marry my daughter to him too." Han Yun thought dryly. "Hell, I'd throw in the dog and the family estate while I'm at it."
Still, he knew how this world worked. No matter how divine the talent, no matter how justified the move—gossip was inevitable.
Disciples would talk. People would question the farmer boy's sudden rise. Whispers of favoritism, of backdoor deals, of skipping the grind—those rumors would spread like fire. And where there was envy, there was vulnerability.
"Good to know." Han Yun thought, finally walking toward the quest board like he hadn't just eavesdropped on future leverage.
Han Yun tucked all that juicy gossip away into the back of his mind—right next to his mental folder labeled "Useful Later (Milk Cow #2)"—and
turned his attention back to the quest board.
There were the usual boring postings: sweeping courtyards, delivering pills to cranky alchemists, feeding spirit chickens.
Then one caught his eye.
Subjugation Task:
Target:Three-Eared Forest Boar
Location: Lower Western Hunting Ridge
Details: Boars have been disrupting the outer herb fields. Hunt one and bring back a tusk as proof.
Reward: 5 sect tokens + 1 low-grade Beast Tempering Pill
Han Yun plucked it off the board with a nod.
"Three-Eared Forest Boar, huh?" he muttered. "Not fancy. Not glowing. Just big, angry bacon with an ear mutation. Works for me."
He made a short stop at the inner sect's supply hall, spending a few of his hard-earned tokens on a small pouch of basic healing pills—cheap, but reliable enough to stop him from bleeding out if things got spicy.
As he looked over the available weapons, he glanced at the swords lined up and promptly walked away.
"Yeah, no thanks," he muttered. "I've never touched a sword in my life, and I'm not about to go out there looking like some idiot swinging it like a stick at a piñata."
Instead, he settled for a reinforced hunting dagger—short, easy to control, and most importantly, unlikely to get caught in a tree branch mid-swing.
With that, he made his way out of the sect, heading down the winding outer path toward the Lower Western Hunting Ridge.
The air outside the main sect was even more vibrant—wild, but clean. Birds called in the distance, and spiritual beasts moved through the trees beyond the road. The scent of herbs and moss mixed with cool mountain air.
It was quiet, peaceful.
Han Yun moved quietly through the underbrush, scanning the forest floor with sharp eyes. The trees here were tall and spaced just enough to let the sunlight spill through in golden shafts, but the deeper he walked, the denser the air felt—rich with Qi, and heavier with the scent of damp soil and beast musk.
Then he saw it.
Right there in the dirt—hoofprints.
Wide, heavy, and unmistakably pig-like… except this one had an odd third impression, a strange scuff near the rear toe.
"Bingo," Han Yun whispered, crouching beside it. "Three-eared freak confirmed."
He rose, quietly following the trail, weaving through thick bushes and avoiding noisy branches like a seasoned stalker—well, one who'd watched enough documentaries on stealth to fake it.
And then, up ahead—movement.
There it was.
The Three-Eared Forest Boar, easily the size of a large calf, rooting around the base of a tree. Its hide was a mottled brown-gray, covered in scars from past fights, and yes—there were three floppy ears twitching on its ugly head.
Han Yun narrowed his eyes.
"Alright, porkchop. Time to be useful."
He gripped the dagger, steadied his breath, and began to slowly, silently creep forward. Every step was measured, every movement controlled.
"Just a little closer…"
When he was within throwing distance, he stopped, raised the dagger with both hands, aimed carefully—
—and threw it with all the strength he could muster.
Thunk!
"YES—!"
Wait.
He blinked.
The dagger had landed. Just… not quite where he wanted.
It sank into the boar's hind leg.
The beast let out an enraged, high-pitched squeal and staggered back, now fully aware it was under attack.
Han Yun's face twisted.
"Shit. SHIT."
The boar locked eyes with him for half a second.
Then it turned—and bolted into the underbrush like a spiritual bullet.
"DON'T YOU DARE!"
Han Yun sprinted after it, leaping over roots and ducking branches, arms pumping as he cursed at the top of his lungs.
"COME BACK HERE YOU FUCKING PIG! I NEED THAT TUSK!"
As Han Yun barreled through the underbrush like a man possessed, leaping over roots and branches while screaming every insult he could think of at the squealing blur ahead of him, a sudden ding echoed in his mind.
He nearly tripped mid-step.
"...What now?"
