Immortality Starts With Investment

Inside the formation, after Yi Qingwu’s subtle hints, Ye Chen’s lips curled. He pointed to a recording stone flitting about, capturing everything. ”This has recorded it all,” he said with a smile. ”What do you think Heavenly Intention Holy Son’s reaction would be if I gave him this stone before I die?”

Yi Qingwu’s eyes widened.

Ye Chen raised an eyebrow. ”Or should I activate it now, project the scene onto the formation, and let the million cultivators of Great Shang Immortal City see the Holy Maiden dining?”

Yi Qingwu swallowed hard, glaring at him in fury. ”You wouldn’t dare!”

With plenty of time ahead, Ye Chen enjoyed playing this domestic drama with the fiancée. His smile widened. ”I’m about to die. What wouldn’t I dare?”

Yi Qingwu bit her lip, her eyes blazing with defiance. ”You demon, despicable Ye the Fourth! How else do you plan to humiliate me?”

She stood and knelt, as if surrendering. But Ye Chen shook his head, pulling her up. The fiancée had been good to him, gifting him this and that. For over two days, she hadn’t stopped, likely exhausted. He couldn’t bear to keep tormenting her the same way. It felt too cruel.

So, Ye Chen chose a different approach. Her face was the most beautiful, captivating beyond compare. But her commanding presence was equally striking, her curves perfectly rounded. Switching things up would be more effective—and bring new joys. Yi Qingwu’s eyes widened again, but she cut him off. ”The symbol is one stroke short. Finish them first.”

Ye Chen sighed, complying with her request to complete the symbol.

Inside the formation, Ye Chen passed the time contentedly, awaiting the formation’s collapse in seven days. Outside, Heavenly Intention Holy Son also waited, but with growing anxiety. His concern was impossible to hide, mixed with deep self-blame. He cursed his own weakness, unable to save the fiancée.

Roaring at the formation, he shouted, ”Ye the Fourth, drop the formation and release Qingwu! I swear on Heavenly Intention Holy Land’s name, I’ll spare your life! Otherwise, when the formation breaks and Mo Yixi falls, I’ll make you beg for death!”

Unlike before, Ye Chen didn’t respond, as if preoccupied. Heavenly Intention Holy Son’s fists clenched tighter. What could Ye Chen be busy with, facing death? He didn’t dare imagine but couldn’t stop himself. The more he thought, the more it felt real. The fiancée’s voice seemed to echo in his ears. Veins bulged on his forehead as he lowered his head, hiding his murderous gaze. Toward Fang Qing, lounging smugly in the void, refusing to act, Ying Tiansheng’s killing intent surged. Once he broke through to the Mahayana stage, Fang Qing would be the first to die.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Fang Qing, however, maintained his confident smirk, fully in control. He could sense Mo Yixi’s aura, despite his efforts to conceal it, steadily declining. At this rate, in just over four days, his aura would hit rock bottom. The effects of his sublimation would vanish entirely. Over the next few days, it unfolded as expected.

Mo Yixi’s aura continued to weaken. His face betrayed anxiety, and he even cursed at Fang Qing, challenging him to fight. But Fang Qing remained unmoved.

You’re anxious, but hold on, he thought. Why would he let Mo Yixi fight at his peak? He’d rather let his stew, powerless, and revel in the control.

During this time, Heavenly Intention Holy Son noticed Mo Yixi’s weakening. He repeatedly begged Fang Qing to act. The silence within the formation fueled his wild imagination. In his mind, Ye Chen and the fiancée had explored every ”lesson” possible. The more he thought, the more frantic he became, unable to stay calm.

Yet Fang Qing ignored him, stoking Heavenly Intention’s hatred—surpassing even his loathing for Ye Chen. If he ever got the chance, Ying Tiansheng wouldn’t hold back.

Days dragged like years for Heavenly Intention Holy Son. Finally, the seventh day arrived. The formation’s divine light dimmed, its core materials cracking, barely holding together. Mo Yixi’s aura had fallen to an ordinary Unity stage level.

Fang Qing’s lips curled. It was time to strike. Toying with his foe had been satisfying; now, crushing the once-legendary Mo Yixi would be even sweeter. This trip to Great Yan Continent was truly thrilling.

Heavenly Intention Holy Son, too, refused to wait longer. With Mo Yixi so weak, he thought, I can handle this! But as he prepared to charge, the formation shook and exploded.

Heavenly Intention Holy Son’s True Martial Eyes blazed gold, scanning for the fiancée, dreading the humiliations he imagined she’d endured. Soon, two figures appeared in his sight. His pupils contracted sharply.

Inside the formation, Ye Chen surveyed his work with satisfaction. The fiancée’s primordial spirit core now bore six symbols. On the projection of her delicate chin, only one stroke was needed for two more. Her commanding presence and perfect curves each gained an extra symbol over the four days.

Calculating the time, Ye Chen saw room for one more round and didn’t want to waste it. He noticed Yi Qingwu’s crystalline jade feet, toes like pearls, reminding him of the little demoness. He thought to reminisce about her through this. But the fiancée’s obsession with completion took over. She insisted on finishing the final symbol on her chin before the formation broke, fearing she’d never get the chance.

Ye Chen, soft-hearted for her, couldn’t refuse. This time, though, she demanded he lie flat in the void. Ye Chen was stunned. She spoke matter-of-factly, ”I’ve been exhausted. Don’t I deserve some enjoyment? Otherwise, I’ll tell Heavenly Intention Holy Son everything, and he’ll obliterate your soul.”

Ye Chen’s dawdling had worn her patience thin, even with her moon-like calm. To cultivation world men, her request was humiliating—prideful men couldn’t tolerate a woman taking the lead.

But Ye Chen was different. As a transmigrator from the 21st century, he valued equality. Plus, the adorable fiancée deserved pampering. Seeing him agree so readily, Yi Qingwu’s eyes held surprise and gratitude. Ye Chen was too indulgent with her. Then, Ye Chen’s brow quirked.

Oh? A sweet osmanthus scent? Now that’s something!