NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 20: Price of Power
Twelve hundred points. Vincent weighed the cost against the alternatives, his analytical mind running calculations. What was the point of spending hundreds on temporary beauty treatments and vitality supplements when cultivation could provide all of that naturally—and permanently?
He'd witnessed the proof with Olivia. Her Refined-stage Mind Cultivation hadn't merely sharpened her intellect; it had transformed her entirely. Her skin possessed an ethereal luminescence that captivated every man in her presence, her movements flowed with effortless grace, and she radiated a vitality that made people half her age appear dull and lifeless by comparison.
Higher cultivation extends lifespan, enhances physical capabilities, and purifies the body from within, Vincent reasoned. The more impurities expelled, the more refined one's appearance becomes. Why settle for temporary fixes when I can address the fundamental cause?
Without cultivation talent, he remained essentially a mortal navigating a world of ascending immortals. All his wealth and cunning would prove meaningless if a Core-stage cultivator could slap him to death or outlive him by decades while growing exponentially more powerful and attractive with each breakthrough.
The elixir awakens mid-grade talent and enables progression to Core stage, he calculated. That represents potentially sixty additional years of life if he reaches the core stage(10-Basic, 20-Refined, 30-Core), supernatural physical enhancement, and natural beauty that improves with each cultivation level. Though I'll need to work considerably harder from this point forward.
[PURCHASE CONFIRMED]
Spirit Root Awakening Elixir - 1200 VP
[VP: 1580 → 380]
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]
Elixir materialization in progress...
Warning: Consumption will trigger immediate spiritual awakening process
Estimated duration: 2 hours
Side effects: Temporary pain & discomfort
Recommend secure, private location for awakening process.
Vincent surveyed his office. As chairman of a major corporation, urgent matters constantly demanded his attention: contract renewal negotiations with their largest client threatening to defect to a bigger competitor for better rates, reports from the regional manager about two delivery trucks breaking down during morning routes—necessitating expensive emergency repairs and delayed shipments—and the warehouse supervisor awaiting approval to hire seasonal workers for the upcoming holiday rush.
Beyond the daily approvals and decisions that consumed his time, he wasn't dedicating all his energy to plotting against Liam. Fortunately, his executive office included a private bedroom and bathroom suite for precisely these situations.
"At least the system provides adequate warning," he muttered.
Vincent moved swiftly to the bedroom. He'd been working since early morning, and with most of his afternoon clear of appointments, this presented the perfect opportunity. Settling cross-legged on the bed, he uncorked the elixir and hesitated momentarily.
"Lord, protect me," he whispered, then drained the vial in one decisive gulp.
Then the agony began.
Fire erupted in his stomach, doubling him over as tendrils of excruciating pain spread outward like molten roots burrowing through his flesh. Each pulse sent fresh waves of torment branching along his nervous system, following pathways he never knew existed.
His muscles convulsed violently as spiritual energy carved new channels throughout his body. It felt as though thorny vines were threading between his bones, wrapping around his organs, establishing a network of pure sensation that transformed every heartbeat into an exercise in torture. The energy wasn't simply flowing—it was claiming him, rewriting his very essence from within.
"Damn it, system! You could have been more specific about the intensity!"
Vincent collapsed onto the bed, teeth clenched against the scream threatening to tear from his throat. The pain pulsed in relentless waves, each one deeper than the last, as invisible tendrils burrowed into his marrow and sprouted through his veins. This is what evolution truly feels like, he realized through the haze of agony.
Two hours passed like two interminable days before the pain finally began to subside. The bed was thoroughly soaked with sweat and something black and putrid—far more impurities than he'd anticipated. The next shock came when he attempted to push himself upright: the wooden bed frame cracked audibly, and the tile beneath the bed leg had completely shattered into fragments.
When Vincent examined his condition, the transformation became clear. He had leaped from Peak-Basic level all the way to Low-Refined level—a major advancement that would be considered remarkable by any cultivator's standards.
The irony wasn't lost on him. The original Vincent had spent years consuming expensive spirit herbs and cultivation pills, desperately trying to break through to the Refined stage, only to be thwarted by his inferior spiritual roots. All those resources hadn't been wasted after all—they had accumulated within his body, dormant and unusable due to his weak foundation. Now, with his spiritual roots awakened, the elixir had unlocked not just his potential but also activated all those stored medicinal essences at once. In a single agonizing session, he had achieved what his predecessor never could, powered by years of accumulated cultivation resources finally put to use.
This feels like I've become the protagonist instead, he mused, feeling that every moment of suffering had been worthwhile.
