Crow Immortal: I Can Duplicate Infinite Resources

Chapter 200: Reunion via the Sound Transmission Shell

The Boss Crow nodded at Old Daoist Li, confirming his identity.

Li let out a short, dry laugh.

This kid… he’s becoming truly extraordinary. Even I can barely keep up.

According to the merchant’s intelligence, Han Yu—despite his poor Four Spirit Roots aptitude—had become a technique prodigy. Wanchun Valley valued him enough to feed him Thousand-Year Sunkwood Heart. He had reached the Sixth Layer of Qi Refining in record time, and with his crow army, he could defeat Ninth Layer elites like Lin Lingxiu.

Thinking back to the freezing, desperate child from three years ago… fate was truly unpredictable.

Though, Li thought with a flash of smugness, I’m still ahead. Foundation Establishment. Lifespan extended. I win.

But the pride faded quickly, replaced by a bitter complexity.

The “Three Friends of Quanlin”—Li, Han Yu, and Zhu Sanyuan—were gone. The days of riding horses and dreaming of immortality were over.

They had envied the Immortal Masters like headless flies. But now that they were here? It wasn’t paradise.

Li had become a Demonic Cultivator, a rat hiding in the shadows. He lived on stolen blood, constantly fighting his Inner Demon to keep his sanity, terrified of the Spirit Sword Sect’s justice.

Han Yu was luckier, walking the righteous path. But his sect was on the brink of annihilation by the giants of the Central Heaven Domain.

Everyone thinks cultivation is freedom, Li sighed inwardly. They don’t know that Immortal Masters are just men with bigger problems.

After a long silence, Li transmitted his voice to the crow. “What does the kid want?”

The Boss Crow extended a leg, mimicking a carrier pigeon.

Li blinked, then barked a laugh. “You greedy Feathered Beast! Following the kid has made you civilized!”

The crow glared at him with its dark golden eyes. My master respects me. You just call me names.

Ignoring the bird’s indignation, Li retrieved a white seashell from his storage bag. “Fine. Take this back to him.”

The crow tilted its head.

“Take it!” Li scolded. “Years of cultivation and you’re still dense? The kid will know what to do.”

The crow snatched the shell and launched itself into the sky.

As it flew away, Li spoke to the empty air. “Boss. Do you need to watch me every second?”

The Traveling Merchant’s puppet stepped out from behind a shed.

“You remember who pays you?” the puppet said coolly. “I worked hard to set up the Crown Prince’s ‘suicide.’ If you leak anything to Wanchun Valley through that shell, you ruin everything.”

“The goods are sold,” Li replied indifferently. “How I use them is my business. I won’t betray you. I keep my word.”

The merchant stared at him, then laughed. “You know… I used to admire Ye Guxing the most. But now? I admire the Spirit Beast Sect.”

“Think about it,” the merchant mused. “That Han Yu… he controls a crow army. Is he a Spirit Beast Sect sleeper agent? They sent a genius to Wanchun Valley, then got themselves wiped out, leaving their best asset loyal to the enemy? Genius.”

“Stop talking nonsense,” Li frowned. “Han Yu is Wanchun Valley through and through.”

“Information is money, Li Quan,” the merchant grinned. “I might sell this theory later.”

Li’s expression hardened. “If you sell information about him… you make an enemy of me. Don’t expect my loyalty then.”

The merchant raised an eyebrow. “Touchy. Fine. I won’t sell it.”

Li nodded, looking down. You better not. Or I’ll find your main body and make you regret it.

Back in Han Yu’s room.

The Boss Crow dropped the shell onto the table. It was shaped like a human ear, polished smooth by the sea.

Han Yu picked it up. He infused his Spirit Breath, and instantly felt a connection—a resonance pointing back to the Green Grain Market.

A faint, static-filled voice drifted from the shell.

“Kid… is that you?”

Han Yu held the shell to his ear. “Daoist?”

“It’s me!” Old Daoist Li’s voice came through clearer now. “This is a Sound Transmission Shell, a specialty of the East Sea. They come in pairs. As long as we are within a hundred miles, we can talk.”

Han Yu let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Daoist. It’s good to hear your voice. This thing must be expensive.”

“It wasn’t cheap,” Li admitted.

They didn’t waste time on pleasantries. The awkwardness of their last parting—two weaklings forced to abandon each other to survive—was left unspoken. They were both survivors now.

“Where have you been, Daoist?” Han Yu asked.

“It’s a long story,” Li rasped. “After I left Wanchun Valley, I joined the Demon Blood Sect. I did… things. Colluded with the Spirit Beast Sect. I was even part of the raid on your valley.”

“Now? The Demon Blood Sect is dead. The Spirit Beast Sect is dead. I’m just a drifter again. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“I saw you during the raid,” Han Yu said quietly. “When the Spirit Sword Sect arrived… I thought you died.”

“I’m hard to kill,” Li chuckled. “Unlike you. Be careful, kid. Or I’ll come back and drink your essence blood.”

“I was young and stupid then,” Han Yu retorted, a smile in his voice. “I couldn’t help you then. But now? Try it, old man.”

Li laughed, a harsh, grating sound. Then, silence fell.

“Kid,” Li said softly. “You don’t know. I’ve done… terrible things. There is no turning back for me. I walk a path of blood now.”

He sighed. “Enough moping. Let’s talk business. How is your standing in Wanchun Valley? Do they trust you?”