"Thwack!" Han Li clenched his hands tightly, pressing one fist hard against the table. "Use tools to crack open the bottle." This was the decision he had carefully considered again and again. Using force to open it had long been a thought he'd had—simple, direct, and practical. Yet, every time he thought about it, the image of this uniquely beautiful, flawless bottle being shattered filled him with a deep sense of sorrow and reluctance. If there were any other way to open it, he would never settle for such a crude method. He could ask his senior brothers for help, perhaps, and they might succeed. But in his heart, he had already unconsciously treated the bottle as his own treasure, unwilling to let anyone else know of it. After all, anyone on the mountain might be the rightful owner of this item. If they found out it was in his possession, how would he ever return it? This small bottle is so beautiful and intriguing that he now absolutely refuses to return it. Han Li has been completely captivated by the mysterious contents within the bottle. Though he knows it might merely be an empty vessel, he still dares to bet that whatever lies inside will prove more fascinating than the bottle itself. The more he thinks about it, the more restlessly eager he grows. Without unraveling the mystery contained within the bottle, he simply cannot fall asleep at night. Having made up his mind, Han Li quietly slips into the shed where supplies are stored in the valley, selects a heavier, solid iron hammer from among the tools, and brings it back to his room. Inside, he retrieves a half-ruined piece of hard blue brick from a corner and chooses a relatively flat, level spot within the room, placing the brick flat there, then carefully positioning the bottle horizontally upon it. Han Li raised his small hammer in his right hand. The hammer head paused slightly in the air before decisively striking the most prominent part of the bottle—the bottle's belly. "Bong!" Concerned that applying too much force might damage the contents inside, the first strike was gentle, testing the bottle's hardness. Seeing no signs of cracking, Han Li felt reassured and decided he could now apply greater force. "Bong!" with five-tenths of his strength. "Bong!" with seven-tenths. "Bong!" with full strength. "Bong!" with twelve-tenths. As Han Li increased his strength, the amplitude of his arm swings grew more exaggerated, and the speed of each hammer strike became progressively faster. Even on the final blow, which drove half the bottle's body into the blue brick, the bottle remained intact—undamaged, showing no sign of breaking. Han Li was stunned, still unable to believe, and reached out to touch the spot on the bottle where the sledgehammer had struck—it left not a single mark. The surface remained perfectly clean and luminous, glowing with a fresh, verdant sheen. This was far beyond what he had expected. Only now did Han Li truly feel certain that this small bottle was no ordinary item; it could not have been deliberately abandoned. More likely, the owner had simply forgotten it accidentally. Perhaps the original owner was currently searching the entire mountain for it. If he wanted to keep the bottle safe, he would have to carefully preserve it and ensure no one else saw it. In Han Li’s mind, anything he found on the ground—without actively stealing or taking it—belonged to him. For ordinary items, he might return them to their owners. But this bottle was so mysterious, he suspected it had been lost by someone from a wealthy household or someone of status on the mountain. He didn’t have particularly favorable impressions of either group. Han Li's family had always been poor since childhood. Even after working all day, they often went without a full meal. Within the Qi Xuan Sect, Han Li frequently observed the first group of people spending generously—living luxuriously on food and drink. (If a sect disciple wished to eat better than the regular meals, they could pay extra for specially prepared meals.) These individuals treated money as if it were not money. Whenever this happened, Han Li felt uneasy. Moreover, these wealthy youths often looked down upon the disciples from poorer backgrounds, frequently ridiculing and insulting them with words, and even sparking several minor conflicts between them. Children would often get into fights. Han Li himself participated in one such fight, only to be beaten badly by the martial-arts-trained wealthy disciples, leaving him with a swollen nose and bruised face, unable to leave his room or see anyone. After resting for several consecutive days, he gradually recovered. As for the more established and influential figures on the mountain, they also failed to leave a particularly favorable impression on Han Li. From Wang Hufa collecting bribery money from his third uncle, to Wuyan gaining direct access to the Seven Absolute Hall through the influence of the Deputy Master of the Horse Sect, although he had not met many prominent figures on the mountain, the grand image of greatness that children once held in their hearts had already begun to crumble. For what these two individuals had lost, Han Li not only didn’t intend to return it, but even wanted to secretly hide it as a playful prank. Thinking of this, Han Li immediately took down the small leather pouch hanging at his neck. This pouch had been specially stitched together from a piece of animal hide by his mother when he left home—waterproof and moisture-resistant—used to hold a peace amulet made from a wild boar’s tooth, which she hoped would ensure his health and well-being, free from illness or misfortune. Han Li loosened the pouch, placed the bottle and the amulet together, tightened the opening again, and then hung the pouch back on his neck. After completing all this, he glanced around and found no one present. Only after he straightened his chest and patted the slightly swollen bag at his chest did he feel certain that he would no longer draw attention. At that moment, he felt much more at ease, no longer afraid of unforeseen events—such as the bottle being returned to its rightful owner. Han Li quietly placed the hammer back where it belonged, acting as if nothing had happened, and strolled slowly through the Shen Shou Valley until the sky turned completely dark, then returned home, limping with his injured foot.