Chapter 19: Caiyun Pharmaceutical

Returning home,

He checked the time—it was nine, still early.

Within the Immortal Sect, there were multiple courier services: Yunzhong Express, Suda Express, Figspring Express, each with pros and cons.

Undoubtedly, the most reliable was Figspring Express—affordable, highly secure, even official Immortal Sect documents used this courier.

Jiang Ding opened the SpiritNet app, selected the highest-rated “Hehe Grand Pharmacy,” chose the anonymous cultivation method—Bone Strengthening and Qi-Nourishing Elixir for the Inner Qi Realm—and paid partially in medicinal herbs, selecting Figspring Express for delivery.

Anonymous cultivation meant the merchant didn’t know the client’s identity, but no one dared do anything illicit—the Central Array Spirit Computer could review at will.

Moreover, the Immortal Sect’s immortal industry was advanced and fiercely competitive; even elixirs for mortals could be easily commissioned from alchemists at low cost with guaranteed quality.

“Jiji!”

Jiang Ding’s face turned deathly pale, his brain splitting with unbearable pain, as if an iron nail kept driving into his skull; it took long moments before he regained his composure.

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“Class, the Sharp Metal Array is one of the five foundational arrays—it concentrates metal property and enhances sharpness. The principle is actually simple, just like adding a metal blade to a wooden handle; the key lies in using the array to condense metal spiritual energy…”

“Where did you see this array diagram?”

Even though the Immortal Sect’s immortal industry was advanced, requiring only minimal spirit materials to produce needed items, the daily demand from high school students across all regions added up to a massive volume.

During this period, anyone or any organization using Purple Spirit Grass or its unique active components must pay Jiang Ding corresponding patent fees.

“Jiji!”

This kind of thing required no hesitation.

“Purple Spirit Grass” was a new plant discovered by Jiang Ding, carrying a patent term three times its natural lifespan—typically 100 years for mortals, meaning 300 years of patent rights.

For a ten-point question, scoring two points was already the teacher being lenient.

“Why does this look so familiar? ‘Shenxiao Hundred-Step Flying Sword’!?”

Wang Lan’s voice suddenly rang out, carrying an unfathomable power; Jiang Ding involuntarily followed her instruction, bringing his brush down heavily.

…

Click to agree to communication—anonymous.

“Qian Zhong, Hook Talisman Method.”

Thus, whether family or corporation, all were fiercely enthusiastic about various patent inventions.

Jiang Ding felt slightly disappointed—he had thought they were coming to discuss patent licensing.

“Caiyun Pharmaceutical Group Level-One Researcher Shao Chengkang has reviewed your submitted plant specimen data ‘Purple Spirit Grass’ and wishes to communicate with you.”

Suddenly, the plain talisman paper before him generated a powerful pull; something within his mind surged forth, pouring into it.

This was a major company from neighboring Caiyun Province, renowned even across the entire Immortal Sect; one of its foundational Foundation Establishment elixirs, Baiyun Runmai Dan, was invented and popularized by them, holding patents for every historical version of Baiyun Runmai Dan.

“Pain…”

“What is this?”

Caiyun Pharmaceutical!

The last class in the afternoon was math; Teacher Wang Lan was a stern middle-aged woman.

Jiang Ding dared not haggle; the company was clearly still in the research phase, uncertain whether they’d even use Purple Spirit Grass—how could he add unnecessary obstacles at the outset?

“Not easy—we’ve uploaded nearly five hundred new plants, and finally one’s usable,” Jiang Ding sighed.

Jiang Ding understood, opened the wooden box, letting it see what was inside, then flipped through every compartment—

Countless insights surfaced within him: years of sword practice, scenes of him single-handedly slaying bandits, the core technique of the first layer of the “Shenxiao Hundred-Step Flying Sword”…

In other places, Jiang Ding wouldn’t dare agree—he feared they’d just steal it and vanish. But in the Immortal Sect, there was no need to worry about such things.

