She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar

The three of them all agreed that the tea stall from last time had terrible feng shui.

So this time, when meeting with the Canglang Sect, they decided to gather at a wonton stall right in the middle of the Moonlit Market.

The representatives sent by the Canglang Sect were, once again, the body cultivator Wu Pingyuan and that taciturn accountant uncle.

Yan Gan first handed over two jars of Sweet and Delicious Pills for the accountant uncle to inspect.

After confirming everything was in order, they each ordered a bowl of spicy red oil wontons and began chatting amiably while savoring the fragrant meal.

As the saying goes, strangers at first meeting, friends by the second.

This time, Sang Ji handled the business negotiations with far more composure than before.

He took a sip of the spicy broth, then flashed a grin at the accountant uncle:

“We’ve already signed such a fine contract—by all accounts, we’re practically family now. Elder Brother, mind if I ask—have you all made any preparations recently?”

The part-time accountant uncle and Wu Pingyuan exchanged a glance before speaking simultaneously.

Wu Pingyuan asked, “Little Master, why’d you suddenly demote me in seniority?”

The accountant uncle inquired, “What kind of preparations are you referring to?”

The very next second, the accountant uncle swung a palm the size of a cattail-leaf fan and smacked Wu Pingyuan upside the head with lightning speed—as if trying to rewind and erase the trio’s memory of the moment.

Without so much as a change in expression, the accountant uncle repeated in the exact same tone:

“What kind of preparations are you referring to?”

Yan Gan: “…”

Yan Luoyue: “…”

Sang Ji: “Ah, haha, good question. Naturally, we mean preparations for the recruitment efforts of neighboring sects at the upcoming Talent Conference.”

As it turned out, regarding sect recruitment, the Yunning Great Marsh had an unspoken tradition:

Every ten years, nearby sects would gather at the Talent Conference, each showcasing their strengths to attract promising new disciples.

Over time, this event had become a magnet for wandering cultivators and talented youths hoping to join a sect.

Even if they ultimately failed to be accepted, they’d still get a glimpse of the wider world.

The tradition had even spread its influence to several surrounding towns.

From Yan Luoyue’s inquiries, the Canglang Sect was one of the sects that regularly recruited at the Talent Conference.

The accountant uncle froze for a moment, unconsciously stroking the tuft of beard on his chin.

“To be frank with you three, our Canglang Sect does plan to attend this year’s Talent Conference. But what does that have to do with preparations?”

A glint flashed in his eyes as he tentatively asked, “Could it be… you have some new pills you’d like to sell us?”

Sang Ji lowered his eyelids imperceptibly, exchanging a glance with Yan Luoyue nestled in Yan Gan’s arms.

The next instant, he looked up with a radiant smile:

“Elder Brother, you jest. Your sect is renowned for its body cultivators—everyone knows they’re proud and mighty, relying solely on their own strength, never on external aids. How could we possibly embarrass ourselves by peddling pills to you?”

Accountant Uncle: “Uh… well…”

No need to phrase “most body cultivators barely scrape by financially and only feel superior when comparing themselves to sword cultivators” in such a flowery way.

Yan Gan kept a straight face, seamlessly playing along with Sang Ji.

With dramatic flair, he declared: “Everyone knows that new disciples represent a sect’s future—for the next twenty, fifty, even a hundred years.”

“But the major sects monopolize the geniuses, while mid-tier sects scoop up the promising wanderers. Minor sects like yours are left scrambling for scraps, fighting over common talents—and even then, success isn’t guaranteed.”

Having rehearsed this script under Yan Luoyue’s direction, Yan Gan delivered it with stirring passion.

In no time, even Wu Pingyuan and the accountant uncle found themselves nodding along.

Yes, the boy spoke truth.

The quality of disciples determined a sect’s future.

Due to their body cultivator focus, the Canglang Sect lacked the glamour of sword or spell cultivators, making many talented youths hesitant to join.

Most of these youngsters came from mortal backgrounds, their imaginations limited to the dashing image of sword flight or the free-spirited charm of talismans.

They had no idea sword cultivators were perpetually broke, or that spell cultivator sects were nests of scheming.

Unlike them—body cultivator sects were straightforward, free of deceit, tight-knit as family, and most importantly, disciples could actually save up money!

Yan Gan’s words struck right at the heart of the issue.

Seizing the momentum, Sang Ji glanced around before leaning dramatically across the wooden table toward the accountant uncle.

Mysterious and theatrical, he crooked a finger and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, pushing the atmosphere to its peak.

