Chapter 168

Chapter 168: Please Stop

Even Du Xian had never heard of such a transaction before.

She’d agreed anyway.

Of course, the price was monstrous—because what Wang Jie was buying wasn’t manpower. He was buying Star Vault Vista’s name and Du Xian’s face.

A promotion campaign.

Cost: 100,000,000 starstones.

The number almost made Wang Jie faint. He’d never possessed so much money in his life. Even Shen Wang had only cost him fifty million starstones.

He strongly suspected Du Xian had checked his funds and set the price accordingly.

But there was no “listed price” for this service. Whatever they asked was what it cost.

So he swallowed the pain and paid.

His 140,000 starsea stones dropped by 10,000 in one stroke.

The result was immediate. Green Grass by the River became the focus of Four-Dao Star Cluster.

With so many eyes on him, it would be harder for anyone to frame him now.

Du Xian studied his goods.

The first item was a new batch of starforce pills—not the cheap ones he used to sell for a few starstones each. These were pills meant to replenish starforce for Star-Breaking Realm cultivators.

Since Wang Jie had reached the Star-Breaking Realm, his pills had improved by a full grade.

Price: 500 starstones per pill.

Cost: 200.

A normal Star-Breaking Realm starforce cultivator would need the equivalent of 200 starstones to fully replenish. With Wang Jie’s pill, one was enough.

These were solid products—especially here in Zhi Academy, where starforce cultivators were everywhere. Anyone at Star-Breaking Realm would keep a few on hand for emergencies.

In Locking Grounds, they wouldn’t sell.

In Zhi Academy, they would.

The second item was far less ordinary: gravity starforce pills.

Same purpose, same replenishment effect—but specifically for gravity starforce cultivators.

Price: 500 starsea stones.

Cost: roughly 200 starsea stones’ worth of gravity starstone.

The profit margin was still generous. The price itself wasn’t unreasonable.

What shocked Du Xian was that Wang Jie truly knew alchemy—and that he was refining this kind of pill at all.

“How many people do you think will buy the gravity starforce pills and the blazing-sun starforce pills?” Du Xian asked, half amused.

Wang Jie shook his head. “No idea. Goods find their buyers when the time comes.”

Du Xian laughed. “Even if a gravity starforce cultivator wants one, they’ll buy at most a single pill. The price is too high—one is enough for emergencies.”

“And you made over a hundred. Who knows how long they’ll sit.”

Then her gaze slid to the other side of the shop.

The space was small, but he’d divided it neatly—pills on one side, hexes on the other.

“What’s this?” Du Xian asked.

“I’ve studied fate,” Wang Jie said.

Du Xian gave him a look like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or leave—and then she left.

Wang Jie watched her go and winced at the thought of the 100,000,000 starstones he’d spent.

A truly outrageous advertising fee.

But it worked.

People watched him constantly now.

Not far away, Ji Zheng had arrived, a cold-faced man beside him.

“What now?” the cold-faced man asked.

“Hard to move,” Ji Zheng said. “Too many people are watching him. We can’t touch him here.”

“Then we wait for him to leave.”

“How long can he stay in that tiny shop?” Ji Zheng murmured. “We wait.”

Customers came and went, curious about the pills—and even more curious about the “hexes.”

Some even tried to buy a reading.

Wang Jie refused politely every time. “Sorry, guest. One reading per day—and only for the fated one.”

“How much? I’ll pay double.”

“Sorry.”

“Ten times.”

“Sorry.”

“So you’re just pretending,” someone sneered. “You can’t do it at all.”

Wang Jie only smiled and sat quietly behind his counter, letting them talk.

Because he truly couldn’t.

Days passed.

The normal starforce pills sold steadily. The gravity and blazing-sun pills didn’t move at all.

That was expected.

If they never sold, he could always toss them into his field and break them down.

He only regretted one thing: gravity and blazing-sun starforce couldn’t enhance any of the pills he already had. If they could have added some special effect, his shop might have exploded overnight.

That day, Yi Hao happened to pass by.

His expression was troubled, his steps slow. He’d come out for a walk, hoping to calm his mind.

Lately, something was wrong with him.

He kept feeling compelled to do things—things that had nothing to do with him. If he resisted, his spirit wouldn’t settle; he couldn’t focus, couldn’t refine.

As if he’d been cursed.

Erect a tombstone for someone.

Leave a gift.

That was what the “urge” demanded.

But who? Why? For what?

He couldn’t understand it.

Worse, he couldn’t find any trace of outside interference. No lingering power. No signs of an attack.

Nothing.

The strangeness alone made his skin crawl.

He was so distracted he nearly collided with someone in the street.

“Guest,” a voice called. “Please stop.”

Yi Hao ignored it and kept walking.

“Guest,” the voice called again. “Please stop.”

Yi Hao still didn’t react.

Then the voice said, “My shop just opened. Guest isn’t planning to leave a gift?”

Yi Hao stopped dead.

His heart slammed.

Leave a gift.

Those words hit the exact point of pressure in his mind.

He turned sharply and saw a small shop—Green Grass by the River.

Inside, Wang Jie sat with an easy smile, his eyes deep and unreadable.

A crowd gathered at once.

“That’s Pillmaster Yi Hao!”

“He doesn’t even know this guy, does he? Why would he leave a gift?”

