Chapter Nineteen: The Scarlet Spirit Gold Mine

In the past, there had been no chance. There was simply no opportunity to display his late-stage Qi Refining strength before He Song. But now, it seemed the moment might be at hand.

Since breaking through to the late stage of Qi Refining, Wei Fan had never once drawn his sword. Late-stage Qi Refining cultivators were a rare sight in the Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market. Even though he was only at the seventh layer, he still counted among the very apex, that select handful at the top of the pyramid. Normally, whoever crossed his path would treat him with utmost respect. As a result, not once since his breakthrough had he found occasion to act.

But now, things were different. Judging by He Song’s demeanor, it seemed he might finally have the chance.

Under the earnest gazes of his two companions, He Song’s expression gradually grew mournful.

“It’s nothing, really—just that I spent a hundred spirit stones buying an ‘Introductory Compendium to the Hundred Arts of Cultivation’ earlier, and now I feel a bit empty inside.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “That was all I had, you know. I don’t even know when I’ll ever truly grasp any of it.” He maintained his pained expression as he accepted the cup of tea Meng Guan handed him and drained it in a single gulp.

The next moment, the sorrow vanished in an instant. “Excellent tea.”

He Song had no idea that Wei Fan was already itching for a chance to stand up for him. Everything he said and did had been carefully rehearsed beforehand. Even if the other two hadn’t been teasing him just now, he would have proceeded in exactly the same way.

First, he would mention purchasing a compendium of the Hundred Arts, but without specifying which one. Then he’d lament that a hundred spirit stones represented his entire fortune. Now that it was all spent, there was no need to worry about anyone coveting what little he had left. Thus, he killed two birds with one stone: he let it be known that he had acquired a volume on the Hundred Arts, so that any skills he displayed in the future would draw less attention; at the same time, he made it clear that he was now penniless, so no one would bother eyeing his meager possessions.

Based on what He Song had gleaned about the other two over the past five years, telling them was as good as announcing it to the entire Immortal Market. Not for any sinister reason—simply because both men were well known for their wide circle of acquaintances.

Meng Guan, as manager of the Spirit Apothecary Pavilion, was responsible for hiring spirit herb cultivators and distributing seeds. In the course of his work, he’d come to know an uncountable number of cultivators, most of them spirit farmers. Wei Fan, as an officer in the Spirit Construction Pavilion, interacted with nearly everyone in the market and was a great lover of making new friends. His connections in Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market were formidable indeed.

With just these two, sharing his circumstances meant that news of his newfound poverty would circulate in no time. Of course, while both men had vast networks, their true circle was limited to He Song and themselves; the rest were mere acquaintances, not part of the close-knit trio. So getting the word out through them was a trivial matter.

“Excellent, excellent. I always thought the girls at the Phoenix Perch Pavilion were fast at changing their expressions, but you outdo them all. I’m convinced, truly.” Meng Guan, seeing through the ruse, immediately began to tease him with an exaggerated wink.

“I’m convinced too. Thought there’d be a fight brewing, but it’s just you running your mouth again. That’s not very sporting of you,” Wei Fan added, his earlier impulse to leap to He Song’s defense now thoroughly subdued.

They understood He Song’s message perfectly. In fact, they could sum it up in two sentences: He bought an introductory manual on the Hundred Arts. He had no spirit stones left. The rest—the expressions, the quick changes—were just embellishments.

“All right, we understand. Don’t worry, no one will dare lay a hand on you. If anyone tries, I’ll chop his thieving paw clean off,” Wei Fan declared with a grand sweep of his arm, completely dispelling any lingering anxiety in He Song’s heart.

A late-stage Qi Refining cultivator's word carried weight in the Bamboo Mountain Immortal Market. The only ones He Song had to guard against were those in the early or, at most, middle stages of Qi Refining. With someone like Wei Fan standing behind him, his safety was all but assured.

He Song offered his thanks with a cupped fist. Connections were meant to be used at the right moment. If he waited until someone truly had designs on him, that would be real trouble. With a reliable backer, letting the truth circulate could help avoid many unnecessary complications.

Caution had always been He Song’s guiding principle. With endless years ahead of him, he had no intention of courting any threats to his safety.

In this way, he avoided undue attention while simultaneously invoking the power behind him to deter any would-be opportunists—a win on both fronts.

Since He Song had nothing further to say, their conversation soon shifted to more ordinary topics. He Song brewed the tea himself, but as he worked, Wei Fan’s voice reached his ear.

“You’ve both heard about the mineral vein that turned up near the market recently, right? The one that had so many Foundation Establishment clans fighting tooth and nail over it?”

“Of course,” Meng Guan replied, curiosity piqued. “Didn’t the Earthroot Sect step in and seize the vein? Is there more to the story?”

He Song, likewise intrigued, turned to Wei Fan to hear what happened next.

“There’s definitely more,” Wei Fan replied. “After the Earthroot Sect secured the mine, they discovered it was a small Scarlet Spirit Gold vein—extremely valuable.” He paused, seeing the confusion on their faces, and quickly added, “Scarlet Spirit Gold is used in forging magic tools. Even a small vein is worth at least tens of thousands of spirit stones, maybe over a hundred thousand.”

At this, the two listeners were startled out of their reverie. Meng Guan unconsciously plucked out a few more beard hairs, though he didn’t notice, his lips murmuring the words “tens of thousands of spirit stones” over and over. His eyes shone with barely contained greed.

He had been stuck at the sixth layer of Qi Refining for some time, and the elixir required to break through to the late stage was prohibitively expensive. With his meager fortune, he’d be waiting a very long time indeed. Normally, he pinched every spirit stone until it squeaked; now, with a vein worth tens of thousands just within reach, covetousness became impossible to suppress.

Fortunately, he retained enough sense to know such treasures were far beyond the grasp of a mere mid-stage Qi Refiner like himself. So he remained content to mutter rather than act.

He Song’s hand, busy pouring tea, trembled as well.

Tens of thousands of spirit stones at the very least!

He had been in this world for over five years, and the most he’d ever had at one time was just over a hundred stones. How many years of farming would it take to amass such a fortune?