The system panel flickered into view in front of his vision without warning.
[Alert: You are in proximity to a Chosen One's Opportunity.]
[Type: Romantic Connection / Hidden Encounter]
[Target: Unidentified Supporting Character (High Affinity Link)]
[Proximity: Nearby — 50 meters]
Han Yun blinked, then skidded to a stop.
The boar continued crashing off into the distance, blissfully unaware that it had just been saved from being turned into spicy pork stew.
"…Opportunity?" Han Yun muttered, squinting at the panel. "As in… love interest kind of opportunity?"
He glanced around the dense trees, his breath still a little heavy from the sprint.
Then he saw it.
A faint, unnatural shadow between two boulders covered in moss—a small opening, almost hidden behind a cluster of thick vines and twisted roots.
A cave.
The system chimed again, cold and clear.
[Confirmed: Opportunity Source Detected — Inside.]
Han Yun stared at it for a moment, suspicious.
"Let me guess… cave encounter? Classic Xianxia starter pack."
Still, his curiosity outweighed his paranoia. Slowly, he approached, parting the vines and stepping through the tight entrance.
Inside, the air grew cooler, damp with the scent of moss and faint blood. He walked carefully, each step echoing softly against the walls.
Then he saw her.
Lying against the cave wall in a half-seated position was a young woman—no older than him—dressed in bloodstained violet robes embroidered with elegant cloud patterns. Her long, dark violet hair spilled across her shoulder like ink, and her pale skin shimmered faintly with a natural spiritual glow despite being smeared with dirt and blood.
Her expression was twisted in pain, one hand clutching her side where a wound had torn through her robe. A shattered jade token lay at her feet, broken clean down the center.
And then—her eyes met his.
Wide. Shocked. Guarded.
She moved instantly, trying to push herself upright despite the pain.
"W-who are you?" she asked, her voice trembling but firm, like someone trained to sound stronger than they felt.
Han Yun blinked.
Then raised his hands slowly, like someone entering a spirit beast's nest.
"…Uh. Just a guy… who was chasing a pig."
As Han Yun stood frozen in the cave entrance, awkwardly holding up his hands like a burglar who accidentally walked into a princess's room instead of a treasury, the system panel flickered back into view again—this time with a stream of information.
[Target Identified: Mu Qinglan]
Inner Disciple – Thousand Peaks Immortal Gate
Status: Severely Injured / Vital Qi Depleted
Affiliation: Direct Disciple of Elder Xiang Yuheng (Fifth Peak Lord)
Background: Daughter of the Mu Clan – a powerful cultivation
aristocracy from Feathered Sky City
Reputation: Cold, aloof, rarely interacts with others. Widely known within the sect for her strength and icy demeanor. Nicknamed 'Violet Frost Swan'.
[Projected Narrative Role: Love Interest (High Probability)]
[Affinity Route: Romance-linked Encounter – Interference Detected]
[Current Status: Intercepted Fate — Original Hero Undetermined]
Han Yun blinked.
Then blinked again.
"…Mu Qinglan?"
The name felt like someone had taken the words "Main Character's Ice-Cool Future Waifu" and added sparkles.
He stared at her, still clutching her side with blood on her robes, her brows furrowed in pain and distrust, and everything about her screaming pride and trauma combo package.
Then it clicked.
"Ohhh," Han Yun muttered under his breath, expression shifting to one of sly realization. "I see what this is."
A beautiful, talented, cold-tempered inner disciple from a noble clan. Hidden in a cave, wounded, vulnerable. The kind of woman most men wouldn't even dare talk to during normal days.
"Yeah… she's definitely someone's future waifu," he whispered, side-eying the panel.
Probably not Ye Fan. This was the Thousand Peaks Immortal Gate, and he wasn't even here. But Cow Number Two? The heaven-defying farmer who turned from mud boy to miracle child?
Oh, the pieces fit too well.
This was his moment. His destined rescue. His tender bond-forming cave scene. His first flag.
Han Yun's mind ran at full speed.
Which means two things…
First, he just stole the encounter. If he helped her now, her trust wouldn't go to the farmer protagonist—it would go to him.
Second… if fate really liked symmetry...
That guy is probably already on his way here.
Han Yun took a slow breath.
"…Welp."
He looked back at Mu Qinglan, who was still watching him warily, her body trembling slightly from blood loss, clearly unsure whether to collapse or attack him.
