Legend has it that cultivators can not only move mountains and overturn seas, ride clouds and mist, but also live without food, summon clouds with a flip of the hand, and bring rain with a turn of the palm. Worldly wealth means nothing to them; what they pursue is immortality, what they value are great magical powers and immense might. Gold and silver are like dirt to them—only certain rare treasures of heaven and earth can make cultivators flock after them.

But then, what is going on before my eyes?

Seeming to notice the doubt in Ian Quinn's heart, the white-robed immortal envoy who had been silent all along finally spoke: “These worldly riches before us are, of course, useless to us cultivators. However...”

The other party kept it brief and began to explain.

From his words, Ian Quinn also came to understand the origins and reasons behind the matter.

You see, in theory, anyone can embark on the path of cultivation by opening their spiritual roots, but in practice, things are rarely so simple.

Not to mention ordinary people—even the descendants of cultivation families are not all suited to walk the arduous path of immortality. Usually, choices must be made, since resources are limited. Even the great cultivation clans typically focus on nurturing disciples with both excellent temperament and aptitude, while smaller families concentrate all their resources on a single person.

So what happens to the rest of the descendants?

Perhaps they are unsuited for the immortal path, or perhaps they are abandoned due to lack of resources. Whatever the reason, cultivation families cannot truly ignore their own flesh and blood.

At the very least, their lives must be arranged.

Even if they cannot become cultivators in this life, at the very least, they should be able to command the wind and rain among mortals, or at the very least, live a life free from want and enjoy a lifetime of wealth.

Thus, these gold and silver treasures, land deeds, and property have their uses. The immortal sects and cultivation families are interdependent—when one prospers, all prosper; when one suffers, all suffer. So, establishing such a treasury, which is extremely useful to mortals, is hardly surprising.

Having understood the whole story, Ian Quinn felt even more puzzled: “Immortal envoy, then why did you bring me here...?”

The immortal envoy surnamed Tang sighed: “I too was originally born a mortal. To be honest, the immortal sect did not handle this matter properly this time, and we do owe you.”

“Owe me?”

A complex look flashed across Ian Quinn's face, but he did not speak, waiting for the other to continue.

“So, after discussion among the elders, they decided to give you some compensation. As for the chance to open your spiritual roots, don’t even think about it. There are only so many Opening Spirit Pills. Since the The Owen Family offered a thousand-year-old ginseng as tribute, the immortal sect must show some response. Their only request was for Charles Owen to receive the opportunity to open his spiritual roots. Both emotionally and logically, the immortal sect could not refuse this proposal, so we had no choice but to let you down...”

Ian Quinn did not speak, only clenched his fists tightly. To be honest, he understood the difficulties of the immortal sect. Perhaps, in their eyes, this was the best decision, pleasing everyone. But who ever asked me? Who ever considered my feelings? Ten years of hard work, countless sacrifices, finally earning a chance to walk the path of cultivation, only to have it all come to nothing at the last moment.

Who could accept that? Just one step away from the immortal path.

But even so, though he felt a thousand grievances in his heart, Ian Quinn did not speak, because at this point, he knew that no amount of protest would make a difference.

Crying or shouting would only make the other side look down on him. Though he was deeply saddened, his expression remained calm, as if discussing something that had nothing to do with him: “So what does the immortal sect intend to do? How will you compensate me?”

A look of surprise flashed across the white-robed immortal envoy’s face. Ian Quinn's composure was truly remarkable. People often say not to show your emotions, but how old was this youth? Especially after just experiencing such a great upheaval. To put it bluntly, even those old monsters who have lived for centuries, if put in his place, would find it hard to remain so calm and unruffled. And yet, how old was he?

Such temperament is truly suited for cultivation. For the immortal sect to give up such a promising seedling for a mere thousand-year-old ginseng is a grave mistake.

The white-robed man thought so, but unfortunately, he was just an ordinary disciple in the immortal sect. The elders’ decisions were not for him to question.

Shaking his head and casting aside these inexplicable thoughts, the white-robed man spoke again: “You have lost the qualification to open your spiritual roots, and that cannot be remedied. Now, the immortal sect is giving you a new choice. Do you wish to own a thousand acres of fertile land, marry several beautiful wives and concubines, and live a carefree life as a wealthy man? Or do you yearn for the thrilling life of living by the sword, seeking vengeance and justice? The choice is yours.”

Wealth and glory are within your grasp. Peerless martial arts are also laid before you. The compensation offered by the immortal sect is generous—these are things mortals can only dream of.

A lifetime of struggle might not achieve them.

Ian Quinn only needed to nod, and he could live a carefree life. If someone else were in his place, it would be hard to resist such temptation.

Yet none of this was what Ian Quinn wanted.

A wealthy man, idling away his days?

Even if he lived carefree for a lifetime, it would just be a waste of food.

Peerless martial arts?

Even if he became the leader of the martial world, after a hundred years he would be nothing but a handful of dust. And when facing cultivators, would so-called martial arts masters even stand a chance?