**Chapter 1: The Pauper Immortal and the Heavenly Beggar**
The midday sun beat down upon the terraced fields of the Azure Cloud Outer Sect with the merciless intensity of a furnace, baking the spiritual soil until it was as hard as tempered iron.
Han Lin stood amidst the rows of wilting Spirit-Thread Rice, leaning heavily on the wooden handle of his Black-Iron hoe. Sweat, thick and gritty with dust, dripped from his brow, stinging his eyes and matting his coarse black hair to his forehead. His breath came in ragged, burning gasps, his chest heaving under a patched, faded grey robe that marked him as the lowest of the low in the hierarchy of the cultivation world: a spiritual farmer, a loose cultivator, a nobody.
"Three more rows," Han Lin muttered to himself, his voice parched and cracking. "Just three more rows and I can finally rest. If I don't finish tilling this plot by sundown, Steward Wang will deduct half a low-grade spirit stone from my monthly yield. And if that happens, I won't even be able to afford my rent in the shantytown."
He raised the heavy hoe once again, channeling the meager, thread-like spiritual energy from his dantian into his arms. The rusty metal struck the earth with a dull thud, barely breaking the surface. A sharp pain shot up his arms, causing him to grit his teeth.
Han Lin was not originally from this cruel, mystical world. Just a year ago, he had been a twenty-something corporate drone on Earth, living a mundane life of endless spreadsheets, instant noodles, and the occasional web novel before falling asleep on his crowded subway commute. He had awoken one day in this unfamiliar, archaic world, occupying the body of a sixteen-year-old orphan who shared his name.
At first, upon realizing he had crossed over into a world of immortal cultivation—a world where men could fly on swords, split mountains with a single palm, and live for thousands of years—Han Lin had been ecstatic. He thought he was destined for greatness, meant to rise to the apex of the heavens, conquer arrogant young masters, and establish an eternal dynasty.
Reality, however, had delivered a swift and brutal slap to his face.
This body possessed a chaotic, five-element pseudo spirit root. In the brutal meritocracy of the cultivation world, spirit roots were everything. They were the bridge between the mortal body and the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. A single-element root, also known as a Heavenly Spirit Root, was the stuff of legends, guaranteeing a smooth path to the Nascent Soul realm. Two-element and three-element roots were considered excellent and acceptable, respectively.
But a five-element root? It meant his body absorbed the spiritual energy of metal, wood, water, fire, and earth all at once. The conflicting energies constantly fought and neutralized each other within his meridians, making his cultivation speed abysmally, laughably slow. To put it into perspective, it had taken the original host of this body ten years of bitter, blood-sweating cultivation just to reach the second level of Qi Condensation. Han Lin had spent the entire year since his transmigration trying to break through to the third level, and he hadn't moved an inch.
He was the absolute dregs of the cultivation society. He couldn't join a sect. He couldn't learn powerful spells. He survived by renting half an acre of low-grade spiritual land on the very outskirts of the Azure Cloud Sect's territory, growing Spirit-Thread Rice just to earn a handful of low-grade spirit stones a year. Most of those stones went straight back to the sect for rent and protection fees.
"Damn this life," Han Lin cursed under his breath, finally finishing the row and collapsing onto the dirt path dividing the fields. He pulled a worn leather waterskin from his belt and took a small sip of ordinary well water, not even daring to buy the cheap spiritual spring water sold in the bazaar.
As he sat there, massaging his aching calves, a semi-transparent, light-blue screen suddenly materialized in his field of vision.
Han Lin didn't flinch. He was used to it. This was his "Golden Finger," the cheat that was supposed to turn his miserable transmigration into a glorious legend.
