Cultivation: I Can Steal Lifespan from Spirit Beasts

“Fellow Daoist Wang, I trust you have been well?”

Cultivator Yan approached with a warm smile, proactively cupping his hands in greeting.

Wang Ba felt a twinge of disappointment—he had hoped for a customer with deep pockets—but he adjusted his expression instantly.

“Fellow Daoist Yan,” Wang Ba replied, his smile practiced and professional. “You’re here to exchange for Spirit Poultry, I presume? It has been some time since your last visit.”

Upon hearing this, the smile on Yan’s face stiffened into a mask of awkwardness. He hesitated, shifting his weight. “Ah… no. Actually, I came this time to ask Fellow Daoist Wang for a favor.”

“A favor?”

Wang Ba paused. He was puzzled, but considering Yan was a long-term client with a good track record, he kept his tone polite.

“What sort of assistance do you require? I must warn you upfront: I am merely a humble chicken farmer. My capabilities are limited. If I cannot help, please do not take offense.”

“No, no, you are too modest,” Yan said quickly, exchanging the requisite pleasantries before sighing helplessly. “You may have heard… the Profound Talisman Path recently held a competition for an Inheritance Talisman. I participated.”

“Inheritance Talisman…” Wang Ba searched his memory. “Yes, I recall. A Golden Core Elder of their sect perished abroad, leaving behind his legacy. The competition started half a year ago, didn’t it? Is it still ongoing?”

Yan shook his head, his expression bitter.

“It is nearly over. I barely managed to scrape into the top eight… but my cultivation base is too shallow. I lack the Spiritual Power to refine Second Grade Talismans. If we were judging solely on technique…”

He broke off, sighing with self-pity.

Wang Ba looked at him with genuine confusion. “Forgive my bluntness, Fellow Daoist, but if your Spiritual Power is insufficient, you should be visiting a pill shop to buy recovery elixirs, not me.”

“I know,” Yan’s face flushed red. “But… my pockets are empty.”

He looked down, ashamed. “To be honest, between my cultivation and the competition, I haven’t had time to craft talismans for sale. I… I wanted to borrow some Spirit Stones from you.”

“Five hundred Low Grade Spirit Stones should suffice.”

“Please rest assured! Whether I win the inheritance or not, I will repay you within three years. On my honor.”

Borrow money?

Wang Ba frowned slightly.

The request was both surprising and frustrating.

Talisman Masters weren’t as wealthy as Alchemists, but they were certainly better off than the average rogue cultivator. For a skilled craftsman like Yan to be this destitute was shocking. Though, remembering how Yan used to spend money like water on premium chicken, perhaps it wasn’t so surprising after all.

The frustration came from the fact that Wang Ba truly couldn’t help.

Five hundred Spirit Stones? He didn’t have that much liquid cash on hand.

“Fellow Daoist Yan,” Wang Ba said, shaking his head slowly. “It is not that I am unwilling. I am simply broke. You know the market—fewer and fewer cultivators are buying Spirit Poultry. I am struggling to make ends meet myself.”

Yan’s face crumbled. The disappointment was visceral. He forced a strained smile and raised his hands in a weak salute.

“I understand. I have disturbed you…”

He turned to leave, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Wait.”

Wang Ba called out.

Yan stopped, turning back with a confused look. Wang Ba reached into his Storage Bag, retrieved two shimmering stones, and held them out.

Two Middle Grade Spirit Stones.

“This… Fellow Daoist, this is…” Yan stared at the stones, stunned, but did not reach for them.

“During our last transaction, the market prices had already shifted, yet you did not deceive me,” Wang Ba said, his voice steady and sincere. “You paid the fair market rate when you could have easily cheated me. Such integrity is rare in this world. These stones are the last of my savings. I give them to you as an investment in your success. May you soar to the heavens.”

Wang Ba meant every word.

This wasn’t charity; it was a calculation.