“This shop is bold. Du Xian came to congratulate them, and now they’re demanding a gift from a pillmaster?”

Ji Zheng watched too, frowning. They’d been waiting for Wang Jie to step out—yet he stayed inside the shop like he’d rooted himself there.

Yi Hao stared at Wang Jie. “What did you say?”

Wang Jie’s smile didn’t change. “Guest, would you leave a gift?”

Yi Hao narrowed his eyes and walked into the shop.

Outside, the crowd swelled. Some people even started recording with their terminals.

“Do we know each other?” Yi Hao asked bluntly.

“We don’t,” Wang Jie said.

“Then why should I leave you a gift?”

Wang Jie chuckled softly. “So guest doesn’t want to?”

Yi Hao’s jaw clenched.

He did want to.

The pressure in his head was screaming at him to do it.

But why?

“What do you know?” Yi Hao demanded.

Wang Jie closed his eyes as if considering.

Yi Hao abruptly took out a bottle of pills and set it down. “A gift.”

Wang Jie opened his eyes and smiled. “Much appreciated.”

Yi Hao’s voice dropped, sharp with suspicion. “Why did you know? Is what’s happening to me connected to you?”

Wang Jie lifted a hand and pointed to the couplet.

Yi Hao’s gaze slid to it.

Wondrous hexes set heaven and earth.

Wang Jie said calmly, “I do one reading per day, and only for the fated one. I called you because you are my fated one.”

Yi Hao watched him for a long moment. Then he nodded once. “Fine. Read me.”

Wang Jie smiled. “One hundred starsea stones.”

Yi Hao’s brow furrowed. Expensive.

But he didn’t refuse. He handed the stones over. “If you read wrong, I’ll smash your shop.”

His eyes turned cold. “Believe me, I can.”

Wang Jie accepted the payment and leaned forward slightly, gaze intent. “Karma ties past to future, life to death. What you suffer now is an effect born of a cause in a previous life.”

He raised one finger. “That cause is Lian Er. In your past life, you wronged her.”

Yi Hao’s eyes narrowed. “Nonsense.”

Wang Jie slapped the table with a sharp crack. The sound jolted the room—and even Yi Hao flinched.

“Go erect a tombstone,” Wang Jie said. “Erect it for Lian Er.”

Yi Hao’s breath caught.

A tombstone?

He surged up and seized Wang Jie’s arm, teeth clenched. “Tell me—did you do this? Stop speaking in riddles. I don’t believe you.”

Wang Jie met his stare without blinking. “Believe or not is your choice. Erect the tombstone, and you’ll see.”

Yi Hao stared at him.

This man was clearly not Full-Star Realm—he was even a lockforce cultivator. There was no way he could manipulate Yi Hao like this.

And Yi Hao hadn’t even left his own shop lately. He hadn’t offended anyone. He’d never heard of an attack like this—something curse-like, invisible, leaving no trace.

Could it really be… karma?

He released Wang Jie’s arm. “Fine. I’ll erect the tombstone. If it works, you’ll be rewarded. If you’re playing me…”

His voice turned murderous. “I’ll make you regret being born.”

Wang Jie only gestured politely. “After you erect it, tell me. I’ll complete the karma.”

Yi Hao left, ordering people to keep an eye on Wang Jie. Then he moved through several places, carefully watching for anything strange.

Half a day later, he had Wang Jie brought to the site.

A tombstone stood there already, carved with two names:

Lian Er.

Yi Hao stared at Wang Jie. “It’s done. Why do I still feel it?”

Wang Jie stepped forward, studied the stone—and then frowned sharply. “Did you erect this?”

Yi Hao lifted his chin. Of course he hadn’t. He’d ordered someone else to do it to test whether Wang Jie had anything to do with this.

“Yes,” Yi Hao lied smoothly. “I did.”

Wang Jie’s eyes turned cold. “Impossible. If you erected it, why is the karma still on you?”

His voice rose, fierce. “To desecrate the dead is to desecrate karma. Can you bear that? You are provoking the Heavenly Dao.”

The words Heavenly Dao struck like a hammer.

What cultivator didn’t fear them?

Yi Hao’s face drained of color. “I… I only wanted to test it.”

“Do it again,” Wang Jie snapped. “You do it yourself. I’ll complete the karma as best I can. Otherwise, under heavenly punishment, you won’t even leave bones behind.”

Yi Hao didn’t dare hesitate. He threw himself into the work at once, shoving away anyone who stepped forward.

“No,” Wang Jie said, cold and absolute. “No one helps him. Only him.”

Yi Hao’s hands trembled as he erected the tombstone again.

Wang Jie made him perform rites—kowtowing, lighting incense, and more.

When the stone finally stood, the pressure in Yi Hao’s mind shattered like glass.

Clarity flooded in. The agitation vanished.

Yi Hao stared at Wang Jie, stunned beyond words.

It was gone.

Completely gone.

He had kept his distance. No stronger expert lurked nearby. No one could have manipulated him.

And yet he was restored.

Wang Jie stood beside the stone, murmuring softly as if exhausted.

Yi Hao looked at him and felt dread and awe twist together in his chest.

Cultivators weren’t measured solely by realm—but even if Wang Jie’s battle strength surpassed his, this should have been impossible.

If the impossible was ruled out… then the remaining explanation, no matter how absurd, had to be true.

He had been caught by a cause from a past life.

And this man had solved it.