“Now, we have a brilliant proposal for your sect—but I wonder if Elder Brother is willing to hear it?”

The accountant uncle urged, “Out with it!”

Sang Ji extended his palm flat. Yan Luoyue pulled a sample from her sleeve and slapped it into his hand.

“Huh? A storage pouch?”

“No no, this isn’t just any storage pouch—it’s a welcome gift for new disciples.”

Sang Ji spoke earnestly, eyes shining, willing the accountant uncle to grasp the idea instantly.

“Imagine—a storage pouch stamped with your sect’s emblem, even printed with recruitment details. One person carries it, a hundred people see it. Isn’t that the most effective free advertising?”

The accountant uncle’s beard-stroking hand froze mid-air.

His expression visibly shifted to one of temptation.

“And better yet—” Sang Ji pressed a palm on the table, driving home the pitch with fervor.

“You could announce that every applicant gets a free storage pouch!”

“Tangible benefits like these speak louder than a hundred flowery promises, don’t they?”

“Ah! That’s—that’s logical! Young friend, you make excellent sense!”

The accountant uncle tugged so hard in his excitement that he yanked out four or five beard hairs.

Absolutely right.

This was a path neither he, the sect master, nor the elders had ever envisioned!

Now he was certain—these three youngsters must have a mastermind behind them.

At their age, how could they devise such an ingenious strategy, such effortlessly persuasive marketing?

Little did he know, the “mastermind” Yan Luoyue was currently curled in Yan Gan’s arms, kicking her stubby little legs with an air of detached accomplishment.

No need for applause—this was merely combining modern advertising tactics (“printing logos on tote bags”) with elderly-targeted marketing (“free eggs for attending seminars”).

“But…” The accountant uncle still hesitated. “If too many people sign up, how many storage pouches would we need to prepare?”

Having been thoroughly prepped by Yan Luoyue, Sang Ji answered without missing a beat:

“Just limit it to the first thousand applicants—first come, first served!”

The accounting uncle pondered carefully, "If people later realize they can't get the benefits, those who initially wanted to sign up might get upset and refuse to register?"

Sang Ji remained unfazed. "Just tell them that during the selection process, you'll randomly pick lucky disciples to receive the Canglang Sect's 'Fortune Surprise Gift Pack'!"

"Tsk—"

In an instant, it was as though the accounting uncle's meridians had been simultaneously unblocked, expanding his train of thought to unprecedented breadth.

He couldn't help but rub his eyes, gazing at these three youths with newfound admiration, feeling that their reasoning was impeccably thorough. If he missed this rare opportunity, he wouldn't forgive himself even ten years later.

The only minor drawback was—

"Young friends, you may not be aware, but the price of storage pouches… well, you see…"

As the number one essential magical tool for cultivators venturing out into the world, storage pouches were typically the first artifact practitioners would scrimp and save to purchase in their lives.

Everyone had one, regardless of age.

Correspondingly, as a must-have item in the cultivation world, the price of storage pouches was also… quite striking.

By Yan Luoyue’s past-life standards, a standard storage pouch in the cultivation world—with a capacity of about two cubic meters—usually cost around twenty spirit stones.

Just like how a stack of rice paper was always counted as one hundred sheets, there was no particular reason for this size; it was simply convention.

Thus, when the accounting uncle heard "the first thousand registrants will receive a storage pouch as a benefit," his mind immediately calculated the equation: 20 × 1000 = 20,000 low-grade spirit stones.

For a mid-sized sect like the Canglang Sect, this wasn’t a sum they could casually part with.

Hearing the accounting uncle's concern, Yan Luoyue smiled serenely.

Sang Ji also curved his eyes into a smile and gestured invitingly toward the storage pouch on the table.

"No rush, why don’t you inspect the goods first?"

Baffled, the accounting uncle channeled his spiritual sense inside and exclaimed in surprise, "It's so small!"

The stall owner, thinking the uncle was complaining about his wontons, shot him a wary glance.

In truth, the accounting uncle had simply never seen… such a pocket-sized, miniaturized storage pouch.

The space inside was only about half a cubic meter—just enough to hold a few bottles, jars, spirit stones, or talismans, with barely enough room to cram in a single sword diagonally.

Hearing the accounting uncle's exclamation, the mastermind behind this, Yan Luoyue, remained unperturbed, even casually lifting her bowl to slurp down some soup.

—Of course! Who would use the best materials for giveaway items?

