The next morning, after breakfast’s steam faded like pale mist, Yumigawa Senki led the group straight to Divine Medicine Valley.

It lay only a shade farther than Wind Valley, so they arrived in a breeze, like leaves carried downhill.

“Mmm—this place feels good,” Yugong Jingyue murmured, eyes half-lidded like a cat basking in sun.

“Yeah. Living here would add years, like spring water lengthening a sapling’s rings.”

“Uh-huh! The view’s lovely—like a scroll washed in fresh rain. What a place!” Yumigawa Senki and Yumigawa Nozomi glanced around, hearts light as swallows.

Divine Medicine Valley, like Wind Valley, stretched in a jade-green palette, a mossy canvas under the sky.

Different, though—the air brimmed with life-force like warm sap, Divine Elixirs sprouting everywhere like wildflowers.

They were mid to low grade, bright as dew, while high-grade and Supreme Divine Spirit Medicine hid deeper like pearls in a reef.

After savoring the entrance’s beauty, the three sisters stepped in, feet soft on soil like silk.

With each step, the life aura thickened like honey, and cool breezes carried elixir fragrance like tea steam.

Spirit beasts and demonic beasts roamed plenty, drawn by the fertile air like moths to a lantern on a summer night.

Seeing Senki’s group, they came friendly and curious, tails wagging like willow switches in wind.

Cute ones made Yumigawa Nozomi dash over, laughing like bells, to play and rub noses.

They even spotted a few of the Elven Kind, faces calm like moonlight on a lake.

Born of the Tree of Life and tied to the Elven Realm, elves feel at home where life runs deep like roots in loam.

Even Dragon Kin, who flock to the Lunar Forest, showed up here, scales glinting like river stones.

As for the Divine and Demonic Races, they favor the Daynight Sanctuary, heavy with light and darkness like twin tides.

Most of them on the Central Continent dwell there, settled like constellations around a sacred dome.

Divine Medicine Valley stretched vast as a sea plain, and reaching the depths would take no short time.

To save time, once they’d had their fill of scenery, Senki folded space like fabric and blinked them to the deepest point.

Sure enough, in the valley’s core, the life aura surged severalfold, rolling like spring thunder.

High-grade Divine Elixirs carpeted the ground like emerald moss; Supreme Divine Spirit Medicine appeared rarer, like stars before dawn.

“I keep thinking authors of those novels and comics go overboard about ‘god-tier’ stuff,” Yumigawa Nozomi said, voice light as a breeze.

“Divine artifacts and Divine Elixirs are everywhere, right? Yesterday, Elyar’s weapon vault was packed like a market stall.”

“For outsiders, divine artifacts and Divine Elixirs are rare sights—like comets,” Yugong Jingyue yawned, stretching like a lazy panther.

People exaggerate the unfamiliar, she added, like mountains growing taller in fog.

Those stories where two or three artifacts let you rule the world? Not happening—like trying to dam a river with a fan.

“Stand at different heights, and the view changes,” Senki said after a beat, thoughts circling like cranes.

Precious jewelry is unreachable luxury to common folk, like distant stars, yet mere toys to nobles, like beads.

Most rare resources cluster on the Central Continent, pooled like rain in a basin.

Divine-tier items show up everywhere here, so we don’t think much of artifacts or Divine Elixirs.

Littlesky, didn’t you once wonder why Aixue, a princess, used a wand that wasn’t a Divine Artifact?

“Hmm… fair point,” Yumigawa Nozomi said, doubt melting like frost in sun. “Forget it—let’s pick elixirs! Sounds fun, like berry-picking.”

“Littlesky, do you know the names and effects?” Yugong Jingyue asked, voice soft as falling petals.

“Uh…” Nozomi’s heart skipped, awkwardness pricking like thorns—she hadn’t really studied, and she couldn’t pick blind.

“Heh, I figured,” Jingyue laughed, palm landing on Nozomi’s hair like a warm breeze.

She pulled a book from thin air like a magician’s ribbon—“Compendium of Divine Medicine Valley Elixirs: Supreme Volume.”

“What’s this?” Nozomi took the timeworn book, pages smelling like old ink and cedar.

She flipped a few, finding illustrations and notes on each herb, lines flowing like gulls and script dancing like smoke.

The style had a unique charm, alive and airy like brush-strokes in rain; the author was clearly a master.

“This was written by our grandpa,” Jingyue said, voice steady as spring earth. “From his youth tour of Divine Medicine Valley.”

“Wait, we have a grandpa?” Nozomi blinked, mind emptying like a pond in drought—she’d never seen grandparents.

“Of course, though none of us have,” Yumigawa Senki said, a touch sharp like flint.

Father said that after he and Mother married, Grandpa and Grandma left the main house, chasing mysteries across the Central Continent like migrating cranes.

“Our grandparents are evergreen,” Jingyue breathed, admiration drifting like incense.

“No. They both reached the Law Realm,” Senki shook her head, calm as a still lake. “At seventy or eighty, they’re not old—they’re practically young.”

I saw photos in Father and Mother’s room—they look barely in their twenties, fresh as spring leaves.

“Eh? They’re that strong?” Nozomi’s surprise popped like a seed pod. “How long does someone in the Law Realm live?”

“Not sure,” Senki said, brows knitting like threads. “Last year I read ‘Power Realms and Lifespan.’”

Humans at divine level can live three to four centuries, like long winters.

Overdeity Level spans a thousand to two thousand, like ancient pines.

Law Realm might reach several thousand to tens of thousands, like mountains weathering ages.

“Really?” Nozomi frowned, doubt fluttering like a moth. “Then how did the Ancestor die?”

He was at the Zenith of Law Realm, and brushed the Origin Realm’s skin like fingertips on water.

By your logic, he should’ve lasted tens of thousands—enduring like granite cliffs.

“That’s why I’m not sure,” Senki said, voice low as dusk. Outside the Mizumi Clan, humans never reach the Law Realm, stopping at Overdeity’s peak like waves at a sandbar.

Maybe we’ll meet Grandpa and Grandma and ask, like seeking answers at a shrine.

As for the Ancestor, the most reliable record says he burned his years failing multiple times to break into the Origin Realm, like a candle spent on storms.

“I see,” Nozomi nodded, resolve settling like snow. “I’ll read the histories when we get home. For now—let’s harvest.”

Supreme Divine Spirit Medicine doesn’t come in many types, so Nozomi skimmed the book fast, confidence rising like a kite.

“Mm. We leave the day after tomorrow,” Jingyue said, words crisp as frost. “We need to prep our elixirs quick.”