Chapter 20
The Soul Cultivation scroll rested quietly within Ye Liyun's spatial pouch, but its weight pressed heavily on his mind.
Six months.
The siege against the Ye Clan had begun the moment he accepted the mission, yet Ye Liyun knew better than to rush back like a blinded beast seeking blood. Power without preparation was merely arrogance wearing confidence.
He stood inside the Stygian Secret Realm, gaze steady, thoughts flowing with chilling clarity.
Foundation Establishment cultivation consumed resources at an alarming rate. High-grade herbs, soul-nourishing elixirs, emergency pills, concealment tools—every step of the siege demanded wealth.
Spiritual stones.
A lot of them.
Relying on Lady Lin's favor was a temporary measure. Depending on the Stygian organization alone was even worse. External dependence meant leverage—and Ye Liyun had learned, painfully, what leverage could do to a man.
"I need an independent source of income," he muttered.
The Emperor did not interrupt.
Ye Liyun continued, eyes narrowing. "Fast. Clean. Scalable. And capable of drawing powerful cultivators to me without exposing my true identity."
A single answer surfaced immediately.
Alchemy.
Not as a hobby.
Not as a side path.
But as a weapon.
The Emperor's voice finally sounded, calm and approving. "You have chosen correctly. Alchemy grants wealth, influence, and information. But remember—talent alone will not earn trust."
"I don't need trust," Ye Liyun replied. "Only results."
---
Azure Cloud City's commercial district never slept.
Cultivators from every sect, clan, and wandering background flooded the streets daily, trading pills, artifacts, techniques, and information. Reputation was currency here—but miracles were louder.
Ye Liyun rented a small, rundown storefront tucked between two established pill shops. The location was deliberate.
Close enough to benefit from traffic.
Insignificant enough to avoid scrutiny.
The shop had cracked wooden shelves, a faded counter, and a leaking roof.
Perfect.
He sealed the doors and retreated to the back room, setting down his Spiritual Tripod.
"Time is limited," Ye Liyun said quietly. "I only need one success."
The Emperor nodded. "Then listen carefully. I will not guide your decisions—but I will ensure you do not waste materials."
Supreme-grade alchemical formulas flowed into Ye Liyun's mind.
Mid-Grade Qi Recovery Pill.
Low-Grade Bone-Mending Elixir.
And one dangerous trump card:
A High-Middle-Grade Spirit-Focusing Pill—a pill capable of amplifying spiritual sense for a short period, invaluable for breakthroughs, inscriptions, and combat awareness.
Ye Liyun's eyes flickered.
"One pill," he said. "That's all I'll make."
"Wise," the Emperor replied. "Scarcity creates value."
---
The next three days were brutal.
Alchemy did not reward impatience.
Herbs burned.
Qi control faltered.
Impurities ruined entire batches.
Ye Liyun's spiritual sense throbbed as he adjusted flame intensity again and again, his Foundation Establishment Qi circulating with razor precision.
Failure after failure piled up.
Yet Ye Liyun did not curse.
Did not rage.
He simply adjusted.
On the third night, the Tripod emitted a low, stable hum.
The medicinal fragrance that spread through the room was sharp, clean, and pure.
Ye Liyun opened the lid.
Inside lay:
• Five Mid-Grade Qi Recovery Pills • Ten Low-Grade Bone-Mending Elixirs • One High-Middle-Grade Spirit-Focusing Pill
Their surfaces were smooth. Their Qi circulation flawless.
The Emperor inhaled sharply. "Your control has stabilized."
Ye Liyun closed the lid. "Good. That means I won't embarrass myself."
---
The shop opened the next morning.
Ye Liyun arranged the pills neatly, labeling them with plain wooden tags. No decorations. No exaggeration. Only grade and function.
The prices were high.
Deliberately so.
The first day passed in silence.
Cultivators paused, glanced, scoffed, and left.
A young shop owner. Unknown name. Premium prices.
Ridiculous.
That night, Ye Liyun locked the door and sat behind the counter, unbothered.
"Expected," he said.
The Emperor hummed thoughtfully. "Reputation precedes demand."
"And proof creates reputation," Ye Liyun replied.
---
On the second morning, Ye Liyun hung a single hand-painted sign outside his shop.
No prices.
Only facts.
ALCHEMIST YE
Mid-Grade Qi Recovery Pills — 98% Purity
Bone-Mending Elixirs — 95% Purity
Spirit-Focusing Pill — 99% Purity (ONE AVAILABLE)
The effect was immediate.
Cultivators stopped walking.
Whispers spread.
Disbelief turned into curiosity.
Curiosity turned into greed.
Within minutes, the shop was surrounded.
A burly Foundation Establishment cultivator pushed inside, face dark with suspicion.
"Boy," he growled, "if this is a scam, you won't leave this district alive."
Ye Liyun met his gaze calmly. "Test it."
The man snorted, purchased a pill, and examined it with his spiritual sense.
His expression froze.
"98.5%…?"
Silence.
Then chaos.
The shop exploded with movement.
Pills vanished from the counter.
Spiritual stones clinked loudly.
Arguments broke out over priority.
Within minutes, every Mid-Grade pill was gone.
Every elixir sold.
Finally, the pressure shifted.
A Core Formation cultivator stepped forward, eyes fixed on the final pill.
"The Spirit-Focusing Pill," he said. "Name your price."
"Five hundred spiritual stones," Ye Liyun replied.
The man laughed—then paid instantly.
He tested the pill.
His breathing stalled.
"99.1%…"
The shop fell silent.
"I will return," the Core Formation cultivator said hoarsely. "With orders."
---
By sunset, the counter was empty.
The spiritual stones piled behind it were not.
Ye Liyun closed the shop.
He did not smile.
This was only the beginning.
"We reinvest everything," he said quietly. "Herbs. Soul materials. Formation concealment."
The Emperor chuckled. "You think like a warlord."
Ye Liyun looked toward the distant direction of the Ye Clan.
"No," he replied. "I think like someone who intends to survive the siege."
The six-month clock was ticking.
And now—
He could afford to listen to it.
Far away, deep within the Ye Clan's ancestral grounds, an old man paused mid-meditation.
His eyes snapped open.
For a brief, inexplicable moment, he felt as though something precious—something long buried—had just been touched.
Elder Zhou slowly clenched his fist.
"Someone," he murmured, voice cold and uncertain, "has begun moving."