Immortal World : MILF Dual Cultivation

A drunken thug stumbled forward in the filthy alley, aiming to crash into the cloaked stranger. In this chaotic place, a collision was a deliberate excuse to draw a dagger, gut an easy target, and steal whatever spirit coins they carried.

"Watch where you’re going, rat!" the thug slurred, gripping his weapon with a cruel, yellow-toothed grin.

Before their bodies could brush, the atmosphere shifted.

The suppressed pressure of a Level 8 [Primordial Yang-Tyrant Body] slammed into the thug’s senses. It didn’t feel like standard spiritual energy; it felt like a physical wall of scorching heat radiating from a waking volcanic beast.

The thug’s cruel grin vanished, replaced by a pale mask of horror as his survival instincts kicked in.

"M-Monster..." he gasped, scrambling backward in terror.

He slipped in the mud and frantically crawled away, desperate to put distance between himself and the cloaked figure. The surrounding crowd parted in silence, cutthroats and thieves pressing their backs against the damp walls to make way for the apex predator.

Lin Tian didn’t spare the thug a passing glance. His mind remained a calm, cold void.He wore a heavy leather cloak, his face obscured by a magical ’Pattern Mask’ displaying a shifting black spiderweb.

Welcome to District 59. The Underground Ghost Market.

Built inside a hollowed-out spirit stone mine, it was a lawless city that thrived in the shadows, far from the self-righteous gaze of the orthodox sects. Here, weakness was an immediate death sentence, and pity was a rare luxury.

Lin Tian walked with measured steps, his [Insight Eye] passively analyzing the threat level of everyone in his peripheral vision.

He ignored the cheap stalls hawking counterfeit pills and headed straight toward the market’s deepest, most heavily guarded sector. He stopped before a three-story building crafted from dark mahogany, a massive architectural anomaly amidst the decaying slums.

A large sign hung above the grand entrance: The Crimson Lotus Pavilion.

This was the most influential black-market hub in the Ghost Market. They didn’t care who you killed or what you stole, as long as the goods carried value and the blood on them was dry.

Lin Tian pushed the heavy wooden doors open. He approached the main counter where an old appraiser sat hunched over a ledger, squinting through a spiritual monocle.

"I have goods to sell, and materials to buy," Lin Tian stated in a rough, grating rasp.

"Place them on the counter," the appraiser muttered, his tone dripping with underworld arrogance. "Don’t waste my time with graveyard trash."

Lin Tian acted without a word. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed five blood-stained spatial bags onto the jade counter, followed by a thick canvas bundle.

CLANG.

The thud of cold steel made the old man flinch before he reached over to untie the bundle. Inside lay twenty standard Outer Sect flying swords.

"Sect weapons?" the old man’s voice dropped to a freezing chill as his hand darted beneath the counter toward an alarm array. "Are you an idiot? Sect weapons have internal tracking runes. Buying these brings the Disciplinary Hall’s executioners straight to my door."

He glared at the masked youth. "Take this suicidal trash away before I have you skinned alive."

"Look closer," Lin Tian ordered, his voice unwavering.

Annoyed, the old man channeled Qi into the nearest blade to trigger the tracker. A second later, his body froze stiff, his eyes bulging with profound shock.

"This... is impossible!" the old man gasped, his voice trembling.

He grabbed another sword, aggressively pushing his Qi into the matrix, only to find smooth, uninterrupted spiritual pathways.

"The tracking runes..." the old man muttered, losing his professional composure. "They are cleanly removed from the core formation!"

He looked up at Lin Tian, terror mixing with awe in his wrinkled eyes. "The wind arrays are untouched. The sword’s innate spirituality hasn’t dropped a single percent. To isolate a Qi pathway and sever it without collapsing the fragile array requires the monstrous precision of a Master Refiner!"

Under his dark hood, Lin Tian smirked.

"My master prefers to stay anonymous," Lin Tian said coldly. "Are you buying or not?"

The old man swallowed hard. His arrogant attitude vanished, replaced by the deep, instinctual respect a merchant holds for true power.

"The swords are excellent," the appraiser admitted cautiously, assessing the weapons and the looted bags. "The bags contain decent stones and herbs. I can offer you eight thousand spirit stones for the lot."

"Twenty-five thousand," Lin Tian countered instantly, leaving no room for negotiation.

"Madness! Even modified, they are just low-grade swords! I cannot possibly—"

"The raw Azure Profound Iron alone is worth five thousand," Lin Tian interrupted ruthlessly, his voice carrying the oppressive pressure of his concealed Level 8 cultivation. "Furthermore, the wind arrays are preserved intact. You can sell them to the mercenary guilds at a high premium. Twenty-five thousand is a steal."

