Crow Immortal: I Can Duplicate Infinite Resources

Chapter 233: Ascension Token

Seeking Immortal Town was as bustling as ever.

Men in brocade robes and women in mink furs paraded through the streets. Jeweled carriages and fine horses clogged the thoroughfares, while martial artists carrying swords and spears wove through the crowds in an endless stream.

Months had passed since the Immortal Masters of Wanchun Valley descended to purge the town of Demonic Cultivators. Yet, whenever the topic arose in a teahouse or wine shop, the locals still spoke of it with animated gestures and wide eyes, reliving the thrill of brushing against the divine.

Many in Seeking Immortal Town yearned for cultivation, but few were truly qualified to approach Wanchun Valley. Fewer still dared to try their luck at the mountain gate.

Even those with connections knew better than to march straight up to the Sect; they traveled to the Green Grain Market first to seek an audience. To approach the gate directly was the mark of a fool with a death wish.

The “Immortal Guest Inn” had stood for years, its signboard polished to a glossy black sheen by time and care.

Inside, waiters shouted enthusiastic greetings, ushering guests to tables. The innkeeper kept his head down, fingers flying across his abacus with a rhythmic clack-clack-clack. The clientele was a mix of diners, lodgers, and thrift-seekers who asked for prices and left, earning quiet spits of contempt from the staff.

On the second floor, a burly man dressed as a hunter sat by the window. A heavy bow was strapped to his back. Before him sat a simple meal: a plate of boiled salted meat and a bowl of tea filled with leaf fragments.

He didn’t look around. Nor did he devour the meat with the roughness his appearance suggested. He simply sat there, statuesque, for half the day. Eventually, the meat disappeared. The hunter stood up, paid his bill, and walked out.

Leaving the inn, he purchased a horse, led it slowly out of town, and mounted it.

His movements were stiff, almost mechanical. He was careful not to squeeze his legs too hard, lest he crush the beast’s ribs by accident.

Then, the hunter set off down the yellow-earth official road of the Nanli Kingdom, riding at a leisurely pace.

After a few miles, a group of riders galloped past him. Men and women in martial attire, carrying blades and radiating aggression—clearly wanderers of the Jianghu, people who lived on the edge of a sword.

They ignored the slow-moving hunter. The hunter ignored them.

This “hunter” was, of course, Han Yu’s puppet, “Li Ya,” disguised by the Thousand Illusions Secret Art. Han Yu himself followed invisibly in the distance.

He had left Wanchun Valley not as an Outer Disciple, nor as himself, nor even as the Myriad Phenomena disciple “Mi Gaolin.” Those identities were tools to be used sparingly. For travel, anonymity was best.

His destination was the wider world. He planned to tour the various markets of the Southern Region, hunting for spiritual materials and pills to aid his cultivation.

Aside from the Green Grain Market, the Southern Region hosted six other major trading hubs. The Great Zhou Dynasty contained the Ten Thousand Beasts Market and the Black Mountain Market. The Mystic One Sect and Little Sky Net Sect had their own markets, and two independent hubs—Lingyun and Mobei—served rogue cultivators.

Han Yu ruled out the sect-affiliated markets immediately. Running into a Golden Core elder from a hostile sect was a risk he wouldn’t take. That left four targets: Ten Thousand Beasts, Black Mountain, Lingyun, and Mobei.

After another mile or two, a rider approached from the opposite direction.

The puppet pulled the reins, halting his horse to let the other pass.

Unexpectedly, the rider stopped directly in front of him.

Through the puppet’s eyes, Han Yu saw a woman in black martial gear. She had a square face and large, spirited eyes—not beautiful in the traditional sense, but possessing a striking, heroic aura. She was one of the riders who had galloped past him earlier.

“I am Jiang Cuiyu, the ‘Black Tiger’ of the Linshan Five Tigers,” she announced, clasping her fists in a formal salute. “May I ask how to address you, friend?”

Han Yu, having heard endless tales of the Jianghu from Old Daoist Li, knew the script. He controlled the puppet to return the salute.

“I have long admired the reputation of the Linshan Five Tigers. It is an honor to meet you.”

“I am surnamed Li, the fourth son of my family. I make a living as a hunter, and my archery is passable. Friends flatter me by calling me ‘Hundred-Pace Li Si.'”

Jiang Cuiyu’s eyes lit up. “So it is Great Hero Li Si!”

“Our Linshan is a remote place, so my knowledge is shallow. I had not heard of you before, but surely a title like ‘Hundred-Pace Archer’ implies peerless skill.”

Han Yu found the roleplay amusing. He had the puppet exchange a few more pleasantries, acting every bit the humble martial hero.

Moments later, the rest of Jiang Cuiyu’s group arrived—the other four “Tigers.”

Introductions were made, compliments were exchanged, and just like that, “Hundred-Pace Li Si” had made five new friends in the martial world.

The group decided to ride together.

As they traveled, Jiang Cuiyu fell back, and the leader of the group—”White Tiger” Fei Shanjun—rode up alongside the puppet.

“Great Hero Li,” Fei Shanjun said, turning in his saddle. “Your trip to Seeking Immortal Town must have been fruitful, yes?”

Han Yu didn’t need his enhanced intuition to know these people had ulterior motives. Their “friendship” was too sudden, too eager. But he was curious enough to play along. If they tried anything, he could crush them in an instant.

“What fruit could there be?” the puppet replied glumly. “If I had gained anything, would I be leaving empty-handed?”

“Spoken like a true pragmatist!” Fei Shanjun laughed. Then his voice lowered. “Let me ask you, Great Hero Li… do you wish to enter an Immortal Sect? To become an Immortal Master?”

“Who doesn’t?” the puppet retorted.

“But who actually succeeds?” Fei Shanjun sighed, then clapped his hands together. “However… things are different now!”

“Different how?” the puppet asked, feigning surprise. “Did the Linshan Five Tigers find an immortal destiny?”

“No, but we received news.”

Fei Shanjun leaned in conspiratorially. “Outside Xinglong Prefecture, the capital of Nanli, lies a great manor owned by Tang Yidao—the man recognized as the greatest hero in the Jianghu. He has called for a Martial Arts Assembly to elect a new Alliance Leader.”

“And the prize? Whoever shines brightest and becomes the Alliance Leader will receive… an Ascension Token!”

Han Yu almost laughed out loud. Ascension Token? Me?

Before he could respond, Fei Shanjun dropped his voice to a whisper and held up seven fingers.

“Not just one. Seven. And four of them are genuine tokens from the Wanchun Valley Sect.”

“Great Hero Li… aren’t you tempted?”

The puppet remained silent for a breath, then replied coldly, “Indeed. I am tempted.”

Something is wrong.

Nanli Kingdom is in chaos. Mortals are holding a tournament with four Wanchun Valley tokens as prizes? Why haven’t the stationed disciples reported this?