Chen Lin pricked up his ears.
"Fewer than a million."
Ling Yuling held up one finger. "We cast our net across a billion planets, and in over ten thousand years, we haven't even gathered a million people."
"Spirit-severing lands are too barren. Reach Deity Transformation with a pile of useless scrap? That's harder than a mortal walking up to heaven. Most recipients on those planets pick up a few damaged magic treasures, lord it over the local mortals, and die of old age after a few hundred or a thousand years. They never even come close to Deity Transformation."
"Even if there really is some fiercely determined prodigy who scrapes together every last resource, struggles through to Deity Transformation, and gets conscripted into the Recruit Camp..."
A trace of pity flashed in Ling Yuling's eyes. "They're too old, and their meridians are already riddled with damage. When they suddenly come into contact with the extremely pure spirit crystals in the mines, with their violent laws, nine out of ten explode on the spot."
"The one who survives barely muddles along at Void Refinement, eventually becoming a mining slave. They never reach Integration, not even by the time they die."
She stared intently at Chen Lin, as though looking at a peerless treasure.
"So, do you understand why that miserly Mahayana steward, Fatty Wang, was so eager to curry favor with you?"
"A bone age of just over a hundred."
"Late Body Integration cultivation, with a powerful physical body."
"And you can even forge a spirit treasure ranked third on the Divine Weapon Ranking."
Ling Yuling rose, planted both hands on the table, and leaned forward. The oppressive aura of a peak True Immortal mingled with an almost fanatical intensity. "Chen Lin, you aren't a variable. In over ten thousand years,