Chapter 9 The Velvet Cruiseline

Inside the luxurious carriage cabin, the chaotic shouts of Mayor Silas and the undignified shrieks of Lord Vance faded into a rhythmic, background noise. The suspension of the gold-plated carriage was flawless. It absorbed the deep ruts of Blackstone Town's muddy roads so well that the tea inside Vance's left-behind porcelain cups didn't even ripple.

Julian leaned back against the plush velvet cushions, stretching his legs with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "I must admit, Logan, the Capital truly knows how to build a carriage. If I knew extortion paid this well, I would have stopped gathering frozen herbs years ago."

Logan chuckled, placing his hand directly onto the heavy iron chest of five thousand Mid-Grade Spirit Stones. "This is just the beginning, Father. In the modern cultivation world, resources are everything. A normal practitioner in this border town would take ten years to gather this much pure spiritual energy. For us, it is merely fuel for a single afternoon."

He popped the heavy iron latch of the chest.

A vibrant, dense wave of pure white mist immediately billowed out, filling the carriage cabin with an aroma that smelled faintly of mountain rain and crushed ozone. Five thousand neatly cut, translucent blue crystals gleamed under the soft interior lanterns. Each one was a Mid-Grade Spirit Stone, packed with fifty times the spiritual density of the low-grade stones the Iron Tiger Sect had hoarded.

Logan closed his eyes and circulated the Nine Heavens Tyrant Script.

Instead of aggressively forcing the energy into his core, he paced himself. He drew the white mist through his palms, channeling it slowly down into his skeletal structure. His current goal wasn't a reckless jump to the next realm; it was the absolute perfection of his Silver-Bone Realm.

Hummmm.

A soft, metallic chime resonated from Logan's ribs. Under the skin, his bones began to absorb the blue spiritual energy, turning a deep, pristine, mirror-like silver. True Silver-Bones shouldn't just be hard; they needed to be flawless, capable of channeling primordial qi without a single micro-fracture.

Inside the luxurious carriage cabin, the heavy iron latch of the chest snapped open.

Suddenly, Logan’s chest tightened.

“Ugh…”

A sharp, stabbing pain shot through his lungs, causing his golden primordial qi to wildly fluctuate. Logan snapped his eyes open and immediately leaned forward, spitting out a small mouthful of dark, congested blood onto the plush velvet floor.

His posture slouched heavily, his breathing becoming ragged and uneven. This wasn't the fake acting of the "Dying Quail" technique—this was a genuine physical limitation.

Julian, who had been leaning back comfortably, rushed forward with a pale face. "Logan! What’s wrong? Did the spirit stones have hidden impurities?"

"No," Logan muttered, wiping the blood from his lip, his voice lacking its usual unshakeable weight. He looked down at his trembling, pale hands. "The spirit stones are pure. The problem is this body."

He let out a weak sigh, feeling the immense pressure inside his chest. Although his soul possessed god-tier cultivation techniques and absolute combat comprehension, his physical body was still just a sixteen-year-old youth who had suffered years of severe malnutrition and neglected meridians.

Forcing a massive amount of primordial qi through such thin, fragile veins was like trying to force a raging ocean through a narrow bamboo pipe. His soul was too strong, and his physical vessel was too weak to keep up with his rapid progression. If he tried to force a breakthrough to the Qi Foundation Realm right now, his physical heart would literally burst from the sheer pressure.

"I advanced too quickly last night," Logan admitted, his voice strained as he slowly stabilized his chaotic breathing. "My combat techniques can match anyone, but my physical organs are still mortal. To truly support my soul's power without collapsing, I need a specialized body-tempering medicine. A Stellar Core Lotus or a high-grade beast core."

Julian’s face hardened with deep fatherly concern, but before he could speak, the carriage came to a violent halt.

ScreEEECH!

The four magnificent white Spirit Steeds skidded to a stop in front of the massive, wrought-iron gates of Mayor Silas's private estate. The heavy tires dug two deep trenches into the pristine gravel driveway.

"Left! Turn left, you royal idiot!" Mayor Silas bellowed from the driver's seat, his voice cracking as he waved the leather whip. "We are approaching the mansion gates! Break! Pull the reins back!"

The twelve elite mansion guards standing at the gatehouse immediately drew their silver spears. They were completely bewildered. They had been told to expect Lord Vance returning with the severed heads of the Vanguard family. Instead, they were looking at their own Mayor, covered in mud, wildly brandishing a whip at a crying, blood-nosed Imperial Inspector who was frantically steering the horses.

"M-Mayor Silas?" the guard captain stammered, lowering his spear slightly. "What... what is the meaning of this? Why are you whipping the Imperial Inspector?"

"Shut your useless mouth and open the gates!" Silas yelled, scrambling down from the driver's seat and kicking the iron gates open himself. "From this moment on, this mansion has a new owner! Everyone drop your weapons, fall to your knees, and prepare the master suite!"

The guards blinked in absolute shock. Before the captain could ask another question, the silk curtain of the carriage cabin was casually pushed aside.

Logan stepped out. He concealed his physical exhaustion perfectly, pulling his posture up into a rigid, commanding stance. The moment his boots touched the gravel, a heavy, suffocating wave of pristine Silver-Bone pressure rippled across the courtyard.

The twelve guards felt as if an invisible iron hand had suddenly gripped their chests. Their silver spears slipped from their numb fingers, clattering loudly against the stone tiles.

Logan looked at the sprawling, three-story stone mansion, the manicured gardens, and the private training fields. A calm, satisfied smile played on his lips.

"Not bad," Logan murmured, dusting a stray speck of dust off his collar. "The spiritual energy here is decent. It will do nicely for the next phase of our operations."

He turned back to look at the trembling Silas and the weeping Vance, his mind already calculating his next move. The physical limitations of his sixteen-year-old body were a serious risk, but this mansion undoubtedly held the keys to his recovery.