After poring over the array of techniques Ao Xuanwei had brought, Han made up his mind and promptly shared his choices with her. She was caught off guard but felt a flicker of relief. It seemed Han was genuinely just curious about these lifespan-related arts—eager to explore them, not to use them. After all, if he really meant to tap into them, one or two would suffice. Who’d need a whole pile?


    What kind of lunatic burns through lifespan with a dozen different moves? Sampling the vibe of various year counts like it’s a tasting menu?


    “Since you’re interested, take them,” Ao Xuanwei said. “These are copies I prepared—feel free to keep them.”


    “They’re not cheap…” Han mused, pondering what he could offer in trade.


    She didn’t brush him off. She knew Han’s stance on this—he wouldn’t shortchange her or let her take a loss. If she tried gifting them outright, she half-expected he’d flat-out refuse.


    “You mentioned Tianming Sect’s hidden sites earlier,” she said. “Are you interested in that beast arena’s Mandate?”


    Her eyes sparkled as she smiled. “I knew it was you.”


    Han grinned back. “Sounds like you pegged me for it from the start?”


    She nodded without hesitation. “I had faith in you. Once I heard you were there, I had a hunch. No one else had the chops—your talent and luck put you leagues ahead. You were the prime candidate to snag that beast Mandate.”


    “Guilty as charged,” Han admitted with a nod.


    Spilling the beans to her wasn’t a big deal. Like she’d said, she’d suspected him from the jump. And this beast Mandate wasn’t some priceless heirloom to Yunjiang Dragon Palace. The Sima clan had scored an immortal artifact—that was top-tier Tianming loot. The Ding Six Beast Arena’s haul? Small potatoes by comparison—not worth a powerhouse like the palace batting an eye.


    “The so-called beast Mandate is mostly beast-creation know-how and related arts,” Han explained. “I picked up one technique—Awakening Spirits and Nurturing Divinity. It boosts beast intelligence or cultivates spirit in certain artifacts.”


    “Natal artifact?” Ao Xuanwei guessed instantly.


    “Yep. Aunt Mo confirmed it works on them—up to Yin God-grade ones, max.”


    “That’s a valuable art,” she said with a nod. “For Yin God cultivators, the spirit in their natal artifact is everything. A nurturing technique like that’s no small deal.”


    She mulled it over. “I’m interested—could use it when I hit Yin God. But it’s too precious to trade for these lifespan arts.”


    It was a fair swap, honestly. To her, though, the stuff she’d offered was mostly useless to Han, while Awakening Spirits was a practical gem for her—value skewed in her favor.


    “Take what you need,” Han said. “With our bond, why sweat the small stuff? We’ve got a long road ahead—once we’re in our prime, a casual favor between us will dwarf this trade by miles.”


    Their friendship was built to last, destined to deepen. Nitpicking over every exchange would sour it. She’d helped him tons back in the day—now he could return the favor. Give and take—that’s how it worked. Sucking up benefits without giving back, holding grudges instead of gratitude? Not his style. I’m not here to play the saintly martyr.


    Her smile widened. “Fair point.”


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Han handed over Awakening Spirits—no copy, just the original for her to study. “It needs some treasures to work. I’ve got spares—take them too.”


    The beast bag from Ding Liuling had heaps of those four treasures—way more than he’d ever burn through solo. That stash fueled a whole arena; it wasn’t skimpy.


    “Spirit-Birthing Water? Soul Essence Liquid?” She recognized two, glancing at him with a slight purse of her lips. “These four aren’t cheap—and you’re giving me a lot.”


    “Worth it for you,” Han said.


    She paused, then relented. “Guess I’ll shamelessly accept. But… studying this art’ll take me a bit—hope you don’t mind waiting.”


    “No rush,” he waved off. “I was planning to poke around Yunlong City anyway. Take your time.”


    “Want an escort?”


    “Nah—too flashy.”


    A water clan tagalong would scream his Dragon Palace ties to anyone with eyes. After leaving the pavilion, Ao Xuanwei summoned a stunning clam spirit, whispering instructions. “Head to the palace and grab…”


    “Yes, Your Highness.”