He hurried to the bathroom, desperate to wash away the foul-smelling impurities that had been expelled from his body. The black substance clung to his skin like tar, and the stench was overwhelming—a physical manifestation of decades of accumulated toxins being purged from his system. The hot water ran dark at first as he scrubbed thoroughly, watching years of spiritual contamination spiral down the drain.
Catching his reflection in the mirror afterward, he couldn't suppress a satisfied smile. His striking blue eyes appeared clearer and more vivid, his skin had taken on a fair, smooth quality that seemed to glow with inner vitality, and his facial features had sharpened subtly but noticeably. While the improvement wasn't dramatic, it was unmistakably present. If he had been conventionally handsome before, he was now something more—something that commanded attention.
The main thing was, he felt younger. Not just his strength, it was like new vitality was flowing through his body.
Vincent slouched into the plush leather sofa in his office, still feeling the lingering warmth from his shower. The rush of unlocking Tier 2 abilities and the exhaustion from upgrading his spirit roots—had left him drained but oddly satisfied. The city lights painted shifting patterns across his penthouse office walls as he nursed a glass of aged whiskey, savoring the smoky burn.
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts.
"Come in," he called, not bothering to straighten his posture.
Olivia entered first, her usual composed efficiency intact despite the late hour. Behind her followed Helena, clutching a stack of files against her chest like armor. Vincent's breath caught—she looked utterly shattered. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath red-rimmed eyes, her normally neat auburn hair hung limp and disheveled, and her clothes looked like she'd slept in them for days. There was something almost fragile about the way she held herself, as if a strong breeze might scatter her completely.
"Sir," Olivia began, her voice carefully neutral, "Ms. Darrow insisted on delivering these PR reports personally, despite my suggestions that they could wait until tomorrow."
Vincent caught the way Olivia's eyes lingered on him a fraction longer than usual, something flickering across her features—surprise, perhaps recognition of a change she couldn't quite place. Her professional mask slipped for just an instant, revealing a deeper awareness that made her breath catch slightly before she regained her composure.
Vincent's eyes flicked to Olivia, studying her with his newfound awareness. The knowledge of her 92/100 favorability—Deep Love + Absolute Loyalty—made him notice the micro-expressions he'd missed until now: how her shoulders tensed slightly when she looked directly at him, the way her fingers pressed just a fraction harder against the tablet when their eyes met, the almost imperceptible softening of her features when he wasn't looking directly at her. But there was something new now too—the way her gaze seemed drawn to his face, as if seeing him clearly for the first time.
His voice, when he spoke to Helena, carried firm authority but his eyes remained unusually tender as they lingered on Olivia—a gentleness she rarely witnessed. "Didn't I tell you to rest at home?"
Helena's shoulders sagged, her grip tightening on the files until her knuckles went white. "I would just... I'd just be there alone, replaying everything over and over. I needed to stay busy or I'd—" Her voice cracked slightly. "I'd go insane."
Vincent caught the way Olivia's posture straightened almost imperceptibly at the gentle tone in his voice, something flickering across her features—hope, perhaps, or recognition of a softness she'd glimpsed in rare, unguarded moments. She carefully schooled her expression back to professional neutrality, but not before he saw the slight flutter of her pulse at her throat, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak.
"Olivia," Vincent said, his tone carrying quiet authority, "you can head home. Thank you for staying late."
"Of course, sir." She paused at the door, her hand resting on the handle for just a heartbeat longer than necessary. When she looked back, her eyes sought his with something that might have been longing before she caught herself, her gaze tracing the refined lines of his face with undisguised fascination. "Have a... have a good evening, Mr. Cornelius. Ms. Darrow."
The slight stumble in her usually perfect composure spoke volumes. The door clicked shut with finality, leaving them alone in the amber glow of the city lights.
Vincent studied Helena's face—exhaustion etched into every line, the way she held herself like she might shatter at the slightest touch. Without any special insight, he could read her pain in the tremor of her hands, the careful way she breathed as if deeper breaths might unleash the tears she was fighting.
A faint warmth stirred in his chest as he watched her. This woman's genuine devotion to her son, her willingness to sacrifice everything... it was exactly the kind of fierce loyalty he valued. The same quality that made Olivia indispensable, that made David reliable, that separated his inner circle from the expendable masses outside.
Liam had been a threat that needed eliminating. The boy's hatred for Vincent had run bone-deep, personal and dangerous. Vincent had simply removed the threat while securing something far more valuable—Helena's complete devotion.
A clean victory on all fronts.
"Come here," he said softly, patting the cushion beside him.