Inside the Jade Pendant space…

The massive boost in growth speed was a godsend, but Chen Ping didn’t let the euphoria cloud his judgment. He remained a pragmatist.

He needed to verify a critical variable: the “fuel consumption” of the upgraded Black Earth.

Did accelerating time by forty-fold strip the land of its fertility at the same rate?

He conducted a meticulous audit of every spirit herb in the garden, checking both the dry plots and those irrigated with Spirit Spring water.

The results were a relief. The soil remained jet-black, loose, and brimming with vitality. Its spiritual density hadn’t dipped by a fraction.

“It seems that aside from that ‘Ancestor,’ the other herbs have a negligible impact on the land.”

Chen Ping’s gaze shifted to a cordoned-off section in the center of the space.

The home of the Enlightenment Spirit Tea Tree.

Here, the scenery told a different story.

The soil surrounding the Tea Tree had lost its sheen. While still fertile, the deep, oily blackness had faded to a dull gray, and the earth had become compacted, losing its fluffiness.

Worse, the ambient Qi density within a one-foot radius of the tree was significantly lower than the rest of the dimension.

“As expected. Even after the upgrade, your appetite is bottomless.”

Chen Ping sighed, shaking his head at the demanding plant.

The Enlightenment Spirit Tea Tree was a resource black hole. It grew at an excruciatingly slow pace—even with forty-fold acceleration, it looked frozen in time—yet it devoured nutrients like a starving beast.

To keep it alive, Chen Ping had to manually rotate the soil, digging out the depleted earth and replacing it with fresh Black Earth from other zones.

It was high-maintenance, but worth it.

The tree’s charred, dead outer shell had finally flaked away, revealing a healthy yellowish-brown trunk beneath. It had survived the transplant. It was ready to grow.

However, its slow recovery forced Chen Ping to face a hard truth regarding his studies.

He temporarily shelved the Profound Yellow Puppet Technique and the Nine Yang Nine Yin Scripture.

He had come to a sobering realization: without the Enlightenment Tea leaves to artificially boost his comprehension, these manuals were nothing but gibberish. They were “Heavenly Texts”—divine scripts that no mortal mind could decipher.

…

With the soil consumption issue resolved, Chen Ping turned his attention to his finances.

He had accumulated several thousand Spirit Stones over the past month, intended for the next upgrade.

Full of anticipation, he placed the Jade Pendant atop the pile of glowing crystals and pushed his intent into the artifact, commanding it to feed.

Nothing happened.

The Jade Pendant lay dormant.

Chen Ping frowned and intensified his mental command.

The vortex at the pendant’s center flickered weakly, then extinguished. It ignored the pile of energy right under its nose.

He tried again. He moved the stones. He broke them down.

The result was the same. The Jade Pendant was satiated.

“Saturated? Is this the limit?”

Chen Ping’s heart sank.

After consuming over twenty thousand Spirit Stones, the dimension had hit a level cap.

Four acres of land. Forty-fold acceleration. That was the maximum output for the current tier.

The realization sat heavy in his chest for several days.

He had grown addicted to the constant dopamine hit of upgrades, the feeling of infinite expansion. Hitting a hard ceiling felt like a plan derailed.

Sitting in his cave dwelling, staring at the rejected Spirit Stones, he felt a strange sense of hollowness.

But Chen Ping was not one to wallow. A few days later, he adjusted his mindset.

A cap meant stability. It meant he could stop chasing the next upgrade and focus on maximizing what he already had.

His gaze hardened.

“Four acres. Forty times speed. It’s enough. The priority isn’t expansion; it’s production. I need to cultivate the Foundation Establishment materials and refine High-grade—or even Supreme-grade—pills. My time, and my parents’ time, is running out.”

He threw himself back into the grind: tending herbs, refining pills, making money, and cultivating.

…

Six months passed in a blur of repetitive, disciplined labor.

