CHAPTER 564: CHANGING THE PILL MARKET

Han Yu felt a heavy weight settle in his chest.

So some of the captured cultivators had already betrayed their factions. Already turned. Already broken.

"Are they still cultivators?" he asked.

"Mostly. But weakened. The training drains them. They will need time to grow again. But they are loyal now. And that is what matters."

Han Yu breathed in deeply.

Then he asked, "None of the righteous sect cultivators have submitted yet?"

The clerk scoffed. "Righteous? Please. They are stubborn. They resist. They scream. They curse. They take the longest to break. But in time, even they kneel. They always kneel. Everyone does."

Han Yu clenched his fist behind his back.

He kept Ju Fan’s cold, uncaring expression firmly in place. But inside, a storm churned violently.

His friends were alive.

The righteous sect disciples were alive.

But they were suffering. And they would suffer for a long time.

Years.

He turned away slowly from the screen and the smirking clerk.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"You are welcome, fellow disciple," the clerk replied, still lounging lazily. "Come back anytime. Our stock changes every week."

Han Yu walked out of the administrative building with stiff shoulders and a heavy heart.

The world outside looked the same: crimson skies, blood tinted rivers, spiked architecture, and countless disciples walking about with arrogance and murderous intent.

But to Han Yu, everything felt darker.

He had confirmed what mattered most.

His companions were not dead.

Not yet.

He had time.

Time to grow stronger. Time to prepare. Time to plan.

Time to infiltrate deeper. Time to eventually free them.

But that time would come only if he survived long enough.

Han Yu inhaled deeply.

Then he exhaled, steadying his mind.

One step at a time.

One careful move at a time.

He had entered the den of a monstrous sect, but he would not leave without tearing it apart from the inside. Not until he could save everyone. Not until he could return home alive.

Han Yu returned to his cave with a heaviness clinging to his shoulders. The walk back from the Slave District had felt longer than usual, each step weighted by a mix of dread, helpless rage, and an uncomfortable, hollow sensation deep in his chest. When he entered the cave, the faint scent of medicinal herbs and newly polished stone greeted him, but even that did little to ease his agitation.

He sat cross legged in his usual clean corner and forced himself into meditation. His breathing steadied. His thoughts slowed. The pounding of his heart eased. Only after an hour did he finally open his eyes again, his expression cool but his mind still troubled.

Six months.

He had spent over six months in this cursed sect. Six long months pretending to be Ju Fan. Six months walking among killers, madmen, and zealots. Six months carefully building his identity and stability. Six months creating the foundation he would need to survive.

And six months for his captured companions, undergoing horrors inside the training halls of the Slave District.

Han Yu pressed a fist to his chest.

He whispered, "I need time. Time to grow stronger. Time to plan. Time to accumulate enough merit points. Time to reach a level where I can intervene."

The faces of his companions floated through his mind.

Wu Shuan, calm and steady.Senior Brother Duan, strong and loyal.Xuan Qing, cold on the surface but warm underneath.

His jaw tightened.

He remembered how Xuan Qing had brought him to the sect. How she had always carried herself with dignity and strength. He feared what would happen to her if she were ever sold.

The idea made his blood run cold.

He needed merit points, a mountain of them. Enough to purchase not just a few low level slaves, but potentially several Core Condensation realm cultivators. And that was assuming their prices were even remotely stable. Given the sect’s brutal economy, prices could skyrocket without warning.

He had seen it already.

The cost of Moon Blood Crystals had risen within a single hour. Prices changed based on supply, demand, mood, and perhaps even whim.

He muttered under his breath, "I need to be prepared for the worst."

Thankfully, he had already begun laying the groundwork.

His plan was simple. A continuous stream of Blood Flood Pills. A steady flood of profit. And a quiet hoarding of the expensive materials that everyone else ignored.

The real brilliance of his plan lay in its subtlety. He did not need to shout, announce, or show off. He only needed to act consistently.

Day by day.Month by month.Quiet. Steady. Relentless.

Over the next few months, Han Yu continued his routine. The disciples watching him found him odd but predictable.

Han Yu only sold Blood Flood Pills.

At first two pills a day.

Then three.

Then five.

Soon ten. Then twenty.

It seemed he had developed a strange obsession. A single pill. A single purpose. A single product.

Disciples and alchemists alike talked about him. Many called him stubborn. Many called him foolish. Many laughed at his lack of diversity. In their eyes, a proper alchemist should work with many pills. Variety was proof of skill. Consistency was proof of mediocrity.

One disciple whispered to another, "He is stuck on one pill. As expected of Ju Fan, he probably does not have the brains for anything else."

Another snorted. "Even a fool can become an alchemist in this sect. They do not test knowledge. They test results."

Someone else muttered, "He is probably trying to impress someone. Maybe he thinks he can make this his signature pill."

Hidden from their eyes, Han Yu smirked.

Let them talk.

Let them underestimate him.

That was exactly what he wanted.

Under cover of this harmless mask, he continued purchasing herbs. Not just the cheap herbs he actually needed, but also the expensive ones required for the local version of the Blood Flood Pill. This served multiple purposes.

First, it hid his actions.Second, it muddled the waters.Third, it offered him leeway for unexpected scrutiny.