#Plasma
Mo Jian took out the jade tablet from his bosom, placed it on the table, and it made a crisp sound. “$XPL, the only circulating spirit currency in the immortal realm.” He lowered his voice, “Han Li ascended with this.” Han Li sat across from him, his coarse clothing washed to a pale hue, yet his fingertips pinched a silver needle, the needle tip stirring the foam in the tea cup. Hearing this, he raised his eyes, his gaze like two ancient wells, deep and unfathomable. “Immortal realm?” He sneered, “I haven't even formed my Nascent Soul, how can I talk about ascension?” Mo Jian leaned closer, his voice laced with temptation: “You refine pills, draw talismans, kill monsters every day, earning enough spirit stones for your sustenance, yet you can't afford a wisp of heavenly thunder essence. PLASMA is different; one token is worth ten thousand years of spirit milk. If you're willing to bet, watching that K line rise and fall, your consciousness will be tempered like fire, forged into steel.” Han Li did not respond, only threw the silver needle onto the table. Ding——the needle tip pierced the wood grain, trembling three times. That night, he went to the deepest part of the market's dark shop. The shopkeeper was a one-eyed old man, his left eye embedded with a幽蓝 spirit pearl, resembling the flickering wick on the K line chart. “One PLASMA token can be exchanged for three Foundation Establishment pills and an essence of heavenly thunder.” The old man spoke, his voice like sandpaper grinding against iron. Han Li gritted his teeth and pushed the last three bottles of pills from his storage bag over. The spirit pearl flashed, the token fell into the shopkeeper's palm, icy and penetrating, with fine runes floating on the surface, wriggling like a living thing. Returning to his cave dwelling, he sat cross-legged, holding the token in his palm, his consciousness sinking in. In an instant, billions of rays of light exploded, red and green intermingled, the K line fluctuating like mountains. Each pulse felt like a giant hammer striking his sea of consciousness. Pain, a heart-wrenching pain. Han Li bit his tongue, blood flowed down the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the token, which was devoured by the runes. On the first day, he saw the bottleneck of Foundation Establishment, like an iron wall. On the seventh day, a crack opened in the iron wall. On the thirtieth day, the crack burst open, and spirit liquid poured like a waterfall, washing through his meridians. He formed his Nascent Soul. On the night of formation, the tribulation struck, nine purple lightning bolts, as thick as a child's arm. Han Li looked up, the token hovering above his head, the K line transforming into a light screen, swallowing the tribulation whole. The lightning flowed between the runes, surprisingly nourishing his sea of consciousness, causing it to swell threefold. The market buzzed: Han Li bought PLASMA and formed his Nascent Soul overnight. Jun Hou heard this, sitting on the flying boat, sneering coldly. “Just speculation.” He waved his sleeve, “I have two dao partners, one skilled in sword formations, the other proficient in illusions. Han Li, a mere Nascent Soul, dares to compete with me?” Jun Hou's partners were named Liu Yan and Hong Ling. Liu Yan's sword formation could trap spirits, while Hong Ling's illusions could confuse true immortals. Three years later, the Immortal Alliance Great Competition. In the martial arts arena, Han Li wore a green robe, the token hovering at his forehead, the K line coiling around him like a dragon. Jun Hou stood opposite him, his sleeves billowing, with Liu Yan and Hong Ling on either side, sword light and illusions weaving into a net. “Han Li, die!” Jun Hou shouted, unleashing his divine might. Han Li did not dodge or evade, his consciousness surging like a tide. The K line pulsed; each rise and fall corresponded with a refinement of consciousness. He saw the flaws in Liu Yan's sword formation and the intersection of truth and illusion in Hong Ling's magic. He pointed. The sword formation collapsed, the illusions scattered. Liu Yan and Hong Ling spat blood, collapsing to the ground, their eyes filled with horror. Jun Hou's face turned ashen, summoning his life treasure—the Nine Revolutions Mysterious Gold Pagoda. The pagoda had nine layers, glowing golden and reaching the heavens. Han Li stepped forward, the token transforming into a stream of light, merging into the pagoda. The K line soared, the runes on the pagoda reversed, and the Nine Revolutions Mysterious Gold Pagoda flipped upside down, smashing towards Jun Hou. Boom! Jun Hou was crushed into the arena by his own treasure, bones shattered, spiritual power reversing. The whole place fell silent. Han Li bent down, picked up the token, his voice not loud but clear enough to reach every corner: “Jun Hou, what you lost is not a treasure, but your vision.” Jun Hou spat out a mouthful of blood, his voice hoarse: “You... how...” Han Li did not reply, only turned to look at the high platform. The leader of the Immortal Alliance rose, waving his sleeve, and a golden teleportation portal appeared out of thin air. “Han Li, the gate to the immortal realm is open. Do you wish to go?” Han Li turned back and saw Liu Yan and Hong Ling struggling to stand, their eyes no longer filled with hostility, but rather complex emotions. He smiled, walking towards the portal. Inside the door, immortal light soared, spiritual energy like the sea. Han Li stepped in, and behind him, the market, cave dwelling, Jun Hou, and dao partners—all mortal ties receded like a tide. The immortal realm. He stood above the sea of clouds, the token hovering at his chest, the K line transforming into a mark, branding his soul. From then on, Han Li used PLASMA as a foundation, refining his consciousness and mastering creation. A thousand years later, the immortal realm sang praises: “Han Li, the Immortal Venerable, started with a single token, his consciousness reaching the heavens, wives and concubines aplenty, and Jun Hou regretted for life, spending every day facing the wall, afraid to speak of speculation again.” And Han Li, only in the depths of the sea of clouds, smiled at the newly arrived immortals and said: “Want to ascend? First learn to read the K line.”
@Plasma
$XPL #Plasma