“Lin Mo loves playing the saint with his charitable handouts? Let’s sell him thirty-six half-dead Planetary Spirit-Vein Core Nodes at the Decennial Heavenly Treasury Auction and bleed his vault dry!”
Inside the private sandalwood tea pavilion of the Ministry of Revenue, Minister Qian Wansan ([Goodness: -32/100]) clinked a frosted jade goblet against Grand Preceptor Sima Quan’s ([Goodness: -38/100]) cup.
Minister Qian had a round, oily face, a shiny bald pate ringed with thin grey hair, and a miniature gold abacus pinned over his heart like a family badge.
Across the low rosewood table, Grand Preceptor Sima Quan—still wearing a thick silk bandage under his hat where the duck-pond ice had scraped his scalp—took a sip of warmed pear-wine and chuckled coldly.
“Those thirty-six provincial spirit-vein nodes have been sucked dry for over two hundred years,” Sima Quan said, his old eyes gleaming with malice. “The twelve eastern and southern nodes barely trickle mud, and the twenty-four central nodes have cracked core conduits from decades of over-taxation. Even if a top Earth-Immortal sect tried to repair all thirty-six leylines, the raw origin crystals alone would bankrupt them inside a month.”
“That’s the beauty of this trap, Grand Preceptor,” Minister Qian said, leaning over a glowing map of the Nine Provinces and tapping the thirty-six dim grey spots with a fat, jade-ringed finger. “For thirty years, my Ministry of Revenue has been desperate to offload those thirty-six dead nodes before the maintenance collapse blames us. They carry ancient repair liabilities and millions…