[ **Dao Companion Tenfold Return System** ]
[ **Host:** Han Lin ]
[ **Cultivation:** Qi Condensation Level 2 ]
[ **Aptitude:** Five-Element Pseudo Spirit Root (Trash) ]
[ **Bound Dao Companion:** None ]
[ **System Function:** The host may bind a female cultivator as a Dao Companion through mutual consent and marriage. Once bound, any progress the Dao Companion makes—whether it be an increase in cultivation base, the mastery of a spell, the improvement of a profession (alchemy, forging, formations), or the comprehension of the Dao—will be returned to the host at a tenfold multiplier. ]
[ **Condition for Binding:** The target must willingly agree to become the host's wife. Deception regarding the nature of the bond is permitted, but the verbal and spiritual agreement must be authentic. ]
It was a heaven-defying cheat. Han Lin knew it. If he could just marry a genius female cultivator, he wouldn't even need to cultivate himself. If she meditated for a day, he would receive ten days' worth of pure cultivation instantly. If she learned a sword technique to the beginner stage, he would instantly master it to the great perfection stage.
There was just one massive, insurmountable problem.
Who in the nine heavens would willingly marry him?
He was a broke, talentless, Qi Condensation Level 2 farmer living in a leaky hut. In the cultivation world, female cultivators were pragmatic to the extreme. The concept of "love conquers all" did not exist here; only "resources conquer all." Dao companions were chosen based on mutual benefit. A female cultivator with even a mediocre four-element root would demand a dowry of at least a hundred low-grade spirit stones, a spiritual dwelling in a level-two spirit vein area, and a steady supply of Qi-gathering pills.
Han Lin's total net worth was currently three chipped, low-grade spirit stones and half a bag of stale rice.
He had tried, of course. In his first few months, driven by the desperation to activate his system, he had visited the matchmakers in the Green Cloud Bazaar.
*"You? A five-element trash root wanting to find a Dao Companion?"* The fat, heavily powdered matchmaker had laughed so hard her chins jiggled, drawing the mockery of the entire teahouse. *"Boy, with your qualifications, even the mortal servant girls washing chamber pots in the inner sect wouldn't look at you twice. Come back when you have five hundred spirit stones, and maybe I'll find you a sixty-year-old widow at the third level of Qi Condensation!"*
The memory still made Han Lin's face burn with humiliation. He had quickly learned his place. The gap between the rich, talented cultivators and the bottom-feeding loose cultivators was wider than the ocean.
With a heavy sigh, Han Lin waved his hand, dismissing the blue screen. "What's the use of a golden mountain if you don't have the shovel to dig it?" he muttered, forcing himself to his feet.
The sun was finally beginning to dip below the jagged peaks of the Azure Cloud Mountain Range, casting long, purple shadows across the fields. Han Lin shouldered his hoe and began the long trek back to the bazaar. Today was the end of the month. He had sold his meager harvest yesterday and paid his rent. He had exactly two whole low-grade spirit stones to his name.
As he walked along the dirt path, watching cultivators soar overhead on flying swords—streaks of brilliant blue, red, and gold cutting across the twilight sky—a radical thought began to take root in his mind.
If he couldn't afford a female cultivator... what about a mortal?
The system's text said "female cultivator," but what if he found a mortal woman with an unawakened spirit root? In the vast mortal empires that bordered the cultivation sects, there were billions of ordinary humans. Most had no spirit roots whatsoever, completely cut off from the Dao. But occasionally, a genetic anomaly would occur, and a child with a spirit root would be born to mortal parents. The great sects sent envoys every five years to scour the mortal cities for these talents, but they couldn't possibly check everyone. Many slipped through the cracks, living and dying as ordinary mortals without ever knowing they had the potential to touch the heavens.
If he went down to the mortal realm, his status as an "Immortal Master"—even a pathetic Level 2 one—would make him a king. Mortal emperors would bow to him. Mortal beauties would throw themselves at his feet. If he could find just one mortal girl with a barely passable four-element or even a five-element root and marry her, he could finally activate the system! Even ten times the progress of a terrible aptitude was better than nothing!
