Immortality Starts From Making Money.
Chapter 159: The Insane Project!

Chapter 159: The Insane Project!

A week had passed since chaos swept through the capital like a storm of fire and steel.

Now, the city stirred once more with the breath of life, its wounds slowly mending beneath the golden sun.

The streets, once stained with blood and silence, pulsed with vibrant motion.

Children ran barefoot on cobbled paths, their laughter like birdsong chasing away the lingering ghosts of war.

Peddlers shouted their wares with renewed vigor, voices rising above the clatter of carts and footsteps.

The scent of roasted chestnuts and fresh bread wafted through the air—testament that even after ruin, life dares to bloom again.

Young Master and Young Miss, draped in shimmering silk robes that caught the sunlight like liquid gold, paraded proudly through the bustling streets.

Their steps were measured, each movement a silent display of wealth and privilege.

Conversations fluttered around them—snippets of the recent battle spilled from eager lips, yet the tone held no weight of fear or sorrow.

Instead, laughter danced lightly, smiles blossomed where grim tales should have been.

They spoke of war as if it were but a distant storm, something thrilling and dangerous yet removed from their golden bubble.

Many would be wondering why this happened?

Five days ago, the Governor made an announcement that rippled through the capital like a thunderclap—shocking, unbelievable, and almost too wondrous to be true.

At first, the people dismissed it as mere rumor, a tale spun by idle tongues.

But when the Governor’s own envoy rode through the streets, proclaiming it from scroll and seal, doubt began to crumble.

The Thousand Wealth Chamber, famed for their carriage artifact more than anything, had unveiled an artifact—one so revolutionary it defied belief.

A device that could draw clean water, fresh and pure, directly into every home.

No more queues at wells, no more hauling buckets under the sun.

The poorest beggar to the richest noble could turn a valve and summon life’s essence with ease.

How could such a miracle exist?

Was it sorcery, alchemy, or divine blessing?

The city buzzed with awe and suspicion.

This was not a feat achieved by simply inscribing a few hundred runes—it defied the very limits of common enchantments.

How could water, drawn from distant streams and rivers, appear instantly in every home?

Whispers of forgotten ancient techniques stirred the minds of scholars.

Yet the marvel didn’t end there.

The Thousand Wealth Chamber boldly claimed they had crafted even more—devices to heat water for bathing and for cooking, all at a mere touch.

What sorcery was this?

Incredulous yet intrigued, the people stood at the edge of a new, impossible era.

Even though it all sounded impossible—like a dream whispered in smoke—no one dared to question the Thousand Wealth Chamber.

Their wealth was vast, their influence deeper than any root in the capital.

To challenge them was to challenge a mountain.

While whispers circled in tea houses and marketplaces, all wondering how such a miracle would be achieved, the Chamber struck again.

The very next day, they launched a mass recruitment unlike anything the city had seen.

Not in dozens, not in hundreds, but in thousands. Craftsmen and laborers, runes master.

The city trembled with stunned anticipation.

This was the greatest workforce ever assembled in the long, storied history of the capital.

Not even during the grand construction of the Governor’s mansion had the city seen such numbers moving in perfect rhythm, driven by purpose and gold.

The sheer scale was staggering.

Such wealth?

Such power?

Only the Thousand Wealth Chamber dared attempt such a mad, world-bending endeavor.

While others hesitated, they acted.

While rumors swirled, they built.

With coffers deeper than rivers and ambition higher than the clouds, only they could dream of transforming an entire region.

And with a vision so vast, the scars of war began to fade.

Talk of bloodshed and ruins grew faint, replaced by eager discussions of tunnels, water artifacts, and strange devices that could boil water with a flick.

Hope, not fear, now lingered in the air.

This project—this enormous undertaking—shook the very foundations of the Southern Region’s capital.

From the noble districts to the slums, eyes watched and hands moved.

On nearly every street corner, men and women could be seen digging a tunnel about one meter deep.

No one knew why.

There were no grand explanations, no official blueprints passed among the crowd.

Only quiet orders and steady work. And yet, despite the mystery, no one complained.