For freebies like these, as long as they served their promotional purpose, that was enough.

Sang Ji added with a smile, "If your sect is interested in purchasing these, we’re offering them at just two spirit stones apiece. If you want promotional slogans printed on them, that’ll be two and a half spirit stones per pouch. How does that sound?"

By now, there was less than ten days left before the start of the Talent Assembly.

The high price of storage pouches stemmed from the fact that each one had to be handcrafted by an artificer.

High-level artificers disdained making ordinary storage pouches for profit, while low-level artificers were willing but inefficient.

An order for hundreds or thousands of pouches, with the added requirement of shrinking their size—and thus indirectly lowering the price—was something artificers would rarely accept.

In other words, from the moment the Canglang Sect accepted Yan Luoyue’s idea, aside from her, they had no other suitable partner for this collaboration.

By now, the two parties had already signed a preliminary contract, becoming tentative allies.

Moreover, with the offer being so well-tailored, the Canglang Sect had no reason to hesitate.

The accounting uncle made the decision on the spot. "We’ll take a thousand for the Canglang Sect!"

"As for the deposit… I’ll have Wu Pingyuan return to the sect to fetch it. We’ll deliver the deposit tonight!"

"Excellent! You’re a man of decisiveness, elder brother!"

Sang Ji immediately beamed and produced several slips of paper, displaying service quality worthy of gold:

"For the printed designs on the storage pouches, here are a few promotional slogans we’ve prepared. Pick whichever one you like, elder brother."

"Or, if you’d prefer to provide your own slogan, we can print that too."

The accounting uncle peered at the slips and saw phrases like:

**"The Moon Rises in the East; the Canglang Stands Supreme."**

—This was Yan Luoyue’s wuxia-inspired version.

Or:

**"I Train Not My Body, But My Solitude."**

—This was Yan Luoyue’s brooding, introvert edition.

There was also Yan Gan’s "foodie" version, Sang Ji’s comedic edition…

After flipping through several slogans, the accounting uncle’s eyes suddenly lit up.

"This one! This is perfect, absolutely perfect!"

Yan Luoyue and the other two turned in unison to look at the chosen slip.

When they saw its contents, their expressions turned highly colorful.

"……"

Because it was the "heart-meltingly cute" version Yan Luoyue had designed as a joke.

On the slip was a chibi-style hand-drawn wolf head, with a small caption below:

**"Canglang Sect—Rawr~ ♡"**

Though this world had yet to adopt the use of tildes, that wavy little flourish was just too expressive!

A faint blush crept onto the accounting uncle’s face, but he quickly suppressed it with a cough.

With utmost solemnity, he declared, "Excellent. We’ll use this one. This is what real men should have."

Yan Luoyue: "……"

Well then. Truly, "in me the tiger sniffs the rose."

Choosing this design was no issue, except…

Yan Luoyue grinned, her large, sparkling eyes blinking innocently. "No problem at all! Though for custom printing, we’ll have to charge extra."

Sang Ji, quick on the uptake, immediately followed up. "Ah, right. Printing costs extra—three spirit stones per pouch."

Though the accounting uncle was new to this, this being his second business negotiation, he had improved rapidly—including mastering the art of haggling.

"How about two-point-six spirit stones per pouch?"

Sang Ji hesitated, shaking his head. "I’m afraid that’s…"

"Two-point-seven!"

"Well, this is…"

"Two-point-eight!"

Sang Ji was on the verge of agreeing but glanced at Yan Luoyue for final approval.

The little girl slowly raised a tiny fist, rubbing her eyes leisurely.

With an utterly innocent smile, she drawled in exaggerated slowness:

"My—brother—recently—heard—something—"

"About—the—miracle—medicine—called—Little—Turtle—Ointment—"

"Does—the—Canglang Sect—have—any—clues?"

Accounting Uncle: "……"

Sang Ji: "……"

Yan Gan: "……"

The accounting uncle chuckled dryly, discreetly wiping sweat from his brow.

"Well then! Three spirit stones is a very fair price. Let's settle on that!"

Once Wu Pingyuan returned from the sect with the deposit, both parties signed the contract, finalizing the deal to mutual satisfaction.

The accounting uncle promptly waved for another round of wontons and sent his junior to buy side dishes from neighboring stalls.

Before long, Wu Pingyuan returned with several oil-paper packages, sharing a piece of news along the way.

The honest body-refining man scratched the back of his head. "What a coincidence—I just saw that same group again. Uncle-Master, they don’t seem to be here for business like us. Why do they keep coming to the Moonlit Market where demonic cultivators gather?"

