Immortality Starts With Face

I was enjoying the opulent silence of my private suite when the damnable jade communications talisman flared to life once more.

The primitive nature of these devices – each requiring a dedicated twin to function, meaning an entirely separate talisman for every single long-distance contact – was a logistical nightmare I was already mentally redesigning. A universal communicator, perhaps keyed to spiritual signatures?

Another project for another day.

It had been, perhaps, two hours since the last long-distance conversation – a brief interlude I'd spent pacing the plush carpets, my mind a whirlwind of calculations and contingencies, the weight of an Imperial contract settling upon my shoulders like a mountain carved from both anxiety and opportunity in equal measure.

My father had evidently passed our family's paired talisman directly to the Princess's people. This time, the voice that crackled through the jade was not the familiar, if often grating, timber of Jiang Hongji, nor the deep, resonant calm of the Princess' Golden Core attendant, Wei Long.

This was new.

And instantly, profoundly, irritating.

The voice on the other end was a reedy, high-pitched tenor, dripping with an arrogant self-importance that grated on my nerves like fingernails dragged across slate.

"Jiang Li of the Yuhang City Jiang family, I presume?" the voice intoned, each syllable drawn out as if bestowing a great honor.

"This is Imperial Factor Sun, acting under the direct authority of Her Highness, the Eighth Princess Long Xueyue. I have been tasked with conveying Her Highness's preliminary procurement requirements. You will listen carefully, and you will confirm your family's capacity to fulfill these orders without delay or prevarication. Her Highness does not suffer fools, nor does she tolerate incompetence."

Well now, what have we here? Imperial Factor Sun...

I mused, filing the name and the accompanying aura of smug superiority away for future reference.

What a charming fellow.

Leo, the actor, recognized the type instantly: a petty bureaucrat, puffed up like a toadfish, drunk on borrowed authority. The most dangerous kind of fool, because they often possessed just enough power to be troublesome.

"Imperial Factor Sun," I replied, my voice a model of polite deference, though I allowed a faint, almost imperceptible weariness to tinge my tone, as if I were a busy man of affairs, reluctantly pulled away from far more important matters.

"Jiang Li, at your service. Please, convey Her Highness's esteemed requirements. I am, of course, all ears."

And so, he began.

The list started, predictably enough, with items related to the Princess's known Frost affinity, possibly in order to supplement the Fifty Thousand Year "Nine Nether Snow Lotus" I had so generously (and strategically) provided. There were quantities of high-purity Ice Essence Jade; cores from several mid-tier Frost-attribute spirit beasts – things that would be expensive, certainly, a strain for a provincial merchant family, but not entirely outside the realm of possibility if one happened to possess the right connections and a great deal of luck.

But then, the requests began to escalate, moving from merely expensive to the eyebrow-raisingly scarce.

And then, to the patently absurd – at least for a family like mine.

"Item forty-seven," Imperial Factor Sun droned, his voice taking on a faintly gloating quality, as if he derived a perverse pleasure from the ridiculous nature of his demands.

"At least three flawless, fist-sized, Frost-Attuned Spirit Crystals, Mid-Grade or higher. Purity to be verified by Her Highness's own appraisers upon delivery."

…

Spirit Crystals?

My mind, containing the background memories of Jiang Li's merchant family upbringing, immediately began to process the implications.

The difference between a common spirit stone and a true spirit crystal was not merely one of degree, but of fundamental nature.

A spirit stone, however high its grade, was, ultimately, a mere qi-infused rock: a mundane vessel that had, through geological happenstance or deliberate manipulation, become infused with a higher-than-average concentration of ambient spiritual Qi.

So-called "low-grade" spirit stones, like those I'd been so casually manifesting, held a Qi density comparable to that of a cultivator in the upper quartile of the Qi Gathering realm – certainly useful for powering simple formations and basic artifacts, or for providing a minor boost to the low-level cultivation of Qi Gathering novices.

"Mid-grade" spirit stones, significantly rarer and more valuable, held Qi comparable in density and purity to the "liquefied" spiritual energy found within the meridians of an Early Foundation Establishment level cultivator. This allowed them to be used for the more sophisticated (and power-hungry) tasks.

"High-grade" spirit stones, the currency of true powerhouses, were said to contain Qi that had begun to approach the "crystallized" state characteristic of the Golden Core realm.

But still, at the end of the day, a spirit stone was just that: a stone, with some measure of Qi trapped within.

A spirit crystal, on the other hand…

Now, that was another sort of beast entirely. A spirit crystal, to be worthy of the name, was more accurately described as crystallized Qi: pure, solidified spiritual energy with, perhaps, some bits of mundane stone mixed within its lattice.