The more Han Lin thought about it, the faster his heart beat. It was a gamble. Finding a mortal with a spirit root was like finding a needle in a haystack. But he had to try. He was going insane tending these fields.
Without returning to his shack, Han Lin adjusted his course, heading toward the southern border of the sect's territory. Beyond the mist-shrouded valleys lay Cloudfall City, a massive mortal metropolis that served as a buffer zone and trading hub between the mundane world and the cultivators above.
The journey took him two days on foot. By the time Han Lin passed through the towering, iron-reinforced gates of Cloudfall City, his boots were caked in mud and his grey robe was stained with travel.
Despite his bedraggled appearance, the mortal guards at the gate took one look at the faint, shimmering aura of spiritual energy clinging to his body—a natural byproduct of even the lowest Qi Condensation—and instantly fell to their knees.
"Welcome, Immortal Master! Please, enter! Cloudfall City is honored by your presence!" the captain of the guard stammered, not daring to lift his forehead from the cobblestones.
Han Lin simply nodded, maintaining a cold, aloof expression. He had read enough web novels to know that in the mortal realm, a cultivator had to act like an untouchable deity. He walked past them, the heavy gates closing behind him.
Cloudfall City was a sensory overload compared to the quiet, oppressive atmosphere of the spiritual fields. The streets were choked with horse-drawn carriages, shouting merchants, wandering martial artists carrying heavy broadswords, and ordinary citizens going about their lives. The smell of roasting meats, cheap perfumes, open sewage, and unwashed bodies mingled in the warm evening air.
It was chaotic, filthy, and vibrantly alive.
Han Lin wandered the streets aimlessly as night fell. Red paper lanterns were lit along the eaves of the brothels and taverns, casting a warm, bloody glow over the cobblestones. He observed the people carefully. He had a cheap, palm-sized iron disc in his storage pouch—a Spirit Seeking Compass. It was a piece of junk he'd bought for half a spirit stone from a desperate stall owner. It couldn't measure the quality of a spirit root, but it would softly vibrate and glow if it came within ten feet of someone possessing one.
For three hours, Han Lin walked through the densest crowds he could find. The market squares. The theater districts. The slums.
The compass remained dead silent in his palm.
Disappointment gnawed at his gut. "Am I really this unlucky?" he thought, stepping into a quieter, narrower street to escape a passing parade of drunken merchants. "Out of thousands of people I've walked past, not a single one has even a scrap of spiritual aptitude. The heavens really are stingy."
He sighed, resigning himself to finding a cheap inn for the night and trying again tomorrow. Perhaps he would visit an orphanage.
As he turned a corner into a dark, narrow alleyway that smelled strongly of rotting cabbage and urine, a sharp cry pierced the gloom.
Han Lin stopped. He wasn't a hero, and intervening in mortal squabbles was usually beneath a cultivator, but the cry was small, desperate, and distinctly childlike.
He moved silently down the alley, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Near a pile of discarded crates, three burly men dressed in rough leather armor—likely low-level street thugs or enforcers for a local gang—were surrounding a small figure curled into a tight ball on the wet cobblestones.
"Hand it over, you filthy little rat!" one of the men growled, aiming a vicious kick at the figure's ribs. A sickening *thud* echoed in the alley, followed by a muffled whimper.
"Little beggar dares to steal from Master Zhao's kitchens? I'll break both your legs and sell you to the mines!" another thug spat, drawing a rusted iron club.
Han Lin squinted. Through the gloom, he could see the victim was a young girl, perhaps fourteen or fifteen years old, though she was so emaciated she looked younger. She was dressed in rags so thoroughly soaked in mud and grime that their original color was indistinguishable. Her matted hair hid her face, but her thin, bruised arms were wrapped protectively around her stomach.
More specifically, she was wrapped around a single, half-eaten, mud-stained steamed bun.
She was taking a brutal beating just to protect a piece of garbage food.
