Three days later.

The morning mist over Gazing Star Cliff had yet to dissipate when Su Ming walked out of his cave dwelling.

After three days of regulating his breath, although his complexion was still somewhat pale and the circulation of spiritual energy within his body remained slightly sluggish, his movements were no longer hindered.

He had changed into a brand-new purple True Disciple robe.

This robe was newly issued by the sect. The collar and cuffs were embroidered with intricate cloud and thunder patterns, and the fabric was made of top-quality Heavenly Silkworm silk. Wearing it was not only light and comfortable, but it also possessed mild dust-repelling and defensive properties.

Standing at the edge of the cliff, Su Ming adjusted his collar.

"Aura Concealment Art, activate."

With a subtle shift of his will, his aura began to drop layer by layer. The peak Qi Refining ninth-layer cultivation fluctuation he originally possessed was deliberately suppressed to around the Qi Refining eighth-layer level, and it exuded a hollow, drained feeling as if his qi and blood were severely depleted.

The image of a True Disciple who had just endured a life-and-death calamity and had yet to fully recover from severe injuries was vividly portrayed.

"Perfect." Lin Yu whistled in the Consciousness Sea. "Let's go collect our debt."

Su Ming left Gazing Star Cliff and walked along the mountain path toward the Administration Hall.

Fellow disciples he encountered along the way, upon spotting that conspicuous purple robe, all stopped in their tracks and turned to stare.

"Isn't that... the new Formation Peak True Disciple, Su Ming?" 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"I heard he spent a full three hours in the Heart-Questioning Formation! He was carried out by Punishment Peak disciples when he came out!"

"Really? Then isn't he ruined?"

"Shh! Keep your voice down! He's now Master Xuanheng's personal disciple, and he returned with a 'Heaven-Level Confidential' mission. His status is extremely valuable!"

Whispers carried on the wind reached his ears. Their gazes held curiosity, envy, jealousy, and a few covert assessments.

Su Ming looked straight ahead, his pace steady and slow, completely ignoring everything around him.

Inside the Administration Hall, there was always a lingering smell of old ledgers mixed with spiritual ink, noisy and indifferent. Among the crowd waiting in line, Su Ming even spotted a few somewhat familiar faces—some who had joined the outer sect in the same year as him and had openly mocked him as a "connection" back then.

Now, those people were squeezed at the end of the line. When their eyes landed on the purple robe he wore, they were momentarily stunned, then quickly averted their gazes as if burned, lowering their heads and wishing they could shrink into a crack in the ground.

Su Ming acted as if he saw nothing, only quietly staring at the indifferent face behind the counter up ahead. This was the way of the immortal cultivation world—when your clothes changed, so did the looks you received.

At the Administration Hall, Merit Exchange Counter.

The person on duty today was a unfamiliar Golden Core steward. This man had a pale, beardless face and an indifferent expression, his head lowered as he browsed through a ledger in his hand, paying little attention to the disciples queuing at the counter.

When it was Su Ming's turn, he didn't even look up, merely tapping the counter and saying, "Token."

Su Ming handed over his True Disciple token. "This disciple wishes to exchange for 'Earth Vein Spirit Milk.'"

"Earth Vein Spirit Milk?"

The steward's fingers paused, and he finally lifted his head.

He looked Su Ming up and down, his gaze sweeping over Su Ming's pale complexion and hollow aura, a flicker of surprise and disdain flashing in his eyes.

Earth Vein Spirit Milk was a rare treasure of heaven and earth, usually only reserved by Golden Core elders or core disciples with deep backgrounds when attempting to break through bottlenecks. And here was a junior who had just been promoted, whose injuries hadn't even healed and hadn't yet established his foundation, daring to ask for such a treasure?

"Earth Vein Spirit Milk is in short supply."

The steward pushed the token back, his tone flat as if dismissing an ignorant child. "It requires fifty thousand Military Merit points to exchange. And even if you have enough points, after registering, you'll need to wait for allocation. It could be a few months, or longer..."