To even qualify as a spirit crystal under the stringent Imperial classifications, a specimen needed to be composed of over fifty percent pure, crystallized Qi. The density and inherent potency of that crystallized Qi then determined its grade: Low, Mid, High, and the breathtakingly rare Supreme Grades.

Spirit crystals were not mere batteries of spiritual power; they were concentrated essences of the Dao itself, capable of being used as direct cultivation aids not only at the Golden Core stage – but, in theory, all the way through the Nascent Soul and the even more terrifying Spirit Severance realm that lay beyond. That is not to mention all of their other possible uses in alchemy, formations, talisman crafting, and artifact forging, to name a few.

The sheer, mind-boggling value of such items…

I did a quick mental calculation.

All of the Jiang family properties – all of our mines, our trade contracts, our warehouses, and every last copper coin in our vaults – if liquidated tomorrow, would not be enough to purchase even a single, unattuned Mid-Grade spirit crystal of a decent size...

...let alone three, fist-sized, and specifically Frost-Attuned ones – which were exponentially rarer and more difficult to find, their value beyond reckoning in mere spirit stones (for no sane cultivator would even think of trading mere rocks in exchange for such treasures).

For the Princess, through this pompous Imperial Factor, to ask me, to ask the Jiang Family of Yuhang City, to procure even low-grade spirit crystals was already an absurdity. Mid-Grade or higher?

Ha!

It was a demand so ludicrous that it bordered on the surreal.

But the list continued in this vein, listing a parade of ever-more-ridiculous impossibilities.

Cores from spirit beasts whose names I had not even heard before.

Herbs so rare, they were said to have grown only in the mythical gardens of sects destroyed during the Great Civil War with the Celestial Phoenix Dynasty 400 years ago.

Ores that supposedly formed only in the hearts of ancient glaciers far to the North.

My internal monologue was a whirlwind of frantic calculation and dawning, chilling realization: I was now in a genuinely perilous position, a knife's edge of my own making.

If I claimed to possess these frankly ridiculous items – or even just the ability to procure them – but the belief of Imperial Factor Sun, or, more importantly, the ones he would report to – proved insufficient for the System to actually manifest them (or if they simply, flatly, didn't believe me)…

Then I would be on the hook for delivering products I didn't have… and could not possibly obtain.

That would not just be a loss of face.

That was a death sentence, swift and certain. Being accused of deceiving a Princess of the Empire, of any rank, was not a path to longevity.

If, on the other hand, I explained that I neither possessed the items in question nor the ability to procure them, then I would certainly survive – but the resulting loss of Face, to both myself and the Jiang family, would be catastrophic, damaging my reputation and making future manifestations far more difficult.

I paused while I considered the dilemma.

But then, an epiphany – sharp and clarifying – cut through the fog of my anxiety.

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Why?

Why was Factor Sun engaged in this charade?

Why would he make these specific, almost tauntingly impossible demands?

Princess Long Xueyue was no fool.

She was not only a cultivator of Peak Foundation Establishment, but also a Royal with access to resources and information – likely including an impressive intelligence network – that were far beyond my comprehension.

Someone like her would know that such items were beyond the reach of a mere provincial merchant family, however wealthy they might appear.

Unless…

Unless this wasn't truly about procurement to begin with.

It's a test!

The realization struck me with the force of a physical blow.

She wasn't shopping; she was probing.

Probing my background, the extent of my capabilities, trying to force my hand, to make me reveal the true source of the Fifty Thousand Year Nine Nether Snow Lotus I had provided earlier.

The items themselves, however valuable they might be, were secondary to the intelligence she hoped to gain.

What she really wanted… was information.

And, if this was a test… then my response – my performance – was everything.

A new, even more audacious thought sparked in my mind. If she was indeed testing me, then could she – and, perhaps, the esteemed senior Wei Long – be actively listening in on this very conversation… right now?

I thought it was a distinct possibility. The Princess had struck me as someone who left little to chance.

A slow, wolfish grin spread across my face. This was an opportunity, not a crisis!

…

"Esteemed Factor Sun,"

-- I interjected, my voice smooth, almost casual, cutting through his recitation of some impossibly rare frost-attributed fungus, --

"…this is an impressive list indeed. Her Highness clearly has discerning taste. However, I couldn't help but notice that many of the items you've so meticulously detailed are… mere raw alchemy ingredients. A fine selection of ingredients, certainly – ones suitable for crafting pills and elixirs of the highest potency. But,"

I paused, letting a note of polite confusion enter my tone,

"…why trouble yourselves, and needlessly waste Her Highness's valuable time, with sourcing such disparate raw materials and then, presumably, paying some third-party alchemist to undertake the delicate and often perilous process of actual refinement? Such matters, if I may be so bold, could surely be handled far more efficiently, and with a far greater assurance of quality control, if managed directly through me… 'in-house' as it were."

