6 More Than Inheriting Wealth

As the final round of tempering was about to end, Pan Wu found himself completely exhausted—he had depleted the last remnants of his soul power.

Though he felt bitterly unwilling, the situation had reached a point where he could not force it further. Successfully completing the ninth refinement of the soul would mean that this new vessel’s sea of consciousness could undoubtedly bear his soul, which was on the verge of reaching the Saint Soul realm. Now, having fallen short at the last step, his chances of success plummeted from absolute certainty to, at best, eighty percent.

All he could do now was hope that luck would be on his side.

Just as he was about to withdraw the soul flame and begin devouring Xiao Yao’s soul, a violent tremor suddenly wracked his own soul. No longer able to maintain its cohesion, it threatened to shatter at any moment.

This unexpected development struck Pan Wu with terror! The sensation that he was about to dissipate into nothingness was one he had only ever experienced after the death of his physical body.

Although he would inevitably have to abandon his decrepit body after completing the soul’s rebirth, it was absolutely essential that he remain alive until the process was done. Should his body die beforehand, his soul would become rootless, like a tree without soil or a spring without a source, forced to rely on whatever soul power remained to complete the final act of devouring.

Yet his reserves were utterly depleted; not a trace of soul power was left. Despite his formidable cultivation, he now possessed no combat strength at all.

Worse still, he remained in the state of having ignited the soul flame. Without any further power to sustain it, he could no longer control the process and was on the brink of suffering the soul flame’s backlash!

The soul flame was a terrifying force. If it turned on him, his true spirit would be reduced to ashes, utterly annihilated, with not even the faintest chance of reincarnation remaining. Three thousand years of arduous cultivation would become nothing more than a gift to this new vessel.

Pan Wu was unwilling to accept this fate—utterly unwilling! Three millennia of hardship, three millennia of accumulation, nine soul rebirths, and countless brushes with death, about to amount to nothing but a sacrifice for another. How cruel was the will of heaven!

But destiny is merciless, unmoved by the will of men. As the soul flame devoured him, Pan Wu’s true spirit was obliterated, and the essence of his soul merged completely into Xiao Yao’s spirit.

Xiao Yao, meanwhile, was entirely unaware of Pan Wu’s schemes or the peril he had just faced. He only knew that the pain tormenting his sea of consciousness had suddenly vanished.

Not only that—his mind felt as if it were enveloped in a gentle warmth, a comfort and clarity beyond words.

This pleasant sensation lingered for more than two hours before finally fading.

When the changes in his mind ceased, Xiao Yao suddenly realized that his memory now contained an immense trove of new knowledge, leaving him astonished.

It took him a full hour of searching through these added memories to piece together the full story.

Relief flooded him—though it was tinged with lingering dread. His victory owed ninety-nine point nine percent to luck.

Had he not prepared the powerful stun device in advance, had he not regained consciousness in time, had Pan Wu not completely exhausted his soul power…

A single misstep in any of these details, and the outcome would have been very different.

Releasing a long-held breath, the lingering fear faded away, replaced by an irrepressible joy.

His gains today were simply enormous—so great, in fact, as to defy belief.

He had become the sole heir to Pan Wu, who had lived for three thousand years. The inheritance alone was beyond anyone’s wildest imaginings.

Though on the surface, the only cash he had inherited was the four hundred million yuan he received the previous afternoon, the wealth stored in the form of gold, precious metals, diamonds, jewels, antiques, and works of art was simply beyond measure.

But where could all these things be?

This was the most astonishing discovery of all.

Pan Wu possessed a mystical treasure, one that was bound to his soul and now, with Pan Wu’s dissolution, had recognized Xiao Yao as its master, residing within his very spirit.

This treasure was called the Saint Soul Ring, an artifact that aided in soul rebirth and, beyond that, could store material objects.

At its center was the Saint Soul Platform. To the left lay a space where time stood still—anything placed there would remain unchanged forever. To the right lay a normal space, where time flowed just as it did in the outside world.

Everything Pan Wu had accumulated over three thousand years was stored within this Saint Soul Ring.

Pan Wu was a man of extraordinary will and resilience—qualities Xiao Yao deeply admired.

Yet no one is without flaws, and Pan Wu was no exception.

His flaw was miserliness.

He valued his wealth above all else. Before every soul rebirth, he would convert all that he owned into objects that could be stored within the Saint Soul Ring, never allowing a single bit to go to waste.

During his last rebirth, in the modern world, there was no real need to convert everything into material form; a simple will would have sufficed. But Pan Wu was too cautious. He feared that if his final rebirth failed, his soul would not be destroyed but would have to rely on the Saint Soul Ring for one last chance—only then, his only possible vessel would be a newborn, and in that case, the inheritance in the will would no longer be his.

Thus, Xiao Yao inherited only a fraction of Pan Wu’s estate—vastly less than the butler had described. Had he probed more deeply at the time, he might have been even more cautious.

Pan Wu’s three millennia of memories were vast beyond measure. Xiao Yao only skimmed through them, knowing it would take a long time to fully integrate all that knowledge.

He could hardly wait to see what exactly was stored inside the Saint Soul Ring.

Though he could not physically enter the ring, its bond with his soul was complete; a single thought would project its contents clearly into his mind.

He began by inspecting the left side of the Saint Soul Platform.

This was the time-stilled space, containing all items that might rot or spoil.

His consciousness wandered through this realm, and what he saw left him, a modern man, utterly astounded.

The most abundant thing here was foodstuffs—every imaginable staple piled into countless little mountains.

Pan Wu, a cultivator of pure heart and few desires, had devoted most of his years to training and the study of related arts. Business and the pursuit of wealth had never been his passion, nor his strength.