Zhou Xuan's words were like a basin of ice water dumped over Tan Lei's nearly blazing heart.
The fervor and excitement on his face froze at once. He sat rigidly on the stone stool, and the flames that had burned so fiercely in his bloodshot eyes seemed to dim.
He was right.
There was no such thing as a free lunch.
Tan Lei understood that better than anyone.
Ever since birth, his Dantian had been damaged. He'd been branded a good-for-nothing and tossed into this godforsaken place to fend for himself.
For more than a decade, he'd tasted every kind of hardship and seen through the sinister workings of the human heart.
If you wanted to gain something, you had to give something in return.
It was an unshakable truth.
The hope of healing his Dantian had come so suddenly and so fiercely that, for a moment, he'd lost his head and forgotten his present circumstances.
What did he have?
A cultivation level at the eighth layer of Body Forging?
He might count as somebody in the Chore Servant Courtyard, but in the entire Spirit Sword Pavilion, he was no more than an ant.
Wealth? His monthly stipend barely kept him fed; he couldn't save up even one Low-grade Spirit Stone.
Connections? He was a castoff abandoned by his Lineage, a lonely ghost struggling to survive in the Chore Servant Courtyard. Who would even spare him a glance?
He had Nothingness.
What could he offer in exchange for a chance to defy fate and change his life?
Tan Lei's lips moved a few times. His throat felt stuffed with cotton, dry and hoarse.
He slowly lowered his head and stared at his hands, callused from years of arduous cultivation. An overwhelming sense of helplessness and despair washed over him once