Aotian was alone in his cave, now slightly dim, having sent away the three ancestors he had summoned and reduced the intensity of the light to think more clearly.

In his hand, he observed a flask that held a single, unique red pill, with four thunder patterns on its surface.

Sighing, he wasn’t sure if he would need to use it in the end.

‘Five years until the end of the world if I can’t change the situation. Depending on my actions, this time can be accelerated or delayed. But if everything remains the same, it won’t be enough for me to reach Soul Formation at my current pace.’

‘In five years, I might reach the 7th level of Nascent Soul, but the time for the world’s destruction is between four and five years, and it could happen at any moment within that interval. So I can’t exceed four years before taking action, and with that, I might not even reach the 6th level of Nascent Soul.’

He reflected, his face heavy with concern, as the red color of the pill in his hand reflected in his eyes.

Normally, for a cultivator with a perfect single-element root, cultivating naturally—without shortcuts like treasures that accelerate cultivation and without barriers like lack of spiritual energy—the average time to complete cultivation realms, from initial stage to perfection, was basically as follows:

Qi Refinement: 3 years. Lifespan: 100 years.

Foundation Establishment: 70 years. Lifespan: 200 years.

Golden Core: 340 years. Lifespan: 500 years.

Nascent Soul: 3500 years. Lifespan: 4000 years.

And finally:

Soul Formation: 10,000 years. Lifespan: 8000 years.

The best and luckiest cultivators with perfect single-element roots would, in the end, stop forever at the Soul Formation realm, but rarely did any of them even reach that far.

That was why stronger roots made such a difference. Someone with a root just one level higher, such as a Spiritual Physique, like elder Jian Huiyin and the disciples Xiao Ling and Bai Jingjing, could achieve this result in half the time.

And Aotian, with his current cultivation speed comparable to that of a Sacred Physique, was twice as fast as a Spiritual Physique and, combined with the sect’s techniques that accelerated this time by a hundred times, would need only eight to nine years to reach the perfection of Nascent Soul, instead of 3500 years.

But he didn’t have that time.

If he could cultivate as fast as Rihai, maybe it would be possible, but he couldn’t.

That was why he was so anxious, staring fixedly at the pill in his hand, which was his desperate measure.

‘An extremely potent Formation-Tier forced realm ascension pill. It can raise my realm directly to Soul Formation, in exchange for ruining my perfect foundation.’

A dark look passed through Aotian’s eyes.

That was his last trump card, and his thought about it was simple.

‘If I forcibly raise my realm and then die, I will be reborn by sacrificing an avatar.’

‘That way, for a short period, I would have a higher realm, and my ancestors would follow, directly reaching the Mahayana realm. With nine Mahayanas who comprehend the Dao, how could that group of sinister old men piled up in a tree stop me, even with all the ancient formations there?’

That was Plan B, the card kept at the bottom of the chest. But there was a big catch in all this.

The system.

No matter how much Aotian asked, the system always responded that it had no information in its database about what would happen if he were to be reborn after using such a pill, and that worried him deeply.

In fact, he could create a pill with a temporary effect that greatly increased his power in exchange for harming him, with his realm returning to normal afterward. The problem was that this type of pill didn’t actually raise the realm, only forcibly increased power for a short period.

And, if the goal was to exploit the system by making his avatars grow in realm along with him, a temporary pill wouldn’t work.

So he needed to use a permanent-effect pill. But by doing that, would resurrection truly nullify the side effects and restore his flawed realm to normal?

Aotian wasn’t sure and even had doubts about it. That was why he still hadn’t used this absurd, yet potentially effective strategy.

‘Fortunately, with my realm having reached Nascent Soul, the damage to my foundation if I use this pill will be much smaller than when I was still in the Golden Core.’

He tried to comfort himself. That pill had been with him for a long time, but he had never used it, after all, he had not yet been driven to desperation.

Aotian wanted to have everything without sacrificing anything, but he knew that this mindset was too optimistic… and also dangerous.

Even so, he still wanted to try.

‘Haah… I’ll continue cultivating normally, without shortcuts. I’m not willing to ruin my perfect foundation and lose possible additional benefits, like the early purple soul I obtained this time. There must be another way!’

‘But if there isn’t and everything goes wrong in the end…’

His hand tightened around the pill flask, while his face became solemn.

‘Then I’ll have no choice but to use this little guy.’

…

Xiao Ling, a core disciple of the Treasure Pavilion, had recently returned to the sect to participate in the Dao sermon.

She was fortunate to be among the disciples who achieved Epiphany that day, this being her second time already.

Even now, she couldn’t calm down when thinking about it, still wondering whether her entry into the Infinite Dao Sect—a sect so magical that it could generate mass epiphanies—was nothing more than a delirious dream.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, she was snapped out of her thoughts when she felt a hand approaching to steal her storage ring.

“Master…” she called, with a helpless expression, while quickly hiding the ring with her other hand, skillfully, as if she had done that countless times before.

And she had.

