Han tucked An Lang back into the ghost abode, letting her “read” while snoozing.


    Glancing around, he found the peach grove empty—just him. Perfect. This is now the realm of Han, the Dark God of Ancient Nara!


    He pulled out a Solar-Lunar True Spirit Pill and a drop of creation essence.


    The pill glowed faintly. Under Han’s keen senses, it held fewer impurities than others—stubborn ones, sure, but the essence wiped them clean.


    No surprise there—he’d expected it. Now he waited.


    With impurities gone, the essence’s mystic mojo didn’t fade. It kept working, and soon the pill felt plump again, its sheen dazzling.


    Potency that’d bled out over time? Restored!


    Han’s eyes lit up—another win for the creation essence.


    He grabbed all his pill haul from the trip, dousing each with a drop. Every last one emerged flawless.


    The Yellow Springs Pill prototype, though? He paused, holding off. It needed refining later—best leave it raw for an alchemist’s touch. Plus, higher-tier pills had scant impurities anyway—some none at all.


    “Pills soaked in creation essence lose impurities and regain lost potency—but that’s it. They hit their peak, no beyond,” Han mused. “Ripening plants cuts years off growth, yielding mature fruit, but it won’t push a Bone Refinement plant past its cap. For living beings, no realm boosts either—just purification, time saved…”


    Tapping his past-life know-how, he wondered—did the essence wield time itself?


    Lu Qingmo wouldn’t be back till night, he figured. Skipping the martial hall, he trained in the grove.


    No Viscera-tier pills in the Three Yin stash—too low for a Yin God’s orbit.


    Come evening, when Lu Qingmo returned, Han handed her the Three Yin Banner.


    “A busted divine artifact…” She probed it, shaking her head. “The Mountain God nailed it—future use is raw materials only. Its last juice ran dry over three centuries. The kicker? Its spirit’s toast—fatal for anything above Yin God-tier.”


    “When you’ve got True Fire, smelt it down to basics—see if it fits you. Or save it for An Lang. If she hits natal artifact stage, it’d suit her.”


    Smart call, but Han wasn’t sold yet. His tree artifact came first—gotta see if it could chow down on this.


    “Huh, these pills held up great—no potency bleed,” Lu Qingmo said, eyeing the six bottles, surprised.


    Of course—fresh off a full spa treatment.


    “Aunt Mo, the Three Yin Bracelet’s got some alchemy stuff too. An Lang’s sorting it,” Han said vaguely, not mentioning it was just seeds or showing the bracelet.


    Keeping it vague now meant he could pull out herbs later, crediting the god’s stash without raising brows.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Lu Qingmo, no alchemist herself, shrugged. “Herbs and seeds? Useless to you. Keep ‘em as keepsakes if you want.”


    “His legacy’s solid, though—real value, perfect for you now,” she added, skimming the jade tablet. “With this, An Lang’s training and fighting are set—you’re off the hook. She just follows the script.”


    An Lang used to lack arts—just three energy-harvesting tricks, short on moves. Not anymore.


    “If you want her on alchemy, split off a wisp of your Yin Fire—and later Yang Fire—for her,” Lu Qingmo suggested, reading him like a book. “Good flames boost pill-making.”


    She handed back the jade—no arts taken, no items touched. All Han’s.


    Useless to her—without fixing her issue, even a finished Yellow Springs Pill wouldn’t cut it.


    “Aunt Mo, doesn’t this treasure grab feel… too easy?” Han asked.


    She pulled out the Huang Saint’s spatial pouch—war loot, naturally claimed. “A Saint and two Day Roamers dead—easy?”


    “Not that part,” he clarified.


    The grab itself? Brutal—Huang’s crew was a wall. A Saint-tier was Tianyue’s top dog. The Tianmu Sect’s three Saint goons ran rampant for years—untouchable, partly due to their elite roots and strength dwarfing this Huang chump, plus their shadowy MO. Solo, Han would’ve needed years of grinding to pull it off.


    He tried again. “I mean getting the stuff from the Mountain God felt too smooth. I braced for fireworks—golden lotuses, cosmic vibes—big showtime vibes when the legacy opened. Inside, I figured traps, trials, gauntlets to snag the goods and meet him. Then he’d throw curveballs—swear revenge, maybe trick us with a fake stash, aiming to hijack a body for a comeback. I’d fight tooth and nail, flex my skills, take him down, and claim victory. But nope—total opposite. Kept my guard up for nothing. Aunt Mo, why’re you looking at me like that?”


    Her stare turned odd mid-rant.


    “Where’d you pick up all that?”


    “Storybooks.”


    “…”


    “That stuff happens—plenty,” she said. “Good you’re wary. Keep that up out there. But this legacy? I let you dive in solo because I had intel. Xuandu records say he passed from age—decent guy, no strength or motive for dirty tricks.”


    Han nodded. “Real stand-up Senior.”


    “World’s got crooks and saints—you’ll need to suss them out,” she cautioned, tossing him the pouch. “Here—cleaned out anything trackable.”


    He caught it, no fuss. Their bond didn’t need pleasantries over scraps. Future “life-altering” stakes dwarfed this.


    “Gotta hit Yunlong Market again,” he sighed. Too much shady, useless junk piling up—annoying.


    A thought struck. “Aunt Mo, best spot to bulk-buy pills?”


    “Yunlong’s Black-White Tower, the county’s Ten Thousand Stars Chamber, and Crescent Moon Pill Pavilion,” she listed. “Crescent’s like Thousand Forge Armory—pills instead of weapons, run by Tianyue’s big shots.”


    “What if I need a ton?”


    She eyed him. “Pills have impurities—don’t overdo it, you know that. For a hefty stack of Viscera-tier stuff, hit all three. That level’s pricey here.”


    She assumed martial pills—Day Roamer ones weren’t just costly; they were rare.


    Han nodded. Pill-popping cultivation? Long road ahead. Wish An Lang could master alchemy overnight—churn me out endless batches.


    An auto-refining cheat would be clutch.


    Flipping through the Huang Saint’s pouch, he asked, “No tamed ghosts?”


    “Had one—killed it first thing,” she said.


    Badass.


    After the Three Yin haul’s dazzle, these “normal” cultivator pouches felt bland. Arts and pills paled next to the legacy—no comparison. Strength-boosters—cultivator or ghost? Zilch. Most used those up fast, turning resources into power, unless special cases.


    But one item in the Saint’s pouch made Han frown: another Soul-Refining Banner. Even a Saint-tier Huang used this shady gear. Top-down habit or deep clan tradition?


    A few materials inside perked him up, though. Since learning his artifact embryo could “eat” to grow, his material hunger had spiked.


    He pulled out a purple jade chunk. “What’s this? Feels special.”


    “Purple Spirit Jade—auxiliary stuff for some Saint-tier artifacts. Decent Saint-grade material,” she said.


    Nice. Mine now.


    Even a county overlord’s pouch only had this one gem. The Day Roamers’ bags? Forgettable—too basic for his swollen coffers.


    Sorting it all, feeling his stash bulge, Han grinned—refreshed and content. Beyond breakthroughs, these moments hit the sweet spot.


    Even training felt sharper that night.


    Past midnight, he grabbed a creation essence drop—and froze.


    It was clear, like plain water—no special vibe inside or out.


    He hadn’t grabbed the wrong thing—he was dead sure.


    Testing it, he dripped it on a seed. Nothing. The liquid hit the ground, inert.


    The creation spark—gone.