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With a single tilt, a torrent of treasures poured out before Ye Yin’s eyes, nearly overwhelming her vision. The entire room shimmered with golden light and swirling clouds; the spectacle before her was several times more breathtaking than Solomon’s legendary treasure hoard. Most of the valuables were neatly sorted into large boxes of purple sandalwood fastened with golden clasps, with only a few spilling over the sides, sparing Ye Yin the trouble of reorganizing them.

Swords, sabers, spears, and halberds; ancient jade scrolls and books; delicate porcelain vials; a variety of rare collectibles that looked like antiques… Ye Yin swept her gaze across the trove and found the items fell roughly into five categories: divine weapons, spirit medicines, secret manuals, treasure artifacts, and magical implements. The manuals were mostly arduous and time-consuming cultivation methods, none as impressive as the Grand Shamanic Secret Arts, so she set them aside for now.

The spirit medicines came in two forms: finished pills and fresh herbs preserved in jade boxes, each filling two large chests to the brim. Ye Yin picked up a small porcelain bottle from one box and saw three bold characters on its surface: Golden Dragon Pill.

The original novel “Swan in the Apocalypse” wasn’t really a cultivation story, so it rarely mentioned pills, but this Golden Dragon Pill did ring a bell. The name was uncannily similar to a famous grain and oil brand from her own world, making it memorable. In the story, the mysterious villain once used this very pill to tempt an elder of the Light Cloud Sect; though the plan ultimately failed, it was clearly a valuable item. Still, pills were merely auxiliary supplies. What truly captivated her were the divine weapons and magical implements!

Though the Grand Shamanic Secret Arts relied mainly on heart and will, and the physically powerful Shamans were themselves living weapons, Ye Yin couldn’t help but be infatuated with those legendary swords and artifacts that could sweep through armies with a single blow. After all, a formidable weapon combined with her abilities would be both powerful and stylish. Should she one day stride onto a great battlefield, which would be the more impressive sight: transforming into a mighty ape to tear zombies apart barehanded, or heroically wielding a divine sword to vanquish them? Even her excess flesh could answer that.

Perhaps it was fate: at first glance, Ye Yin’s eyes were drawn to a slender, elegantly simple gray sword. She gently lifted it from the weapons chest. Although she couldn’t decipher the ancient script inscribed upon it, she relied on her Identification Power of Infinite Images to read the sword’s information.

Heaven’s Judgment Sword: one of the Four Great Divine Weapons of antiquity, capable of summoning heavenly thunder and earthly fire; once fully awakened, it is unstoppable in battle.

It turned out her taste was impeccable. She identified the rest of the divine weapons one by one, but none could match the Heaven’s Judgment Sword, though each was a rare treasure in its own right. Ye Yin mused that this sword was likely one of the most precious items in Grandmother Camellia’s hoard.

The original protagonist, Qiao Xinran, without the benefit of the Identification Power, failed to recognize its value and instead selected the second-to-last ranked “Vermilion Ring,” leaving the priceless Heaven’s Judgment Sword to supporting character Tang Nana, simply because she thought the rings looked pretty. The protagonist’s taste was certainly unique—those Vermilion Rings, when worn, made her look more like the boy-god Nezha than anything beautiful.

Tang Nana, overjoyed by the heartfelt gift from Xinran, treasured it so much she nearly enshrined it, never dreaming that the sword’s power would grow the more it was used in battle—a complete waste of a divine weapon.

The treasure artifacts were equally delightful: golden Buddhas, jade bracelets, emerald Avalokitesvara statues, and more. Most had protective or spiritual-nurturing properties, some with additional special effects. Ye Yin picked out a few items imbued with spatial powers, carefully setting them aside for Huahua to use when the time was right.

Ye Yin had always believed in saving the best for last. Having examined everything else, she finally turned her attention to the magical implements.

There were only three: a small cauldron, a compass, and a black bead.

With nervous anticipation, Ye Yin identified these final treasures. Once she read their attributes, she had the almost uncontrollable urge to fling off her coat, brandish them in hand, dash to the window, fling it open, and sing “Nessun Dorma” at the top of her lungs.

The Primal Cauldron: there is no medicine it cannot refine, no weapon it cannot forge. Nurtured within the body, it aids cultivation; once mastery is achieved, it can open a domain of its own, teeming with inexhaustible spirit medicines and mythical beasts.

Stellar Mystic Compass: discerns truth from falsehood, guides the seeker’s path, immune to deception or illusion.

Celestial Cloud: a bead condensed from the immortal world’s auspicious clouds, lost to the world after the great catastrophe of the heavens…

Ye Yin knew all too well the value of these three items. Her hands trembled with excitement as if afflicted with Parkinson’s. She had once thought her chances of becoming a Grand Shaman were slim, but now she was at least halfway there!

It took her a long while to calm herself. She carefully stowed everything except the sword, then used the Heaven’s Judgment Sword to cut her fingertip.

The sword, though fierce by nature, did not resist or backlash upon tasting shamanic blood; it accepted her as its master with surprising gentleness. It seemed to have gained a heartbeat and a spirit, radiating a pet-like warmth in Ye Yin’s palm.

She tried communicating with it mentally, willing it to shrink or become invisible—and to her delight, it really did either, vanishing or reducing in size at her command.