To drive his point home, Lin Tian released a fraction of his burning Yang aura, causing the air around the counter to grow painfully hot.

The old man felt an invisible pressure crush against his chest.

"T-Twenty thousand! My limit!" the old man stuttered in genuine terror.

"Deal," Lin Tian agreed smoothly, pulling his suffocating aura back. "But I don’t want stones. Give me materials."

He listed his demands clearly. "Ten bottles of high-grade Spirit Ink. Five blank jade slips. Two hundred pounds of raw profound iron, and a set of professional array-carving pens."

While the old man scrambled frantically to fetch the items, Lin Tian stood still.

Suddenly, a strange, prickling sensation washed over the back of his neck. It carried a heavy, probing spiritual weight that felt remarkably like a predator analyzing its prey.

Lin Tian didn’t turn his head. He subtly shifted his dark eyes upward.

On the third floor, concealed behind a massive sheet of magical privacy glass, a woman rested on a plush velvet sofa. The expensive array was designed to block all prying eyes, but Lin Tian’s Level 8 vision pierced right through it.

[Ding! Elite Target Detected.]

[Name: Lady Yun]

[Status: Owner of the Crimson Lotus Pavilion / Underworld Queen]

[Physique: Dark-Yin Body]

[Flaw: Extreme Yin-Stagnation — Fatal build-up of toxic Yin energy in her heart.]

[Obsession Level: 5% - Highly Intrigued]

Lin Tian’s breath paused for a fraction of a second as his tactical mind processed the highly valuable data.

Through the glass, Lady Yun was devastatingly beautiful. She wore a tight, dark purple silk dress that clung to every mature curve, while high slits showed off her long, pale legs. She held a beautifully carved smoking pipe in her elegant fingers.

Her dark, predatory eyes were locked onto Lin Tian, unaware that he could see her.

Up in the VIP lounge, Lady Yun leaned forward against the mahogany railing, her knuckles turning white from gripping the wood.

For a decade, she had ruled the Ghost Market with an iron fist, yet the second this cloaked stranger walked into her lobby, her soul shook. Her chest felt constantly pierced by a thousand freezing ice needles—a cruel curse of her unique physique.

But right now? His tall body radiated an intense, burning ’Yang’ aura. To her body, it felt like staring directly at the noon sun.

His Yang Qi felt like the ultimate cure. Just standing a few floors above him made the agonizing cold in her heart miraculously recede.

Who is this man? Lady Yun thought, exhaling a puff of purple smoke. A Master Refiner hiding in the slums? Or a demon in disguise?

She felt a sudden, damp heat pooling in her lower stomach. It was a foreign sensation. She subconsciously crossed her long legs, her breathing growing slightly heavier as she stared at him.

Down below, Lin Tian calmly took the spatial bag of materials, strapping it securely to his back.

Before turning to leave, he paused and tilted his head up slightly.He gave a slow, confident smirk that promised dominance.

A violent shiver ran down Lady Yun’s spine.

He can see me!

Without a word, Lin Tian turned on his heel. He walked out of the Pavilion, his dark cloak billowing as he disappeared into the yellow smog.

Up in the lounge, Lady Yun lowered her pipe, her hands trembling as a deep crimson blush traveled rapidly down her chest.

"Guards," she whispered, her husky voice shaking with newly awakened hunger.

Two armored bodyguards stepped out of the shadows. "Yes, Lady Yun?"

"The man who just left," she ordered, eyes fixed on the empty wooden doors. "Track his movements through the market."

She turned to them, her eyes flashing dangerously. "Do not fight him. Do not offend him."

She touched her chest where the agonizing pain had temporarily vanished. "Find out where that burning fire came from. I must know everything about him."

An hour later, Lin Tian used secret smuggler paths and blind spots to infiltrate the Crimson Nimbus Sect unnoticed by the outer patrols.

He locked himself inside his guarded courtyard, dropping his heavy spatial bag onto his stone desk. Raw iron ingots, vials of glowing spirit ink, and delicate carving pens spilled out under the warm light.

He threw off his cloak and mask, feeling the explosive, refined power of Level 8 running fiercely through his open meridians.

"The sect’s stolen resources are laundered, and Wang is humiliated," Lin Tian murmured to the empty room.

He picked up a blank jade slip, rolling it smoothly between his fingers. A cold, calculating light shined in his dark eyes as he realized everything was moving according to his grand design.

He had exactly one month before the Inner Sect Tournament. A true ruler relied solely on his own mind and unquestionable power.

"Time to forge a weapon that will shatter the foundation of this world," Lin Tian whispered.

The true rise of the Vulture had finally begun.

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