Immortality Starts With Investment

The Heavenly Desire Sect Master was touched by Fan Qinghe’s filial heart. But after such a long absorption, only scraps remained—barely enough to taste, let alone break through to Mahayana. No point. She gently waved, urging Fan Qinghe to focus on herself.

Yet, Fan Qinghe’s voice trembled with a sob. ”Master, it’s real this time… I’m not lying. I’ve got all the Dao charms needed for transformation. The rest is for you!”

Her odd tone made the Sect Master frown and look closer. Fan Qinghe’s exquisite face glowed like sunset clouds, eyes rolling back.

The Sect Master’s eyes widened—her disciple was truly full! Her throat tightened, tempted to taste even a bit. But reason prevailed. Shaking her head, she encouraged gently, ”Qinghe, there’s little left. Push harder! Cultivation is far tougher than this. I spent 200 years reaching Unity—far harder than you. Did I complain? You’ve hit Unity’s peak without effort, so lucky. Endure a bit more now, and the immortal path will be smoother. Persist! The future you will thank the struggling you.”

Her elder’s demeanor shone, rallying Fan Qinghe. The Nirvana Scripture promised the Heavenly Desire Immortal Body, an immortal-realm physique with vast potential. Per the founder, perfect transformations could rival the Chaos Body. But it was near impossible—even the ascended founder hadn’t achieved it. Fan Qinghe, with Ye Chen’s immense foundation, might.

Silenced, Fan Qinghe bit her lip, absorbing more. Her conditions were unmatched—her Master, the prior divine maiden, was stuck at Mahayana; her grandmaster, a Supreme Elder, at Mahayana Third Heaven. But she could ride Ye Chen’s strength to Mahayana Ninth Heaven, pushing the Heavenly Desire Immortal Body beyond the founder’s reach. She couldn’t falter now.

Half an hour later, Fan Qinghe wept, tears streaming. ”I’m full, truly full… Master, help me, please! My dantian and meridians are about to burst!”

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The Sect Master stared at her disciple—eyes white, tears flowing, strangely beautiful. This time, she was genuinely shocked.

The Heavenly Desire Sect Master saw her disciple truly at her limit. But how? Ye Chen’s Dao charms hadn’t waned after so long—his aura remained steady. How profound was his foundation? Shocked yet tempted, she wondered if more remained than imagined. Could she try for Mahayana?

Fan Qinghe’s state was dire, her consciousness fading. As her Master, she couldn’t stand idle. But would Ye Chen allow it? Leaning closer, she probed, ”Qinghe looks unwell. Holy Son, may I help her?”

Ye Chen didn’t answer directly, asking Fan Qinghe, ”My Dao charms are yours alone. Are you sure you want to share with your Master?”

Fan Qinghe, mind stuffed, nodded dazedly. ”Yes, Holy Son, I do. Sorry for your extra effort and recovery time.”

She was genuinely full, answering swiftly.

The Sect Master added, ”I won’t take much—just enough for a basic transformation to Mahayana. A little is fine.”

Ye Chen, having followed procedure and heard Fan Qinghe’s confirmation, fell silent. He closed his eyes, resuming Dao charm flow, but slowed it slightly. Only she could absorb this much. If she burst, he’d weep.

The Sect Master, seeing his non-refusal, knew it was approved. Suppressing excitement, she leaned in cautiously, removing barriers and sitting. Her brow glowed, a primordial spirit joining the overhead gathering. She activated the Nirvana Scripture, seeking a channel for Dao charms. But soon, her mature, alluring brow furrowed.

Ye Chen wasn’t her protector; remote connection was impossible. Her spirit absorbed a trickle, Fan Qinghe’s yielding space, but it was too slow. The Nirvana Scripture’s stalled foundation quivered, like parched earth drinking rain—joyous, but the scant amount and tenth conversion rate frustrated her. She craved more. A faster channel required closer contact.

Trepidatiously, she asked, ”Holy Son, since you’re not my protector, I can’t connect remotely. With the channel occupied, may I move closer for a new link?”

Ye Chen raised an eyebrow but stayed silent, eyes closed, channeling charms.

The Sect Master, interpreting silence as consent, inched nearer, positioning herself to form a new channel.