"How much have you collected?" an aged voice echoed through the grotto heaven, as the Treasure Spirit carefully filled another jade bottle with blood drawn from a withered corpse sprawled beneath him.
"We still require around fifty more healthy and fresh bodies, Master," the Treasure Spirit replied.
He glanced at the corpse, brow furrowing. "The blood concentration in these is too low. Impurities are increasing."
Then, after a pause, the spirit hesitated. "Master... are you certain this is the correct refinement method? It strongly resembles a Blood Path technique. And right now, even the weakest Blood Path Gu Masters are being hunted. If discovered..."
He trailed off, unwilling to speak further.
Fang Yuan stood silently for a moment, his aged form unmoving. Despite the pools of blood and rotting corpses around him, not even a flicker of concern touched his expression.
This silence—this indifference—was what unsettled the Treasure Spirit most.
"Blood Path?" Fang Yuan sneered. "A method is merely a tool. Calling one righteous and another evil—what a childish distinction."
"Heaven's will conspires. Mortals resist. The strong ascend, the weak are trampled. This is the truth beneath all paths."
"Morality?" He laughed softly. "It's the leash the strong hand to the herd. Those who believe in it are either fools—or food."
"If you're afraid of how the world sees you, then you're already beneath it."
He turned his back to the corpse. "The path to the apex is paved in flesh. Power is not granted to the kind—it's taken by the prepared."
Then, with calm finality, he said: "Don't ask whether a path is righteous. Ask whether it leads upward."
The Treasure Spirit fell silent, its crystal eyes flickering dimly. After a long pause, it asked, "Master... you're nearing eighty. Why not use a Lifespan Gu and return to your youth?"
Fang Yuan shook his head. "Not yet. Timing is a resource too valuable to waste."
"When I ascend, I will use them—along with the Gu I'm preparing."
He turned, his voice flat. "Until then, guard them. And if any Lifespan Gu appear in Yellow Treasure Heaven, buy them all—regardless of the cost."
As he spoke, he began counting silently on his fingers, calculating. Then his eyes narrowed. "Found him," he murmured cryptically—before vanishing into thin air, his presence erased without trace.
The Treasure Spirit could only sigh.
In the last sixty years, Fang Yuan had refined seven Rank 9 Immortal Gu, and countless Immortal Gu beneath that tier. Yet, despite this overwhelming foundation, he had never once attempted to ascend to the Gu Immortal realm.
The Treasure Spirit had uncovered the truth long ago: Fang Yuan was a peak Rank 5 Gu Master.
He was not a Gu Immortal.
His ability to produce immortal essence came from a modified second aperture, structured to function like a pseudo-blessed land. A method unheard of—even unnatural.
It had urged him to undergo ascension and even offered every Gu in its possession to assist, promising a smooth and perfect process. But Fang Yuan refused, saying it wasn't that he didn't want to—it was that he couldn't.
The Treasure Spirit couldn't understand why.
Why did Fang Yuan refuse to ascend?
Why didn't he use the Lifespan Gu to regain his youth?
He wasn't sick, and there was nothing physically wrong with him. Yet, he chose to remain in his aged form.
Unable to understand, the Treasure Spirit gave up trying. After all, Fang Yuan was its master, and its duty—as a land spirit—was to obey, support, and protect him, no matter what.
...
"Bring those slaves forward."
"Don't let a single one escape."
"You—how dare you lift your head?"
"Kill him!"
"Aaaghhh!"
Squelch.
The place erupted with screams.
"Shut up."
"Take them to the young master," barked the lead guard. He began counting the trembling slaves, all tied and forced to kneel on the bloodstained ground.
Then he froze.
His face darkened.
"...One's missing."
He kicked at the empty ropes on the ground—cut cleanly.
"Someone escaped! Fan out—search every corner!"
The guards scattered, their movements rough, eyes sharp.
To escape during a slave roundup—on a battlefield no less?
Impossible.
Only someone with extraordinary skill—or unimaginable luck—could pull that off.
But this wasn't just about a slave escaping.
It was an insult.
To defy the Ma Tribe's guards was to spit on their authority. That alone warranted death.
...
Somewhere in the forest🌲 ...
Huff... Huff...
"I… escaped..." the child gasped, his thin frame stumbling through the dense woods, legs barely carrying him.
Roots tangled underfoot.
Thud.
He crashed to the ground, coughing dirt.
His palms bled.
But even in pain, he forced his head up.
There were figures in the distance.
He held his breath and slipped behind a tree, body pressed into the shadows. One by one, the guards swept past him, failing to notice.
Silence returned.
He whispered, trembling, "I escaped... I really—"
Just then... A hand gripped his shoulder.
His entire body locked.
Before he could scream, he felt his entire world twist like he was being teleported.
Disoriented, he looked up.
A young man stood infront him wearing Seven-colored robes.
His eyes bore sadness, but a trace of pity can be seen on his face.
The boy blinked, trying to process what he was seeing.
Crack
A single strike to the neck—clean, practiced.
The child's vision blackened, and he fell unconscious.
Fang Yuan stood behind him for a breath.
He looked down—not with cruelty, but with a trace of cold observation.
There was no pity, no emotion in his eyes.
"Don't let him wake up," he ordered.
"Imprison him."
"If needed, use the Rank 9 Gu—but do not use any other Immortal Gu."
Then, as if he had never been there, he vanished once more.
The Treasure Spirit stood speechless at the turn of events.