The next morning, Su Bai did not rush off to his next "business trip."

He was currently at the 7th Stage of Qi Refining, and his "liquid capital" of pill dregs was completely depleted. Before he figured out how to tactically ruin alchemy batches at Verdant Peak, he wanted to address his liquid cooling system.

Sitting at his desk, Su Bai retrieved the sealed, talisman-wrapped box he had acquired from the terrified vendor in the mortal city.

He unsealed the talismans and popped the lid open. Inside rested the cursed jade slip. It was a dull, mottled green, radiating a faint, biting chill that frosted the edges of the wooden box.

Su Bai stared at it, slightly hesitant.

’The vendor said the last four people who touched this died because it instantly froze their meridians solid,’ Su Bai reasoned. ’If my Reversal Body flips that... does that mean touching it will cause my meridians to instantly melt from extreme heat?’

He hovered his hand over the jade slip, then he waited for a warning sign from his spiritual senses.

But the strange, magnetic pull he had felt in the city returned. Looking at the cursed object didn’t fill him with dread. It felt strangely, deeply comforting.

’No risk, no reward,’ Su Bai thought. He decided to trust his gut.

He reached out and grabbed the jade slip.

One second. Two. Three.

His meridians didn’t melt. In fact, nothing happened to his internal pathways at all.

Instead, a refreshing, ice-cold sensation emanated from the jade. It washed over his skin like a cool breeze on a sweltering summer day.

Just then, the cursed jade slip pulsed with a faint, dark light as if it recognized the energy currently humming in Su Bai’s body.

Su Bai’s eyes gleamed. "Wait. Am I actually the ’fated person’ that vendor was talking about?"

Curious, Su Bai closed his eyes and sent a thread of his spiritual sense directly into the jade slip.

The moment his consciousness bypassed the item’s ancient "firewall," a massive amount of data was instantly downloaded directly into his brain.

Su Bai gasped.

His eyes flew open as he processed the sudden influx of information.

It wasn’t a liquid cooling system. It was a spell. A highly illegal, terrifyingly wicked spell.

The technique was called "The Starving Wraith’s Devouring Maw."

As Su Bai read through the ancient text in his mind, his corporate brain immediately began translating the profound, wicked Daoist philosophy.

The opening line of the manual read: "To take from the Heavens is a transaction. To take from a man is an acquisition. Leave no balance behind."

Su Bai repeatedly read that line in absolute awe. ’This isn’t a martial art. This is a step-by-step guide to Hostile Mergers and Acquisitions!’

The mechanics of the spell were brutally efficient. The user condensed pure Extreme Yin Qi into the palms of their hands to create a localized, invisible "Devouring Maw."

When they touched an opponent, an incoming spell, or a spiritual artifact, the Maw forcefully and violently siphoned away the target’s Qi, vitality, and magical energy, absorbing it directly into the user.

It was essentially spiritual embezzlement.

However, as Su Bai read further into the "Terms and Conditions" of the spell, he immediately spotted the terrifying recoil that would make it a suicidal curse for the average user.

It had two massive, fatal limitations.

First, the capacity issue. If a cultivator forcefully sucked a massive amount of an enemy’s violent Fire Qi into their own body, their Dantian would instantly overfill and they would literally explode.

Second, the compatibility issue. Enemy Qi is completely different from your own. Swallowing foreign energy pollutes your meridians. It was the equivalent of putting diesel fuel into an unleaded gasoline engine. The engine would choke and die.

Su Bai let out a low, breathless chuckle.

For a normal cultivator, those limitations were a death sentence. But for his Reversal Body? Those limitations were voided. His ’Dead Wood’ root didn’t care about compatibility. It devoured toxic, chaotic garbage and refined it perfectly.

’I don’t just have a liquid cooling system anymore,’ a shark-like grin spread across Su Bai’s pale face. ’I have an offensive asset liquidator.’

He could already imagine it.

If someone fired a flaming sword aura at him, he wouldn’t need to block it. He could just catch it, hit it with the Devouring Maw, and siphon the raw energy straight into his Dantian for free EXP.

However, his shark-like grin slowly faded as a massive logistical hurdle suddenly presented itself.

He had an incredibly powerful new "app" (the spell), and he had the perfect hardware (his Reversal Body) to run it. But he still didn’t have an operating system.

He didn’t have a cultivation manual.

Currently, his ’Dead Wood’ root was operating entirely on its default, passive settings. If he started aggressively siphoning enemy Qi using the Devouring Maw without a proper manual to actively guide and store that energy, his internal system would crash.

He would either bottleneck permanently or lose all his gathered Qi and be demoted right back to the Body Forging realm.

He lacked sustainability. He needed an OS.

Su Bai leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.

He stared down at the cursed jade slip. Now that the data transfer was complete, the ancient stone had completely lost its biting, icy chill.

Then, a massive realization finally hit him.

’Wait a minute,’ Su Bai thought. His eyes widened as the pattern clicked. ’The pill dregs, the freezing gas, the manacle, and now this jade... My hardware seemed to respond positively to Yin-related things. How did I not notice this underlying code sooner?’ The jade slip had just definitively confirmed his system preferences.

Frowning, he began to mentally audit his past six years of failure.

The standard Radiant Sky Manual had made him feel like he was burning in hell because it was fundamentally Righteous and Yang-based. If he tried to force himself to practice it again, it would be pure, agonizing torture.

’There is also the Heartless Sutra,’ Su Bai thought as he recalled the ice-cold Senior Sister Ji Ruyue who had saved him from the crane. ’That is a Yin-based manual. But...’

He immediately vetoed the idea. The Heartless Sutra required the user to sever all their mortal emotions to achieve absolute, icy detachment. Su Bai might be a cynical corporate slave but he absolutely did not want to become a numb, emotionless robot.

Furthermore, he had to consider the terrifying possibility of his Reversal Body interacting with the sutra.

What if his body reversed the "emotionless" requirement? He would turn into an overly dramatic, highly emotional wreck who cried over spilled tea and threw temper tantrums in the middle of sect meetings.

’Absolutely not,’ Su Bai shuddered at the thought of looking like an idiot in front of middle management.

’Maybe I should find a Demonic manual,’ he mused. Demonic sects specialized in Extreme Yin and chaotic energy. It would be a perfect fit for his hardware.

He immediately crossed that idea out as well.

He was an executive-level Core Disciple in a prestigious Righteous Sect. Practicing a demonic art was the ultimate HR violation. It was grounds for immediate termination... literally.

If he was caught, it wouldn’t just be his head on the chopping block. It would bring total disaster and shame to his Master.

His Master, the eccentric Peak Master of Clear Cloud Peak, was currently risking his life traversing deadly secret realms just to find a cure for his "crippled" disciple. Su Bai might be deeply cynical about corporate loyalty, but he wasn’t an ungrateful monster.

’I will not bring a PR disaster to my Master’s department,’ Su Bai resolved firmly. ’I’ll just have to dig through the sect’s grand archives and find a forgotten, neutral manual that won’t trigger an audit.’

Before he could strategize his archive trip, a loud voice echoed from the base of his mountain.

"Senior Brother Su! We are here for Office Hours!"

Su Bai stood up, then peered out the window of his hut.

Gathered at the edge of his frozen courtyard was a massive crowd of Outer Sect disciples. They were clutching scrolls and looking up at his sealed array with eyes full of expectations.

His scheduled "Office Hours" had officially begun.