Before he could finish, Su Ming took out a severely worn Military Merit Order from his sleeve.

Without any unnecessary words.

"Slap."

A dull thud.

The Military Merit Order was pressed by Su Ming onto the merit verification stone on the counter.

In an instant, the verification stone erupted with blinding red light.

A light screen unfurled in midair above the Administration Hall, and a row of blood-red numbers clearly illuminated the hall—

Sixty-eight thousand three hundred.

The originally noisy hall instantly fell into dead silence.

It was as if an invisible giant hand had choked off everyone's breath.

The disciples who had been murmuring earlier all gaped, their eyes nearly bulging out.

Sixty-eight thousand... Military Merit?!

To think, during the Northern Border war, killing a Qi Refining-level demonic beast was worth only ten merit points, and a Foundation Establishment-level beast only a hundred.

What did this number mean?

It meant mountains of corpses and seas of blood.

It meant countless near-death experiences hovering at the gates of hell.

An outer sect disciple standing behind Su Ming, clutching a merit token he had painstakingly saved up for a whole year—a mere eighty points—had his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit a goose egg.

On the side of the counter, two inner sect disciples who had been arguing fiercely over a mid-grade magical implement worth three hundred merit points both seemed to have their throats grabbed simultaneously. Their argument cut off abruptly, leaving only heavy breathing.

Even on the second-floor railing, several stewards who had been processing ledgers stopped their pens, casting down suspicious and uncertain gazes.

The expression on that Golden Core steward's face changed instantly.

His originally nonchalant gaze suddenly froze, locked onto that number, then turned back to the pale-faced youth before him. His Adam's apple bobbed with difficulty.

Such a massive amount of military merit... belonged to a Qi Refining disciple?

He suddenly recalled some faint rumors circulating within the sect recently, about "Iron Wall Pass" and "survivors." The dismissiveness in his demeanor instantly vanished, replaced by an indescribable solemnity.

"The... the military merit is correct."

The steward took a deep breath, his attitude making a complete one-hundred-eighty-degree turn. He quickly operated the formation plate behind the counter a few times, then paused mid-motion.

The steward's gaze shifted toward the inner hall, as if receiving some kind of sound transmission.

A moment later, the steward turned back, his face now wearing an expression that was polite, even somewhat respectful.

"Junior Disciple Su."

The steward held out both hands, carrying a cold jade box sealed with layers of talismans, and carefully handed it across the counter. "Your exchange has received special approval. This is 'Earth Vein Spirit Milk.' Please keep it safe."

The jade box was only the size of a palm, carved entirely from ten-thousand-year-old cold jade. Its surface was covered with seven golden talismans forming a small sealing formation, with threads of cold air seeping out, yet blocked by an invisible force field three inches from the box's surface.

"Junior Disciple Su, this item is extraordinary. Please use it promptly or store it properly after leaving the hall," the steward added in a lowered voice.

After thanking the steward, Su Ming did not linger and left the Administration Hall directly.

The mountain path back to Gazing Star Cliff seemed longer than when he had come.

The faint life force and chill emanating from the cold jade box in his bosom, transmitted through the fabric, washed over his senses in waves.

The mountain wind was biting, whipping up the hem of his robe. Su Ming suddenly stopped in his tracks, turning to look back at the direction of the Administration Hall. That building looked small and utilitarian among the towering peaks.

He recalled a veteran soldier on the frozen soil of the Northern Border, who once drunkenly said to him, "Kid, we're not fighting here for military merit. We're fighting for the capital to be able to stand tall and live with dignity from now on."

Su Ming took a gentle breath. The flavor of the biting wind and snow of the Northern Border seemed to still linger in his lungs.

Now, this "capital" amassed with blood and fire, life and fate, could finally be exchanged for a tangible "future."

Su Ming touched the jade box in his bosom, no longer hesitating. Every step he took toward Gazing Star Cliff was more steady, more resolute.