    Han hit Yunlong City and beelined for the Black-and-White Tower, offloading a batch of low-end junk treasures before asking about lifespan arts. The answer thrilled him—yep, and plenty of ‘em. Made sense: the shadiest crews—like rogue cultivators—hoarded forbidden stuff. The Tower wasn’t outright evil, just gray, but it rubbed elbows with the dark side plenty.


    When the manager hauled out the goods, though, Han frowned. Lots overlapped with what he already had—combat arts burning one, five, ten years. He’d grab different burn times, but duplicates? Pointless.


    Then he spotted a real twisted one: Life-Devouring Ghost. Ghost art—let your spirit chomp your lifespan to juice itself up. Same vibe as Life-Resting Martial Path, just flipped to the ghost side. What kind of headspace birthed this? Fed up with living—or so obsessed with their ghost they’d trade years to beef it up? Han couldn’t guess.


    But he thought: Jackpot! He snapped it up fast. With a master like me, An Lang’s in for a treat. If he fed her his lifespan, she’d be floored—tears of gratitude, right? Locked down!


    Leaving the Tower, he wandered Yunlong City, keeping an ear on his treasure-sensing Buzzing Stone. He stumbled across a Day Roaming-grade artifact material—nice, but his Manifestation-level One-Treasure Wonder Tree didn’t even twitch. Too picky now—Day Roaming scraps weren’t worth its time.


    He stocked up on herbs and seeds instead—his Creation Spirit Liquid, fresh from the reset, had three days before it fizzled. Day one—he’d use it.


    Back at the pavilion, Ao Xuanwei was still holed up in the Quiet Room. Han raised a brow. Awakening Spirits that tough? Felt easy to me—picked it up quick. The clam spirit led him to another quiet room, where he summoned An Lang and handed her the Reverse Fate Pill recipe.


    “What’s the crafting difficulty on this?”


    She studied it, then shook her head. “From a pro pill-ghost’s eye, it’s not hard—except that final lifeblood step.”


    Han rolled his eyes. Pro? A month of alchemy and you’re struttin’ like a peacock.


    “Master, this pill’s effect is wild, but no one’d brew it—twenty years’ lifespan as the cost…” An Lang trailed off, eyeing him warily. “Why’re you showing me this?”


    “Guess.”


    His face stayed blank—cold, even.


    “I’ve raised you this long. Time to step up.”


    “You get it, An Lang.”


    Her ghostly face paled. She zipped behind him, kneading his shoulders, whining, “Master, no way—I can’t! That’d wreck me—my body wouldn’t hold up!”


    “Master, we’re human and ghost—different paths. I’ve got yin lifespan; this pill might backfire bad.”


    “Hmph,” Han said, voice dark. “Raise a ghost for a thousand days, use it in a pinch. ‘Can’t’ doesn’t cut it.”


    “Wahhh…” An Lang wailed—then Han tossed her a book.


    “Here’s a ghost art. Master it, and you’re off the pill hook. Fail? You know what’s coming.”


    Her sobs stopped cold. A quick peek at her face—no tears, not a hint of red. I cried. I faked it.


    “Life-Devouring Ghost…” Skimming it, she gasped. “Master, how can I practice this? No way—I’ll grind normally; I can’t eat your lifespan!”


    His expression hardened. “No art, you brew the pill.”


    “Why’s it gotta be lifespan stuff?”


    “‘Cause I’ve got reasons I can’t dodge.”


    She zipped through the art, then hesitated, asking softly, “Master… something wrong?”


    Han’s mind shifted. With a heavy sigh, he said, “You’ve seen it—my weird powers, freak luck.”


    She nodded—always by his side, she knew his oddities inside out.


    “An Lang, those perks don’t come free. Now it’s payback time. This pill, this art—they’re my fix. If neither pans out, my lifespan’s in for something nasty. With the pill, you’d only nibble my years via the art—but skip it, and the fallout’s grim.”


    Too much lifespan to burn—such a terrifying burden.


    An Lang froze, then nodded slowly—it clicked. No free lunch, right? She went quiet, torn, before finally saying, “Master, give me time. I’ll try the pill.”


    Han glanced back. Her pale ghost face was set—determined. She pressed close, resting her head on his back. “I’m still young anyway.”


    Cold ghost flesh, warm sentiment.