“Mostly using micro-engraving techniques, applied to weapons…”

After twenty minutes, a slightly larger green bird landed on the window, glanced at the wooden box in Jiang Ding’s hand, pulled out a plastic bag the size of a thumb from nowhere, blew it into a computer-screen size, and nudged its beak. Below the podium, Jiang Ding Mianqiang listened, feeling his head about to explode—then suddenly froze, flipping through several pages of his book.

According to Hehe Grand Pharmacy’s customer service, the elixir would be crafted and returned within three days.

Jiang Ding accepted this.

Jiang Ding glanced left—Li Junhao’s face was grim; he’d brought a magnifying glass and first practiced on ordinary white paper with ink, soon sketching a dense, intricate Sharp Metal Array diagram.

Don’t be fooled—he was only a Flesh Refining mortal—but if energy was input, this diagram could truly emit a glimmer of golden light before self-destructing.

“Hello, sir. I’m Shao Chengkang, Level-One Researcher at Caiyun Pharmaceutical. Our company needs some live Purple Spirit Grass plants. Could you provide them? We’ll pay the appropriate fee.”

Jiang Ding was about to close his phone and practice swordplay when he noticed an unread message on the library icon.

He drew faster and faster, each fine, hair-thin array line etched onto the paper—only one final stroke remained to complete the full diagram.

That was impressive.

Soon, the other side replied—big companies always had staff on 24-hour duty.

Very few could steal or rob from Figspring Express; even if stolen or robbed, compensation was guaranteed later.

!.

Including himself, most people—even many Inner Qi cultivators and some Qi Refining immortals—produced array diagrams that looked complete but were merely empty shells, utterly unusable.

This was inspection—the green bird carried inspection spells, and the inspection process uploaded data to the Central Array Spirit Computer for future dispute evidence.

“Fine. How much will you pay?”

Upon closer look, the talisman paper seemed to glow faintly, faintly connected to him.

He suddenly realized—the Sharp Metal Array and the Hundred-Step Flying Sword technique shared uncanny similarities; combining them made the previously incomprehensible, memorization-dependent math problems suddenly clear.

Jiang Ding had intended to follow Li Junhao’s example and practice first on white paper, but the more he watched, the more his fingers itched—he picked up his brush and drew straightaway, starting from the central array base, extending outward in the shape of the Eight Trigrams.

That final stroke involved soul and qi—he had never learned it, couldn’t even imitate it.

The last class in the afternoon was math.

Jiang Ding felt at ease.

Fees followed established norms: for mortal-grade herbs, 0.1 mortal coin per item, or 0.001 spirit coin, depending on whether the patented product was a spirit item or a mortal one.

“Thirty plants, three thousand yuan—how’s that?” “Fine. Deliver within seven days. Leave your address.”

Big companies often bought out patent rights outright; though costly long-term, they gained a large sum quickly.

Teacher Wang Lan’s face darkened: “I’ve told you countless times—don’t look at advanced material, don’t! If I hadn’t been watching, do you know you might have suffered brain death?”

Jiang Ding and the others carefully opened the spirit ink, picked up the talisman brush, and laid out the talisman paper—all spirit materials; talisman paper limited to three sheets, spirit ink and brush usable only during class.

Jiang Ding’s heart leapt.

For mortals it was fine, but for Golden Core or Nascent Soul cultivators, patent terms exceeded a thousand years—enough for generations.

“Now, practical exercise: draw the Sharp Metal Array on the talisman paper.”

His hand holding the brush stiffened, trembling for a long while, yet still unable to make the final stroke.

The green bird flapped its wings, signaling Jiang Ding to place the wooden box into the plastic bag; then its claws gripped the bag and it flew away.

Jiang Ding stood up, bowed his head: “Teacher, I’m sorry.”

But inwardly, he felt no real regret—his talent was poor, his family modest; if he wanted to walk the immortal path, he had to be bold where necessary.

Wang Lan seemed to sense something; her anger deepened, and she swept her sleeve.

“I will inform your guardian truthfully.”

(End of Chapter)