Chapter Four: A Contest of Talents

Three days later, having washed away the filth in the hidden river and changed into fresh clothes, Lin Qingyun emerged once more a hundred miles outside the Eighteenth Ruins Base. In less than ten days, the once-famed Eighteenth Ruins had become a thing of the past. Though the area surrounding the ruins remained tightly sealed off, fortunately Lin Qingyun’s location was beyond the cordoned zone.

He glanced back at the site of the ruins, then, taking advantage of the night, swiftly departed.

Deep in the night, Fenhe City.

Though called a city, it was in truth but a county-level town with fewer than two hundred thousand residents, renowned for its picturesque scenery, and formerly a border settlement. A century ago, with the resurgence of spiritual energy, cultivation civilization became mainstream. Huaxia had emerged victorious in several cultivation wars, and neighboring nations had become part of the Huaxia United Government. Thus, Fenhe City was transformed from a border town to an inland one.

Because of the anomaly at the Eighteenth Ruins—especially after the Heaven-Scorching Tyrant Blade had so easily endured the Divine Thunder Tribulation—Fenhe City was teeming with agents from powers across the world, even though days had passed since the event.

Lin Qingyun had pre-booked a smart cultivation chamber in the area, using an alias since his journey to the Eighteenth Base, lest his second uncle and aunt track him down.

Crescent Lake, nestled in the mountains more than twenty li from the city, was surrounded by a second-tier spirit-gathering array, established by a private owner. Thirty-six standalone villas had been constructed, each with full amenities. Typically, Foundation Establishment cultivators used the site for closed-door training, and some affluent ninth-level Qi Refining cultivators rented the villas when attempting to break through.

Stepping into one of the villas, Lin Qingyun felt as if he had returned from wilderness survival to the comforts of modern life. While the smart robot prepared a lavish meal, he took the opportunity to browse the internet.

Though three days had passed, the hottest news remained the Heaven-Scorching Tyrant Blade’s tribulation, the explosion at the Eighteenth Ruins, the emergence and slaying of the Fire Flood Dragon, and only afterward came stories such as the Amaterasu Sect uniting with the Shiva Gate, and the Americas announcing continued development of next-generation Cloudrider-class mechs, vowing that technology would not fall into decline in the age of cultivation.

Some headlines, even after thirty years, were still vivid in Lin Qingyun’s memory for their lasting influence over the decades that followed.

But now, his focus was less on world affairs and more on local news—the very reason he chose to conceal himself here after escaping from the ruins.

The eleventh trending local topic reported: “An aspiring youth of Fenhe City, Li Xiaobo, has developed a new type of Foundation Pill. The Xiaobo Foundation Pill patent has been registered, and tests show it can increase the chance of breaking through by twenty-five percent, while its price undercuts comparable market pills by around five percent.”

The article itself offered little beyond the patent registration and a brief introduction to the pill’s effects.

“Li Xiaobo…” Lin Qingyun’s mind conjured the image of a studious young man—a prodigy in alchemy whose brilliance shone even as Lin Qingyun had risen in his last life, aided by the Fortune Cauldron.

Such a genius should have been a treasure of the Lin Pharmaceutical Group, yet was instead “sold off” by his second aunt’s brother—Zhang Baole, whom Lin Qingyun was obliged by family to call uncle.

There were dozens of Foundation Pills on the market, all designed to assist ninth-level Qi Refiners in breaking through to the Heartstring Realm, each brand and price point offering an increased success rate ranging from twenty to fifty percent. Naturally, their effects varied and were subject to the individual’s constitution.

Li Xiaobo’s Xiaobo Foundation Pill had yet to have its true worth recognized. Over the decades that followed, it brought immense profit to Ivy Medical Group, and when Li Xiaobo produced several more groundbreaking pills during the Foundation Establishment stage, Ivy Medical soared to new heights.

It could be said that for the first ten years of Lin Qingyun’s previous life, Ivy Medical Group matched him move for move, largely thanks to Li Xiaobo. Only after Lin Qingyun achieved breakthroughs in high-grade alchemy in the latter decade did he finally suppress Ivy Medical Group entirely.

After dealing with his second uncle and aunt and cleaning house of the likes of Zhang Baole, Lin Qingyun learned just how utterly greedy and unscrupulous Zhang Baole was—embezzling funds, seducing dozens of women among his subordinates, and even colluding with rival factions. Notably, when Li Xiaobo’s Xiaobo Foundation Pill was contested, he was bribed by Ivy Group to deliberately sabotage his own side.

All this Lin Qingyun had only discovered in his previous life, when internal investigations and the arrest of Zhang Baole uncovered his history.

Glancing at the last lines of the article, Lin Qingyun noted that the Xiaobo Foundation Pill’s patent auction was to be held on August 29, 2124—just two days away.

