Cultivation: I Can Steal Lifespan from Spirit Beasts

The purple spirit beast suspended in the sky was, unmistakably, Fan Ming.

Squinting against the glare, Wang Ba could just make out the dark, heavy chains woven from mist and Qi that bound the creature tight. It was completely immobilized.

All it could do was struggle feebly and emit low, vibrating roars of impotence.

Wang Ba didn’t know much about Fan Ming personally, but even from this distance, the mere sight of that purple silhouette pressed against his chest like a physical weight, suffocating him.

This was an entity whose single feather could once snipe a Foundation Establishment True Cultivator. Yet now, under the iron heel of the Heavenly Gate Sect, it was reduced to a struggling prisoner.

It was obvious: if the Sect didn’t still harbor hopes of taming it, this beast would have long ago been refined into nutrients by the terrifying Nascent Soul Sect Master.

Wang Ba shook his head, torn between professional envy and regret.

He turned away, forcing himself not to look.

As a professional poultry breeder, seeing such a god-tier specimen made his heart race instinctively. The genetics alone were priceless.

If I could just get a sample… if I could hybridize that with my flock…

But it was a delusion. Even a Nascent Soul Lord had to expend immense effort to suppress such a creature. He was a lowly Qi Refining nobody. He didn’t even have the qualification to stand in its shadow, let alone breed it.

Risk assessment: Impossible. Strategy: Ignore it.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Standing before the mountain gate, he activated a transmission talisman. It transformed into a streak of light and shot into the sect’s interior.

Wang Ba waited patiently. Yu Changchun was likely cultivating or busy; there was no immediate response.

Just as he was considering leaving, a somewhat familiar figure drifted into view, riding a magical artifact and surrounded by a sycophantic crowd.

“Hm? Lin Yu?”

It had been over two years. Compared to the soft, seductive charm of the past, the Lin Yu before him now possessed a sharp, martial aura.

Surrounded by a gaggle of female cultivators, she looked radiant, her demeanor high-spirited and commanding. She was chatting with her companions, her laughter ringing out clear as silver bells.

Cultivators possessed keen perception. The moment Wang Ba focused on her, Lin Yu sensed the gaze.

Her eyes snapped toward him.

The look was sharp as a sword. As her gaze swept over him, Wang Ba actually felt a phantom sting on his skin.

He was inwardly startled. What kind of power is that?

Lin Yu paused mid-sentence, slightly taken aback to see a ghost from her past.

Seeing he had been spotted, Wang Ba suppressed his shock and plastered a warm smile on his face. Noticing the company she kept, he took the initiative to greet her politely.

“Fellow Daoist Lin…”

To his surprise, Lin Yu merely offered a slight, perfunctory nod. A polite, plastic smile touched her lips.

“Mm. Hello.”

She immediately turned her head away, resuming her chat with the other women as if he were air.

Simultaneously, the group accelerated their artifacts, sweeping past Wang Ba in a gust of wind.

“…Eldest Senior Sister, who was that loose cultivator? He has no sense of hierarchy.”

“Just an old acquaintance…”

“…Best not to associate with such types…”

The wind carried their snippets of conversation back to him. Wang Ba stood there, momentarily at a loss for words.

Two years. They no longer walked the same path.

Estrangement was the natural law of the world.

He sighed, but felt no real sting. To him, Lin Yu was just a name from the past, a connection that had depreciated in value.

What truly unsettled him was her progress.

That stinging sensation… her cultivation base was likely far above his own.

That’s biologically illogical.

Wang Ba had reached the Qi Refining 8th Layer only because he cheated. He burned his Lifespan to smash through bottlenecks and gorged on Spirit Poultry daily to refill his Qi.

Lin Yu had the Sect’s backing, true. But to jump from the 5th Layer to above the 8th in such a short window? Even the notorious “Left-Path” demonic techniques shouldn’t be that fast.

Unless she was practicing the Blood Bone Path like Yu Changchun.

But looking at her fair skin and jade-like complexion, she clearly hadn’t stripped the flesh from her bones.

“Perhaps she has a hidden constitution or talent. Her Master wouldn’t favor her for no reason.”

Wang Ba terminated the train of thought. He composed himself, slapped a Divine Movement Talisman on his leg, and turned toward South Lake.

He hadn’t gone far when a streak of light shot toward him—a reply talisman.

He caught it, listened to the message, and stopped dead.

“Yu Changchun wants me to wait?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he turned back to the mountain gate.

Before long, a familiar figure descended from the misty peaks, riding a magical artifact.

“Senior Yu.”

Wang Ba bowed respectfully.

“Fellow Daoist, no need for formalities!”

Yu Changchun’s face was a blur of magical distortion. He chuckled warmly, raising a hand.

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Wang Ba pulled a wine jug from his Storage Bag.

“This is spirit wine brewed from this season’s Black Crystal Peaches. Fresh from the cellar. I brought it straight over for Senior’s critique.”

“Oh? This year’s vintage is ready?”

Yu Changchun’s voice spiked with delight. He snatched the jar, not caring that they were standing in plain view at the sect gate, and slapped away the mud seal.

Then, he dropped the concealment spell.

The blur vanished. In its place was a skull.

Only one eyeball remained in a raw socket; the rest of his face was stripped clean, revealing wet, red bone and glistening teeth. He tilted the jug and poured the wine directly into the skeletal maw.