A pang of genuine sympathy pierced through Han Lin's cynical heart. He remembered his early days on Earth, struggling to pay rent, eating expired instant noodles for weeks on end just to survive in the cold, unforgiving city. The scale was different, but the desperation was the same.
"Enough," Han Lin's voice rang out, cool and commanding. It wasn't loud, but he infused a tiny fraction of his spiritual energy into the word, causing it to echo unnaturally in the confined space.
The three thugs froze, whirling around to face the intruder.
"Who the hell are you?" the leader sneered, brandishing his club. "Mind your own business, traveler, unless you want your skull cracked open. This rat stole—"
Han Lin didn't bother speaking. Dealing with mortals required action, not words. He raised his right hand, his index and middle fingers pressed together. He channeled a sliver of the meager wood and wind spiritual energy from his chaotic dantian.
*"Wind Blade."*
It was the lowest tier of magic, a spell even a child in a sect could master in a day. For Han Lin, it drained nearly a tenth of his total reserves.
A pale green crescent of compressed air materialized before his fingers and shot forward with the speed of an arrow. It bypassed the thugs entirely and struck the solid brick wall of the alley right beside the leader's head.
*BOOM!*
The bricks shattered like glass, raining dust and sharp fragments down upon the men. A deep, foot-long gouge was left in the solid stone, smoke curling from the edges.
The silence that followed was absolute.
The leader of the thugs slowly turned his head to look at the massive crater in the wall, then looked back at Han Lin, his face draining of all color until he looked like a corpse. His iron club slipped from his trembling fingers and clattered onto the stones.
"I-I-Immortal Master..." the man breathed, his knees buckling.
In the mortal realm, anyone capable of unleashing energy without a weapon was a deity. To anger an Immortal meant not just death for oneself, but the extermination of one's entire family up to nine generations.
"S-spare us, Exalted One! We had eyes but failed to see Mount Tai! We were just teaching this thief a lesson! We meant no offense!" The three men dropped to the filth-covered ground, kowtowing so hard their foreheads began to bleed against the stones.
"Get lost," Han Lin said coldly, keeping his hand raised as if preparing another spell. "If I see you in this city again, I will turn you into blood mist."
"Yes! Yes! Thank you, Exalted One! Thank you!" The men scrambled to their feet, practically tripping over each other as they sprinted out of the alley, leaving behind a faint smell of urine in their terror.
Han Lin let out a silent breath, lowering his hand. He felt a slight ache in his meridians from using the spell. His foundation was truly garbage.
He turned his attention to the girl. She hadn't moved. She remained curled in a ball, shivering violently, her death grip on the dirty steamed bun unyielding.
Han Lin walked over slowly, his boots crunching on the loose gravel. He crouched down beside her. Up close, the stench of unwashed body and sickness was overpowering, but he ignored it.
"They're gone," he said gently, letting the cold cultivator persona drop. "You can get up."
The girl flinched at his voice, curling tighter.
Han Lin sighed. He reached into his storage pouch. He didn't have much, but he did have a small porcelain bottle containing low-grade Fasting Pills. They were meant for cultivators in secluded meditation; eating one would provide enough pure nourishment to keep a person full for three days. For a starving mortal, it was basically a panacea.
He popped the cork and shook out a small, green pill. It smelled faintly of medicinal herbs and fresh grass.
"Here," he said, holding it out. "Don't eat that mud bun. Eat this. It's safe."
The girl stopped shivering for a moment. Slowly, hesitantly, she peeked out from beneath her tangled curtain of matted black hair.
Han Lin was momentarily taken aback. Beneath the layer of grime, soot, and dark purple bruises, her facial structure was delicate and striking. She had large, almond-shaped eyes that were a deep, mesmerizing shade of obsidian. Right now, those eyes were wide with the sheer, animalistic terror of a cornered prey.
She stared at the green pill in his palm, then at his face. Her gaze dropped to his clean (by mortal standards) grey robe. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing.