Over three years of business, Wang Ba had taken the measure of this man. Yan was generous and honest. Even when he was doing well, he hadn’t become arrogant like Lin Yu. He treated people with respect.

A Talisman Master with high skill and low ego was a blue-chip stock worth buying into.

Moreover, if Yan hadn’t tipped him off about the ‘Spirit Chef,’ Wang Ba’s inventory of Low Grade chickens would have rotted in their cages, and his cultivation would have stalled. In a way, Wang Ba owed him.

And pragmatically, two Middle Grade stones were illiquid assets for Wang Ba right now. Using them to buy a powerful friend’s loyalty was the best way to spend them.

Yan stood there, his expression a mix of shock and profound gratitude.

When he had traded fairly, he hadn’t thought anything of it—it was just business. He never expected this chicken farmer to remember it so vividly, let alone repay integrity with such generosity in a time of crisis.

This Wang Ba… he is a man worth dying for, Yan thought, moved.

He didn’t doubt Wang Ba’s claim of poverty. He knew the market was crashing; everyone was switching to the demonic techniques of the Heavenly Gate Sect. Even he had recently switched.

Yan took a deep breath, adjusted his hat, and composed his face into a solemn expression. He accepted the stones with both hands and bowed deeply—a formal, scholar’s bow.

Wang Ba stepped to the side, refusing to accept the full weight of the gesture.

Moments later, Yan departed on his Magical Artifact, his back straighter than before.

Eastern Sage Garrison, Heterodox Market.

Wang Ba stood on the second floor of a teahouse, nursing a cup of steaming ‘Heart-Questioning Tea.’ He watched the cultivators below, their expressions hurried and anxious.

“Why haven’t you accepted a mission yet?”

A familiar voice rasped behind him.

“Reach Level 5 authority, complete two conscriptions, and you can become an official disciple. Isn’t that better than your current drift?”

Wang Ba turned. Yu Changchun stood there. His face was almost entirely gone now—only a single pupil remained visible in the blur of flesh.

Wang Ba sighed, putting on his best ‘harmless coward’ face. “I am ashamed to admit it, but I have always been terrified of conflict. Making enemies makes me nauseous, let alone fighting them. During the Mirror Moon Mansion campaign, I didn’t dare lift a finger.”

Yu Changchun shook his head.

“Fellow Daoist, the path to immortality is paved with bones. Without the means to protect yourself, you will not last.”

“To struggle against men, to struggle against Heaven—this is the cultivator’s fate!” Yu’s voice dropped an octave. “Besides, the Incense Path outside hasn’t been contained. It is spreading like wildfire. Even if you wish to hide, the war will eventually find you.”

Wang Ba’s expression darkened.

He didn’t need the reminder. He had seen the Heavenly Gate Order board. The number of anti-Incense Path missions was skyrocketing.

It was obvious: The Incense Path was stronger than the sect had anticipated.

And based on recent intel, the people who ambushed Shen Fu—and likely the ones hunting for the Yin Spirit Great Dream Scripture—were Incense Path zealots.

Leaving the garrison now would be suicide. But taking missions was also out of the question.

Yu Changchun saw Wang Ba’s silence and didn’t press the issue. He leaned in, lowering his voice.

“I came out of seclusion today because I have finally harmonized my Essence, Qi, and Spirit. I have touched the threshold of Foundation Establishment.”

Wang Ba’s eyes widened.

“I am preparing to make the attempt,” Yu continued. “The process could take months, or years. I didn’t want to leave your supply chain broken.”

“So, I came out to settle my affairs before entering deep seclusion.”

Wang Ba cupped his hands, genuinely impressed. “Congratulations, Fellow Daoist! To finally reach this step… it is a momentous achievement.”

Yu waved his hand dismissively. His blurred face betrayed no emotion. “I haven’t succeeded yet. Save the congratulations. I’ve arranged for my Junior Brother to deliver your chicken feed regularly. Also…”

Yu’s tone warmed slightly. “Is this year’s Black Crystal Peach Spirit Wine ready?”

