Wang Ba stood motionless, his mind reeling.

From the moment he was coerced into joining the Heavenly Gate Sect, he had known exactly what it was: a demonic sect that devoured people without spitting out the bones.

But knowing it intellectually and seeing it viscerally were two different things.

For nearly four years, he had kept his head down, obsessed with his chickens and his cultivation. He existed on the fringe, never truly integrating into the sect’s culture. He had successfully insulated himself from the true, bloody nature of the “Demonic Path.”

Until now.

Suspended within the crimson, semi-transparent sphere of the pill was a tiny, curled figure.

An infant.

And it was crying.

Beside the display case, the shopkeeper’s voice rang out, proud and self-satisfied.

“This Blood Pill is a masterpiece. Forget the other ingredients—just the primary catalyst alone requires a female infant with a Four Pillars Pure Yin Fate Pattern. Do you know how hard those are to find?”

The shopkeeper gestured casually, as if discussing livestock. “Two years ago, we rounded up a batch of mortals. We forced them to copulate on specific astrological dates, then performed C-sections on Yin days at Yin hours to harvest the fruit… We sent the suitable female infants to the alchemists of the Profound Pill Path, and only then were we lucky enough to obtain these few pills.”

A ripple went through the crowd. Some knew the pill’s origins and remained impassive. Others, hearing the gruesome details for the first time, showed flashes of discomfort.

The shopkeeper caught every wince and grimace but didn’t blink. He simply sweetened the pot.

“Under normal circumstances, this pill is reserved strictly for inner sect disciples or those who have rendered great merit. Its efficacy far surpasses any standard pill of the same rank. But the best part? Zero Pill Toxicity. As long as you have the supply, you can pop them like candy without ruining your foundation!”

The hesitation in the room evaporated instantly.

Greed replaced disgust. Heavy breathing replaced the silence.

“Shopkeeper, cut the crap! Give us a number!”

“I’ll take the whole box!”

The shopkeeper smiled, a shark smelling blood.

“Gentlemen, you know the rules. Rare pills are auctioned. Starting bid: 50 Low Grade Spirit Stones. Minimum increment: 5!”

The shop erupted into a chaotic frenzy of shouting and bidding.

Amidst the rising tide of avarice, Wang Ba turned and walked out alone.

He paused on the street, glancing back at the shop’s signboard. His heart was heavy.

If he didn’t have his ability—his power to steal and transfer Lifespan to break through bottlenecks—would he be any different? Would he eventually compromise his bottom line, becoming just like those men inside, scrambling for a pill made of liquefied infants?

Probably. The desire for immortality was a poison of its own.

But because he had this ability, he had a choice.

He could walk his own path.

My ‘cheat’ isn’t just about power, he realized. Its greatest value is the freedom to say no. To keep my humanity intact.

That was the kind of longevity he wanted. Not just to live forever, but to live with himself.

Several days later.

Wang Ba stood outside the perimeter of his chicken farm. He had just seen off a customer when a streak of light descended from the sky.

“Fellow Daoist Wang!”

Wang Ba watched the hurried figure approach and smiled. “Cultivator Yan. You’re finally here. I thought you might have found a better supplier.”

Yan wiped sweat from his forehead, looking nervous. “You… you didn’t sell my share, did you?”

“Well,” Wang Ba said, keeping his face neutral. “Fellow Daoist Zhou was just here. He insisted on taking twenty extra birds.”

Yan’s face went pale.

“However,” Wang Ba added smoothly, “your fifty Spirit Poultry were set aside long ago.”

Yan let out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sob. “Daoist Wang! You scared me to death! You really are a good man!”

Relieved, Yan didn’t waste time. He handed over a heavy Storage Bag.

Inside was a pile of Low Grade Spirit Stones and a stack of talismans: High Grade Armor Talismans, High Grade Soul Protection Talismans, and—to Wang Ba’s delight—High Grade Sword Qi Talismans.

Wang Ba had struck out at the artifact shop earlier regarding offensive weapons. These Sword Qi Talismans filled a critical gap in his arsenal. He finally had a way to fight back.

Wang Ba handed over the cages of Spirit Poultry.

Yan did a quick headcount and frowned. “Daoist Wang… the count is wrong. There are seventy here. You gave me twenty extra.”

Wang Ba smiled. “I didn’t give them for free. I noticed you have a surplus of high-quality talismans. I’m willing to buy them off you at market price—paid in chicken.”

Yan’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“The birds are already in your hands, aren’t they?”

“Deal!” Yan slapped his thigh. “Daoist Wang, you are a straightforward man!”

Yan rummaged through his bag and slapped several stacks of talismans into Wang Ba’s hand.

“These are High Grade True Thunder Talismans… and these…”

He explained the function of each with professional pride.

Wang Ba did a quick mental calculation and, adhering strictly to market value, tossed a few more chickens into the deal to balance the ledger.

Yan accepted them with glee. “Daoist, if you ever have a deal like this again, call me first.”

“It’s a promise,” Wang Ba agreed immediately. “If I have extra stock, I’ll trade for talismans.”

They parted ways, both thinking the other was a fool.

To Yan, raising Spirit Poultry was a nightmare of time and effort. Trading talismans—which took him half a day to draw—for chickens that took years to mature was a highway robbery.

To Wang Ba, Yan’s talismans were far superior to the trash sold in shops. And the cost? A few Low Grade Spirit Poultry that he had mass-produced and were notoriously hard to sell for raw spirit stones.

It was the perfect trade.

As he watched Yan fly away, Wang Ba checked his internal log.

Before handing over the birds, he had, of course, extracted their excess value.

[Current Lifespan +207 Years] [Current Lifespan +243 Years] [Current Remaining Lifespan: 9666.7 Years]

Three years of hoarding. Three years of accelerating chicken growth and draining them dry.

He had finally accumulated the staggering cost required for the next breakthrough.

9,216 Years.

The joy was indescribable. He didn’t hesitate for a second.

Burn it.

[Current Lifespan -9216 Years] [Current Remaining Lifespan: 450.7 Years]

[Physique Strengthening Scripture: Layer Eleven — COMPLETED]

As the ocean of lifespan evaporated to fuel his body, Wang Ba felt a subtle shift in the world around him.

The air felt… texture.

His sensitivity to Spiritual Qi had sharpened.

Curious, he pulled a Spirit Root Talisman from his bag and injected Spiritual Power.

Streams of colored light shot into the sky.

Still four colors.

But this time, the Blue light (Water) didn’t just show five solid rays—a sixth was coalescing, faint but undeniable.

The Earth and Wood lights had doubled, growing from a single pathetic ray to two.

Only the Fire element remained unchanged at a single ray.

“Water, Earth, and Wood… all improved.”

Wang Ba clenched his fist, feeling the changes in his own body. He immediately retreated to the cultivation room of the Spirit Water Courtyard.

He sat down, closed his eyes, and began to cycle his qi.

Moments later, his eyes snapped open, gleaming with satisfaction.

“My conversion speed… it increased by ten percent!”