Sometimes, in this world, a ghost can feel warmer than a human. No heat, no blood—just a cold, spectral shell—yet it can still radiate a springlike glow. Han reached out, patting An Lang’s head gently, his voice soft. “Just master Life-Devouring Ghost. Skip the Reverse Fate Pill hassle.”


    “No way—I’m brewing that pill,” An Lang huffed, her tone stubborn. “How could I feed on your lifespan, Master?”


    “You’ve got to.”


    Han chuckled. “I was pulling your leg earlier—no trouble here. Actually, I hit the jackpot.”


    “You’re the one fibbing now,” she shot back. “Good news doesn’t involve me sucking your lifespan dry. Losing years isn’t a perk—it’s a curse. You’re just sparing my feelings, lightening my load.”


    “I’m brewing the Reverse Fate Pill!”


    “…”


    Now you’re writing your own script, huh?


    “I’m serious—learning Life-Devouring Ghost helps me out.”


    “No way, no way! I’m sticking to the pill—won’t touch that ghost art!” An Lang snapped. “First time as a ghost, and I’m not turning into some backstabbing wraith. Stop playing me, Master!”


    “…”


    Hitting the rebellious phase, are we?


    “We’ll hash this out after Yunlong City,” Han said. “Learn the ghost art—whether you feed off me or not, just get it down, okay?”


    He switched tactics. “Once you’ve got it, you can’t siphon my lifespan unless I say yes anyway.”


    A ghost master held all the cards—even with a twisted art like this, no spirit could sneak a bite without permission. An Lang drifted in front of him, curiosity buzzing. Why was Han so dead-set on this?


    “Got it?”


    “Got it.”


    “Then off to nap.”


    He tucked her into the ghost abode—her rare downtime while he was out and about. Back in Black Cloud Town, she’d be swamped, no chance for shut-eye. Stowing the abode, Han shook his head. She just doesn’t get my good intentions.


    Objectively, An Lang was the least likely to betray him—bound by life and death in the truest sense. Aside from the cheat device secret, he rarely hid much from her. With Lu Qingmo and others, he’d cook up excuses, but An Lang? No need. Acting weird or wild around her was fine—ghost-taming arts plus the Oathstone from Tree Bro locked her loyalty tight. Even if nabbed, no soul-search could pry Han’s secrets from her. Ghosts were the ultimate trusty sidekicks—no exaggeration.


    Sure, for a few rare moves, he’d block her senses—keep her in the dark. Next, he dove into studying his forbidden arts, but to his surprise, Ao Xuanwei stayed MIA. It wasn’t until the moon rose, silver light spilling over, that her footsteps echoed outside the Quiet Room.


    “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, stepping in. She handed back Awakening Spirits and slid a spatial pouch his way.


    “What’s this?” Han asked, puzzled.


    “Stuff I had fetched from the palace,” she explained. “There’s a special item in there—Harmony Fusion Liquid. It’s a game-changer for reforging weapons. Blends new materials seamlessly, cuts crafting difficulty way down, and fuses everything perfectly—no clashes, just a stronger weapon. Your sword’s still standard-grade—with this, some Origin-grade materials, and a master smith, you could bump it up to Origin-tier.”


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    Origin-grade weapons were Marrow Cleansing territory—leagues above standard fare. Lower realms could wield them too, though—any cultivator with true essence could max their power. Bone Refiners, even Visceral folks like Han, would hit harder than with regular gear. But Origin weapons were rare—most Bone Refiners couldn’t dream of affording one. Han figured he’d still be swinging his standard Taibai at that stage—unless someone dropped a gift in his lap. Fat chance in Black Cloud Town these days, barring that one guy. Top-notch standard gear usually sufficed for Bone Refiners anyway.


    Staring at the pouch, Han gave a wry smile, piecing together why she’d taken so long. “You’re dead-set on letting me cash in, huh?”


    She hadn’t handed him an Origin weapon or top-tier materials outright—just a liquid that smashed the bottleneck for upgrading Taibai. Perfect balance—not too little to feel like a tease, not too much to spark an awkward gift-giving spiral where he’d owe her back.


