One Trait Draw Per Year Even Simulations Count

This soak lasted thirty years.

It wasn’t until recent years that the artifact spirits of the Demon Refining Pot, the Heavenly Dragon Blade, and others gradually returned.

Once the artifact spirits reappeared, a contradictory phenomenon emerged.

The quality of the Demon Refining Pot and the like had risen to the level of ordinary Spiritual Treasures.

But ordinary Spiritual Treasures shouldn’t have artifact spirits, not even the legendary-grade ones.

Artifact spirits are a special existence that only certain innate Spiritual Treasures possess.

So, the Old Hag coined a unique category name for strange items like the Ten Thousand Souls Banner and the Demon Refining Pot: half-step Primordial Spiritual Treasure.

“The old hag wanted us to accept a master, but we’d rather die than submit!”

You looked at the Demon Refining Pot with suspicion.

“Are you sure it’s not because you couldn’t accept a master?” “Aw, who said that!”

“Old Wan just said it.”

“Hey! You can’t listen to him babbling! We should hurry and leave this place of disputes!”

“That’s true, we should go.”

The Ten Thousand Souls Banner lunged forward and said.

“We should leave! But brother, you must replicate that classic move!”

“What classic replication?”

“Just like back at the Shen Family, pack up this pool and take it with us! The Spirit Nurturing Pool is valuable, you see? Not only did it boost these guys to Spiritual Treasure quality, it even made them start thinking smart!”

Packing up the pool and taking it was actually doable, since you now had plenty of storage pouches on you—where they came from was none of their business.

But you couldn’t allow that.

“No. You can’t keep soaking in there anymore.”

“Why not? Have you changed? Does this fit your character?”

You scooped up some of the nurturing liquid from the pool and casually sprinkled it onto the ground.

“This is indeed good stuff, but something was mixed into it.”

Reverse Engineering let you see that the nurturing liquid had been blended with a medicinal fluid called soul-washing water.

It’s a cultivator-made concoction, either refined by the Old Hag herself or acquired from who-knows-where.

The effect of this substance, after long-term soaking or ingestion, is to rewrite memories.

You guessed the Old Hag discovered these half-step Primordial Spiritual Treasures couldn’t accept a master, so she tried to alter the artifact spirits’ memories, making them believe she was their owner.

This would achieve a non-mechanical but theoretically feasible form of master recognition.

“The pleasant visions you were just talking about were probably caused by this medicine taking effect.”

The Ten Thousand Souls Banner still clung to a shred of hope.

“But… they were all beautiful dreams?”

“Dreams in reverse, brother.”

The banner shivered at the thought, then with a splash it leaped out of the pool.

“Hey! That witch! I could tell at a glance she’s no good! She actually poisoned us!”

One by one, the artifact spirits left the pool and gathered around you.

Now that the artifact spirits had returned and their quality had improved, you could tell they were different from when they first arrived in the Real Realm.

They were full of spirituality now, similar to how they’d been in the Void Realm.

The Ten Thousand Souls Banner was still reluctant to give up.

“Is there any way to separate the poison from the nurturing liquid? Could we just take the liquid?”

You shook your head to show you couldn’t perform such an operation.

But you recalled seeing a divine ability in the index that might be capable of doing it.

So you pulled out a storage pouch and packed the entire pool away, planning to separate the poison later when you had the means, and then re-soak the artifact spirits.

“Does anyone know where that Old Hag went?”

“We, honestly, were just confined by her in this pool. She wouldn’t be telling us where she went.”

Myriad Treasures Child Goddess’s whereabouts were unknown right now; even her disciples couldn’t say where she had gone.

You suspected she might have been invited somewhere to refine artifacts, similar to last time when she went to the Fortune Star—perhaps she was no longer on Blazing Star.

Interstellar travel is measured in years; if she had left Blazing Star, finding her quickly would be impossible.

“After tearing down her temple, killing her disciples, and packing up all her belongings, at least we got a little satisfaction!”

You began your journey back to the Firewood Sect.

Year forty-eight, age seventy-two.

“Brother! The world is vast—why do you insist on going back to that tiny Firewood Sect?”

As you neared Firewood Town, the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, slung over your back, shouted in his high, sharp voice.

“Tiny Firewood Sect?

Ha, forgot? Didn’t I say that under my reforms and leadership, the Firewood Sect would be very different!

After all these years, they should have prospered, accumulated tons of resources.

As Sixth Elder, it’s only right I claim some cultivation resources, right?

Besides, the people of the Firewood Sect are of high quality; they’re not only wealthy themselves, they’ll drive prosperity for the surrounding populace as well!

Surely Firewood Town must be bustling and prosperous now!”

You entered Firewood Town, but what met your eyes was desolation: fallen leaves gathering with unidentified trash, swirling in the air.

Rows of beggars sat by the roadside, all humans.

Empty houses everywhere.

Complete disorder.

The Ten Thousand Souls Banner couldn’t help himself.

“You call this prosperity?”

“What happened? Even back when they were poor, it wasn’t this bad!”

You took a deep breath to steady your mood.

“Cultivators can be a bit more selfish than ordinary people. If the Firewood Sect became affluent, they might not have cared for the surrounding civilians, so the townsfolk could be suffering.

But I believe the Firewood Sect now must have plenty of people, a strong cultivation atmosphere, and abundant resources!”

You pushed open the gate to the Firewood Sect’s courtyard.

Not a single person.

“You call this thriving?”

“Damn! Where did everyone go?”

“Did the sect disband?”

“That can’t be!”

“Brother, maybe the sect never existed—are you bullshitting?”

“Screw you!”

Suddenly, something occurred to you.

“I get it. I’ve been gone for years. Maybe the arrays over at the mines malfunctioned and shut down operations. The sect members must’ve all gone to the mine to act as overseers. Let’s go check the mine.”

You arrived at the Firewood Sect’s mining site.

You saw a group of humans in the mine swinging chisels and hammers, sweating profusely, skin-and-bones thin.

The overseers were a bunch of bull-headed tribe members.

They were fat and bloated, chatting idly while drinking and eating meat.

The Ten Thousand Souls Banner couldn’t contain himself again.

“You call these overseers?”

Veins bulged on your forehead.

Seeing the bull-headed people, you had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

Just then, the head foreman saw you.

“Hey you! What are you standing there for! Is today’s quota done! Get over here and work!”

You gripped the Ten Thousand Souls Banner on your back in your hand.

Veins poked out on your face one by one, as if you could see the blood surging beneath.

Your dark expression was like the blackest thing in the universe.

You stared at the bull-headed crew and spat out a single, weighty sentence.

“You’d better have a body that’s invulnerable!”