Chapter Thirty-Two: The Poor Fear Nothing

The verdant mountains stood tranquil, their peaks scattered with a few wooden huts. A disciple from the Southern Hall, clad in a deep blue robe patterned with clouds, stood before the house with hands lowered, speaking somewhat nervously, “Elder Lin, the Hall’s intent is for you to compensate, at least a little, for the medicinal expenses.”

Lin Ze looked over. The Southern Hall governed the outer sect’s various peaks, with its officials donning blue robes, distinguished by mountain, cloud, and moon motifs. Those with cloud patterns had to be, at minimum, in the mid-stage of Foundation Establishment to qualify, and owing to their special status, they ranked just beneath elders among the peaks.

His own modest Azure Mountain could not, by itself, command such courtesy. What truly made this official behave so meekly, his voice as soft as a cat’s, was the frail figure sitting quietly at the cliff’s edge, gazing at the horizon, beside her stood a broad, heavy, and eerily dark sword, its size daunting.

Together, the contrast between them was striking.

“Thirty spirit stones—this is the result of negotiations between the Southern Hall and Huayang Peak. What do you think?” The disciple mustered his courage to ask.

At these words, Xiao Bao remained bewildered, while Wang Yao clenched his sleeves tightly, not daring even to breathe. Based on his daily earnings from odd jobs, it would take at least five years in the sect to exchange for a single spirit stone. Thirty meant one hundred and fifty years.

Such was the price for severing the arm of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

With a bit more, it could even buy a precious Foundation Establishment Pill.

All of this, because of him… Wang Yao smiled bitterly, looking at his hand. What merit did these few fingers possess, to even be compared with a Foundation Pill?

Seeing the blue-robed Daoist remain silent, the Southern Hall disciple glanced pitifully toward the cliff, then looked back at Lin Ze, his eyes now pleading, his voice barely louder than a mosquito’s:

“It really can’t be any less.”

The negotiated result between Southern Hall and Huayang Peak was sixty spirit stones—the price for Azure Mountain, thirty of which represented Huayang Peak’s dignity.

But in the presence of that sword immortal, what dignity could Huayang Peak claim?

So he took the liberty to erase the inflated portion; he reckoned the others in the Hall would have no objection.

To reduce it further… Zhang Jialin, after all, was at least an official in the early stage of Foundation Establishment. If he ran to the Hall wailing complaints—even though he wasn’t a body cultivator, and his arm wasn’t crucial—still, for a once-dashing cultivator to become disabled overnight, anyone would find it hard to bear.

Thirty spirit stones was truly a fair settlement.

Lin Ze finally nodded.

In truth, he cared little for the price; he was penniless anyway, so the amount made no difference.

The silence was mainly for Wang Yao’s benefit.

It was not wise to demand gratitude, but having extended kindness, one ought to let others feel one’s effort; otherwise, not only would it yield no result, it could easily lead to resentment.

“Thank you, Elder Lin.” The disciple hurriedly agreed, while inwardly sighing—he had come to enforce punishment, yet somehow ended up begging.

“By the way, these are the sect merits Azure Mountain owes over the past twelve years. Please review them.” With that, he handed over a thick stack of records.

Lin Ze’s expression shifted at the words.

He was here to inherit Azure Mountain; enemies were one thing, but he hadn’t expected to inherit its debts as well.

“According to sect rules, each mountain must contribute at least sixty merit points monthly, which converts to six spirit stones. Elder Zhang Dahai has been in seclusion for twelve years, and Azure Mountain now owes eight thousand six hundred and forty merit points—eight hundred and sixty-four spirit stones in total.”

“Do you intend to repay in merit points, or continue renting Azure Mountain with spirit stones?”

Lin Ze raised his hand, deciding to pause for now.

By this reckoning, the land deed was more akin to a lease contract.

He merely held the right of first refusal for the rental.

He should still have time to reconsider.

...

Half an hour later, the Southern Hall disciple departed the mountain with grace.

Lin Ze slowly walked to the cliff’s edge and sat beside the woman, turning his head to look at her.

“Why are you looking at me?” Qin Hongxiu’s brows arched slightly.

“Little Martial Aunt, altogether it’s nine hundred spirit stones.” Lin Ze spread out his hand.

“Are you joking? I’m not a cultivator of Azure Mountain,” Qin Hongxiu replied with a cold smile, gripping her sword’s hilt. “Besides, I have no habit of paying.”

She tossed her heavy sword down the cliff, then stepped onto it.

Sword-riding flight.

It was a technique on par with cloud-riding.

Most sword cultivators preferred to stand with hands behind their backs, not sit sidesaddle with legs crossed as she did.

“By the way, a friendly reminder: if fighting alone could defend Azure Mountain, the official seal wouldn’t have fallen into your hands.” Qin Hongxiu looked back, her voice indifferent but brimming with confidence.

She had returned today only because of rumors she’d heard.

From start to finish, she merely sat at the cliff, watching the scenery, never speaking a word.

As long as she remained on the mountain, the Southern Hall would carefully weigh its options.

“One more thing: I’m leaving the inner sect to negotiate with the Heavenly Demon Sect. According to the schedule, I should return soon. Next time you play such tricks, be careful not to suffer for it.”

With those words, the dark heavy sword vanished into the clouds.

Having his intentions exposed, Lin Ze smiled faintly, feeling no embarrassment.

He had dared to act decisively precisely because of this Little Martial Aunt; it would be foolish not to use a Golden Core backer.

He intended to seize the moment while she was still around, to boost Azure Mountain’s reputation, lest any random troublemaker dared challenge him in the future.

As for the spirit stones, he never truly expected her to pay.

“Coincidentally, I too have no habit of paying.”

Poor, and thus fearless.

He had not a single spirit stone, so more debt did not trouble him.

Lin Ze continued sitting at the cliff’s edge, the gentle breeze caressing him, utterly at ease.

He opened the cloth pouch at his waist and tossed a Foundation Pill into his mouth.

This pill for breaking through had no other effect but abundant spiritual energy.

Each one equaled ten days of full absorption by a Foundation Establishment cultivator; such immense spiritual energy helped a Qi Cultivator condense their Dao Foundation.

Consuming one daily, his Dao Foundation had grown ever more solid, steadily approaching mid-stage Foundation Establishment. At this rate, in at most a year, he would break through.

With the simulation now lasting three years, the scenario created with Su Bailu’s character card reopened.

At least until the outer sect’s grand competition began, she could continuously provide Foundation Pills, though with more items added, the chance of drawing them had decreased—about five or six times out of ten.

Calculating thus, if he set aside three to five simulation attempts daily over the next two months, he could probably draw about a hundred pills.

Lin Ze carefully put away more than thirty pills, sighing—his stockpile was running low, he’d need to ration them in the future.