    Ao Xuanwei blinked innocently. “Not sure what you mean.”


    Han laughed helplessly and took the pouch. Damn it, I’m falling to this dragon heiress’s sugar-coated barrage!


    “It’s late—stay for dinner?” she offered. “I’ve been lost in that art all day, neglecting you. Give me a chance to make it up.”


    What could Han do? Say no? Fat chance—he agreed.


    Her night feast was a spectacle—not mortal grub, but spirit-infused delicacies brimming with energy. The drinks? Spiritual wines, every sip a boost. To bottom-rung rogue cultivators, this spread was a pipe dream. Same for Han—his first thought as he sat down? Freaking class divide.


    “This is Nine Phoenix Soup—Dad’s daily favorite,” Ao Xuanwei said. “Over here’s Jade Spirit Emperor Bamboo—grows only where heaven’s energy pools, harvested at dawn’s first dew for the tenderest tips. The rest? Tossed. And this—Twelve-Color Chicken, raised eighteen years on pills and medicated baths for peak flavor.”


    She rattled off each dish with gusto—not bragging, just sharing like it was no big deal. To her, this was standard fare—nothing worth flexing over. Only nabbing something rare by her standards might spark a boast.


    Han nodded silently. Fancy stuff—never even heard of it. The cost and value of this meal? Mind-boggling to anyone who hadn’t peeked behind the curtain. This wasn’t eating—it was chowing down on cash and treasures. Dragon clan extravagance—eye-opener for sure. Damn, this is a straight-up money offensive!


    “Here’s Red Flame Wine—great for martial training, tempers your body and true qi,” she added. No mundane bites here—every morsel fueled cultivation.


    One glimpse showed the whole picture: how could rogue cultivators ever catch up to sect elites? Sure, not every bigwig disciple ate like Ao Xuanwei, but their daily grub wasn’t mortal slop either. What you ate shaped your future. They gorged on spirit herbs, pills, and treasure feasts—then there’s you, scraping by. Catch up on grit and air? Unless fate handed you a golden ticket, rogues stayed rogues.


    Like Han’s past life—studying was the masses’ only ladder, but without a break, reality crushed it flat. Rogues and scholars could climb, shift their stars, but flipping the heavens? Tall order. Still, anyone claiming cultivation or study was pointless was either dumb or shady—don’t buy it. Cultivation cracked mundane hierarchies, sure, but it built a steeper, tougher ladder in its place.


    What could Han say? Dig in—hit the rich folks where it hurts!


    Post-feast, he felt a buzz—half-tipsy. A clam spirit tidied up, leaving the room spotless. Ao Xuanwei, cheeks faintly flushed, studied him. “After the Tianhai Dragon Ascension Assembly, it hit me—you needed those exotic flames. Practicing Earthfire Seal, right?”


    “How’d you guess?”


    She smiled. “Commander Lu’s masterpiece art caused a storm when it surfaced—top prodigies swarmed to claim it. She snagged the core inheritance—no secret there. A supreme art like that? Even big sects and clans see it as a cornerstone—grabs attention. Good thing the core’s restricted, or Xuandu Temple adding another widespread supreme art might’ve rattled some cages.”


    Han thought back—high-born foes he’d faced clocked Lu Qingmo’s art fast. Thunder and Earthfire Seal wasn’t exactly hush-hush. No worries about it drawing heat, though—the core inheritance was soul-locked; no search could crack it.


    “Oh, after Tianhai, Xu Xian didn’t head back with you,” Han said. “Dragon Palace folks say anything?”


    The assembly buzz would’ve reached Yunjiang—his fake ID too. A genius recruit not brought home? Odd. Dragon cub growing wings—trouble brewing?


    “I cleared it with Dad—no issues. No one else piped up,” she said, pausing. “He did ask if I’m planning to snag a groom.”


    Groom? Han snapped sober. What’s she getting at? A hint? Cool it—don’t overthink. Getting pegged as a cocky fool would suck.