Chen Ping’s personal cultivation remained stuck at the peak of Qi Condensation Level 9.

He had hit the natural ceiling of the realm. Without the Foundation Establishment Pill, there was no path forward.

Instead of banging his head against the wall, he pivoted to alchemy. He purchased the True Fire Alchemy Scripture from a Marketplace auction, spending a staggering ten thousand Spirit Stones.

It was a Low-grade Profound rank technique, divided into two volumes.

Volume One was the foundation—advanced theory on heat control and medicinal fusion.

Volume Two was the “True Fire” technique. It taught a cultivator how to awaken and control their innate True Fire upon reaching Foundation Establishment. This fire could be used to incinerate enemies or control kiln temperatures with godlike precision.

It was a notoriously difficult manual. Just grasping the basics took him nearly half a year.

Financially, his “resource management” was paying off.

Despite throttling his sales to stay under the radar, the consistent output of High-grade Marrow Cleansing and Qi Gathering Pills made him rich. By undercutting the market slightly, his stock moved instantly.

Even after deducting the ten thousand stones for the manual, he had netted another twenty thousand Spirit Stones in pure profit.

For a Qi Condensation disciple, this level of wealth was astronomical.

Meanwhile, his investment in his family was bearing fruit.

His father, Chen Dashan, fueled by an endless supply of pills, had broken through to the fourth layer of Qi Condensation.

His mother, Lady Lin, had reached the peak of the third layer, just a hair’s breadth from a breakthrough.

The transformation was physical. Their white hair was turning black, wrinkles were fading, and they radiated the vigor of “Immortal Elders.” Their lifespans had extended to one hundred and twenty years.

Chen Ping breathed a little easier, but a new anxiety began to gnaw at him.

His parents were old.

In the cultivation world, sixty was the cutoff. Once a cultivator passed sixty, their blood and Qi began to decline, making Foundation Establishment nearly impossible.

His parents were already in their fifties. By the time they reached the peak of Qi Condensation, they would certainly be over sixty.

This deadline haunted him.

Upon returning to the Sect, Chen Ping attended a public lecture by a Foundation Establishment Elder. When the session ended, he stepped forward, bowing respectfully.

“Elder, this disciple seeks guidance. If a cultivator is past the age of sixty, possesses ordinary aptitude, and lacks a deep foundation, is there any reliable method for them to reach Foundation Establishment?”

The Elder, a man with a thin face and sharp eyes, glanced at Chen Ping. He seemed to understand the subtext immediately. He stroked his beard and spoke slowly.

“The Heavenly Dao has its constants, yet it always leaves a thread of hope. For an ordinary genius, a standard Mid-grade Foundation Establishment Pill is a great opportunity. But for the elderly, the untalented, and those with weak roots… a Mid-grade pill offers a success rate of perhaps ten or twenty percent. It is a gamble with death.”

Chen Ping’s chest tightened. “Dare I ask, Elder… where does the thread of hope lie?”

The Elder’s voice dropped an octave, solemn and heavy.

“Brute force. One must use overwhelming medicinal power to shatter the shackles of heaven and earth, compensating for the body’s decay. A High-grade Foundation Establishment Pill can raise the success rate to seventy percent. A Supreme-grade pill… nearly eighty percent. With such a treasure, and a secret art to stabilize the mind, even the elderly can defy the heavens.”

High-grade. Supreme-grade.

Chen Ping’s heart sank.

These pills were myths. Supreme-grade pills only existed in the private vaults of top-tier Sects or ancient legends. They never circulated in the market.

Even Mid-grade pills were rare enough to spark wars.

To find a Supreme-grade pill? That wasn’t a question of money. It was a question of fate.

But as the despair washed over him, a spark of realization followed.

The market didn’t have them. The Sect didn’t have them.

But he had the Black Earth.

He had the perfect ingredients. He had the True Fire Alchemy Scripture.

He didn’t need to find them. He just needed to make them.

As long as it’s possible, I can do it.