The two initiatives of Cloud Sky Palace soon spread beyond its walls. At first, other cultivation sects were skeptical, but when they visited and witnessed the palace’s substantial growth in strength, they couldn’t help but feel tempted—except for a few stubborn traditionalists.
However, a problem quickly arose. Regardless of their size, most sects had very limited funds for transactions with mortals. They couldn’t possibly send their disciples to earn money, could they? That would be utterly undignified.
Fang Zhiyi had already anticipated this issue. He deliberately descended the mountain and established a mortal merchant guild. This guild’s purpose was to facilitate trade with the various sects. Given that some sects were truly short on funds, he even proposed a collateral loan system. For example, if the Spirit Mountain Sect wanted to purchase ingredients but lacked the money, they could sign an agreement with the guild, offering spiritual artifacts or elixirs as collateral in exchange for goods. If they failed to repay by the due date, the collateral would belong to the guild.
Most cultivation sects valued their reputation and wouldn’t resort to outright theft. Even if some entertained the idea, the sight of caravans bearing Cloud Sky Palace’s banners made them think twice.
In the capital, a new establishment called the Immortal Pavilion opened its doors, specializing in the auction of spiritual artifacts and elixirs.
On opening day, Fang Zhiyi descended from the sky, startling the mortals into bowing deeply. His dramatic entrance convinced them that the auction house dealt exclusively in genuine treasures—though in reality, the items on sale were rather mundane: long-lasting luminous lanterns, life-extending elixirs, lightweight armor engraved with protective arrays, and the like.
The first batch of goods had been crafted by Fang Zhiyi’s disciples, each contributing their expertise.
The auction attracted nobles, imperial relatives, and wealthy merchants. Never had they imagined that the aloof immortals, who usually disdained interaction with mortals, would one day willingly sell such divine artifacts to them. The excitement was palpable, and the auction mechanism made it even more thrilling—bids went to the highest offer, and the pavilion guaranteed the safety of all participants. Even if someone outbid the emperor’s brother-in-law for a coveted treasure, there was nothing to fear!
Fang Zhiyi watched the frenzied bidding and shook his head. "This world is absurd. The original setting was to avoid dealings with mortals?"
The system, engrossed in the spectacle, waved its tiny hands excitedly. "Host, look! That guy in the hat just bid a hundred thousand taels!" It seemed eager to jump in and participate.
Fang Zhiyi glanced at the pitch-black system. "Yeah, you’re ridiculous too."
The venture proceeded smoothly. Fang Zhiyi earned a fortune in silver, part of which he handed to Yue Anyao for accounting, while the rest was reinvested in the guild’s operations. After all, trading mortal vegetables and meat for spiritual artifacts from cultivation sects was an absolute win!
To Fang Zhiyi’s surprise, even after learning of Cloud Sky Palace’s activities, the other sects remained disdainful, showing no interest in competition. Some even scornfully labeled Cloud Sky Palace as utterly degenerate.
"This setting is truly invincible," Fang Zhiyi muttered in resignation. But he quickly dismissed the thought.
Shortly after his return, a disciple reported that Zhong Ling'er had come looking for him but had been stopped at the mountain gate.
"Oh? Time flies," Fang Zhiyi chuckled.
He leisurely descended the mountain, Yue Anyao trailing beside him with an air of haughty pride.
Zhong Ling'er froze at the sight of the figure she had often thought about. Then, noticing Yue Anyao clinging to Fang Zhiyi’s arm, her face darkened.
"Isn’t this my former disciple who betrayed the sect? What brings you back?" Fang Zhiyi asked knowingly.
Zhong Ling'er felt her blood boil. She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "Zhiyi, I know you’re still angry, but you must believe that I’ve always cared for you."
"Mm," Fang Zhiyi nodded. Yue Anyao tightened her grip on his arm, eyeing Zhong Ling'er warily.
"You—that’s all you have to say? Just ‘mm’?" Zhong Ling'er fumed, stamping her foot in frustration.
Fang Zhiyi winced—those were Han white jade tiles at the entrance! He had been planning to pry them up someday and sell them. Don’t stomp them to pieces!
Seeing his expression, Zhong Ling'er secretly rejoiced. He still loved her! "I came back today to ask you for one favor. If you agree, I’ll never see anyone else again. I’ll stay by your side every day."
Fang Zhiyi’s gaze remained fixed on the Han white jade tiles. He wondered about their current market value. Maybe he should have them carved into something fancy and convince the nobility they were blessed by immortals.
"Zhiyi~!" Zhong Ling'er cooed, stamping her foot again.
"Stop!" Fang Zhiyi barked. Everyone froze—the gatekeepers, the disciples hiding in the background, even the spectators snacking on melon seeds.
"You—you yelled at me?" Zhong Ling'er staggered back, disbelief written across her face.
Relieved to see the jade tiles intact, Fang Zhiyi exhaled. "What were you saying earlier? Never mind. Whatever it was, the answer’s no."
Zhong Ling'er nearly choked. "You!" She steadied herself. "Ao Tian was gravely injured protecting me—his bones and meridians are shattered. You’re the only one who can heal him. That’s why I came!"
Before Fang Zhiyi could respond, Yue Anyao cut in. "Rebuilding bones and meridians? Do you have any idea how much cultivation that would cost him? And you want him to waste his power on a demonic cultivator? Isn’t Ao Tian’s father the Demon Lord? Don’t pretend you don’t know."
Zhong Ling'er shot her a venomous glare. "If Ao Tian doesn’t recover, his father will abandon him! He sacrificed himself for me! Zhiyi, please help me. Otherwise, I’ll—"
Fang Zhiyi caught a crucial detail. So, Chu Aotian became the Demon Lord later because the original Fang Zhiyi saved him? Absolutely not. No way.
"Do whatever you want. I’m busy." Fang Zhiyi turned to leave, plucking a melon-snacking disciple from the bushes. "You, dig up those Han white jade tiles later and replace them with ordinary stones. I don’t want anyone stomping them to bits next time they come causing trouble."
The disciple blinked in confusion but nodded. "Yes, Palace Master!"
Watching Fang Zhiyi walk away with Yue Anyao clinging happily to his arm, Zhong Ling'er’s face twisted in fury. "If you refuse, I’ll cripple my own cultivation!"
Fang Zhiyi paused, then slowly turned. "What are you all standing around for? Go call everyone! It’s not every day you get to see someone cripple their own cultivation!" The disciples hesitated, then scattered—some to spread the word, others to grab front-row seats with their partners.
"You’ll regret this!" Fang Zhiyi left without another glance. Zhong Ling'er, seething, stormed off amid a chorus of disappointed boos, as if the audience had been cheated out of a promised spectacle.
Calculating the timeline, Fang Zhiyi saw that the next major plot point was still far off. So, he returned his focus to business.