After reading, he closed his eyes and recalled what he knew of Li Xiaobo, while the smart robot finished preparing a sumptuous feast.

On August 31, 2124, even in a small county like Fenhe City, a modestly scaled auction was underway—not particularly eye-catching but significant nonetheless.

Fenhe City had no permanent auction house; this event was handled by a company from the provincial capital, with the auction set in the Crescent Lake Five-Star Hotel. The hotel’s owner also possessed the second-tier spirit-gathering array around Crescent Lake, and was a local magnate who reportedly now spent most of his time in the provincial capital.

A two-hundred-square-meter banquet hall had been temporarily converted for the auction, and dozens of attendees had already arrived, about half of them media. Most were local or provincial reporters.

At the front, a virtual projection introduced the Xiaobo Foundation Pill: a young man was shown refining herbs into pills, with the pill’s effects explained alongside. The presentation wasn’t particularly polished, obviously hastily prepared by the auction house.

“Please be seated, everyone. Friends from the media, please refrain from solo interviews for the moment—there will be time set aside after the auction. We’re about to begin…”

The atmosphere was a bit chaotic, with only minutes left before the start. Someone began trying to restore order.

“Ivy Medical Group’s Director Quan is here…”

“Director Quan has arrived…”

No sooner had order been attempted than the scene erupted—media surged to their feet and rushed outside, followed by most of the pharmaceutical company representatives.

Outside the doors, Ivy Medical Group’s provincial director, Quan Shui, a man in his early thirties with blue eyes and a hint of mixed-race features, stood smiling gracefully before the press. With poise and courtesy, he fielded reporters’ questions, becoming the center of attention.

“It’s time,” said Li Xiaobo, frowning as he checked his watch at the side of the hall.

“Don’t worry, Master Li. The fact that both Ivy Medical Group and Lin Pharmaceutical Group sent their provincial directors is a big deal for this auction. Of course, it’s thanks to your talent. Our goal is to maximize your benefit, so you’ll have more resources to support your cultivation and alchemy,” the auctioneer said, eager to appease Li Xiaobo’s impatience.

He understood that a young genius alchemist with no powerful backers who could nonetheless develop a Foundation Pill was unlikely to enjoy such scenes, but for those running the event, maximizing profit was paramount—convention and schedule were secondary.

Li Xiaobo merely grunted in response, closing his eyes and ignoring the commotion.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, today’s star is our young genius alchemist, Master Li Xiaobo. Let’s proceed with the auction; interviews can come afterward,” Director Quan concluded politely, halting further questions and preparing to enter the hall.

“Ha! Director Quan, you’re early for such a minor event—are you telling me Ivy Medical Group has no one else to send?” A loud, mocking voice called from the rear.

“Director Zhang from Lin Pharmaceutical Group is here…” All eyes turned to see a swaggering, pot-bellied Zhang Baole, in a loose T-shirt, cigar in hand, flanked by two glamorous secretaries.

Thanks to his remarks, a few reporters who had wanted to approach him held back for the moment.

“Director Zhang, you’re here in person as well,” Quan Shui replied with a courteous smile.

Zhang Baole shrugged, cigar clenched between his teeth. “I’m just a deputy for the provincial branch, a mere errand boy. I can’t compare to you, Director Quan.”

“You’re too modest, Director Zhang. Your family is the largest shareholder in Lin Pharmaceutical; the reins will be yours soon enough. But let’s not hold things up—shall we proceed with the auction?” Quan Shui responded, then ignored Zhang Baole and entered the hall.

“A true rival indeed—Director Quan is trying to dig a pit for me. Lin Pharmaceutical belongs to the Lin family, not me. What are you all standing around for? Ask your questions!” Zhang Baole barked, taking a deep drag on his cigar.

With such an invitation, the media eagerly swarmed him, hoping for a sensational scoop.

As he was beset by reporters, Zhang Baole laughed heartily, treating the event as his own press conference, answering questions with casual banter. The journalists didn’t mind the lack of substance.

At the doorway, Lin Qingyun had arrived and witnessed the scene firsthand.

On the surface, Zhang Baole seemed to be aggressively confronting his rival, but Lin Qingyun, having reviewed the investigation transcripts from his previous life, knew the truth: Quan Shui was determined to secure both Li Xiaobo and his pill, and had bought off Zhang Baole before the auction even began.

Zhang Baole had long been secretly trading with Quan Shui, selling out Lin Pharmaceutical’s secrets, and their collaboration came easily.

For Zhang Baole, only what ended up in his pocket mattered—the company’s interests were nothing to him.

So this was nothing but a performance. Having lived through this moment once before, Lin Qingyun, considering Li Xiaobo’s true value and the profound impact he would have on Lin Pharmaceutical’s future, felt more strongly than ever that Zhang Baole deserved his fate.