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Chapter 3: The Billion-Coin Business
🕑 Added 2025-10-05 04:39:25 +0000 UTCAo Yetian spent the night in the ruined building, not sleeping, but using the dark-red crystal's energy residue to push his Profound Energy circulation.
His body ached with the lingering violence of the transformation, but his senses were now razor-sharp, and his mind worked with the efficiency of a high-speed processor.
He reviewed the market. One billion Spirit Coins. To a commoner, it was an abstract concept.
To the Sacred Family, it was a dream of absolute power.
To the City Lord's Mansion, it was the cost of total security.
He wouldn't spend decades hunting down secret treasures; he would sell the one thing everyone in Glory City craved and couldn't create: guaranteed power.
Ao Yetian's target was the Alchemist Association, the gatekeepers of wealth and influence.
He knew that the Association Head, Yang Xin, was shrewd, powerful, and desperate to break the technological stagnation that plagued the city.
Early the next morning, Ao Yetian walked into the opulent, gold-inlaid hall of the Alchemist Association.
He was stopped instantly by a bored-looking guard, whose armor glinted dully in the light.
"Only members or those with official business are allowed. Who are you?"
The guard asked.
"Ao Yetian,"
He replied, his voice quiet but carrying the unnerving, profound weight of his new cultivation.
It wasn't loud, but it seemed to bypass the guard's ears and settle in his chest.
"I am here to see the Head, Yang Xin, regarding a business proposal that will redefine the price of Grade 5 Inscriptions."
The guard hesitated, his professional boredom dissolving into a flicker of genuine alarm, unnerved by the sheer intensity in the orphan’s eyes.
Yang Xin herself received him quickly in a lavish private parlor, her beautiful, calculating eyes sizing up the shabby young man from behind a polished wooden desk.
She was used to arrogant nobles and desperate supplicants, but Ao Yetian carried a strange, casual confidence that didn't match his threadbare clothes.
"I am Yang Xin. Speak quickly,"
She commanded, leaning forward slightly, her skepticism palpable.
"I have no time for games."
Ao Yetian didn't bow or stammer. He pulled a piece of common, cheap parchment from his sleeve, a charcoal sketch already prepared.
"The current Grade 5 Inscriptions—the 'Blazing Fire' or 'Explosive Earth'—have a success rate of less than 20% and are slow to draw,"
Ao Yetian stated simply, his voice coolly analytical.
"They are expensive failures built on outdated theories."
Yang Xin’s face tightened instantly, a flash of genuine anger crossing her features.
"Watch your tongue, boy. Those are secrets guarded by the great families, the core of our defense!"
"Core, perhaps, but fragile,"
Ao Yetian countered, meeting her gaze without blinking.
"I am offering a Tier-6 'Spirit Surge' Inscription."
He paused, letting the word 'Tier-6' hang in the air like a thunderclap.
"It triples the Soul Force output for a fighter, has a 90% success rate even when drawn on lower-tier leather, and can be completed in minutes, not hours."
He pushed the charcoal sketch forward.
Yang Xin's expression shifted violently, shock erasing the annoyance.
Her breath hitched. She wasn’t looking at a Grade 5 pattern; she was looking at something that defied the laws of their city, a piece of alchemy that demanded the knowledge of a forgotten era.
The lines were too fluid, the energy gates too perfectly aligned.
Her fingers trembled as she picked up the parchment, her eyes scanning the flawless segment of the array.
"This is... impossible,"
She breathed, the word a whisper of pure awe.
"This level of mastery hasn't been seen since the Age of Spirits. Where did you get this?"
Ao Yetian leaned forward, his Profound Energy intentionally radiating just a hint of pressure—a cold, inhuman weight that made her instinctively feel a deep, primal respect for his hidden strength.
"That is irrelevant. This is proprietary technology, Head Yang Xin. I will sell the full, detailed inscription, the refined methodology, and the training guide for your top fifty alchemists."
He stated his initial, ambitious price clearly and coolly:
"The full, complete, exclusive rights to this single inscription will cost you forty million Spirit Coins."
Yang Xin nearly choked, her hand flying to her chest. Forty million was more than the Association spent on all research in a year. Her voice was sharp with disbelief.
"Forty million for a single array? You are out of your mind! I could not justify that to the City Lord, let alone the Guild Elders!"
Ao Yetian smiled, a cold, predatory curve of the lips.
"Forty million is the price for the single blueprint. But consider the value, Head Yang Xin. The Sacred Family will pay double that just to destroy it. Your enemies will be rendered obsolete overnight. It guarantees Glory City's survival."
He then casually dropped the real bomb.
"However, I didn't walk all this way for pocket change. I have forty-nine other perfected inscriptions—each just as transformative. For the total rights to all fifty unique, Tier-6 and higher arrays, I'll offer a discount. A total of two billion Spirit Coins. Cash transaction, immediate transfer of all blueprints."
Yang Xin stared at the paper, then at the unnervingly calm orphan, her mind reeling with the political and military upheaval this single transaction would cause.
Her eyes narrowed in a final, desperate challenge.
"Two billion Spirit Coins? That is madness! What guarantee do I have that you won't sell these to the Dark Guild or the outside world the moment you leave this room?"
"My guarantee,"
Ao Yetian said, his eyes hard and unwavering,
"Is that I will be leaving Glory City, Head Yang Xin. Permanently. I need the money for my own survival, and I don't negotiate twice. Take the deal now, or watch the Sacred Family buy their own apocalypse."
She knew, instantly, that she could not afford to refuse. The price was ludicrous, but the value was infinity.
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