Though spoken casually, the words struck a chord with the listeners. Hearing Wu Pingyuan’s remark, the three of them tensed.

Wait, the same group as last time?

That would be…

In unison, Yan Luoyue and the other two turned to look in the direction Wu Pingyuan pointed.

Sure enough, it was the same group of human cultivators who had posted a bounty at the Moonlit Market before, seeking to buy that little green snake.

This time, however, their leader was absent—only a few underlings were bustling between stalls, picking and choosing aimlessly.

One of them, by sheer coincidence, happened to approach the octopus vendor they had just bought from. Yan Gan’s backside squirmed uneasily on his stool.

"What are they looking for?"

Sang Ji shook his head, indicating he had no idea.

Meanwhile, the Canglang Sect’s accountant uncle, being the most advanced in cultivation—already at the Foundation Establishment stage—could hear even the deliberately hushed conversations amidst the market’s clamor.

He relayed roughly: "That cultivator is asking the vendor if they have any highly toxic marine oddities."

…Highly toxic oddities?

In a flash, Yan Luoyue thought of the little green snake that had slipped away unnoticed.

From their very first encounter, the snake’s gaze alone could paralyze—wasn’t that a kind of poison?

…Clearly, the Lu Family’s pursuit of the little green snake wasn’t as simple as they claimed—just wanting its skin for a brush holder.

Given how they refused to speak their true purpose, there must be some hidden secret behind it.

The pig’s ear she’d been chewing suddenly lost its flavor.

Yan Luoyue swallowed the tasteless bite and found herself thinking of the little green snake again.

—Emerald-rich, jade-clear, as beautiful as the waters of a heavenly pool.

Though it had left without a word, like Cinderella abandoning her glass slipper on the steps, it had left behind a bloodstained scale for Yan Luoyue.

Was it safe now? Had it escaped the pursuit of the Lu Family’s young master?

Last time she’d fed it fish, it had been so happy its tail thumped against the blankets, making soft pattering sounds.

Had it found meals as joyful since leaving?

Yan Luoyue touched the wine-red storage pouch at her waist. Inside, wrapped in a handkerchief, lay a tiny jade-green snake scale.

"Just a bit more savings," she resolved silently. Once she had enough for pricier materials, she could craft a tracking compass herself—something to lead her back to the little green snake.

By the time they finished eating, the Lu Family cultivators still lingered in the Moonlit Market. One of them, for some reason, kept circling near the wonton stall.

Yan Gan waited a while, then finally lost patience. With a cold smirk, he popped something into his mouth and swaggered out of the stall—directly into a chest-bump with the cultivator.

"Oof!" The Lu Family cultivator yelped as Yan Gan stepped hard on his foot. Instinctively scowling, he raised a hand to shove Yan Gan. "You blind— AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!"

That last drawn-out scream wasn’t a curse—it was pure, unadulterated terror.

What had he seen?

A monster with a mouth on its forehead, eyebrows on its cheekbones, eyes slanted sideways across its face, and ears sprouting from its nose bridge!

What in the heavens was this abomination?!

Do demonic cultivators not check the almanac before having children?!

For a moment, the Lu Family cultivator forgot he’d been bumped, staring slack-jawed as the creature raised its right sleeve—

Wait.

The thing lifted its sleeve… and a right leg extended from it, delivering a solid kick?

The mouth on its forehead moved: "What’s the big deal? Never seen one before?"

The Lu Family cultivator: "…"

No, he definitely hadn’t.

Damn right you’ve seen one—you look in the mirror every morning!

Inside the wonton stall, Sang Ji and Yan Luoyue stifled laughter.

A short while later, as the Lu Family cultivator raced through the market to find his companions—desperate to share his horrifying encounter—he nearly collided face-to-face with another monstrosity.

This one had both eyes aligned horizontally at its temples.

The second creature glared, its mouth (located near its ear) exhaling frosty words: "Country bumpkin. No class."

"…"

Before the cultivator could recoil, a third creature—a round-headed little thing of indeterminate gender—peeked out from the second one’s arms.

In an eerie, echoing voice, it chimed: "No~ claaasss~~~"

The Lu Family cultivator: "…"

Once was chance. Twice was coincidence. But three times?

He began earnestly wondering if this was some legitimate, avant-garde demonic race he’d just never heard of.

A bottomless pit of self-doubt opened within him.

—Had he truly just been… uncultured all along?!