"It should be real."
The man called Uncle Gu—Bryce Gu—spoke with a serious expression, "Mountain Plum Spirit Tea only blooms once every ten years and takes a century to mature. Since Luke Lu at the Beast Arena dares to announce it publicly this time, it must be genuine."
"Don’t underestimate Riversedge County just because it’s remote—Luke Lu is a man of real means. His own cultivation is at the pseudo-Vajra realm, just half a step away from becoming a true fifth-grade Vajra powerhouse."
"If you, Miss, can get your hands on this Mountain Plum Spirit Tea and bring it back to your family’s old master, it’ll definitely make him very happy."
As he said this, Bryce Gu glanced at the girl sitting beside him, his eyes full of affection. "Legend has it that Mountain Plum Spirit Tea is a top-grade spiritual tea, grown from an extended branch of the Divine Exorcist Tea Tree."
"A fifty-year vintage of Mountain Plum Spirit Tea can extend an ordinary person’s life by half a year with just one sip. Common ailments like cold constitution or stomach pain are easily cured."
"A hundred-year-old Mountain Plum Spirit Tea is famed as a divine medicine—one bowl can keep a dying person hanging on. But this two-hundred-year vintage is even more miraculous: a single sip could literally make someone a few years younger."
The girl was astonished, munching on her lollipop as she asked curiously, "If this Mountain Plum Spirit Tea is so miraculous, why would Luke Lu put it up for grabs?"
"Why wouldn’t he keep it for himself?"
The girl’s face was full of curiosity.
Luke Lu is the owner of the Beast Arena.
She knew that some people in this world treated money like dirt. And for those truly strong, it was power—not wealth—that they pursued.
Since Luke Lu himself was a pseudo-Vajra expert, by rights, this Mountain Plum Spirit Tea should be a huge boost to his strength.
"Not everyone is chasing pure cultivation. In fact, Luke Lu has to keep offering things that spark people’s interest if he wants his Beast Arena to keep running."
"At the Beast Arena, you don’t gamble with cash—you gamble with points."
"Every month, Luke Lu puts some items up on the points platform. You can only redeem them with points, not money."
Bryce Gu paused thoughtfully. "Points are exchanged with cash, but there are limits."
"Ten points cost one hundred thousand yuan."
"Twenty points cost one million yuan."
"Thirty points cost ten million yuan."
Forty points cost one hundred million yuan.
Fifty points cost one billion yuan.
Bryce Gu spoke calmly, his voice steady.
One billion!
The girl’s eyes widened as she shook her head, "Doesn’t that mean he can earn a ton of money?"
"Of course. For Luke Lu to gather all sorts of rare and bizarre treasures, he must spend a fortune," Bryce Gu smiled slightly.
Everyone only gets one chance to exchange points per day, and all points are cleared at the end of the day.
In other words, if someone wants that Mountain Plum Spirit Tea, they have to win enough points in one day—by betting on beast fights—and redeem it all at once. Otherwise, the tea stays on the platform.
Bryce Gu finished speaking, glanced at the surprised girl beside him, and smiled: "So we’re just here to try our luck. You shouldn’t force things—if you get it, great; if not, don’t be resentful."
Evan Lin sat in the back row, listening to the two in front, a bit surprised inside.
With such a system, the Beast Arena really does have enough financial power to gather all sorts of treasures.
Two-hundred-year Mountain Plum Spirit Tea, huh.
Evan Lin murmured to himself.
Hey, hey, move out of the way up front!
The bus was quiet, but suddenly the driver up front slammed the horn and cursed loudly: "If you want to die, don’t block my damn road! Damn it!"
He stomped on the brakes.
The bus screeched to a halt halfway down the road.
Dongzi, who hadn’t sat properly, smacked his head right into the seat in front.
Bryce Gu reached out and gently steadied the startled girl as she pitched forward.
What’s going on?
The girl looked up, gazing ahead.
Bad luck! Running into coffin-bearers in the middle of the night—damn!
The driver cursed as he rolled down the window, stuck his head out, and yelled, "Hurry up! Move!"
Hey, what are you guys doing?
Ahead, two men in black robes stood in the middle of the road, carrying a small coffin.
Hearing the driver, they didn’t move—instead, they turned and walked toward the bus, coffin in hand, stopping at the door.
I’ve got a temper! If you don’t move, don’t blame me for getting rough—damn!
The driver was furious. He’d driven this route for years, but never had anyone try to bring a coffin onto his bus.
In small towns, people are especially secretive about things like this.
Seeing them still blocking the door, the driver unbuckled his seatbelt, reached under his seat, and pulled out an iron rod, gripping it as he approached the door.
The driver even keeps an iron rod in the bus?
The girl paused, lollipop in hand.
Rough places breed rough people. Folks here have always been tough.
Bryce Gu spoke softly, but his eyes were locked on the two coffin-bearers, brow furrowed.
A sense of foreboding rose in Bryce Gu’s heart.
At this moment, dusk was falling over Tianwaitian.
All around were lush forests and old concrete roads stretching ahead and behind.
Iron rod in hand, the driver opened the door and got out.
The coffin-bearers weren’t tall—maybe about five-foot-five.
Their coffin wasn’t large, maybe five feet long, carved with a skull flower. Its petals curled open, and at its heart was a twisted, eyeless face, grinning eerily.
Damn it, don’t you get it? Move!
The driver glared at them, gripping the iron rod tightly.
Riding to Wanhe County.
One of the men looked up, his face pale, and spoke in a dry, raspy voice as if he hadn’t drunk water in ages.
To hell with Wanhe County! Get lost! If you don’t, I’ll kill you!
The driver’s eyes bulged, cursing, his face fierce.
The driver was six feet tall, his arms thicker than the two men’s legs—he looked imposing.