Immortality Starts With Investment

Every world’s immortal root is unique. If a new Fusang Divine Tree already existed, the Golden Crow Clan couldn’t cultivate another from the root. But if none had emerged, they could grow a new tree—its value immeasurable.

Beyond symbolism, the Fusang Tree boosted the Golden Crow Clan’s bloodline purity, easing breakthroughs. Their prodigy, Lu Ya, could soar further with it, potentially dominating the cosmos. The tree was worth their all.

The Golden Crow Princess addressed Ye Chen. ”Fellow Daoist Ye, your strength in battle proves you’re truly the Heavenly Emperor’s heir. I lack the courage to contest the Fusang root further. But it holds deep meaning for our clan. May I humbly request a single root tendril? It won’t diminish the root’s Great Yang Holy Power or harm you, allowing me to report its loss to my clan.”

Her sincerity raised eyebrows among the Heavenly Evolution Holy Land’s elders. The Golden Crows, traveling from the Northern Domain, wouldn’t give up easily. A tendril likely hid deeper motives.

Ye Chen, unconcerned, had no intention of complying. No feedback multiplier? Plus, they’d just fought—why give them anything? Ignoring her, he stored the root in his ring.

His coldness flustered the Princess. Cursing him inwardly, she maintained a smile. ”Fellow Daoist, I’ll trade treasure for a tendril!” She revealed a jade box, golden flames blazing within. ”This is our clan’s Golden Crow Origin Fire. Refine it, and you’ll wield Golden Crow Fire, nearly rivaling Phoenix Fire, with boundless uses.”

Feng Baiyu and Hua Yunfei scoffed. Comparing seventh-grade Golden Crow Fire to ninth-grade Phoenix Fire? Exaggerated. Still, the fire’s value was significant.

Feng Baiyu’s mouth twitched. ”Oops, Ye Chen struck gold. A tendril for Golden Crow Fire? That’s worth more than our ten years of offerings combined. We gave him the root too easily!”

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Hua Yunfei chuckled at Feng Baiyu’s regret.

A tendril’s loss was negligible, making the trade a steal. Yet Ye Chen glanced at the fire and waved dismissively. Did she think he’d care for such a trifle? Ignoring her, he flew toward Lin Qingtan to gift the root.

The Princess grew desperate, no longer hiding her intent. ”Fellow Daoist Ye, name your terms! Everything’s negotiable!”

Feng Baiyu’s discomfort grew. The Golden Crows clearly valued the root highly—Ye Chen was about to profit massively.

Ye Chen, hovering mid-air, asked, ”Anything’s negotiable?”

The Golden Crow Princess nodded solemnly.

Ye Chen mused, ”Golden Crow Pills, long lost due to lacking Golden Crow blood, are a pity. Fill this pot with your blood, and I’ll consider it.”

Golden Crow Pills were ideal for Deity Transformation cultivators, but without their blood, they couldn’t be crafted. This was a prime chance to gather materials.

The Golden Crows seethed. Using their blood for pills—and making them bleed themselves? An insult. The pot, towering as tall as a person, seemed meant to drain them dry. Even the Princess struggled to maintain composure.

She gritted her teeth. ”Fellow Daoist Ye, if we provide enough blood, you’ll give us a tendril?”

Ye Chen shook his head. ”Not just that. I’m crafting a Dao Weapon-grade feather fan. Golden Crow tail feathers are perfect. Give me a hundred, and I’ll trade a tendril.”

The Golden Crows’ faces darkened further. Tail feathers, vital for their Divine Abilities, numbered only twenty to thirty per bird. A hundred? He was stripping them bare. Outrageous.

The two Unity Golden Crows glared. Ye Chen, unfazed, said, ”Deal or I’m gone.”

His attitude fueled their frustration, but the Princess calmed them via transmission. She asked, ”If we pay this price, you’ll trade a tendril?”

Ye Chen nodded with a smile.

After a brief exchange, the Princess transformed into her Golden Crow form, tearing a wing to fill the pot with blood, reaching a fifth of its mark. She stepped back, letting another take her place.

Onlookers were stunned, wondering what made a tendril worth such a cost.

Feng Baiyu nodded, stroking his chin. ”I worried Ye Chen’s weakness for beautiful cultivators would lead him to betray the Holy Land or humanity. But he’s ruthless. This Princess, nearly as striking as Yi Qingwu, gets no mercy. He exploits their desperation masterfully, wary of the myriad races, unswayed by beauty. Truly the Heavenly Emperor’s heir. I’m relieved.”

Ye Chen, meanwhile, sighed inwardly. The Princess lacked gifting eligibility. Otherwise, he’d have given a tendril outright, sparing this hassle for profit.