With a sudden, desperate speed, her small, filthy hand darted out. She snatched the pill from his palm and shoved it into her mouth, swallowing it dry without even chewing, as if terrified he would take it back.
Instantly, the medicinal efficacy of the Fasting Pill went to work. A faint, healthy flush returned to her pale, sunken cheeks. The severe cramping in her stomach vanished, replaced by a warm, fulfilling sensation she hadn't felt in years. Her eyes widened in shock as the agonizing pain of starvation dissolved.
She looked at Han Lin, her obsidian eyes welling with tears. With immense effort, she pushed herself up onto her knees and clumsily bowed her head to the ground.
"T-thank you... Milord... Thank you..." her voice was hoarse, raspy from disuse and thirst, yet it possessed a surprisingly melodic underlying tone.
"It's fine. Just don't steal anymore, or you'll get yourself killed," Han Lin said, standing up. He had done his good deed for the decade. Time to go find an inn.
As he turned to leave, his hand brushed against his waist, accidentally knocking against the small storage pouch where he kept the cheap Spirit Seeking Compass.
Suddenly, Han Lin froze.
A sensation akin to touching a live electrical wire shot through his thigh.
He looked down. The canvas material of his storage pouch was glowing. Not a soft, faint flicker, but a brilliant, blinding, emerald-green light that leaked through the thick fabric and cast eerie shadows on the alley walls. The pouch was vibrating so violently it felt like a trapped hornet was inside it.
Han Lin's breath caught in his throat. His heart slammed against his ribs like a war drum.
*No.* *It can't be.*
With trembling fingers, he untied the pouch and reached inside. The moment his fingers brushed the iron compass, the green light intensified, nearly blinding him. He pulled it out.
The cheap iron disc, which was supposed to barely glow if it detected a spirit root, was currently shrieking. The needle on the compass face was spinning so fast it was a blur, and pure, concentrated green light was pouring out of the center crystal, illuminating the entire filthy alleyway as if it were broad daylight in a spring forest.
The compass was pointing directly at the kneeling, shivering beggar girl.
Han Lin stared at the compass, then at the girl, then back at the compass. His brain completely short-circuited.
Green light. Pure, unadulterated green light with no other colors mixed in.
In the cultivation world, the colors of a testing compass corresponded to the elements. Red for fire, blue for water, yellow for earth, gold for metal, and green for wood.
If a person had a mixed root, the compass would glow with multiple colors. Han Lin's own test had looked like a muddy, disgusting rainbow.
But this light... it was exclusively green. It was so pure, so vibrant, it felt like standing in the center of an ancient, primeval forest. The density of the light indicated the purity of the root.
This wasn't just a Wood Spirit Root.
This was a *Single* Wood Spirit Root.
A Heavenly Spirit Root.
Han Lin felt his knees go weak. He staggered back a step, leaning against the brick wall for support. His mind spun with the sheer, terrifying magnitude of what he was looking at.
A Heavenly Spirit Root! The absolute apex of human potential! A person born with a Heavenly Root had no bottlenecks in their cultivation until the Nascent Soul realm. They absorbed spiritual energy of their element as easily as breathing. The heavens themselves favored them.
If the Azure Cloud Sect—a third-rate sect in the grand scheme of the continent—discovered this girl, the Sect Master himself would come out of seclusion to take her as a personal disciple. Wars between sects had been fought over less. She would be draped in silk, fed heavenly pills, and treated like a supreme goddess.
And she was sitting here, in a puddle of muddy urine, having just been beaten over a stolen steamed bun.
A sudden, overwhelming wave of avarice and desperation washed over Han Lin.
*The System.* *Tenfold Return.*
If he bound her... if he married a Heavenly Spirit Root...
If she breathed, he would get ten breaths of a Heavenly Root's cultivation speed. If she reached Foundation Establishment in a year, he would reach it in a month! If she became a Nascent Soul ancestor... he would become a god!
Han Lin shoved the violently vibrating compass back into his pouch, tying it tight to hide the light. His hands were shaking so badly he could barely manage the knot.
