Alex used the elixir in the morning.
He'd been putting it off for three days, which in retrospect was stupid. The channels weren't going to fix themselves faster by staring at the ceiling.
He sat cross-legged on the floor, held the vial up, and pulled the stopper out.
It smelled like copper and something vaguely floral that didn't match.
Well. Bottoms up.
The effect was immediate — warmth moving through his chest and spreading outward, following the channel paths like water finding grooves. Where the damage sat, it slowed. Pushed. Not painful exactly, more like pressure from the inside.
He held the cultivation stance and let it work.
Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.
Then it faded.
He exhaled and did a slow internal check.
...That's it?
The channels felt marginally clearer. Emphasis on marginally. He'd used one of ten elixirs and the result was — fine. Technically progress. Just not the kind that made him feel better about the nine he had left.
He got up, stretched his ribs — still sore, less sharp than yesterday — and went to the mission board.
The hall was busy for a morning. Hunters clustered around the board, some pointing, one arguing quietly with a clerk about something involving a completion stamp.
Alex worked his way to the postings and actually read them this time.
The first one he looked at was a collection job. Rare herbs, two days travel east, medium reward.
Boring. Fine. Safe.
He moved on.
Escort mission. Merchant, three-day route, standard pay.
Last escort I took ended with cultists.
He moved on.
Patrol duty. Fixed location, low pay, no complications listed.
Low pay is low pay.
He kept reading.
There were twelve postings total. Four were above his realistic level. Two were vague in ways that bothered him — "varied threats" and "nature of targets unclear" were phrases that had earned his suspicion recently. One was a straight retrieval job, abandoned campsite, collect specific items, return. Simple enough.
He read it twice.
Client listed as anonymous. Standard enough — half the board used the anonymous option. Pickup location two hours out. Items listed specifically: a leather satchel, a sealed document case, a personal effects bag.
Specific items. Abandoned campsite.
He thought about what Rovan had said. They came for something specific.
Probably nothing. Abandoned campsites happened for normal reasons. People left things behind for normal reasons.
He took the posting anyway.
Rovan was at the side counter when Alex came to register it.
He looked at the slip, then at Alex, then back at the slip.
"Retrieval job."
"Yes."
"Abandoned campsite."
"Yes."
Rovan handed it back without stamping it immediately. "Who abandoned it?"
"Doesn't say."
"Anonymous client?"
"Yes."
Rovan looked at him for a moment with the expression of someone who had given advice recently and was watching it not be taken.
"Straightforward job," Alex said. "Specific items, fixed location, clear reward."
"Mm." Rovan stamped it. "Come back in one piece."
That was all he said. But as Alex turned to leave, Rovan added without looking up —
"Check the campsite before you touch anything."
Alex paused.
"I was going to."
"I know," Rovan said. "Check it anyway."
Alex pocketed the slip and headed for the door.
Check it anyway.
That was either standard advice Rovan gave everyone, or it wasn't.
He genuinely couldn't tell which.
He pushed the door open and stepped out into the morning.
Anonymous client. Abandoned campsite. Specific items.
Last time a job looked this clean he'd ended up fighting two peak initiates in a ditch.
Let's see if that was a fluke.