Chen Ping’s voice wasn’t loud, but it landed with the weight of a stone shattering a frozen lake.

“The Foundation Establishment Pill formula?”

The warm, amiable smile on Li Mao’s face froze. A flicker of shock and suspicion darted through his eyes.

He leaned forward slightly. Under the stone table, his fingers curled, tightening into a white-knuckled fist.

“Junior Brother Chen… the Foundation Establishment Pill formula is no ordinary item.”

Li Mao’s voice dropped an octave, heavy with curiosity and disbelief.

He re-examined the Outer Disciple sitting across from him. The generic, honest-looking face suddenly seemed to hide depths he hadn’t anticipated.

His opinion of Chen Ping shifted violently.

‘This kid isn’t just lucky,’ Li Mao thought. ‘To survive that secret realm and emerge with ten portions of main ingredients… and now this demand? His guts are made of iron.’

This wasn’t just courage. It was ambition. A terrifying amount of it.

Chen Ping met the Elder’s scrutiny with a calm, unwavering gaze. He offered no explanation, nor did he retreat an inch.

He lifted his teacup, took a slow, deliberate sip, and set it down.

“I know,” Chen Ping said, his tone as casual as if discussing the weather. “But compared to the Spirit Stones, pills, and notes you just offered… a formula holds far more value to me.”

Li Mao fell silent. The cave dwelling grew so quiet that only the faint rhythm of their breathing remained.

He picked up his own teacup, the tea long since cold, and took a sip to hide the turmoil in his mind.

For a sect or a powerful clan, a pill formula was a strategic asset. But for an individual, it was often a curse.

The logic was simple: the three main ingredients—True Essence Fruit, Amethyst Flower, and Fiery Sun Grass—were exceedingly rare. Their growth cycles spanned centuries.

Without a massive, stable supply of spiritual herbs, holding the formula was like a master chef having no rice to cook. It was useless knowledge.

For a rogue cultivator or a small faction, possessing such a formula was the “Sin of Possessing Treasure.” It was a target painted on one’s back. If word got out, it would trigger a bloodbath as desperate cultivators hunted them down.

However, for a major power like the Li Family, the equation was different.

To them, the formula itself wasn’t the bottleneck. The resources were.

Take the Qingyun Sect. Inner Disciples of Pill Cauldron Peak, after swearing Heart Demon Oaths of absolute loyalty, were routinely taught these high-level formulas to serve the Sect’s production lines.

The formula wasn’t a supreme secret. The true barrier to entry was the Sect’s monopoly on the ingredients and the high-level alchemy techniques required to process them.

The Li Family, a powerhouse within the Sect, naturally had its own reserves.

Li Mao knew for a fact that the family treasury held three distinct variations of the Foundation Establishment Pill formula. One of them, based on the True Essence Fruit, was nearly identical to the Qingyun Sect’s orthodox method.

Getting a copy was possible. But it wasn’t free.

Family formulas were core heritage. Accessing them required approval from the Council of Elders and a hefty payment in Contribution Points. It would bleed Li Mao dry.

The question was: Is it worth it?

Li Mao looked into Chen Ping’s eyes. They were deep, placid pools.

There was no anger, no begging. Just a cold, calculating clarity.

This young man wasn’t asking on a whim. He had weighed the risks and made a choice.

He understood that Spirit Stones and pills were consumables. They ran out. But a formula? That was knowledge. That was a source. It represented infinite possibility—a chance to defy fate and rewrite one’s destiny.

“Junior Brother Chen,” Li Mao said slowly, choosing his words with care. “The formula involves the core heritage of the Li Family. It is not a decision I can make unilaterally. To extract a copy from the archives requires paying a significant price.”

Chen Ping nodded. He understood the bureaucracy. But his expression didn’t soften.

“I understand Senior Brother’s difficulty. However, this Foundation Establishment Pill quota is equally precious to me. It is my future.”

Chen Ping paused, letting the silence hang for a beat.

“If Senior Brother finds it too difficult, we can drop the matter. I will look elsewhere. I trust the Li Family isn’t the only clan in the Sect willing to trade a formula for a guaranteed path to Foundation Establishment.”

The words hit Li Mao like a bucket of ice water.

The threat was implicit but clear: Deal, or I walk.

Chen Ping was ready to shop the quota to the Li Family’s rivals.

Li Mao’s heart plummeted.

He was fifty years old.

His last attempt at Foundation Establishment had ended in failure, nearly exhausting his potential and the family’s patience. This current opportunity was a lifeline he had clawed for, leveraging decades of service as a steward.

If he missed this, the door would close forever. He would rot in the Qi Condensation stage until his lifespan ran out, turning to dust like a common mortal.

This quota was his last shot at Immortality.

“Junior Brother Chen, do not be hasty!”

Panic leaked into Li Mao’s voice. He raised a hand sharply, gesturing for Chen Ping to stop.

“There is room to maneuver! Please, give me a little time! Three days! Just three days!”

Li Mao leaned over the table, his eyes burning with desperation.

” regardless of whether I succeed or fail with the Elders, I will personally return in three days to give you a definitive answer!”

Chen Ping saw the naked anxiety in the older man’s eyes. He knew he had struck the vital point.

Internally, he remained unmoved, but outwardly, he gave a slow nod.

“Fine. I will wait three days. I’ll be expecting you.”

“It’s a promise!”

Li Mao stood up abruptly, abandoning all pretense of graceful etiquette. He cupped his hands in a hurried salute.

“Junior Brother, I’ll take my leave. I must go make arrangements immediately!”

With that, he turned and practically jogged out of the cave dwelling, his servant scrambling to keep up.

Chen Ping watched them leave, then thoughtfully stroked his chin.

‘The formula is in the bag,’ he mused.

The Li Family’s roots in the Qingyun Sect ran deep. They controlled a vast network, making up nearly a third of the Sect’s personnel.

But that size was also their weakness.

The Sect’s official distribution of Foundation Establishment Pills couldn’t possibly satisfy the needs of such a massive clan. There were too many hungry mouths, too many ambitious descendents.

Desperation was the norm.

No matter how powerful a faction was, the cultivators at the bottom always suffered. The hurdle of Foundation Establishment was a filter that crushed 99% of aspirants.

Chen Ping had leveraged this universal truth. He had dangled hope in front of a drowning man.

For someone like Li Mao—whose path to the Dao was severed, whose hope was all but extinguished—this sudden lifeline was irresistible.

Would he let it slip?

Never.

He would grip it with the strength of a dying man, refusing to let it slide through his fingers.

The temptation of Immortality, the allure of an extended lifespan… it was the ultimate hook.

No cultivator who had struggled on this path could resist it.

That was the cruelty, and the charm, of Cultivation.