Han Yun gave a faint, polite smile.
"No need to panic. I'm not here to harm you," he said calmly, walking in and slowly crouching a few paces away, pulling a healing pill from his pouch.
"I was just chasing a pig," he added dryly. "But looks like I found a swan instead."
Mu Qinglan's gaze didn't soften.
Her violet eyes remained sharp, narrowed with icy caution despite the pale sheen of sweat across her forehead. Her body trembled from blood loss, and her robe clung to her side where the injury bled through, but the blade at her hip was still within reach—and her fingers crept toward it the moment Han Yun so much as moved.
He could see it in her eyes.
She didn't trust him.
Not a single bit.
And honestly? Fair.
He was a guy who just walked into a cave, said he was chasing a pig, and now was standing uncomfortably close while she was injured and cornered
He thought, "not a great first impression."
"I'm Han Yun," he said calmly, keeping his hands visible. "Inner disciple. Entered the sect a few days ago."
Still, her eyes didn't shift. No recognition. No relief. Just tension and calculation—like she was already thinking ten different ways to stab him before he could blink.
And she had every reason to.
This was outside the sect. Beyond the gates, the rules bent. Technically, disciples weren't supposed to kill each other. But out here? Things could "happen." Beasts. Accidents. Ambushes.
Mu Qinglan knew that well. And her grip near her sword tightened.
Han Yun saw it. He sighed.
"Alright, alright," he said, slowly reaching into his robe.
Her eyes sharpened instantly.
Shhk—! Her hand grabbed her sword's hilt with a slight twitch, despite the pain jolting through her body. Her breath quickened. She knew she wasn't in a state to fight—but if he made one wrong move, she'd at least try to take one of his arms with her.
Her heart pounded. Thoughts racing. Is he drawing a weapon? A hidden talisman? Poison?
But then—
Thwmp.
A small cloth pouch landed in her lap.
She blinked.
"What…?"
"Those are healing pills," Han Yun said casually, dusting his hands off like he'd just handed her a dumpling. "Low-grade. Won't grow your arm back or anything, but should stop you from bleeding out."
She stared at the pouch like it had just insulted her entire clan.
"...What are you playing at?" she asked warily, her voice low and sharp.
Han Yun just shrugged. "Lady, I really was chasing a pig."
He sat down cross-legged near the cave wall, not too close, but close enough to keep the awkward tension boiling.
"And trust me, if I was here to kill you, I wouldn't start with small talk and snacks."
She didn't respond, still glaring.
He rested his chin on his hand. "What? You think I'm some assassin with a hero complex? Come on. I don't have the face for that. I'm like… mid-tier handsome at best."
Mu Qinglan's fingers hovered over the pouch.
Still suspicious. Still guarded. But her eyes flicked down at it, just for a second.
As Han Yun leaned his head back against the cool stone wall, his eyes drifted lazily over to Mu Qinglan, watching her inspect the pouch like it might explode at any moment.
"You could have the most handsome face in the world" he mused, "but charming a beauty like her? You need more than a jawline and a tragic backstory."
No, women like her—cultivated, intelligent, guarded—weren't swayed by smirks and hair flips. You needed timing, subtlety, and just the right amount of shamelessness.
Which, thankfully, Han Yun had in abundance.
He watched as she finally, reluctantly, opened the pouch and peeked inside. She hesitated for a heartbeat longer… and then, to his surprise, tossed the whole thing into her mouth like she was downing candy.
Han Yun's eyebrows shot up.
"Whoa, all of it?" he said, mouth twitching into a crooked smile. "That was like three days' worth of sect missions! There goes my hard-earned pig-chasing fund."
Mu Qinglan didn't respond. Her expression remained stone-cold, but her death stare had slightly downgraded from "I will murder you" to "I'm still considering it."
She leaned back with a faint wince, closing her eyes as the pills began working through her meridians. Her breathing eased—just barely—but the stiffness in her shoulders softened.
Han Yun took the opening.
"So…" he began casually, resting an elbow on his knee, "what happened? If you don't mind me asking."
She opened her eyes slowly, still cautious.
"Why do you want to know?"
He shrugged. "Curious, mostly. I did just walk in on you bleeding out in a cave. Figured the story would be better than the ending."
Mu Qinglan was silent for a long moment. Then, in a tired voice tinged with steel, she finally answered:
"…Ambush."
Han Yun's brows lifted, his tone shifting slightly. "Bandits?"
