The slope had grown quieter.
Not because people had left—but because fewer things remained worth taking.
Lin Xu moved along the lower edge, his steps slower now, more deliberate.
Eight stalks rested in his pouch.
Two more.
He didn't rush.
That was the first thing he had learned.
The second—
Nothing valuable remained unchallenged for long.
He scanned the ground carefully. Most visible patches had already been harvested. What remained were isolated stalks—either overlooked or… avoided.
A glint caught his eye.
To the right, near a shallow dip in the terrain, a single stalk of Ironleaf Grass stood alone.
Too exposed.
Lin Xu didn't approach immediately.
Instead, he shifted his position slightly, circling. Watching the ground, not the herb.
There.
A faint line in the soil.
A crack—thin, almost invisible.
He stopped.
Someone had tried before.
Or tested it.
Lin Xu crouched at a distance, picking up a small stone. He tossed it lightly toward the area beside the herb.
The ground gave way instantly.
Not a deep collapse—but enough to swallow a foot whole.
Lin Xu nodded slightly to himself.
Avoided.
He stood and moved on.
A voice called out behind him.
"Leaving it?"
Lin Xu turned.
One of the three disciples from earlier—the one who had spoken before—was watching him.
Lin Xu nodded. "Not worth it."
The disciple walked over, stopping a few steps away from the unstable patch.
He looked down.
Then let out a quiet breath.
"Yeah… saw that one earlier."
"You didn't take it?" Lin Xu asked.
"Thought about it," the man replied. "Then decided I liked walking properly."
Lin Xu almost smiled.
The man glanced at Lin Xu's pouch. "How many?"
"Eight."
The man nodded. "Same."
For a moment, neither moved.
Then the man spoke again.
"There's a narrow stretch further up," he said. "Harder to reach. Fewer people go there."
Lin Xu didn't respond immediately.
Information.
Useful—but not free.
"Why tell me?" he asked.
The man shrugged. "Because I won't go alone."
That was answer enough.
Lin Xu considered it briefly.
Two stalks left.
Time still remained.
He nodded once. "Lead."
The path upward was narrower than expected.
The terrain shifted more frequently, forcing each step to be tested before weight was fully placed. The man moved ahead, not fast—but confident.
Lin Xu followed, watching closely.
Not copying—
Learning.
The narrow stretch opened into a slightly raised patch of land.
And there—
Ironleaf Grass.
Four stalks.
Close.
Unclaimed.
Both of them stopped.
Then exchanged a brief glance.
No words.
But the understanding was clear.
Split.
The man moved first, stepping toward the left side.
Lin Xu moved to the right.
Careful.
Always careful.
He crouched, reaching for the nearest stalk.
The soil shifted slightly under his fingers—
But held.
He pulled.
Clean.
Nine.
He didn't stop.
The second stalk was slightly deeper-rooted.
He adjusted his grip, pulling slower this time.
The ground trembled faintly.
Lin Xu paused.
Waited.
Then continued.
The root came free.
Ten.
He exhaled slowly.
Done.
Across from him, the other disciple had already secured his own two.
They both stood.
A brief moment passed.
Then the man nodded.
"Good call, coming up."
Lin Xu returned the nod.
"Same."
No names exchanged.
No further talk.
None needed.
They descended separately.
Back on the lower slope, the number of disciples had thinned. Some had already left. Others were still searching, slower now, more careful with what remained.
As Lin Xu walked past, he noticed a familiar figure—the girl from earlier.
She had a slight tear in her sleeve, dust along her arm.
But she was standing.
Working.
She glanced up briefly as he passed.
Her eyes flicked once to his pouch.
Then she gave a small nod.
Approval?
Acknowledgment?
It didn't matter.
Lin Xu returned it just as lightly.
Then continued walking.
The path back to the sect felt steadier.
Not because it had changed—
But because he had.
When he arrived at the Mission Hall, the sun was already low.
A few disciples stood in line, handing in their tokens and harvested items.
Lin Xu stepped forward when it was his turn.
"Ten stalks," he said, placing them down.
The senior disciple inspected them briefly.
Then nodded.
"Complete."
A small token was exchanged.
Ten contribution points.
Lin Xu took it quietly.
Not a large amount.
Not enough to change anything immediately.
But it was his.
Earned.
As he stepped out of the hall, the evening air felt different.
Not lighter.
Not heavier.
Just… clearer.
For the first time since entering the sect, Lin Xu understood something fully:
Progress here was not sudden.
Not dramatic.
It was built—
One decision.
One action.
One point at a time.
And if he wanted more—
He would have to keep walking.