Chapter 39: The Scent of Progress

Lin Fan found himself standing before a pen filled with agitated, boar-like beasts, a crude shovel in his hand. The creatures – which a nearby placard identified as Stone-Snout Boars, known for their tough hides and ability to dig for mineral-rich roots – grunted and snuffled, their small eyes watching him warily. They were mostly third layer spiritual beasts, with a couple of larger specimens perhaps touching the fourth layer. More importantly, their enclosure reeked. A large pile of accumulated dung and soiled bedding steamed gently in the cool morning air near the fence line, directly indicated by the bored-looking supervisor as Lin Fan's first assignment.

Other disciples, clad in similarly soiled robes, worked nearby, hauling buckets, scrubbing troughs, or pitching soiled straw with resigned, sullen expressions. Their cultivation levels were uniformly low, mostly second or third layer Qi Refinement. This was clearly where underperformers and rule-breakers ended up. The supervisor, a burly seventh layer disciple, watched them all with a hawk's eye, paying particular attention to Lin Fan initially.

Lin Fan picked up the shovel. It felt heavy, crude. He took a tentative scoop of the manure. The physical effort was negligible for his peak fifth layer body, but the task itself was undeniably repulsive – the smell, the texture, the sheer mundanity of it. This was Deacon Meng's idea of a fitting punishment for disrupting the plaza with a rain of Spirit Stones. The irony wasn't lost on him.

He worked manually for a few minutes, pitching the waste into a large wooden cart nearby, playing the part of a chastened disciple under the supervisor's gaze. He observed the other workers – their slow pace, their frequent rests, the way they avoided splashing themselves. This would take hours if done normally. A month of this? Unacceptable.

The supervisor eventually seemed satisfied that Lin Fan wasn't going to outright refuse or cause trouble, perhaps deeming the disgusting task punishment enough for the high-profile newcomer. His watchful gaze drifted towards other workers, giving Lin Fan the opening he needed.

Manual labor is for those without options, Lin Fan thought wryly. I have options.

He continued the shoveling motion, but subtly began infusing his Qi, not into his muscles for brute strength, but outwards, manipulating the air itself. Drawing on the fine control needed for precise Wind Blades, but shaping it differently – softer, broader, almost invisible. He created small, directed currents of wind, just strong enough to lift the lighter pieces of dung and soiled straw and guide them directly onto the shovel or towards the cart, minimizing physical contact and dramatically increasing the speed of collection. He kept the Qi usage minimal and the air currents subtle, ensuring there was no visible shimmer or audible whoosh that would betray his technique use. The supervisor, glancing over occasionally, would just see Lin Fan working diligently, albeit perhaps slightly faster and cleaner than expected.

While his hands performed the repetitive motions, his mind was engaged elsewhere. He activated Qi Sight, observing the Stone-Snout Boars in the pen. He could clearly see their Qi circulating – rougher, more primal than a cultivator's, concentrated in their tough hides and powerful snouts. He noted minor fluctuations that might indicate health or mood. Useful data for understanding spiritual beasts in general.

He also used Qi Sight on the other disciples. Their Qi flows were weak, often sluggish – a clear indicator of poor talent, inferior cultivation techniques, or lack of resources. Their conversations, carried on the breeze, were mostly complaints about the work, gossip about stricter Deacons, or envious whispers about disciples who managed to earn more Contribution Points. It was a glimpse into the struggles of the truly bottom-tier members of the sect – the life he himself had narrowly escaped thanks to the system.

The 'punishment' quickly transformed into a unique training exercise. Maintaining the subtle wind manipulation required constant, delicate Qi control, far more nuanced than blasting Wind Blades in combat. It was excellent practice for the kind of fine control the alchemy manual had suggested was necessary for pill concoction. He found himself refining the technique, learning to lift heavier clumps, guide the streams of air around obstacles, all while maintaining the facade of simple, physical labor.

Hours passed. Lin Fan cleared his assigned section of the pen with remarkable efficiency, yet managed to stretch the work out slightly, taking occasional staged 'breathers' to avoid finishing too quickly and drawing undue attention. He even subtly used his wind currents to tidy adjacent areas, making it look like he was being exceptionally thorough.

By the time the bell rang signaling the end of the work period for the penalty disciples, Lin Fan had cleaned more than his fair share, yet felt barely taxed physically. Mentally, however, the sustained focus on fine Qi control had been surprisingly engaging. The supervisor gave his work a cursory glance and a noncommittal grunt – apparently satisfied – before dismissing the workers for the day.

Lin Fan left the Northern Paddock, ignoring the lingering stench that seemed to cling to the air. He felt a sense of accomplishment, though not from the cleaning itself. He had taken a demeaning punishment and turned it into a productive session for honing his Qi control and observation skills. A month of this? It would be a month of dedicated, practical Qi manipulation practice, far more useful than mindless labor.

Returning to his hut as evening settled, he performed a quick Qi-based cleansing technique, easily removing any lingering grime or odor from his body and robes – another small convenience his cultivation afforded.

He felt energized rather than tired. The physical labor was nothing, and the mental focus had sharpened his senses. He looked at the items in his storage ring. The "Introduction to Pill Concoction" beckoned, as did the "Advanced Wind Blade Variations" manual from his recent lottery haul. Both represented paths to greater power through knowledge and practice.

He chose the Wind Blade manual for tonight. Strengthening his existing combat skills felt like a good complement to the fine control he'd practiced during the day. He sat down, opened the manual, and began to immerse himself in diagrams illustrating how to shape his Qi into sharper, faster, or even homing variations of his familiar offensive technique.

The Spirit Beast Stables might be his assigned location for the next month, but Lin Fan intended to make every moment count, turning punishment into progress