Wang Ba shook his head apologetically. “It was only just buried. It needs another few months.”

“Is that so? A pity.” Yu sounded truly regretful.

He reached into his robe and handed Wang Ba a transmission talisman.

“This connects to Elder Bai Yu. If there is a life-or-death emergency, you may contact him. But remember: unless it is absolute desperation, do not disturb him.”

Wang Ba took the talisman, surprised by the gesture of trust. He stored it away carefully.

Yu nodded. “With that settled, I can focus on my breakthrough.”

“I wish you an early attainment of the Dao.”

This time, Wang Ba spoke from the heart.

After parting ways with Yu Changchun, a strange restlessness settled over Wang Ba.

He walked back to the Spirit Water Courtyard, his steps heavy.

His gaze drifted to the door of the neighboring cultivation chamber. It was still tightly shut. A pang of disappointment hit him.

He turned to his own room, his hand on the latch.

Creak.

The door to the adjacent chamber opened.

Wang Ba spun around.

A familiar figure stood in the doorway, blinking in the sudden light. She looked at him, her expression shifting from surprise to delight.

“Senior Brother.”

“You… you were waiting for me?”

The moment he saw Bu Chan, the inexplicable anxiety in Wang Ba’s chest evaporated. It was as if a weight had been lifted.

A natural, unforced smile broke across his face. “Yes.”

“How… how did your cultivation go?”

Bu Chan’s excited expression instantly collapsed. She pouted. “It was okay. I broke through.”

Then, just as quickly, the smile returned. She launched into a detailed, bubbling account of her breakthrough to Qi Refining 4th Layer.

Wang Ba listened quietly, occasionally chuckling.

They stood by the pond outside the chambers, talking until the sun dipped below the horizon and the stars filled the sky. It felt as if they had been apart for years.

Finally, they exchanged a look—a shared understanding of peace—and returned to their respective rooms.

That night, Wang Ba meditated in total tranquility.

Sword Billow Garrison.

In a grand palace behind the mountain gate, the air hummed with bureaucratic efficiency.

Dozens of shelves towered to the ceiling, stacked with jade slips, dossiers, and command tokens. Cultivators in black and red robes moved like worker ants, processing the flow of war.

Voices called out in a rhythmic drone.

“Year Guichou, 7th Month, 20th Day. Mission Sixteen: Completed.”

“Year Guichou, 9th Month, 3rd Day. Mission Twenty-Five: Completed.”

“Year Guichou… Mission Failed.”

Deep within the hall, seated on a meditation cushion, a young Daoist with eyes like deep, starry voids performed rapid calculations with his fingers.

Beside him stood Lu Yuansheng, the faceless Chief Steward of the Heavenly Gate Sect.

Lu placed a jade slip down gently. “Elder Bei, the Incense Path is running rampant. The mortal cities and rogue markets outside our garrison are in chaos. What are you hesitating for?”

The young Daoist stopped his calculations. “There are remnants of the Eastern Sage Sect lurking in the shadows. If we deploy our main forces to crush the Incense Path, we leave ourselves exposed to an ambush. The loss could outweigh the gain.”

Lu Yuansheng shook his head, his voice cold.

“If we don’t act, how will we lure the rats out of their holes?”

Elder Bei looked at Lu, surprised. He pondered for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“Steward Lu… you truly deserve the Sect Master’s favor. Your vision is ruthless and bold. Very well. This old man will play along.”

Elder Bei’s Spiritual Power surged. His voice was amplified, booming through every corner of the palace, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

“Hear my order!”

“Issue a Mandatory Mission!”

“All heterodox cultivators are ordered to accept missions to exterminate the Incense Path. This mobilization will not cease until the Incense Path is eradicated.”

“This directive overrides the ‘Three Refusals’ rule. Any cultivator who has not accepted a mission within half a month…”

The voice turned icy.

“…shall be executed.”