There was a moment of stunned silence from the other end of the talisman, so profound I could almost hear the gears grinding in Imperial Factor Sun's arrogant little mind.

Then, he sputtered, his voice cracking with disbelief and a fresh wave of indignation.

"Are you… are you suggesting… You expect me to believe that the Jiang family… has access to Alchemists capable of refining such materials? Some of these ingredients would require a Fourth-Grade Alchemist, perhaps even one at the Fifth-Grade, to handle! We were… unaware… of such profound capabilities within your esteemed house."

His tone was laced with a heavy, contemptuous disbelief, as if I had just claimed my pet dog could recite Imperial poetry…

But, then again, maybe it really could – how would he know?

I adopted my most guileless, "humble-country-boy-who-was-actually-an-Immortal" persona.

"Ah, all this business with grades and ranks… I'm afraid such lofty concepts are beyond the understanding of a simple fellow like myself, esteemed Factor. " I said, injecting a note of casual obliviousness into my voice.

"But I assure you, working with the ingredients you've just listed would be rather… trivial… for me. In fact," I added, as if sharing a minor, inconsequential detail, "I happen to possess a rather well-equipped private alchemy workshop, one that's especially designed for processing Frost-Attributed Qi ingredients and other delicate, volatile materials. They are quite useful for my own research, you see! So, please, feel free to simply provide me with a list of the finished pills and elixirs your mistress requires. There's no need to further complicate matters by asking for raw materials and undertaking the alchemy elsewhere, incurring unnecessary delays, expenses, and the potential for… substandard results."

The System – bless its opportunistic, belief-hungry little heart – chose that precise moment to finally chime in.

[Remote Qualified Belief Detected!]

[Belief Sources: Princess Long Xueyue (Foundation Establishment – Peak) BQT 11 Met! Wei Long (Golden Core - Peak) BQT 11 Met!]

My internal grin widened.

So, the whole royal entourage is indeed tuned in to hear the show. How fun! This performance just got a much more valuable audience.

[Analyzing Belief: User possesses advanced alchemy capabilities and a specialized, high-level alchemical workshop suitable for handling rare and potent ingredients, particularly those with the Frost attribute.]

[Threshold Met! Latent Manifestation Initiated!]

[Output: Peak Golden Core Level Alchemical Sanctum. Features: Golden Core-Grade Alchemy Furnace with specialized Ice Essence furnace variants, self-purifying arrays, frost qi-attuned containment and purification formations, elemental Qi converters, automated ingredient processing units, failsafe containment fields, teleportation arrays for direct, seamless material transfer free of contamination. Location to be designated by User at will in the future.]

[New Skill Manifested: Alchemical Principles & Techniques (Second Grade Alchemist).]

Only Second Grade? I thought, a flicker of disappointment quickly suppressed. Tsk. Tough crowd!

They probably didn't believe I would be the one personally slaving over a hot cauldron, likely assuming I had a hidden master, or else, that some ancient family elder skilled in the alchemical arts would be doing the actual work.

Understandable, given my previous persona.

But it didn't matter.

Second Grade Alchemist was a respectable start, enough to craft any pill or elixir useful at the Qi Gathering stage, and even some basic Foundation Establishment concoctions. To anyone else in Azure Province, that would already be an astonishing feat for someone of my apparent age and background.

With the System to reward my bluffs, I'd get to real mastery soon enough.

Now, for the truly audacious part of the performance.

I realized that I didn't want to be relegated to the role of just another merchant, another convenient supplier – not even to a Princess of the Empire. That was a path to wealth, perhaps – but not to true power. Not the kind that could guarantee my safety and the prosperity of all whom I chose to protect.

No, to achieve that, to truly ascend in this brutal, hierarchical world, I needed access to powerful figures – and to be seen by them as a powerful figure in my own right.

I needed to be perceived as more than a mere purveyor of goods.

I needed to be an equal.

A peer.

Or at the very least, an indispensable, unique asset whose value transcended mere commodities.

Waiting decades, perhaps even centuries, to be able to regularly socialize with Golden Core experts, let alone the Nascent Soul powerhouses who truly shaped the destiny of the Empires, was an unacceptable timeline for me.

And this conversation, with the Princess and her formidable attendant undoubtedly listening, was the perfect opportunity to seize the initiative, to stand out from the regular crowd of supplicants and sycophants!

I wasn't particularly worried about backlash. The Princess wouldn't even consider eliminating a valuable, unique asset. Not yet. Not before she knew much more about me, about the true extent of my "backing," and about what further wonders I was capable of providing.

By the time I reasonably could be considered a threat to someone of her station… well, there was no telling just how strong I would become by then.

