Immortality Starts From Making Money.

Mo Jian looked at Qiu Yan's father without the slightest change in his expression.

Seated across from him, Qiu An was stunned by the calm and indifferent demeanor of the young man before him.

Qiu Yan, however, was not surprised in the least.

This was Mo Jian.

She had warned her father not to use an authoritative tone with him, but the old man had brushed off her advice.

Now she sat back, her face betraying no emotion, as she silently waited to see how the situation would unfold.

Under Mo Jian's aloof gaze, Qiu An found himself momentarily lost for words.

His daughter's warnings returned to his mind, but at the time, he had dismissed them.

He knew she had been keeping many secrets from him, but he did not think anything of it.

But now, faced with this boy's unshakable composure, an irritation stir within his heart.

His brows knitted together.

"Are you going to speak or not?" Qiu An demanded, his tone sharp.

"Of course, I'll speak," Mo Jian replied evenly. "But I don't like repeating myself. As I already told your daughter, I wish to speak directly with the true powerhouse of your clan."

Qiu An blinked, momentarily stupefied by the audacity of the request. Who was he to demand an audience with their clan powerhouse?

He glanced at his daughter, only to see her casually turn her gaze toward the ceiling.

"Tsk." Qiu An clicked his tongue in irritation, his sharp eyes narrowing on Mo Jian.

"I don't know if you're incredibly brave or incredibly foolish. But for the sake of my daughter, I'll give you one last chance. Explain yourself."

Just as Mo Jian was about to respond, he felt Qiu Yan's gaze fall upon him.

Meeting her eyes, he changed his mind, deciding to take a different approach.

"Tell me, Uncle," Mo Jian asked suddenly, his expression calm yet serious, "do you think your daughter is stupid?"

Qiu An was caught off guard by the unexpected question, but after a moment, he frowned and answered, "Of course not. Why would you ask that?"

"Since you believe your daughter is not stupid, then it follows that you should trust her judgment." Mo Jian's voice was measured, deliberate. "I assume she has told you at least a little about me."

Qiu An nodded slowly, though he was still unsure what he was trying to explain.

"Then allow me to introduce myself properly." Mo Jian straightened slightly, his tone carrying weight. "I am Mo Jian, Young Master of the Dust Valley Sect, and founder of the Thousand Wealth Chamber."

"Hiss!"

From the side, Qiu Yan drew in a sharp breath, though she quickly tried to mask it.

Her father noticed, however, and confusion crossed his face.

Dust Valley Sect? Thousand Wealth Chamber?

He thought for a moment—and then realization struck him.

The Dust Valley Sect…

The newly risen name that had been making waves throughout the ongoing Summit.

"So, you're their Young Master," Qiu An muttered, recognition dawning in his eyes.

Everyone in the Imperial Capital had heard of the Dust Valley Sect's disciples, renowned for their extraordinary talents in auxiliary professions.

Many powerful clans had begun to quietly investigate them.

And now, sitting right before him, was their young master.

Qiu An's value of the boy skyrocketed.

If even the ordinary disciples of the Dust Valley Sect possessed such skills, then what kind of monster would their Young Master be?

"Yes," Mo Jian agreed with a nod.

His tone remained calm, almost detached, as he continued, "My sect and my chamber represent the future. Your so-called ancient clans are rigid, bound by outdated traditions. It is only a matter of time before you are forgotten"

His words were not shouted, nor laced with arrogance.

They were delivered as though he were stating an undeniable truth, something already foreseen.

Qiu An studied him, unsettled.

The boy's confidence was not the empty bravado of a boy of his age; it was a chilling certainty.

Still, he scoffed inwardly.

Just because of a handful of talented disciples, did this boy really believe he could rival the ancient clans?

"Kid," Qiu An said firmly. "Do you think the ancient clans earned their name through mere reputation? I'll tell you this… one thousand years from now, our clans will still stand. But as for your little sect? I can't say the same."

Mo Jian did not argue. Instead, he turned toward Qiu Yan.

"Do you believe your father?" he asked quietly.

Qiu Yan's eyes widened.

She had not expected him to drag her into the conversation. Feeling both her father's piercing gaze and Mo Jian's steady one, she hesitated.

'Why must he involve me?' she cried inwardly.

Yet outside, her face remained cool, composed.

She opened her mouth, then closed it again.

The truth was undeniable.

She had already witnessed firsthand the sweeping changes Mo Jian and his chamber had unleashed upon the Southern Region.

And now, with his arrival in the capital, the ripples were turning into waves.

The inevitable was already upon them.

"What? You can't speak?" Qiu An demanded, incredulous. "Do you actually believe this nonsense?"

"Father," Qiu Yan said at last, her tone measured, "just listen to him. Then you can judge for yourself whether his words are true or not."

She closed her eyes pretending to meditate.

"This…" Qiu An was struck speechless.

Her response alone was an answer.

The implication was clear.

"Uncle, you don't need to be so surprised," Mo Jian interjected smoothly. "She has seen with her own eyes what my sect and chamber can accomplish. You have not. So, allow me to show you."

With a flick of his wrist…

Whoosh!

The Times Newspaper appeared in Mo Jian's hand. He stretched it toward Qiu An.

"What do you think of this?" he asked calmly.

Qiu An took the paper, his eyes widening as he examined it. The crisp, lifelike images caused his jaw to slacken in disbelief.

"This…"

The text was unlike anything he had ever seen. The characters were not handwritten, and the varying fonts and uniform layout astounded him.

"I call it The Times Newspaper," Mo Jian explained.

"Through this, people can learn what is happening not only in the city, but across the region and even the continent. And it is priced so cheaply that anyone, even common mortals, can afford it."

He leaned back slightly, his calm gaze never wavering.

"Now, let me ask you… Can you begin to imagine the power contained within this newspaper?" He gave a faint smile, not waiting for a response.

"No, you cannot. Because this is not merely information. This is the path to people's minds."

"With this, I decide what people know and what they do not. I can shape the truth itself—turn friend against friend, enemy against enemy. I can stir rebellion or bring peace with nothing more than ink and paper."

"I know it sounds unbelievable. But believe me—we've already done it. Compared to your ancient clans, how many mortals live within this Imperial Capital?"

He leaned forward slightly, his words striking like hammer blows.

"Do you know how many of them despise your ancient clans to the very bones? How many curse your name in silence, powerless, voiceless?"

"But what if we give them a voice? What if millions of mortals rise against you, united by one voice filled with determination?"

Mo Jian's eyes gleamed with chilling certainty.

"I assure you, Uncle. Your so-called glorious ancient clans would crumble to dust in less than a single year."

"Hiss!"

Qiu An didn't even realize when the sharp hiss escaped his lips.