33: Chapter 33 Clan Transactions, Resources Flowing In

Chen Wuwang stepped out of the metal doorframe of the Artifact Refining Workshop, a trail of fine sparks kicking up as his boot soles crushed against the threshold.

The morning wind blew from the east, carrying the lingering spiritual mist from the direction of the Medicinal Field, brushing against the lens of the mechanical prosthetic eye in his left eye, reflecting a cold light.

He did not turn back; behind him was the silhouette of Chen Tiezhu crouching in front of the cultivation chamber, his fingers still tightly gripping the control terminal, as if holding onto some dream about to fly away.

He knew that those three Golden-Veined Spiritual Plants were no longer just herbs—they were bargaining chips, blades, the first lever to pry open the resource landscape of the entire East Wasteland.

The main hall was just ahead, paved with bluestone, its pillars pitch black as ink. The clan soldiers standing guard on both sides had donned newly made spiritual silk shoulder guards today, standing straight.

They did not speak, but when their gazes swept over the Patriarch's back, there was something there that hadn't been before—not awe, but belief.

The envoy from the Great Clan had been waiting in the hall for half an incense stick's time.

The man wore a cloud-patterned brocade robe, a jade pendant hanging from his waist, and a cinnabar mark on his forehead; one look and it was clear he came from an established Cultivator family.

He stood three steps away from the main seat, his gaze firmly nailed to the transparent spiritual crystal cover in front.

Inside the cover, three Spiritual Plants shimmering with golden threads stood quietly, their leaves trembling slightly, as if breathing.

A faint fragrance drifted in the air; taking a breath of it actually made his Dantian heat up slightly.

"Truly... it is alive," the envoy said in a low voice, keeping it very hushed, as if afraid of disturbing something.

Chen Wuwang did not respond, walking straight to the main seat to sit down.

His silver hair was slightly disheveled by the wind; he raised his hand to brush it back casually, his movements crisp and efficient.

After sitting down, he rested his right hand on the armrest, his knuckles beginning to tap against the edge of his metal armor—tap, tap, tap—the rhythm steady, neither hurried nor slow.

The envoy noticed the sound and looked up at him.

"Three Spirit Stone mineral veins," the envoy began, his tone as steady as possible, "West Ridge No. 2, North Slope No. 7, and the remnant vein of South Valley, all Medium Grade, with an annual output totaling 800,000 Spirit Stones. In exchange for your three Spiritual Plants."

Chen Wuwang still did not speak.

The tapping continued.

Tap, tap, tap.

The envoy frowned slightly, his fingers tightening quietly inside his sleeves.

Two attendants behind him exchanged glances; one of them moved his lips, but was stopped by a gentle shake of the head from his companion.

Finally, Chen Wuwang stopped his fingers.

He slowly raised his eyes, the three claw marks on his right cheek appearing exceptionally clear in the morning light.

His mechanical prosthetic eye rotated half an inch, a faint blue glimmer flashing past.

"Three?" he spoke, his voice not loud, but like a dull knife slowly slicing through fabric, "Not enough."

The envoy's pupils constricted: "What did you say?"

"I said," Chen Wuwang leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the edge of the table, "three mineral veins cannot buy these three plants."

"Then how many do you want?" the envoy's voice tightened a fraction.

"Five," Chen Wuwang enunciated clearly, "plus ten Spirit-Energy Smelting Furnaces."

The hall went instantly quiet.

Even the footsteps of the patrolling clan soldiers outside paused for a moment.

The envoy's expression changed: "Are you crazy? Spirit-Energy Smelting Furnaces are strategic assets; how can they be easily leaked? Let alone ten! Your Chen family doesn't even have anyone to operate them!"

"Not having them now doesn't mean we won't in the future," Chen Wuwang sneered, "And, this batch of my Spiritual Plants can allow a Foundation Establishment Cultivator to reach a Breakthrough to Golden Core within three years—do you believe it?"

The envoy looked up abruptly, shock and suspicion flashing in his eyes.

Chen Wuwang did not give him a chance to retort, continuing: "When you strangled our medicinal lifeline for thirty years, did you ever think about whether it was 'enough'? Doubling prices every year, threatening to cut off supply, forcing us to trade mineral veins for inferior Medicinal Pills. Now that it's your turn to bow your heads, you complain the price is too high?"

These words were like a slap in the face, leaving the envoy's complexion a mix of pale and livid.

He opened his mouth, wanting to lash out, but found he couldn't speak.

Because every word the other party said was true.

The suppression of the Chen family by the nine great clans of the East Wasteland over these years was ostensibly resource trading, but in reality, it was a blockade.

Medicinal herbs, Pill Formulas, and Artifact Refining Materials were all held in the hands of a few families.

If the Chen family did not submit, they could only wait for their clansmen to have no medicine for their injuries and illnesses, and for their disciples' cultivation to stagnate.

But now, the tides had turned.

These three plants before him were not just medicine; they were the key to breaking the monopoly.

The silence lasted for a full ten breaths.

Finally, the envoy gritted his teeth, took a Jade Slip from his robes, channeled his Divine Sense into his fingertips, and quickly recorded the contract terms.

He pressed down hard, almost crushing the Jade Slip.

"Fine!" his voice was extremely repressed, "Five mineral veins, ten furnaces, all yours! Before noon tomorrow, the first batch of furnaces will arrive at the Artifact Refining Workshop, and the remaining resources will be delivered within seven days!"

The servant stepped forward to take the Jade Slip, using blood as a guide to seal in a Divine Sense imprint, ensuring there could be no going back.

Chen Wuwang then reached out, took the Jade Slip, lightly stroked the surface with his fingertips, and after confirming it was correct, tucked it into his sleeve.

He did not smile, nor did he say anything like "happy to cooperate."

He simply said coolly: "At noon tomorrow, I want to see the first batch of furnaces arrive at the Artifact Refining Workshop."

The tone was not like a negotiation, but a command.

The envoy did not respond, only staring fixedly at the three Spiritual Plants, his expression extremely complex—there was unwillingness, wariness, and a trace of fear that could not be hidden.

He turned and left immediately, his pace hurried, his robe hem catching the wind.

The two attendants followed closely behind, not daring to look back.

The main gate closed behind them with a dull "thud."

The hall returned to silence.

Chen Wuwang sat in the main seat, motionless.

His fingers began tapping on the armrest again.

Tap, tap, tap.

This time, the rhythm was a bit lighter.

He knew that this trade was not the end, but the beginning.

Five mineral veins meant a stable supply of Spirit Stones, and ten furnaces were the cornerstone of industrialized Artifact Refining.

With them, the Chen family could shake off the shackles of manual crafting and truly walk the path of mass production.

But he was even clearer that these great clans would not let this go.

Bowing their heads today was merely a temporary expedient.

The next time they met, it would likely be with blades drawn.

But so what?

He looked up at the Golden-Veined Spiritual Plant in the spiritual crystal cover; the leaves were swaying slightly, as if responding to some invisible summons.

Outside the window, sunlight slanted in, falling onto his mechanical prosthetic eye, reflecting a cold, icy blue.