"No," she said quietly. "Disciples. Ones I trusted."
Han Yun didn't speak right away.
Ah… classic.
Sect politics. Internal grudges. Power games.
Cold as her reputation was, Han Yun knew one thing—strong, beautiful women in sects with influence always painted targets on their backs.
He exhaled lightly. "Guess I'm lucky I showed up first then, huh?"
Her gaze flicked back to him, unreadable.
Mu Qinglan's breathing had steadied a little, her complexion less pale than before thanks to the pills. The tension in her limbs hadn't fully gone, but at least she wasn't on the verge of passing out anymore.
She finally spoke, her voice still cold, but this time laced with something sharper—pride.
"I will repay this favor… later."
Her violet eyes locked onto him like ice-tipped arrows. "You might not be one of them, but I was in no condition to take chances. If you had come here to kill me…"
She paused, her fingers brushing the hilt of her sword.
"…I would've needed only two or three moves. Maybe four, given the state I'm in. But I'd make sure you didn't leave this cave either."
Han Yun blinked.
Then grinned, smug and unbothered. "Oof. That's kinda hot."
Her face twitched.
"I'm serious," she said with narrowed eyes.
"So am I," Han Yun replied, lounging back against the cave wall with that maddening half-smile of his. "But I'll save you the effort—I don't need repayment."
Mu Qinglan's brows creased, as if something had just gone terribly wrong in her calculations.
"…You don't?" she repeated, flatly.
"Nope. You looked like you were dying, I had pills. That's all." He stretched lazily, resting his hands behind his head. "Not everything needs to be a transaction."
Her eyes narrowed further.
This guy—this guy—was making it worse. For someone like Mu Qinglan, owing a debt was already frustrating. But not being allowed to repay it? That was infuriating.
"You're making it harder."
Han Yun tilted his head. "For who?"
"For me," she muttered, lips tightening into a fine line.
Han Yun shrugged, looking far too entertained. "Well, guess we'll just have to hang out more until we're even."
She gave him a glare so sharp it could probably slice spirit stones.
He just smiled wider.
The walk down the mountain was slow and, for Mu Qinglan, infuriatingly full of noise.
Specifically, Han Yun's voice.
He walked beside her with one arm gently supporting her waist, keeping her steady as they made their way through the winding trail. His posture was casual, and relax. She, on the other hand, was trying not to show she was using him for support at all—even though her legs wobbled with every step.
Han Yun didn't seem to care.
"Y'know," he said, tone light as air, "if someone saw us right now, they'd probably think we're eloping."
Mu Qinglan glared straight ahead.
"Do you ever shut up?"
Han Yun turned to her, full grin on his face.
"Only in two situations."
She didn't respond, but her eyebrow twitched. She already regretted asking.
He leaned in just a bit, lowering his voice like he was letting her in on a secret.
"When I'm asleep... or when I'm kissing a beautiful girl."
Thump!
Her elbow jabbed him right in the stomach without hesitation. Not full strength—she didn't have that right now—but enough to knock the air out of his cocky smirk for a half-step.
"Ow—!" Han Yun staggered slightly. "Hey! That's how I get repaid? For saving your life?!"
"You're lucky I'm still injured," she muttered coldly.
"Ah, so you didn't hate it," he wheezed, rubbing his side.
Mu Qinglan turned her face slightly away, trying to ignore how her ears felt strangely warm.
"I want to throw you off this mountain."
Han Yun grinned wide, like a man who just heard confirmation of mutual affection.
"Well, as long as we fall together, Qingqing."
She visibly twitched. "Stop calling me that."
"Alright, alright… Violet Swan."
"I hate you."
"You're smiling."
"I'm scowling."
"You're scowling with a little curve."
She elbowed him again. Lighter this time. More reflex than rage.
The rest of the descent was quieter, but her silence wasn't as sharp. He still joked here and there. She still didn't laugh—but she didn't tell him to shut up quite as quickly.
When they finally reached the outer ridge and the sect buildings came into view, Mu Qinglan let out a quiet, tired sigh of relief.
"Finally."
Han Yun glanced over, smug as ever. "Admit it—you'll miss me."
She looked at him sideways, expression unreadable.
"I'll admit… you're less useless than you look."
He grinned. "Wow. Stop flirting, people might get the wrong idea."
"Shut up and keep walking."
"Yes, dear."