Starting with 50 Spirit Stones and 2 Hours with My Senior Sister as Daoist Consort

Tossing one spirit stone at a time?

Ten at a go?

Li Chuan thought that was too cheap—didn’t match his vibe. He’d chuck 100 each time.

Truth be told, bonding with Mo Xiangling hadn’t cost him a dime—he just promised to settle at the outer sect Mission Hall.

She was eating the sect’s spirit plants, not his.

Zero cost, pure freeloading.

But freeloading didn’t fit his style either.

He’d dropped three or four thousand stones on Chu Mengyou—skipping Mo Xiangling felt off.

Mo Xiangling instinctively reached for more stones, then shot him a puzzled look—like, why’d the sky stop raining cash?

Seeing that, Li Chuan felt downright giddy.

In high spirits, he tossed another 100 stones down.

No reason—just happy.

Good things come in fives, they say—so he threw five times.

“Convinced yet?” He stepped up to her, running a hand through her silky hair.

“Convinced,” she said, all docile. The wildcat turned tame, her eyes clearer than before.

“Where you convinced?” he pressed.

“Everywhere,” she replied.

Kidding? Kneeling once got her 3,500 stones—nothing on her wasn’t sold.

Not to mention, she was the outer sect’s top dog—this gig was her jam. She’d kneel faster, longer, prettier than anyone…

Give her a hundred years of it—she could handle it!

His hand slid from her soft strands, grabbing her jaw-dropping face.

“Ow…” Mo Xiangling yelped, pouting up at him pitifully.

What a waste—such a gorgeous face, who wouldn’t cherish it? Li Chuan just yanked it up.

“Gonna chase me again?” he growled.

She piped up quick, “If Junior Brother says chase, I chase. If not, I don’t.”

Listen to that—on-call service, sugar-coated.

“Hmph, take that ice spirit root—take it…” He tugged her face, no mercy.

She let him, making him crow—these stones were worth it.

He’d said “discuss,” but he didn’t discuss squat.

The stones spoke for him—told her everything. He just reaped the rewards.

“Scram.” He kicked her backside, blunt as hell.

With spirit stones, you’re that cocky.

Her flirty eyes fluttered—no trace of annoyance at his rudeness. She took it in stride.

Outer sect Mission Hall steward? Top genius? Right now, if he told her to bark, she’d yip on cue.

Yin-Yang Sect fairies—masters of playing the room, dropping their pride like it’s nothing.

No baggage in their hearts—tell me that Dao heart ain’t rock-solid. Breakthroughs? Smooth as silk.

Dao hearts need grinding, so in the Yin-Yang Sect, women often outclassed men.

Their method was simple—swap to male cultivators kneeling like dogs, who’d care?

Li Chuan flew off, sword underfoot, feeling great.

For him, as long as the stones kept coming, his Dao heart stayed ironclad—unbreakable.

Unless he got a Dao companion—then Zhao Bingqian’s a warning.

Even Zhao Dacheng, tenth-level Foundation, bragged about a steady Dao heart. Mention bonding with his companion, though? Fur flies. Their “steady” was paper-thin—poke their partners, and it’s over.

Cultivation’s tough—Li Chuan felt bad for the other guys.

He hit the junior sisters’ housing zone. A steward sister stopped him, but he wasn’t the old him—tossed her 10 stones.

She was a looker too. If he guessed right, she’d badmouthed him to that junior sister, souring her on him.

Grudge noted—tomorrow’s payback. Today’s target was locked; flip-flopping’s lame.

Stones in hand, she didn’t just let him pass—she escorted him to the junior sister’s door.

This late, she worried he’d force something. A third- or fourth-level Qi Refiner, no companion, hitting the newbie zone? They’d snickered about it behind his back.

Who knows what he’d pull—she’d keep an eye out.