He forced himself to take deep, calming breaths. *Calm down. Calm down, Han Lin. If you show your hand, if she realizes her worth, she'll leave you in the dust. You need to bind her now. Tonight. Before anyone else finds out.*
He turned back to the girl. She was watching him with wide, frightened eyes, clearly confused by his sudden strange behavior and the burst of green light.
Han Lin approached her, adopting the most gentle, benevolent, and utterly trustworthy expression he could muster. He crouched down in the mud right in front of her, ignoring the dirt staining his only robe.
"Child," he said softly, keeping his voice entirely level. "What is your name?"
The girl shrank back slightly, intimidated by his proximity. "M-my name... I don't have a surname. The old beggar who raised me just called me Little Snow. S-Su Qingxue is the name I made up for myself..."
"Su Qingxue," Han Lin repeated, letting the name roll off his tongue. "A beautiful name. Qingxue, listen to me carefully. The mortal world is cruel. Today it was a steamed bun; tomorrow, it could be your life. Do you want to live like this forever? Do you want to freeze in the winters and starve in the summers?"
Qingxue shook her head vehemently, tears tracing clean lines down her soot-stained cheeks. "No... I want to live. I just want to eat every day without being beaten."
"I am a cultivator," Han Lin said, infusing his voice with an aura of profound mystique, despite his lowly Level 2 cultivation. "An Immortal Master of the Azure Cloud Sect. I wander the mortal realm seeking... destiny."
He looked deeply into her dark eyes.
"I can take you away from this filth. I can give you a home. Warm clothes. Hot food every single day. No one will ever dare raise a hand against you again. I can even teach you the ways of immortality, so you can control your own fate."
Qingxue's breath hitched. To a starving beggar, his words were the ultimate fantasy, a siren song from the heavens. "Y-you would do that for me? A dirty rat?"
"I would," Han Lin said solemnly. Then, he laid the trap. "But... the path of immortality is forbidden to outsiders. I cannot simply take in a servant to the spiritual peaks. The rules of my sect are strict. I can only bring you with me under one condition."
Qingxue leaned forward, desperate. "Anything! I'll do anything! I'll scrub floors, I'll empty chamber pots..."
"No," Han Lin interrupted gently. "You must become my family."
He paused, letting the weight of the moment settle.
"Su Qingxue... will you marry me? Will you become my Dao Companion, my wife, to walk the long path of eternity by my side?"
Qingxue froze. Her small brain, entirely focused on survival, struggled to process the concept. This exalted, powerful Immortal Master wanted to marry *her*? A filthy beggar who smelled of garbage? It made absolutely no sense.
But as she looked into his eyes, she didn't see disgust or malice. She saw an intense, burning sincerity. (Han Lin was genuinely sincere—sincere about wanting that 10x return more than anything in his life).
To a girl who had nothing, the offer was a lifeline thrown into a dark, drowning ocean. She didn't know what a Dao Companion was. She barely knew what marriage entailed beyond what she'd seen in the streets. But she knew it meant safety. It meant the green pill that took away the hunger pain. It meant a roof.
She didn't hesitate for long.
"I... I will," she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. "If Milord doesn't despise my filth... Qingxue is willing to be Milord's wife. I will serve you for the rest of my life."
The moment the words left her lips, a resounding chime echoed in the depths of Han Lin's mind, louder than a thunderclap.
*Ding!*
A brilliant, azure-blue screen shattered his vision, overlaying the dark alleyway.
[ **Target has given mutual, verbal consent.** ]
[ **Binding successful!** ]
[ **Dao Companion 1:** Su Qingxue ]
[ **Aptitude:** Single Wood Heavenly Spirit Root (Supreme) ]
[ **Current Cultivation:** Mortal (Unawakened) ]
[ **System Bond Established. The Tenfold Return protocol is now active. May the Host and Dao Companion ascend together!** ]
Han Lin felt a euphoric rush dizzy him. He had done it. He had actually done it. He had scammed a future supreme goddess into becoming his bound wife before she even knew what a spirit root was!
