Zhou Yan tasks his 20 White-Robed Ghost Soldiers with filling bamboo with spirit spring water. At the trading hall, he searches for water tanks—none listed.
"Storage could help long-term," he muses.
He posts on the National Chat Channel: "Seeking large water tanks, bigger the better. Private offers."
Spirit coins deduct per word. Replies flood:
"Water tank? For tadpoles?"
"Bath time, huh?"
"Fish tank, maybe."
"Burying yourself?"
"Smashed mine yesterday!"
Zhou Yan ignores the jesters. Private messages arrive.
An anonymous lord asks, "Price?"
"100+ spirit coins, depends on size," Zhou Yan replies.
Three tanks trade for 600 coins—fair for warehouse clutter. Another offers one for 10,000. Zhou Yan blocks them. "Fool's price," he scoffs.
He buys a dozen tanks, rejecting price-gougers. Placing them by the spring, he hefts the largest with one hand, dunking and lifting it effortlessly. His 141.9 strength makes it light.
Diao Chan gapes. "Such power!"
Zhou Yan tosses the tank skyward; it arcs over ten meters, splashing down. Onlookers freeze.
"His strength's monstrous now," Diao Chan murmurs, eyeing the Primordial Temple. Zhou Yan promised residents could try its trials. She yearns to grow stronger, guarding Heavenly Court.
Zhou Yan stores filled tanks in the Treasure Room and lists spirit spring water. Buyers pounce, racing to snag sets. He posts dozens at once, spreading the wealth—kindness pays.
Little Darling messages: "Your spring water?"
"Yep," Zhou Yan confirms.
"Bamboo for two cans?" she offers.
"Deal." Barter fees—10 spirit coins—sting little.
Little Darling's bamboo trade has netted her coins, modest but vital. Zhou Yan checks Qin Yao's messages—food requests, unanswered during his trial.
"Sorry, was tied up," he replies.
"Thought you'd cut me off!" Qin Yao teases. Her dragon knights devour food; trading hall prices double hers. Zhou Yan's supply is her lifeline.
"Never," he assures. Their deal benefits both.
He lists monster corpses—stockpiles clogging his stores. Qin Yao buys, yielding over a million spirit coins. Her warehouse limits bulk buys; she restocks every few days.
"Got spirit strawberries? Hungry," she asks.
"Apples, bananas, dragon fruit, pears—pick your flavor," Zhou Yan lists.
"All! 100 each!" Qin Yao's awe spills. "Spirit fields are unfair."
She's thrilled—few access such fruit. Zhou Yan stacks 99 per type, earning three million spirit coins at market rates. Spirit fields churn wealth.
"Envious," Qin Yao sighs.