Starting with 50 Spirit Stones and 2 Hours with My Senior Sister as Daoist Consort

Li Chuan cursed his folks for not giving him a couple extra swords. If his speed was a bike, Mo Xiangling’s was a souped-up plus edition.

Once the outer sect’s top genius, tenth-level Qi Refining Mo Xiangling made seventh-level Hu Min look like a different species.

Even with a Speed Talisman, Li Chuan got caught up to fast.

Regret hit hard—why waste the talisman?

He stopped.

“Well, well, Junior Brother Li Chuan—tapped out already?” Mo Xiangling swooped in, mockery on full blast.

Under hazy moonlight, she floated ethereal—too gorgeous for this world.

He didn’t bite back.

Why bother? If he riled her up and she insisted on “serving” him all night, he’d be done for.

Grumbling, he said, “Senior Sister, you a dog or something? I show up, and you’re on me.”

He was the big-spending daddy here.

But this daddy was a bit too self-restrained.

Ugh—some personal space for both of them, was that so hard?

Mo Xiangling’s lips quirked, a coy laugh slipping out. “Junior Brother’s still green—forgot my status. I just posted a one-spirit-stone-shard task. All those little brothers and sisters spotting you? They’re racing to snitch to me.”

Son of a—spirit stone shards!

One stone split into ten shards.

His whereabouts were that cheap?

Better not find out who squealed, or he’d go on a spending spree to spite them.

“Green?!” Li Chuan jabbed a finger at his weathered face, huffing, “How old are you, Senior Sister, calling me green?”

He didn’t know her exact age, but geniuses like her were usually young. Even if she’d hit tenth level a decade ago, he doubted she was older than him.

So yeah, “Senior Sister” this and that—but by age, he could be her dad, no problem.

Mo Xiangling gawked at him, mock-offended. “Junior Brother doesn’t know my age? So yesterday and the day before, you weren’t even paying attention?”

Li Chuan froze—wait, what?

He looked up.

Oh, hell—here we go again.

“Junior Brother, keep it in mind this time, ‘kay?”

He was numb—could she stop twisting his words?

“Wait—Senior Sister, come here,” he said, face stern.

“Sure thing, Junior Brother—here I come.” She glided over, not waiting a beat, and shoved her belt into his hand.

Li Chuan’s mouth twitched, face darkening. “Senior Sister, kneel—I’ve got something to discuss.”

What a ballsy surrender.

Mo Xiangling cracked up, her big, gorgeous eyes widening in shock as she stared at him. “Junior Brother’s got guts—daring me to kneel? Time for a lesson.”

She started stripping.

Same old script incoming—Li Chuan waved a hand, and 500 spirit stones hit the ground.

Her eyes flicked over them, voice soft. “A man’s knees are worth gold.”

Another wave—500 more stones.

“Senior Sister’s no man, but…”

Another wave—500 more.

“Uh… uh…” She stalled, glitching.

He raised a hand—100 stones flew out, crashing onto the pile with a crisp clink.

Under moonlight, the glowing blue stones shimmered, stunning.

They slid off the heap like gems in a stream.

Clink, clank—stones chimed as they struck. Each lift of his hand, another 100 tossed.

He locked eyes with her, dead-set—he’d smash her down with stones today, no question.

“Hmph.” She huffed, brows knitting, face tightening.

Li Chuan paused, wary—why the sudden shift?

If her earlier look hinted not enough stones, this one screamed you dare insult me with them?

Her hand twitched—his heart clenched.

Was today’s “service” inescapable?

He stared at her hand. She bent, fingers brushing her knee, puzzled. “Weird—why’s my knee going soft?”

Her knees buckled, and down she went—smooth as silk.

Phew.

Li Chuan let out a breath.

Playing it up—and damn well too—nearly had him thinking he’d be a popsicle again.

Money-making? Awesome.

The stones vanished into her Qiankun Bag the second she knelt.

Stones versus knees—Li Chuan won.

Time to switch roles—normally, he’d start lecturing her now.

But he didn’t. Instead, he waved—100 more stones hit the dirt.

The sudden glow froze her. She looked up, bright eyes on him, and scooped the 100 without hesitation.

She grabbed them—another 100 dropped.

She collected—he tossed.

He loomed over her, smug as hell.

She’d knelt at 2,100 stones, but he kept going—900 more, hitting a clean 3,000 before stopping.

Why? Simple—it felt good.

Especially her kneeling there, all confused and secretly thrilled—made it even better.

Poor folks stretched a tael into two.

Rich ones? He had cash—if it felt good, he didn’t care if ten taels acted like one.

Right now, the sect’s pill stash alone could last him years. He could corpse out in the sect, and his resources would still top others’.

Plus, his cash flow was insane—earning stones was as easy as sword-flying.

Fly a few miles—boom, stones.

Fly a few more—boom, stones.

Last time in Small World No. 43, he didn’t even bend for plants under 10 stones.

Tier 1 plants? Ninety-nine percent were 10 stones or less.

If he’d dug every one, he’d have raked in hundreds of thousands.

Sure, it’d take a year or two—and a hundred times more bending.