"Good," Han Lin said, his voice actually shaking with adrenaline now. He stood up and held out his hand to her. "From this day forth, you are Su Qingxue, wife of Han Lin. Come. Let's get you cleaned up. The mortal world is no longer your home."
Qingxue looked at his clean, calloused hand. Timidly, she reached out her own filthy, bruised hand and placed it in his. His grip was warm and firm. As he pulled her to her feet, she felt a strange sense of security wash over her.
"Now," Han Lin said, unable to wait a second longer to test his cheat. "Before we go to the inn, I am going to teach you the most basic breathing technique of my sect. The Azure Wood Arts. Listen closely to the chant, and try to visualize a green light entering your body when you breathe."
Qingxue nodded obediently. She was smart, having survived on the streets through cunning.
Han Lin recited the first two lines of the Azure Wood Arts—a trash-tier, public cultivation method meant for outer sect farmers to slowly gather wood qi to nourish the crops. It was the most basic of the basic.
"Close your eyes. Breathe in through your nose, hold it in your belly, let it cycle, and breathe out," Han Lin instructed.
Qingxue closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, following his instructions exactly.
Because she possessed a Heavenly Wood Spirit Root, the effect was instantaneous and terrifying.
Even in this filth-ridden mortal alleyway, where spiritual energy was incredibly thin, the ambient wood-attribute qi in the air suddenly rippled. Like water rushing down a drain, microscopic motes of green light materialized in the darkness and rushed into Qingxue's nose and pores.
It was her very first breath as a cultivator. For a mortal, it usually took months to sense qi, and years to draw it in. A Heavenly Root did it in one second.
Qingxue gasped, her eyes flying open. "Husband... I feel... warm. Something is moving in my stomach."
Before Han Lin could even smile, the System panel violently flashed red.
*Ding!*
[ **Dao Companion Su Qingxue has completed one cycle of the Azure Wood Arts.** ]
[ **Aptitude Multiplier applied (Heavenly Root).** ]
[ **Base EXP generated: 100 Wood Qi points.** ]
[ **Tenfold Return triggered!** ]
[ **Host receives: 1000 Pure Wood Qi points!** ]
*BOOM!*
Han Lin didn't even have time to brace himself.
A torrent of spiritual energy, ten times purer and vastly more massive than the tiny wisp Qingxue had just absorbed, erupted deep within his dantian. It was as if a dormant volcano had just detonated inside his stomach.
The pure wood qi roared through his clogged, miserable five-element meridians like a raging river bursting through a dam of twigs. The agonizing bottleneck of the second level of Qi Condensation, which had trapped his predecessor for ten years and mocked him for one, shattered instantly under the absolute pressure of the system's reward.
*Crack!*
A crisp, audible popping sound echoed from Han Lin's bones. A powerful wave of invisible energy blasted outward from his body, blowing the rotting garbage and dust out of the alleyway and making Qingxue stumble backward in shock.
Han Lin's eyes widened, glowing with a faint green light. His pores secreted a foul, black substance—the impurities of his mortal body being forced out by the sudden breakthrough.
He had broken through.
Just from his wife taking a single breath, he had instantly leaped from the second level to the third level of Qi Condensation. And the energy wasn't stopping. It was continuing to refine his foundation, solidifying his new realm in seconds.
Han Lin stood there in the dark alley, covered in foul-smelling impurities, yet feeling lighter and more powerful than he had in his entire life. He looked at the ragged, confused beggar girl trembling before him.
To the world, she was a piece of trash.
To Han Lin, she was his Dao, his Heavenly Tribulation, his absolute ticket to immortality.
A wide, slightly manic grin split Han Lin's face.
"Wife," he said, his voice vibrating with newfound power. "Let's go buy you the biggest feast this city has to offer."