Crow Immortal: I Can Duplicate Infinite Resources

After exchanging a few final words with his disciple, Elder Lu departed to return the unchosen Talisman Treasure to Sect Leader Qi.

Alone in his quarters, Han Yu held up the item he had just secretly replicated.

It was a strip of hide, merely a finger’s length and an inch wide. Yet, its spiritual light was dense and restrained, humming with enough power to block a full-force attack from an early Golden Core cultivator. Unlike a standard talisman, this treasure could be recharged with Spiritual Qi and reused up to five times before crumbling.

It was, without question, the strongest life-saving trump card Han Yu now possessed.

It’s a pity the cost was so high, Han Yu thought, frowning slightly as he sensed the emptiness in his right hand. It conflicts with my cultivation speed.

Han Yu was now at the seventh layer of Qi Refining. The amount of replication energy his hand accumulated daily had grown significantly since his days at the first layer. Yet, even with this increased capacity, copying a high-tier item like this required over ten days of accumulated energy.

The Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart, the Ancestral Tree Spirit Liquid, and now the Talisman Treasure—all demanded a massive investment of time. The Sword Heart Spirit Crystal he had officially chosen would likely be just as “expensive.”

The dilemma was simple: to advance his cultivation quickly, Han Yu needed to replicate two Qi Refining Spirit Boosting Pills every single day. This left him with zero surplus energy to store.

If he wanted to copy rare artifacts, he would have to halt his pill replication and revert to his original, sluggish cultivation speed for weeks at a time.

I need to balance this carefully, he mused.

He stowed the replicated Talisman Treasure into his bound Storage Bag and picked up the Sword Heart Spirit Crystal.

As expected of a Spirit Sword Sect treasure, the moment his skin touched the crystal, his sword intent stirred restlessly, as if eager to feed. Refining it would undoubtedly yield massive benefits. Even embedding it in a hilt or wearing it as a pendant would subtly enhance his sword arts over time.

But I won’t replicate this yet, he decided, suppressing the urge. For the next phase, my priority is raw cultivation level.

Once his cultivation base rose higher, his daily energy accumulation would increase, making it easier to copy these heavy treasures later.

Ten days flashed by.

Han Yu fell into a disciplined rhythm. By day, he taught at the Battle Hall. By night, he replicated two pills to fuel his practice of the Green Grain Qi Cultivation Method and condensed the Star Luo Threads for the Star Luo Traction Technique.

He barely touched the Blood Refining Technique, only performing the most basic circulation to maintain it.

Yet, even with this minimal attention, Han Yu noticed a strange evolution.

Circulating the technique twice a day wasn’t increasing the quantity of his Essence Blood anymore. In fact, the number of drops was decreasing.

At the seventh layer of Blood Refining, he had originally possessed over one hundred and thirty drops. Recent cultivation had pushed that number near one hundred and fifty. Now, however, the count had receded to one hundred and forty.

But what remained was transforming. Each drop of Essence Blood felt heavier, purer, and more vibrant than before.

Han Yu’s Essence Blood had already been far superior to the chaotic, tainted blood of common demonic cultivators. To see it purify further was an unexpected windfall. It was as if his blood was being distilled into liquid gold.

The quantity drops, but the quality skyrockets.

Although the process consumed a vast amount of vitality, Han Yu didn’t mind. He wasn’t relying on the Blood Refining Technique for immediate combat power, and his pill-fueled body could easily handle the drain.

Let it refine, he decided. I’ll stop trying to force the Breakthrough and just let the blood purify itself.

That afternoon, at the Battle Hall.

Han Yu finished a spar with Tian Ziyue, stepping back and clasping his hands politely.

“Senior Brother Tian, I concede.”

Tian Ziyue threw his head back and laughed. “Hah! You, Eighteenth Junior Brother… ‘Conceding’ to me again?”

Nearby, Yuan Shengjiao, Ye Shinian, and the other disciples exchanged looks ranging from amusement to wry smiles.

They had all heard Junior Brother Han’s trademark phrases—”I concede,” “I got lucky,” “It was a fluke.” But by now, having witnessed his prowess, not a single soul in the Battle Hall believed him. To them, his humility was just the eccentricity of a genius.

As the laughter died down, Yuan Shengjiao’s eyes wandered to the edge of the training grounds.

Bai Lingyun was standing with Li Xuan and Meng Bao, but they weren’t alone. Beside them stood a young boy in blue robes and a small girl, perhaps five or six years old, with large, timid eyes.

“Eh? Junior Brother Bai,” Yuan Shengjiao called out, surprised. “Whose children are those? How did they get to the main peak? The little one is adorable!”