They obeyed.

They waited.

Would this be the beginning of a new era?

A time when water flowed like light through stone?

Or would it all collapse, a laughingstock etched into history?

The streets whispered both hope and doubt.

But no one could deny the sheer momentum the Thousand Wealth Chamber had created.

In every direction, workers were hunched low, carving into the earth with unwavering focus.

The sun beat down on their backs, dust clung to their skin, and sweat soaked their tunics.

Yet on their faces, something strange shimmered—a smile, soft and satisfied, tugged at the corners of their lips.

They were not burdened by toil, but elevated by it.

Because the Chamber had done something even more shocking than the project itself—they had raised the wages of every laborer by twenty percent.

Twenty percent!

Enough to make mouths gape and greedy hearts flutter.

A day’s work under the Thousand Wealth Chamber paid what a week of back-breaking toil elsewhere would earn.

For the first time, even the poorest among them saw silver gleam in their palms.

Not just a few spirit stones, but hundreds.

So they dug.

They dug with joy, with laughter, with the promise of food on the table and shoes for their children.

It felt like free money, a miracle wrapped in sweat and earth. They didn’t ask too many questions.

They didn’t need to.

Whether the Chamber would bring salvation or shame, it no longer mattered.

Because for now, under the wide Southern skies, every worker dug with bright smiles on their faces—carving tunnels not just into soil, but into the future.

Apart from the thousands of laborers digging tunnels like ants reshaping the earth, another force moved quietly yet powerfully through the capital.

Hundreds of array formation masters had been employed by the Thousand Wealth Chamber.

It was an astonishing sight, one that made even seasoned cultivators pause.

Though the various Occupation Halls bore bitter grudges against the Chamber—especially for what they had done to the Runic Inscription Hall and the Artifact Refining Hall.

When money began to speak, principles quickly fell silent.

Even the proudest couldn’t resist the sheer weight of wealth and opportunity being offered.

And so, despite their grievances, formation masters could be seen stationed at street corners and rooftops, carefully setting up formations and drawing diagrams with bright smiles tugging at their lips.

The past was the past.

Who cared anymore?

The pay was generous, the challenge thrilling, and the scale—beyond anything ever attempted.

Even the Hall Master of the Array Formation Hall, a man known for his stiff pride and unyielding rules, had come in person to oversee the formation.

"T-This is crazy..." the Hall Master muttered, tugging at his long white beard in disbelief as he stared at the sprawling formation diagram.

"Yes, it’s crazy," the Vice Hall Master replied, squinting at the parchment in his hand. "I’ve never seen a formation so complex. Just looking at it makes my head spin."

The Hall Master sighed and nodded solemnly.

"And those madmen from the Thousand Wealth Chamber want this finished in a week. A week! They’re lunatics."

Nearby, a few array masters overheard the exchange.

They rolled their eyes in unison but said nothing.

There was no time for idle chatter, not even from their superiors.

Every second counted.

What they were building wasn’t just a defensive array or a power enhancer—it was a grand formation meant to cover the entire capital.

The entire capital!

Usually, they would grumble about the lack of commissions or the slow trickle of projects.

Now, their complaints had flipped entirely.

They didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

The workload was immense, and the deadline unbearable.

To keep up, they had been forced to recruit apprentices—green and shaky with barely steady hands—and even that wasn’t enough.

A message had already been sent to Wuyu City, summoning more formation masters for reinforcement.

Yet still, their tasks piled up like a small mountain, and time ticked like a sword held to their necks.

While the formation masters worked under pressure below, high above the capital, in the top floor of the towering Seven Talisman Trade Hall.

A beautiful middle-aged woman stood by a window, her gaze fixed on the madness unfolding below.

Brows furrowed in thought, she crossed her arms and muttered under her breath, "What the hell is happening?"

She was no stranger to innovation.

Born in the Central Region—the heart of the continent—she had seen wonders, studied lost arts, and walked through cities of powerful artifacts and formations.

Yet never had she heard of anything like this.

"Whatever they’re up to," she whispered, a faint smile curving her lips, "I can’t wait to see it."

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