In the Mortal World, Purple Mansion cultivators already had painfully limited lifespans—a mere five hundred years. How many True Persons had grown white-haired poring over the scriptures, squandered a century, and still failed to perfect their divine powers? They often sighed beneath the moon, lamenting how time flashed past like a white colt glimpsed through a crack.
Ways to extend one's life were scarce to begin with, to say nothing of how injuries sustained in magical combat could shorten it. Thus, most Purple Mansion cultivators struggled to live out a full five hundred years.
Otherwise, Tai Fuwei would never have been so desperately impatient, nor would he have been so delighted upon receiving that Spirit Peach, which could add sixty years to his life, that he wanted to bring his entire clan to offer thanks.
"Twelve years of lifespan!"
That astonished cry instantly brought delight to the faces of the Purple Mansion True Persons whose wishes had been fulfilled—no one ever complained of having too much life left.
Where some rejoiced, others grieved. The cultivators nearby who had missed out looked even worse than if their own lives had been shortened. Yet even the flames of jealousy could not suppress the searing greed in their hearts.
The brilliant halo finally steadied, hanging obediently in midair like a star frozen in place. Lu Boyan's eyes brimmed with obsession, and the longing in his heart reached its peak.
He acted without hesitation, curling his fingers into a seal while secretly transmitting his voice to Monk Yi Kong beside him.
Yi Kong understood at once. With a backward flick of his hand, he shook out his kasaya. Golden light rippled forth in an instant, threatening to blot out the sky and sun. Beneath the kasaya, a vast golden handprint thundered into being and