Immortality Starts With Investment Chapter 5: Cultivators are but Beasts of Burden!

"Don't worry, Uncle, I'll make sure to deliver the Qi Gathering Pills right on time," Ye Chen assured with a grin after understanding the full picture. He avoided any mention of the red rose problem.

A careless word might betray him and tip off the foe without meaning to. But with his system in hand, Ye Chen felt certain he could strike back tenfold. Failing the mission was the least of his worries.

Manager Zhang's plump face broke into a beaming smile like a blooming chrysanthemum at those words. He clapped Ye Chen heartily on the shoulder. "I knew you could handle it, nephew. Get some rest now. I won't bother you anymore."

Ye Chen kept smiling as he ushered Manager Zhang from the room. The door shut with a gentle click, and instantly, Ye Chen's features hardened. A scornful smirk tugged at his mouth.

Out in the hallway, contempt twisted Manager Zhang's face. Heading from the backyard, he cast a glance back at Ye Chen's quarters and sneered. "The place stinks of ruined pills, but he actually believes he can meet the quota? The funniest bit is how, despite failing to refine even a handful of good ones, he still puts on airs around female cultivators. What a complete idiot."

"Gain a bit of strength, and any woman is yours. At Red Sleeve Pavilion, a single low-grade spirit stone gets a female cultivator spoiling you rotten. Yet he throws away valuable stuff without a second thought? Even if I hadn't messed with him, he'd never make it into the Green Cloud Sect."

Manager Zhang held utter disdain for Ye Chen—a pointless fool. All he hoped for was the Ye family head to finally achieve Foundation Establishment. Should that happen, the Ye family's power would skyrocket.

For himself, Manager Zhang dreamed of promotion to a prime position, escaping the godforsaken Silver Moon Market that sapped his existence.

After seeing Manager Zhang off, Ye Chen silently noted the man's name in his concealed little notebook. He then took a seat by the alchemy furnace, sorting the herbs meticulously. Prime ingredients he kept; the faulty ones he set aside.

Herbs organized, Ye Chen added them into the furnace one after another. Its eight compartments handled multiple steps at once—roasting, steaming, merging, and beyond. With firm control, he kindled the blaze and launched the refining.

Success in alchemy demanded skill in Fire Control and Water Control. Before, Ye Chen had fumbled blindly through his trials.

Fires varied: Martial fire, Literary fire. How medicinal fluids flowed and blended hinged on each herb's traits. Control methods shifted accordingly. Herb essence extraction had countless approaches too. Theory from books? Useless—true learning came from direct mentoring!

Yet Ye Chen's second uncle had never instructed him properly. Hence, his prior efforts ended in utter catastrophe, failures striking like inescapable curses.

This round changed everything. His newfound deep understanding let Ye Chen command the entire procedure flawlessly. Still, near the climax, his hand twitched by accident, sending flames leaping too high. The furnace rattled violently, scorched fumes wafting out. Another flop.

Ye Chen stayed unfazed. Insight he had aplenty, but his manual finesse lagged slightly. A handful more tries would hone it perfect. He briskly cleared the furnace and geared up for attempt two.

Half a day slipped by quietly. Ye Chen's gaze sparkled as he swiftly quenched the fire. Lifting the lid unleashed a potent medicinal fragrance throughout the chamber. Delicately, his spiritual power drew forth the pills.

"Two low-grade, four mid-grade, plus a high-grade Qi Gathering Pill?"

Pills cradled in palm, Ye Chen buzzed with excitement. True to form, he at once dissected his method—a longstanding ritual. Every time, he scrutinized steps, nailed flaws, and plotted enhancements ahead.

"Once the Green Fruit melted to liquid, fusion hit snags. Uneven mixing, time short—that birthed the low-grade one and just seven pills out of ten possible. Nail that phase next, and yields soar."

Ye Chen pondered prior errors. Still, these outcomes lifted his spirits immensely.

One spirit stone fetched twenty low-grade Qi Gathering Pills. Mid-grade? Just fifteen per stone. High-grade Qi Gathering Pills ran ten to the stone.

Pill quality hinged on potency, effects, impurity levels, and more. Superior grades delivered stronger medicine, cleaner energy, minimal dregs.

That said, gains were modest—typically ten to twenty percent better. Hence, only affluent cultivators splurged on high or mid-grades.

Regular folks lacked that option. A stone's worth lasting twenty days? They shunned shorter fifteen- or ten-day versions. Pill toxins, impurities? Barely a concern.

...

Examining his haul, Ye Chen stowed the mid-grade pills in a fresh vial, securing it well. The high-grade one he popped straight into his mouth and gulped down.

No chance he'd surrender these gems to the shop, not with Manager Zhang's obvious schemes. High-grades stayed for personal cultivation, naturally.

Cultivation realm prized spirit stones, yet personal power reigned supreme. This wasn't Earth. Lawlessness dominated most lands.

Earth offered bodyguards, gated havens for security. Cultivation world? Weakling hiring guards? They'd likely plunder you. Why guard the frail when robbing proves simpler?

Every soul lurked as hunter. City stranger with saintly face? Wilderness ambush with flying sword, no mercy.

Safety flickered in sect-guarded markets, towns, immortal cities alone—and even there, peril lingered.

Cultivation thus stood paramount.

Ye Chen dropped into cross-legged pose and dove into cultivation at once.

Since arriving via transmigration, he'd downed his predecessor's pills for practice—utter garbage, frankly. Beside his fresh high-grade masterpieces, they paled worse than waste. High-grades melted gently, power pristine and fluid, meridians unscathed.

Ye Chen sank deep into training. Eyes fluttering open hours later, three had elapsed. Easing out, cheer swelled within. High-grade pills daily? Mid Qi Refining stage in under three months loomed possible. Stellar progress.

Cultivation avoided marathon grinds. Meridians capped endurance. Two daily hours sufficed. Push beyond, and strain built—worse, permanent harm. Pills filled that gap.

Beyond hastening progress, pills shielded meridians, toughened them for extended sessions.

Even so, time starved most cultivators. Beyond base practice, offensive spells demanded study. Raw power worthless without battle prowess?

Further, skill-building in alchemy, forging, and such persisted. Earning coin via labor was mandatory too. Sans funds, how procure meals, pills, artifacts?