“My god, it’s even better than the golden staff,” she marveled. Like a child with a new toy, Ye Yin played with her Heaven’s Judgment Sword all night, unable to part with it until dawn, by which time, had the little sword been able to speak, it surely would have berated her mercilessly.

Before Ye Yin could say anything, Xue’er and her group shyly asked if they could stay at the farm.

“Of course,” Ye Yin replied, surprised. “But may I ask why you don’t want to go to the base anymore?”

Lily answered bashfully, “We talked it over last night. The situation at the base might not be any better than here, and we’re not afraid of hard work.”

“Don’t believe her,” Xue’er exposed her mercilessly. “She’s got her eye on that lieutenant. And, Yin, you’re our good sister now—what’s there to hide?”

Ye Yin burst out laughing, pounding the wall. Lily, flustered, protested, “I knew you’d tease me! You’re terrible!” Then she fled the office in a flurry.

“I’ll have Jiang Wen arrange for you all to stay with the soldiers,” Ye Yin managed to say after recovering. “You’ll work in the fields during the day like everyone else, and receive the same treatment as the other farmhands—no special privileges.”

“Thank you, Yin! Come here, give me a hug!” Xue’er enveloped her in a bear hug, squeezing her breathless with her chest muscles. Ye Yin struggled, gasping, “Let go! I have something to ask you.”

“Hm?”

“What did you and my sister talk about yesterday?” Ye Yin hadn’t forgotten. “You didn’t really tell everyone you’re transgender, did you?”

“Of course not.” Xue’er’s expression turned gentle. “We’re not ashamed of it, but there are many here who wouldn’t understand or accept us.”

Ye Yin felt a pang of guilt and spoke softly, “I’m sorry. Personally, I have no problem with it…”

“I know,” Xue’er smiled, glancing at her companions. “We only confided in you and Huahua because you two feel so much like kindred spirits. As for the future, we’ll be careful.”

Touched by that look, Ye Yin’s heart softened as well. She smiled, about to say something, when Xue’er suddenly put on a roguish face. “Besides, if we want to woo those soldier boys, the key is to keep our identities hidden and infiltrate their ranks without anyone suspecting a thing. Make friends first, then strike when the time is right! Am I right, sisters?”

“Right!” The chorus of voices was as resounding as the soldiers’ morning drills.

Ye Yin’s composure shattered.

After Xue’er and the others left, Ye Yin felt a pang of hunger and decided to sneak into the kitchen for a bite. But as she opened the office door, she found Zhuo Chenglan standing in the corridor, looking as if she was debating whether to come in. “Is something the matter?” Ye Yin asked, puzzled.

“No, just passing by,” Zhuo Chenglan replied coolly, turning away.

Passing by? Ye Yin glanced at the office at the end of the hallway, confused.

Because Ye Yin’s schedule was so erratic, she often missed communal meals. After catching her sneaking snacks from the kitchen several times, Master Deng made it a habit to set aside food for her.

Today he’d left two pickled vegetable buns and a plate of fried rice. His cooking was as superb as ever; Ye Yin polished it all off in no time. The Mute had just returned from outside, and, used to the sight, ignored Ye Yin and went straight to kneading dough at the stone table.

The farm population was growing, and some naive young people even envied Master Deng and the Mute for only having to cook and nothing else, unaware of how exhausting it was to prepare meals for one or two hundred people daily—let alone when a banquet was required.

Since the work-point system took root at the farm, some of the more tedious chores—like pickling vegetables and making sauces—had been handed to experienced women and elders, lightening the kitchen’s burden somewhat.

“Mute, let me ask you something.” Ye Yin dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief. “How long will the dried goods in storage last us?”

The Mute thought for a moment, then raised one finger.

“A month?” Ye Yin guessed.

He shook his head.

“A year?” He nodded.

Dried goods were invaluable: easy to store, delicious when boiled with water, sometimes even richer in flavor than fresh ingredients. The farm had developed a comprehensive system for producing dried mushrooms, black fungus, daylilies, and more, all neatly stacked in the warehouse for emergencies.

As Ye Yin considered setting aside some dried goods to trade at the base, Ye Hua burst in, bubbling with excitement. “Sister, I have great news!”

“What is it?”

“Xue’er and the others are staying!”

“Oh.”

“And just now, I managed to conjure a pillar of water!”

“What?!” My dear sister, aren’t your priorities a bit odd? Ye Yin was half amused, half exasperated. Still, she placed her hand solemnly on Ye Hua’s head like a priest giving a blessing. This time, the identification process took longer—about ten minutes—before the results came.

Full-star Water Ability User, Tier Three, has not reached replication level.

Ye Yin hugged her sister tightly. “Not only are you adorable, you’re a genius! This is wonderful!”

“Huh? Why?”

“Silly, you’re already Tier Three,” Ye Yin said excitedly. “And your water ability is so pure!”

“What about you, Sister?”

“I haven’t awakened any abilities yet, but that’s all right,” Ye Yin replied. “It’ll come, and even if it doesn’t, that’s just fate.”

She wondered, what tier was required to reach the replication level?

Ye Yin couldn’t help imagining herself copying powers in the future, wielding every ability—an omnipotent superhuman? No, just thinking about it made her want to laugh out loud…

Author’s note: First of three consecutive updates!~