The two sat together, the conversation stretching on for what felt like an eternity.

It was entirely a one-sided affair. Zhao Yuanqi expounded on his theoretical knowledge of the cultivation world, while Chen Ping sat in silence, acting the role of the attentive audience.

Chen Ping was exhausted.

But Zhao Yuanqi showed no signs of stopping. His eyes burned with a feverish, manic light, locked firmly onto Chen Ping’s face. His mouth hung slightly open, ready to launch into the next topic.

Over a hundred years of cultivation insights and theoretical deductions were being poured out, hot and steaming, from his belly.

Chen Ping could foresee the grim future: if he remained seated, this Senior Brother would happily hold him hostage from sunrise to moonset, lecturing him on everything from Qi Condensation to the Soul Formation realm without taking a breath.

“Senior Brother’s profound discourse has struck me like a thunderclap. It has truly opened my eyes,” Chen Ping said, standing up with decisive, crisp movements. He cupped his hands in a deep salute.

“However, I have a pressing matter that requires immediate attention. I dare not waste any more of Senior Brother’s precious time.”

The near-fanatical flush on Zhao Yuanqi’s face instantly dimmed, as if a basin of ice water had been dumped over his head.

He opened his mouth to protest, but only a regretful “Ah” escaped his lips. He stood up slowly, shoulders slumping.

“This… if Junior Brother has urgent business, then naturally, I cannot delay you. Sigh, what a pity! I hadn’t yet elaborated on the intricacies of neutralizing Pill Toxin accumulation…”

“Rest assured, Senior Brother!”

Chen Ping cut in immediately, plugging the dam before the flood could resume.

“Once I have handled these miscellaneous affairs, I will definitely return to seek your guidance and listen to your high views. What I heard today has already cleared the fog in my mind. I am endlessly grateful.”

The words were spoken with such practiced sincerity that the disappointment on Zhao Yuanqi’s face smoothed out. He smiled again and returned the salute.

“Good, good! Then I shall await your good news right here! Safe travels!”

“Senior Brother, please stay.”

Chen Ping bowed once more, turned, and walked away. His pace quickened with every step, until he was practically fleeing the Deacon Hall.

Only after flying a considerable distance did Chen Ping finally let out a long, heavy exhale.

This Senior Brother was truly a remarkable eccentric.

But his desire to share his knowledge was a terrifying force of nature. It was simply too much to bear.

Chen Ping wasted no time, heading straight for the Qingyun Sect’s Contribution Hall.

Upon becoming a Foundation Establishment Elder, his Identity Jade Pendant had automatically recorded his annual sect stipend: three hundred Contribution Points.

Compared to what he needed, this amount was nothing more than a drop in the bucket.

The Foundation Establishment chapter of the Evergreen Art, a mid-grade Earth-rank technique, required one thousand Contribution Points.

And that was just for the current stage. If he wanted to pave the road for the future—to exchange for the Violet Palace chapter of the Evergreen Art in advance—that would cost a staggering three thousand points.

Chen Ping walked directly to the counter managed by the Deacon in charge of exchanges.

The Deacon was a sharp-featured middle-aged man with a cultivation base at the ninth layer of Qi Condensation. Seeing Chen Ping—a newly promoted Foundation Establishment Elder—approach, his attitude was instantly respectful.

“Elder Chen, how may I be of service?”

“I need to exchange for Contribution Points.”

Chen Ping was concise. He unhooked a storage bag from his waist and placed it heavily on the counter.

He wasn’t surprised that the sect members recognized him. The names of all Foundation Establishment Elders were posted on the public announcement boards. Who had been promoted and who had died was clear at a glance.

As for why he used a physical storage bag instead of retrieving Spirit Stones directly from his spatial jade pendant?

Sometimes, carrying a visible storage bag was a necessary disguise. It masked the true depth of his resources.

“Convert all the Spirit Stones inside into Contribution Points.”

The Deacon took the storage bag and swept it with his Divine Sense. A flicker of shock widened his eyes.

Inside, stacks of Low-grade Spirit Stones were arranged in neat rows. A rough estimate placed the count at over five thousand.

It was a staggering sum for a mere deacon, yet this Foundation Establishment Elder tossed out what amounted to a lifetime of savings as if it were pocket change.

“Elder, please wait a moment.”

The Deacon didn’t dare to delay. He immediately began the count.

The crisp clinking of Spirit Stones filled the air as they were tallied one by one.

“Five thousand one hundred and twenty,” the Deacon confirmed, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow. “Elder, according to Sect rules, the exchange rate is 1.5 to 1. Three Spirit Stones for two Contribution Points.”

He looked up, his tone tinged with uncontrollable envy.

“With 5,120 Spirit Stones, you can exchange for… 3,413 Contribution Points.”

“Mm. Do it.”

Chen Ping didn’t hesitate.

Spirit Stones were dead objects. Converting them into resources that enhanced his cultivation was the only way to give them value.

The Deacon worked the formation on the counter. The Contribution Points in Chen Ping’s Identity Jade Pendant jumped from 300 to 3,713 in an instant.

The jade pendant flashed faintly, the numbers updating.

“It is done. Elder, please verify.”

The Deacon respectfully handed back the pendant and the now-empty storage bag.

With the points in hand, Chen Ping didn’t stop. He headed straight for the sect’s most critical location—the Scripture Pavilion.

The pavilion was nestled in a secluded, Qi-rich valley in the Back Mountain. The ancient structure was built into the cliffside, its upturned eaves and intricate bracket sets radiating the scholarly elegance of a bygone era.

Stepping inside, the smell of old paper, Spirit Wood shelves, and dry ink washed over him.

Sunlight filtered through high windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the silent air.

The guardian of the Scripture Pavilion was an old man with hair and beard as white as snow. He wore a faded blue Daoist robe and sat behind a massive ebony desk, engrossed in a yellowed ancient scroll.

The elder had a square, traditional face. Though his skin was loose with age, his eyes were exceptionally clear, holding the peacefulness of a man who had seen countless sails pass and storms settle.

Chen Ping knew him. This was Elder Li, a cultivator at the Great Perfection of Foundation Establishment. Having lost hope of breaking through to the Violet Palace due to his advanced age, he had volunteered for this idle post decades ago.

“Greetings, Senior Brother Li!”

Chen Ping approached and bowed according to proper etiquette.

Elder Li looked up at the sound. His gaze swept over Chen Ping, and a gentle smile softened his features as he lowered his scroll.

“Oh, it is the newly promoted Junior Brother Chen. No need for formalities. You’ve come to the Scripture Pavilion… seeking techniques or secret arts?”

“Exactly.”

Chen Ping handed over his Identity Jade Pendant.

“I wish to exchange for the Foundation Establishment chapter of the Evergreen Art.”

Elder Li took the pendant, probed it with his Divine Sense to verify the points, and nodded approvingly.

“Mm. One thousand points. The Evergreen Art is the bedrock of our sect. Although the Foundation Establishment chapter is only Low-grade Earth-rank, its strength lies in its balance and stability. It is the best choice for laying a solid foundation.”

As he spoke, he reached into a specific jade box beside his desk and retrieved a jade slip emitting a warm, verdant glow. The texture was fine, with faint wisps of Qi circulating across its surface.

This was the inheritance jade slip for the Evergreen Art.

Chen Ping received it with both hands and carefully tucked it away.

But he didn’t leave.

“Disciple also wishes to exchange for a secret art,” Chen Ping said, his voice steady. “The Whale Swallowing Technique.”

“The Whale Swallowing Technique?”

Elder Li’s clear eyes narrowed slightly. The gentle smile vanished, replaced by a look of gravity and bewilderment.