Bao Hui froze, crouched down, with his hand still extended. Then he quickly withdrew it and coughed into his fist as he stood up, giving a few light pats to his back.

“Ahem! How are you, Ling’er? I had some back pain just now and crouched down a bit,” he spoke to her with his iconic fox-like smile, making up whatever nonsense came to mind as if nothing had happened.

“Master, I’m fine,” she could only reply like that, half amused, half exasperated.

In truth, her storage pouch and ring had been stolen many times by her master, and every time he would vehemently deny it, never returning them directly.

But later, she would always end up finding her storage item left somewhere visible to her, which made her smile in a helpless yet affectionate way.

Her master might be stingy, but he wasn’t truly a bad person.

Even so, after so many times and in many other situations, she had gradually learned more and more from him.

How to stay aware of her surroundings and of people, even when distracted. How to read others, identify good items, and judge the value each person placed on something.

Her master didn’t just teach her cultivation, but also about life.

One phrase of his that she liked very much was:

‘Everything has value, but that value differs for each person. A man dying of thirst in the desert values a glass of water more than a bar of gold.’

Those words were simple, even unassuming, yet they held great wisdom.

Perhaps they weren’t anything innovative or extraordinary, but they reminded her of another of his sayings:

‘People tend to despise the ordinary and the obvious. But the world is governed by the ordinary and the obvious, and those who despise them often end up being caught off guard by them.’

Shaking her head, she refocused on Bao Hui.

“Master, when will I and the others return to the Mahayana mansion?” she asked softly.

He raised an eyebrow at her, seemingly not very enthusiastic about the topic.

“You should first focus on raising your body refinement to match your cultivation, while tempering your foundation to the utmost before advancing to the Nascent Soul.”

“After your breakthrough, you shouldn’t return there for now. Having just entered a new realm, that place will be a bit too dangerous for you. Besides, the sect has already issued the contribution points for your previous entry, allowing you to buy a Nascent Soul technique.”

“So, after advancing, you can explore this continent instead and accumulate more contribution points to purchase spells, artifacts, and inheritances. Later, when you are more prepared, it will be safer for you to return there.”

He spoke with a certain seriousness, though not too forcefully, leaving room for her to decide her path afterward.

But Xiao Ling had no intention of disobeying her master’s guidance, which was for her own good.

Her master was not just a stingy man managing the sect’s treasury, but also a great cultivator, fighter, and scholar. No matter what he was trying to advise her on, his guidance should not be disregarded.

And it wasn’t just him — all the elders of the sect were like this.

She and the other disciples had long known that although the elders claimed to master only one path of cultivation or combat, in truth, they mastered everything with extreme proficiency.

Only fools would believe that the elder of the Talisman Pavilion didn’t know how to make pills, or that the elder of the Sword Pavilion didn’t know how to wield a spear. They knew — they simply pretended not to.

Even so, the disciples also understood that, being immortals, the elders probably truly considered themselves masters of only one path, while having merely “basic” knowledge in others. But that so-called “basic” knowledge of an immortal would likely surpass the combined knowledge of everyone in this world.

As she once again drifted into thought and hid her storage ring yet again to prevent it from being stolen by her master, the great golden doors of the pavilion suddenly burst open with a loud bang.

At that same instant, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky outside, illuminating a slender figure at the entrance, followed by a deafening thunderclap.

As the light of the thunder faded, Xiao Ling finally saw who stood at the door.

There stood a beautiful lady in white robes with gray accents. And although her skin was smooth, as a cultivator, there were still traces of age that revealed her oldness.

Her hair was white, her eyes gray, and there was a certain shadow within them that made her appear somewhat sinister.

[illustrative image]

Her gaze slowly swept across the pavilion with an unsettling calm before settling on the master and disciple.

Then, a small cold smile appeared at the corner of her lips.

“Eeek!”

A choked sound suddenly came from beside Xiao Ling. When she looked, she saw her master collapsing backward onto the ground, clutching his chest in agony.

“Master!” Xiao Ling cried out in panic upon seeing him like that and immediately rushed to him, kneeling at his side, still wary of the woman at the door, yet more desperate about what was happening to her master.

But as soon as she leaned closer to him—his eyes tightly shut, his face deathly pale—the corner of his mouth shifted slightly.

“Quick… lie down and pretend to be dead…”

The low whisper made Xiao Ling freeze, unable to react.

‘Ugh… he… is he serious?’

Stunned, she realized that her master was only pretending.

Not knowing what to do, just as she was about to obey him helplessly — after all, he was her master — a pair of legs suddenly entered her field of vision.

Raising her head, she saw the old woman standing beside them, looking coldly at Bao Hui, with a slight smile that seemed to make the poor man, eyes still closed, twitch uneasily.

While Xiao Ling was still at a loss, confused about what was happening, the old woman spoke first, with a faintly teasing tone.

“My foolish son, why are you still lying there?”

“Your old mother needs some materials. Put it on that stingy old Wuji’s tab.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep