Who Let Him Cultivate？

Chapter 25: The Bizarre and Unusual Exchange List

Contribution Points were the lifeblood of the Dao Seeking Sect’s internal economy. Whether purchasing artifacts, dining in the cafeteria, or bartering with fellow disciples, this currency was absolute.

Beyond mundane transactions, the Mission Hall offered a vault of special rewards that could only be claimed with these points.

The crown jewel of the catalog—and the most prohibitively expensive—was the “Dao Seeking Sect Sect Leader One-Day Experience Tour.” The promise was intoxicating: for twenty-four hours, the buyer would sit upon the highest throne, convene with Elders, dictate sect policy, and command the reverence of the masses, tasting the absolute authority of a leader among the Five Great Immortal Sects.

The benefits were boundless. Unfortunately, the required Contribution Points were so astronomical that no one had ever successfully redeemed it.

Legend had it that several Senior Brothers once attempted to pool their fortunes to buy a single day of glory. However, negotiations broke down over who would actually get to sit on the throne. None were willing to yield. The dispute escalated into a catastrophic brawl, ending only when the entire group was hauled off to Pill Cauldron Peak on stretchers, drawing a massive crowd of onlookers.

To this day, those Senior Brothers were still out on long-term exile missions, having not dared to return to the Dao Seeking Sect for a very long time.

Then there was the “Medicine King Spirit Liquid.” Forged by the sect’s highest echelons, this peerless elixir boasted miraculous versatility. Taken orally or applied to the flesh, it fortified the mortal vessel, anchored the soul, and cemented one’s Cultivation base. Despite its steep price, it remained a top seller, beloved by disciples across the peaks.

A single sip mid-battle guaranteed a full restoration of vitality and Spiritual Energy, while rapidly knitting sundered flesh together. Everyone who survived using it sang its praises.

And then, nestled among the divine artifacts, was the “Flying Boat Accident Insurance.” Price: one Contribution Point.

“Wait. Why is there Flying Boat Accident Insurance?” Lu Yang asked, the very phrase tasting of bad omens.

The Senior Brother manning the exchange desk answered with deadpan sincerity. “It is perfectly logical. What vessel in this world is one hundred percent infallible? Even the majestic Flying Boats operated by the Falling Coin Chamber of Commerce suffer the occasional mishap. Ramming into a transcendent mighty figure mid-flight, catastrophic array failures leading to plummeting descents, captains striking for better wages… these are everyday occurrences. Fatalities are relatively rare, so there is no need to fuss.”

He leaned in, adopting the tone of a seasoned historian. “When the president of the Falling Coin Chamber of Commerce realized his fleet was constantly falling out of the sky, he recognized it as a financial liability. Thus, he proposed a system: passengers pay a negligible fee into a communal pool. Should the heavens forbid and a Flying Boat crash, the Chamber draws from that pool to compensate the survivors.”

“If the voyage is smooth, the passenger loses nothing but a few coins. If the vessel crashes and delays their vital Cultivation matters, they receive a handsome payout.”

“The Chamber president dubbed this model ‘Risk Guarantee,’ or ‘Insurance’ for short, and has since aggressively expanded it across all commercial sectors.”

The Senior Brother puffed out his chest, radiating the solemn reliability of the righteous path. “But fear not. Our Dao Seeking Sect does not chill the hearts of its disciples. We are exceedingly generous with our coverage. The moment you joined the Sect, we enrolled you in a comprehensive policy, which includes basic Flying Boat Accident Insurance. The policy listed here on the reward board merely serves to multiply your payout in the event of a catastrophe.”

His expression clearly stated: *We are a pillar of the righteous path, not some demonic sect that lives and dies in a single day. We provide proper benefits.*

“Our Cultivation world is truly advancing at a terrifying pace,” Lu Yang muttered, his mouth twitching. “To think we’ve even developed insurance.”

In his past life, insurance was born of the perilous high seas. Here, it was born of falling out of the sky. He found the entire concept profoundly unlucky. In the Cultivation world, a healthy dose of superstition was what kept a man alive. He decided to spend his points elsewhere.

As if reading his mind, the Senior Brother added, “A mighty figure—one who does not specialize in the Dao of Karma—once posited a theory. He argued that the very act of purchasing insurance establishes a karmic link to disaster, thereby increasing the probability of a crash.”

“The Chamber of Commerce flatly denied this. The two factions warred over the concept for ages, yet no formal conclusion was ever reached.”