My voice, when I spoke again, was calm, measured, but imbued with an undercurrent of profound, almost casual confidence, directly addressing the unseen, high-status listeners.

"Forgive me for pointing this out, Your Highness," I began, deliberately including her title, "…and esteemed Senior Wei," I added, acknowledging the Golden Core expert, "but the power and unique flavor of your spiritual presences are quite… undeniable… to someone with my particular sensitivities – even through the filter of this rather primitive communications talisman."

I let that statement sink in for a moment, reveling in the implications.

"In fact," I continued smoothly, "I have much more to offer you than the meager supplies we've been discussing thus far. Something of far greater import. Of far more… strategic… value. However, that is a conversation far too sensitive, far too significant, to be had over such a – frankly – insecure means of transmission."

Imperial Factor Sun began to sputter on the other end, his reedy voice cracking with outrage at my perceived insolence.

"H-how dare you! Such presumption! You will—"

He was cut off mid-rant by the clear, cool, and undeniably authoritative voice of Princess Long Xueyue herself. Though still slightly muffled by the indirect nature of the connection (I realized that she was likely listening in from a separate talisman placed next to this one's twin), her every syllable nonetheless carried an innate, almost tangible, weight that silenced the sputtering Factor instantly.

"Enough, Imperial Factor Sun. Your… zeal… is noted – and, perhaps, will be discussed later."

There was a hint of ice in her tone that probably made the unfortunate Factor's blood run cold.

Then, she addressed me directly.

"Young Master Jiang Li," she continued, a note of genuine, undisguised intrigue in her melodic voice, "you have… piqued Our curiosity. What precisely do you suggest?"

Showtime!

"Your Highness," I replied, my tone respectful but firm, "I anticipate being in Yuhang City to attend to some… important matters within eleven days' time. I propose a meeting then, either with yourself or the esteemed Senior Wei, at a time and place of your choosing. Not only can I prepare and bring with me a representative batch of whatever cultivation supplies are desired from the current list – but, much more importantly, we can finally have a… truly private conversation. One where I can directly explain, and perhaps even demonstrate, the scope of the true value I can provide to you, and to your endeavors. Value, Your Highness, that extends far beyond mere commodities, even ones as specialized and rare as those Factor Sun has touched upon."

There was a brief, charged pause from her end.

I could almost feel her weighing my words, assessing the audacity, the confidence, the sheer, almost unbelievable promise contained within them. Thinking through my words, she had to realize that I wasn't lying – that I couldn't possibly be lying – for that would be tantamount to courting my own death.

Her voice, when it finally came again, was cool and measured.

"Very well, Young Master Jiang. You will not, We trust, waste Our valuable time with trivialities or empty boasts. We look forward to hearing your… proposal… directly. Imperial Factor Sun will coordinate the necessary arrangements for our meeting in Yuhang."

And with that, her voice vanished from the connection. She had dropped the "call."

Imperial Factor Sun was still on the line, however – and his earlier arrogance was completely deflated, replaced by a stunned, almost fearful silence. When he finally spoke, his voice was a mere shadow of its former pompous self, now laced with a newfound, positively deferential politeness.

"Young… Master Jiang. Her Highness… well. As you heard. I… I will be in touch regarding the details of your arrival and the arrangements for your audience in Yuhang. If anything changes, or if there are any further… preliminary… requests from Her Highness, I will, of course, inform you immediately."

He then quickly, almost desperately, excused himself and ended the transmission, the talisman finally falling silent.

I leaned back in my chair, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. This, I mused, was probably the fastest, most direct path to gaining proximity to those with real power, to performing for those who truly mattered in this world.

But the risks… they were also significant. Tying my fortunes -- and, by extension, the fortunes of the entire Jiang family -- so directly and visibly to this Eighth Princess was a gamble of epic proportions. I knew next to nothing of her true standing within the Imperial Court, the true strength of her faction, or the capabilities and ruthlessness of her – inevitable – enemies. If I allied with her -- then I, too, became a target. A Pawn (or, if I was lucky, a Bishop, Rook, or something even stronger) in her deadly political games.

The old saying from my past life echoed in my mind: "Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines." Was I really prepared to soar so high, so fast, knowing that the fall could be catastrophic?

I thought of the casual, city-destroying power wielded by Nascent Soul experts: beings who were, from what Jiang Li's memories suggested, walking weapons of mass destruction – capable of unleashing devastation on a scale comparable to the atomic horrors of Earth.

And, if I truly wanted to feel safe in this crazy, beautiful, terrifying new world, if I wanted to protect those I was coming to care for… I needed to grow beyond that level. As quickly as possible.

My smile widened, the predatory glint in my eyes intensifying.

I didn't know if I would ever be ready, but I would certainly give it my best shot!