a journey into immortal cultivation

Chapter 33: The Incantation

Chapter 33: The Incantation

Wang Lin had no interest in the Creation Pill. Hearing the bidding soar, he could only feel sorry for Wang Hao—at this rate, there was no way Wang Hao would get it.

Just then Wang Hao, right at his side, suddenly shouted, “Spirit-Gathering Pills—two hundred and thirty! That’s my limit. Any higher and I’m out!”

The clearing fell quiet. Two hundred and thirty Spirit-Gathering Pills was already an exorbitant price; few would go beyond it. But the Creation Pill was so rare that many still looked unwilling to concede.

At that moment, the man offering the pill laughed. His tone turned arrogant. “Two hundred and thirty to buy my Creation Pill? Dream on. If it’s fewer than two thousand Spirit-Gathering Pills, I’m not trading.”

The voice felt familiar to Wang Lin. He studied the figure through the shroud of black mist and thought there was an eighty-percent chance it was Wang Zhuo—but he couldn’t be sure. The man’s build, voice, and face were all hidden.

Wang Hao drooped his head and said nothing. Everyone at the exchange was stunned by the swaggering demand; no one answered.

The host coughed lightly. “All right. If there’s no deal on the Creation Pill, we’ll move on. Next item.”

Soon more items came up and were hawked in turn. Before long it was Wang Lin’s turn. He stepped forward with a small vial. “A mysterious liquid—one drop equals or surpasses a single Spirit-Gathering Pill. Roughly a hundred drops inside. I will trade only for the incantations for Qi Condensation levels Three through Fifteen.”

When he uncorked it, a light, airy aura drifted out. Many were tempted. Pills are convenient to swallow, yes, but this liquid had broader uses: added to a furnace, it could markedly raise an elixir’s success rate, even boost the spiritual sheen of flying swords or tools.

Someone called out at once, “I’ll give you the level-Four incantation.”

Wang Lin arched a brow. “Only Fourth?”

“I’ll trade you the formulas for Four, Five, and Six for that liquid,” another bidder shouted.

Wang Lin hesitated, then shook his head. “I want the incantations for Three through Fifteen.”

“That’s making it hard on us, junior brother,” one person chuckled. “Even last year’s top contender, Senior Brother Zhang Kuang, is only at Sixth Layer. He has access to Seven, Eight, and Nine at most. As for Ten through Fifteen, only some of the uncles hold those.”

Wang Lin paused, thinking. Just then a voice drifted over from not far away:

“If you can provide two hundred drops, I’ll give you all the incantations from Four through Nine.”

Everyone turned. A purple-robed young man, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, strode in from the path, face cold. He hadn’t taken a Concealment Pill. As he entered, his gaze swept the crowd and a chill ran through the field—people bowed one after another.

“Greetings, Second Senior Brother!”

He ignored them and fixed on Wang Lin. “Do you have two hundred drops?”

Wang Lin’s heart tightened; his pupils shrank. The aura rolling off this man was dangerous—far beyond anyone he’d met in Hengyue so far. Whether Sun Dazhu or Senior Brother Zhang, neither could compare to this one.

“This liquid was a chance find,” Wang Lin replied respectfully. “Aside from these hundred drops, I have only a few dozen I’ve set aside for my own use. I don’t have that much.”

The purple-robed man considered, then flicked his sleeve and tossed over a jade slip. “Fine. Give me all you have left, and the incantations are yours.”

Wang Lin caught it, scanned it with his divine sense, and, finding it genuine, took out another small bottle from his bag. He set both vials gently on the ground without approaching the man.

The purple-robed youth gave Wang Lin a glance. With a single pull of his hand, he drew both bottles across the air into his sleeve. A quick probe with divine sense, then a nod. “If you acquire more of this liquid, come find me on the back mountain. Creation Pills, flying swords, jade talismans—even the formulas past the Tenth Layer of Qi Condensation—I can get them.”

With that, he flicked his sleeve and turned to leave.

Wang Lin’s eyes narrowed, a shard of cold light flashing within. That parting sentence was vicious. Another might have missed the subtext, but Wang Lin had been sharp since childhood and kept his thoughts clear—even if he didn’t speak them.

The hidden meaning was simple: anyone with this liquid could bring it to him and exchange it for anything. In one breath he had pushed Wang Lin to the edge of a very dangerous cliff. Even though he couldn’t see their faces, Wang Lin felt the prickling stab of stares; clearly more than one person had marked him.

But he’d already accounted for this risk the moment he decided to reveal the spirit-charged liquid. He kept his expression calm and let his gaze drift around the circle.

The trading continued a little longer, then wound down. Those who’d gotten what they wanted left satisfied; those who hadn’t wore quiet gloom. One by one, they departed.

Wang Lin did not leave with Wang Hao. Instead, he quietly slapped dozens of thousand-li talismans onto his legs. His body shot forward like an arrow; in the blink of an eye, he vanished.

Wang Hao was quick on the uptake. Seeing this, he copied Wang Lin, stuck on talismans, and sped away in a flash.

Several others who had shown precious items at the exchange likewise took off without a word.

A few inner disciples harboring designs on Wang Lin’s mysterious liquid were startled by his sudden burst of speed; by the time they thought to give chase, he was already gone. They muttered curses and gave up.

Those with higher cultivation didn’t dare pursue openly. After all, this was an internal exchange among inner disciples. If robbery and murder occurred and a master traced it back, there would be consequences.

Running hard, Wang Lin kept slapping on talismans. Their speed-boosting effects stacked; after dozens, he moved like a streak. Before long he was back within the sect.

The one he truly feared was that purple-robed youth. Back on the mountain, he didn’t return to the chores office at once, but hid in an unused room where no one came and went.

Only when dawn neared—when the Concealment Pills wore off and true appearances returned—did he finally step out. Seeing nothing amiss along the way, he returned to the chores compound, shut himself in, and began cultivating in seclusion, ignoring all mundane affairs.