Wang Ba watched the single rolling eyeball, his mind working.

The pink peach wine washed over the blood-colored teeth, splashed against the jawbone, and flowed down the exposed throat…

But it didn’t drip. It was instantly absorbed by the blood and bone, sucked in like water into a sponge.

Yu Changchun let out a long, wet sigh of satisfaction.

“Comfortable!”

“Fellow Daoist’s Black Crystal Peach Wine is one of the few things I can still actually taste!”

“The other spirit wines on the market have plenty of Qi, but they taste like nothing to me.”

He downed the entire jug in one breath, and the concealment spell shimmered back into existence, blurring his horrific visage once more.

Wang Ba immediately presented a second jar.

He feigned a pained expression. “Senior Yu, my production volume is low. Please, savor this one.”

“Haha! Fellow Daoist has a heart.”

Yu Changchun was overjoyed. He didn’t decline, swiftly stowing the second jar into his Storage Bag.

Having secured the bribe, Yu Changchun’s mood was excellent. “Hehe, surely Fellow Daoist didn’t come all this way just to act as a delivery boy?”

“I can never hide anything from Senior Yu.”

Wang Ba lowered his voice and relayed the intelligence he had gathered from Cultivator Yan regarding the conscription.

“Conscription?”

Yu Changchun paused, deep in thought. “I haven’t heard specifics. I’ve been… preoccupied with reaching a critical juncture in my cultivation, so I’ve ignored sect administration.”

“But rest assured. I will inquire immediately. As soon as I have concrete intel, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Many thanks, Senior Yu.” Wang Ba bowed again.

Yu Changchun waved a hand dismissively. “Between us, why the distance? However…”

His tone turned grave. “If the rumors are true, Fellow Daoist needs to stockpile defensive treasures—Talismans, Magical Artifacts. The market is going to react. Prices will skyrocket.”

“It happened a few years ago during the campaign against the Eastern Sage Sect.”

“Furthermore, do whatever you must to increase your combat power. When conscription starts, the target will be either another Sect, a clan, or a rogue market…”

“And once the war machine starts, you Heterodox cultivators are the cannon fodder. You will be on the front lines.”

“Of course,” Yu Changchun added, a cynical edge to his voice, “if you survive, the rewards are substantial. The Sect enforces a ‘kill-keep’ policy for the vanguard. Whatever you loot is yours.”

“After every draft, a few lucky survivors harvest enough merit to become inner disciples.”

“For someone in your position, this is a catastrophe, but also an opportunity.”

Wang Ba nodded solemnly, archiving every word.

After parting ways with Yu Changchun, Wang Ba didn’t linger. The older cultivator was clearly itching to get back to his breakthrough.

Wang Ba took the advice to heart and rushed to the market.

He was too late. The inflation had already begun. Talismans and Magical Artifacts were seeing sharp markups.

“The conscription is real. The only question is: who is the target?”

This time, Wang Ba didn’t hesitate. He didn’t wait for a sale. He didn’t hope for the market to correct.

He gritted his teeth and opened his wallet.

He purchased a High Grade “Sacred Heart Mirror”, a High Grade “Jade Flow Armor”, and a High Grade “Flying Yellow Ruler”.

Defense for the soul. Defense for the body. And pure, unadulterated speed.

The Flying Yellow Ruler had zero offensive capability, but it was fast.

With this “Trinity of Cowardice,” Wang Ba’s survival index shot up significantly.

He browsed for an offensive artifact, but nothing caught his eye.

“I’ll have to check the other outposts when the teleportation array opens.”

After three years, his clearance level as a Heterodox cultivator allowed him to use the Sect’s teleportation network. But it was expensive and required a reservation. The next slot wasn’t until next month.

He skipped the talisman shop—prices were gouged, and the quality was inferior to Cultivator Yan’s stock.

“I have a deal with Yan in a few days. I’ll wait.”

After a moment of deliberation, he turned toward a shop he rarely visited: The Pill Pavilion.

Pills were a double-edged sword. They offered rapid power, but the cost was “Pill Poison”—instability in the foundation, erosion of the Dantian, and a high risk of inner demons during breakthroughs.

Usually, a cultivator had to spend months detoxifying after a single pill.

Wang Ba never needed them. His diet of Spirit Poultry was pure, safe, and efficient.

But war changed the calculus. If he needed a sudden burst of power to survive, a little poisoning was an acceptable trade-off.

Better poisoned than dead.

He entered the shop, only to find the shelves bare.

The few remaining bottles were being fought over by frantic cultivators, bidding wars erupting on the spot.

It triggered a flashback to the final days of the Eastern Sage Sect market. The smell of panic was identical.

However, even as the shelves emptied, the crowd didn’t disperse. They stared at the shopkeeper with hungry, desperate eyes.

The shopkeeper did not disappoint. He stepped onto a platform and announced, his voice booming:

“Everyone! The wait is over! The treasure of the Mysterious Pill Path has finally arrived!”

“Behold—the Blood Pill!”

Assistants brought out ornate boxes from the back room.

The shopkeeper opened one. inside lay a pill—red, translucent, and glowing with a sickly light.

Wang Ba leaned in, squinting.

His blood ran cold.

Through the translucent red surface of the pill, he could clearly see a tiny, curled-up figure suspended in the center.

It was an infant. And it was crying.