Bai Lingyun smiled and beckoned them over. “This is Seventeenth Brother’s companion. After the Sect executed Wei Baoyu, the beggar gang was disbanded. Most were sent away to make an honest living, but this girl… she’s too young, and she’s very attached to Seventeenth Brother. He begged my great-grandfather to let her stay, so we brought her in.”

He patted the boy’s shoulder. “When she turns ten, we’ll test her. If she has a Spirit Root, she’ll be a Laborer Disciple. If not, she can be Seventeenth Brother’s personal servant. Either way, she’ll live a worry-free life.”

The “Seventeenth Brother” was, of course, Bai Shiqi. Since he had been adopted by Elder Bai and given the name Shiqi (Seventeen), and was three years younger than Bai Lingyun, the two had become as close as blood brothers. They were practically inseparable.

“She grew up in a beggar’s den at that age?” Yuan Shengjiao clicked her tongue, her heart softening. “How pitiful.”

She extended her arms warmly. “Come here, little one. Let Big Sister give you a hug.”

The little girl immediately shrank behind Bai Shiqi, peeking out with frightened eyes.

Bai Shiqi’s reaction was instant—and heartbreaking. He grabbed the girl’s arm to pull her forward. In the beggar world, you didn’t reject the affection of a noble; pleasing the rich was the only way to fill your belly. It was a survival reflex etched into his bones.

But halfway through the motion, Bai Shiqi froze.

His hand dropped. We aren’t beggars anymore, he reminded himself. We don’t have to smile for scraps.

Yuan Shengjiao saw the hesitation and quickly waved her hands. “It’s fine, it’s fine! If she’s shy, don’t force her.”

To break the tension, Bai Lingyun summoned his spirit beast. “Vinegar Saucer, look! Come play!”

A magnificent White Crane materialized. The little girl’s eyes instantly lit up. The fear vanished as she scrambled onto the crane’s back, wrapping her small arms around its neck.

“Vinegar Saucer loves playing with my crane the most,” Bai Lingyun said with a touch of pride.

The White Crane let out a smug cry, arching its neck.

Suddenly, the cry strangled in its throat.

The elegant bird shuddered violently and froze like a statue. Perched on a nearby railing were three pitch-black crows—one large, two small—staring at it with cold, predatory eyes.

ever since the initial brawl, Han Yu’s crows had established a brutal hierarchy. Whenever they saw a White Crane on the main peak, they attacked on sight until the crane submitted.

By now, the cranes belonging to Lu Yun, Bai Lingyun, Li Yibao, and Hua Qi were thoroughly traumatized. The moment they saw the black feathers, they didn’t dare twitch a muscle.

Bai Lingyun’s crane looked at its master with pleading eyes, silently begging for rescue.

Bai Lingyun laughed helplessly and turned to Han Yu. “Han Yu, your birds are too fierce. My crane is terrified to even lift its head.”

Han Yu smiled and glanced at his pets. “Alright, they’re behaving. Don’t scare them anymore.”

He waved his hand, dismissing the crows back to their nest.

Only when the black shapes vanished into the sky did the White Crane dare to breathe. It shook out its feathers and began to prance around on its slender legs. The little girl, “Vinegar Saucer,” giggled uncontrollably as she rocked back and forth on its back.

Lu Yun and Li Yibao released their cranes as well, and the three birds danced together, delighting the child even more.

Bai Shiqi watched the scene quietly, the tension in his shoulders finally melting away.

The Sect is a good place, he thought. If only we had come here sooner.

“Junior Brother Bai,” Ye Shinian asked, curiosity getting the better of him. “Your nickname ‘Wine Gourd’ and hers ‘Vinegar Saucer’… why are they so strange?”

Bai Shiqi shook his head. “I don’t know. The beggar boss, Wei Baoyu, gave them to us.”

“I know! I know!” the little girl shouted from the back of the crane.

Bai Shiqi looked up in surprise. “You know?”

“Yes!” The girl beamed innocently. “The Boss said that wine and vinegar are both used to kill the taste of ginger. He said he wanted to kill Jiang!”

The group fell silent.

Ye Shinian’s eyes widened in realization. “Kill Jiang… Jiang as in the Imperial Family.”

“Oh,” Yuan Shengjiao murmured. “So it was Wei Baoyu’s petty revenge. Even in his aliases, he was obsessing over his national hatred.”

The dark reality of the names hung in the air for a moment, contrasting sharply with the innocent laughter of the girl who bore one of them.

Just then, the sound of wings flapping broke the mood. Another White Crane descended from the sky, landing heavily on the training grounds.

Bai Lingyun recognized the bird immediately. He smiled, stepping forward. “It’s Senior Brother Hua Qi’s crane. He’s back—”

He stopped.

The crane stood alone on the stone tiles, its feathers ruffled and anxious.

“Eh?” Bai Lingyun frowned, looking around. “Why is it just the crane? Where is he?”