“It is currently a highly lucrative research topic in the Cultivation world. If you can definitively prove a karmic link exists, that mighty figure will shower you with favor. If you prove there is no link, the Falling Coin Chamber of Commerce will back you with endless wealth. It is a win-win.”

Lu Yang kept his face perfectly blank. *If I actually prove a karmic link exists, the Chamber of Commerce will absolutely assassinate me.*

He turned his attention back to the board.

“One Contribution Point can be exchanged for one hundred Low Grade Spirit Stones. Conversely, one hundred and twenty Low Grade Spirit Stones can buy one Contribution Point.”

“Blood-Drinking Flying Sword, two thousand Contribution Points. The longer it bathes in blood, the greater its slaughtering intent…” Lu Yang frowned. “Looking at this description, it doesn’t sound much like a weapon of the righteous path.”

“It doesn’t demand *human* blood,” the Senior Brother clarified from the side. “Pig blood, cow blood, duck blood—it all works. In fact, just a few days ago, the owner of the Sichuan hotpot restaurant at the base of the mountain marched up to the major peaks, screaming for justice. He wanted to know which bastard had been secretly marinating a Blood-Drinking Flying Sword in their vats of duck blood.”

“After a rigorous investigation, the culprit was apprehended. The hotpot owner’s demanded penalty was that the disciple drink an entire boiling cauldron of red-oil soup base.” The Senior Brother clicked his tongue several times, a haunted, subtle look in his eyes, as if recalling a scene of unimaginable horror. “I estimate that man will never look at hotpot again for the rest of his mortal life.”

Lu Yang wisely moved on. “One bottle of Inedia Pills, any flavor, one Contribution Point.”

“Ancestral Secret Barbecue Recipe, one hundred Contribution Points.”

“Precious Sword Suspension Formation, twenty-five Contribution Points. This array can be engraved upon a weapon, allowing it to levitate behind the user’s back. It discards the physical limitations of a scabbard, ensuring the blade is ready for instant deployment, while projecting a ward to shield the steel from wind, sun, and the elements.”

Lu Yang pondered for a moment. The tactical utility of a hands-free, instantly accessible weapon was undeniable. He bought it without hesitation.

The Senior Brother activated the array. A semi-ethereal matrix condensed in the air, sinking into Lu Yang’s ancient sword like a drop of water vanishing into parched earth. Instantly, the heavy blade levitated behind his back, humming with quiet power. It looked incredibly dashing.

Lu Yang pivoted sharply; the ancient sword tracked his movement with flawless, lethal grace, exhibiting zero lag.

“Good stuff.”

His eyes caught another listing. “Ten Ox Power Pill? One hundred, one thousand, or ten thousand Contribution Points? *A classic masterpiece by Pill Refining Master Wu Ming. Upon consumption, the user gains the raw physical might of ten oxen, allowing them to sweep through armies. Usable from Foundation Establishment to Nascent Soul stages.*”

Lu Yang strongly suspected that if this pill hadn’t been forged by Senior Brother Wu Ming—a man whose creations were historically fifty percent poison—the price would be astronomical.

Still, the description promised a miraculous edge in close-quarters combat. It was worth testing.

“Junior Sister Tao Yaoye,” Lu Yang said, turning to the girl beside him. “Apologies, but are you spending your Contribution Points today? I’d like to borrow five. I will repay you after my next mission.”

Contribution Points could be freely transferred between disciples. Since Tao Yaoye was saving up for a massive purchase, a difference of five points meant little to her current balance.

“Okay,” she agreed softly.

Lu Yang promptly purchased a single Ten Ox Power Pill.

The Senior Brother handed him a small porcelain vial. Inside rested a perfectly spherical golden pill. It caught the sunlight, gleaming with an inner radiance that proved it was far beyond a Mortal Grade creation.

“I told you we needed a proper celebration for your breakthrough to Foundation Establishment!” Meng Jingzhou’s voice boomed as he strode over, clapping Lu Yang on the shoulder. “I’ve booked a table at the Hundred Fragrances Pavilion. Let’s go eat! I guarantee a feast of everything you like.”

He flashed a brilliant, welcoming grin at Tao Yaoye. “Junior Sister Tao, care to join us?”

As the second-place entrant of their generation, Meng Jingzhou was technically her Senior Brother.

Tao Yaoye looked at Lu Yang. The man was terrified of heights, spouted absolute nonsense with a straight face, and had secretly laced her room with poison without a word of warning. Yet, they had survived a harrowing mission together. By the twisted logic of the Cultivation world, she supposed that made them friends.

“I’ll go,” she said.