“This shouldn’t be possible,” Wang Jun said, panting. Just a month ago, Wang Ling had been a peak-core-formation cultivator. He’d minored in body cultivation, but nothing too impressive.
“You’re strong, I admit that,” Wang Ling said. “But while you were busy making money, I was busy spending it.”
It was only now that Wang Jun noticed five powerful treasure auras on Wang Ling. One was the obvious protective garment, which no longer bore a peak-core-grade treasure halo but a transcendent one. The second was the golden sword—it was familiar to Wang Jun. It had been bestowed on Wang Ling by the Patriarch upon being named as a candidate for the head of the family.
The other three treasures, however, reeked a sinister aura. “An honorary blood master bracer,” Wang Jun said flatly. “Capable of temporarily boosting body cultivation by burning stored blood essence. Along with a soul-body superposition necklace. Banned by the Church of Justice for using the power of ten thousand souls to greatly enhance sensory capabilities and reaction time. And to top it all off, the Nine-Wrapped Shadow Chain, a gift from my master to the family head to hide all these elicit goods. You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Even money can’t buy all these things,” Wang Ling said smugly. “With these, along with my half-step-transcendent cultivation, I can end you whenever I choose.”
“Assuming you don’t need to sleep,” Wang Jun said. “Or cultivate further.”
“There’s no need to cultivate further, my dear brother,” Wang Ling said. “Judging by those white hairs on your head, I will outlast you.”
“And here I was, wondering why you’d come to pay me a visit,” Wang Jun said, dismissing his dagger as though he’d never launched a surprise attack. Wang Ling did the same with his sword, dismissing it into his transcendent-grade storage ring. “It seems you came here to gloat.”
“Like you, I don’t go out of my way to brag,” Wang Ling said. “You can blame Father for that good habit. Instead, I came to give you a warning.”
“I’m all ears,” Wang Jun said.
“You were never going to win this race,” Wang Ling said. “You need to realize this and learn your place. You are a business genius, a leader beneath the family head. No one in the family can match you in that regard. Yet it remains that you were never destined for more.”
“And why is that?” Wang Jun asked.
“Because of your nature,” Wang Ling said. “Because of whom you serve. You can’t learn from that man and claim you have the family’s best interest in mind.”
“So you’re saying I can’t learn from our family’s protector, the one who’s been keeping us safe all this time?” Wang Jun asked.
“Is that what he told you?” Wang Ling said. He shrugged. “Regardless, it’s set in stone. You can’t change it no matter what you do. Any further competition will end up causing harm. If you truly want what’s best for the family, for your employees, and for the North, you’d best do what you’re told and stick to what you’re best at: thinking and making money. Let us do the rest.”
“You’ll have me believe that dealing with the South is in our best interest,” Wang Jun said flatly.
“Yes,” Wang Ling said. “As terrible as the South is, we must keep dealing with them.”
“To line our pockets with souls and suffering?” Wang Jun asked.
“To survive,” Wang Ling said, his voice taking on a graver tone. “It’s for survival that I’ve come here and warned you. It’s more than you deserve with all the trouble you’ve caused, but it’s what the family needs.”
“The family needed Wang Hua,” Wang Jun hissed.
Wang Ling looked at him for a time and shook his head. “No, it didn’t. Perhaps in better times, yes, but not now. She was too kind to do what needed to be done. It was fortunate for us that she suffered that accident.”
Calm down, Wang Jun thought, his fists trembling. You brought her up yourself this time. He’s a fiend, but his opinion means nothing. He breathed in and out, taking the rage and bottling it up inside. His vision dimmed as blood rushed through his head. Despite his agitation, however, he knew that Wang Ling meant what he said. Once could be excused, but one more time, and he’d be better off getting rid of his problems.
In, out, in, out. His breathing slowed. By the time his pounding heart slowed, Wang Ling was gone. “Damn it all,” Wang Jun grunted, punching the wall near the painting. The stone, a powerful geomantic structure, still cracked a bit with the impact. In his anger, he’d dismissed the black membrane he’d previously kept covering his skin for protection. Blood dripped onto the floor from the open skin covering his newly fractured knuckles and hand bones.
The pain was sharp but bearable. It pushed the thoughts out of his mind, bringing clarity to his turbulent thoughts. His brother, Wang Ling, was now a half-step-rune-carving cultivator, with a total of five transcendent treasures. Such goods couldn’t be purchased easily—most were heirlooms or goods imported through the Greenwind Pavilion for exorbitant sums. Each treasure significantly bolstered Wang Ling’s strength. And unfortunately, though Wang Ling wasn’t the most gifted in business, he excelled at one thing: swordsmanship. Wang Jun, though good at fleeing, was now outmatched in one-on-one combat.
“One problem at a time,” Wang Jun muttered. He looked to the painting of his ancestor, who seemed to be mocking him now. Before, the mountains of spirit stones had seemed like a metaphor for success, but now they seemed to scream a different story: My spirit stones are worthless, so I’m throwing them away. Even with his entire fortune, Wang
