Chapter Seventy-Eight: Trivial Matters

Another day of bright sunshine.

In the afternoon, Chen Yu tidied up the scattered piles of various wooden plaques in the courtyard, all different in size yet uniformly crafted.

With a flick of his hand, a fist-sized wooden block nearby floated into the air, glowing softly. The luminous light brushed past him, and the wooden pieces swayed gently upright, as if invisible blades were carving away their edges, smoothing them into neat squares. Threads of light seeped inside, dancing and flowing within the wood, engraving delicate patterns.

A faint aura of energy rippled around the plaques, slowly soaking along the etched lines.

Before long, the wooden block, now engraved on all six sides, dimmed and fell into the pile of wood shavings. The plaques, meanwhile, were finished with their final strokes, imbued with energy, waiting to be activated.

At this point, a simple wooden talisman was complete.

Chen Yu beckoned, and the energy carried the wooden block into his palm. He flipped it over and over, eyes resting on the different patterns on each face.

“Storage,” “Sharpness,” “Infusion”...

Unlike the earlier Three Talents Formation, this was a different method. Using the wooden block as a base, he had carved various formation patterns with distinct properties on each side.

Compared to the Three Talents Formation, the block in his hand couldn’t merge three patterns into one; the patterns exerted forces against each other.

Not to mention amplifying the effect of any single pattern.

Although this method seemed inconvenient and even troublesome at first glance, with several patterns intertwined and mutually restraining, which looked like a recipe for trouble,

Chen Yu valued precisely this aspect.

If the patterns resisted cooperation, so be it. After long research without success in harmonizing four patterns, he abandoned the chaotic idea and decided to develop along the natural traits of the patterns themselves. Unexpectedly, this serendipitous approach bore fruit.

Incidentally, he discovered that the repulsion between patterns varied, which piqued his interest. After numerous trials, he found another side to this resistance.

Like stones thrown in the air colliding—not fusing but altering direction, adding external force, and so forth.

Though lacking the synergy of the Three Talents Formation, where one plus one exceeds two, sometimes this still produced surprising results.

This wooden talisman before him, the “Semi-Automatic Wooden Talisman Engraving,” was a product of summarizing such phenomena and inspired by these insights.

Its practical use was limited but represented an alternative application of formation patterns, differing from the building-block style of the Three Talents Formation.

The latter depended on compatibility, while this relied on repulsive reactions.

It also largely freed Chen Yu from the repetitive, tedious carving of wooden plaques, requiring only some mental energy and aura to maintain its function.

However...

Crack! He looked down and sure enough, the so-called engraving talisman was riddled with fine cracks; its surface splitting, exposing parts of the internal patterns.

Aura spilled out, and the lines quickly withered.

Another one ruined.

He glanced at his arm, where a large cloud of aura surged outward. With a thought, he gathered the fallen plaques into his bosom.

The damaged blocks he also pocketed. Since he had only recently begun making these engraving talismans, their number was small; discarding one after another was out of the question for now.

Perhaps with repairs, he could carve another batch.

“They really don’t hold up well—four uses at most.”

Each use consumed six to eight plaques; if many were made, sixteen or seventeen was possible, but then they’d crack after only one or two uses.

Holding the plaques, Chen Yu felt the need for further modification—perhaps shaving down the six-faced cube to twelve faces, or even making a thirty-six-faced spiked sphere?

Immediately, he shook off the idea. More faces didn’t mean better. Each pattern on the current block was carefully chosen, not randomly pieced together. The number of faces depended on how many patterns he could carve, how much the wooden block could bear, and where to find so many mutually repulsive yet interactive patterns.

Now, after much effort, he had harvested many patterns from the trees, soil, and stones behind the mountain, all infused with aura, but only a handful of distinct ones emerged.

Most he found recently were already gathered. The majority of patterns in his possession were repeats; very few were unique.

Many patterns couldn’t even be separated; they were too tightly intertwined for his mental energy to discern.

This pressed him to start experimenting with mutant plants from the herb garden, cultivated by spiritual energy, to collect data.

Unfortunately, the total number of patterns still couldn’t increase.

He recalled how those mutated plants and spiritual herbs would wither rapidly and die after contact with aura, their structure invaded and altered before patterns could form.

Chen Yu felt a pang of regret. Although before they were mere wild grasses and flowers by the mountain, now they were spiritual plants!

Each was strange and unique but perished before revealing their full potential.

In the end, he had to return to the old method of collecting patterns from ordinary plants and dead matter.

“One step at a time.”

He was in no rush. Every day he read and practiced martial arts, cultivating aura through breathing exercises. In leisure, he tended the fields—both the farmland in front and the herb garden behind the courtyard—living a peaceful and unhurried life.

Speaking of the spiritually cultivated plants, some had begun to manifest unusual traits.

A most ordinary “Mixed Scent Grass” recently emitted a rich and pure fragrance; its seeds, once no larger than a fingernail, had swelled to the size of orchid fruit just as they sprouted.

A small flower, favored by farmers for its fresh sweetness, had changed from its original form, growing several feet tall. Its swollen buds, about the size of a fist, rippled with black powder that faintly smelled of fish.

Another plant had a thick stem like a tree, with leaves bulging and curling as though covered in snails carrying shells...

All sorts of strange growths fascinated him endlessly.

Each morning upon waking, the first thing he did was visit the herb garden to see what new changes had occurred.

Compared to previous batches of vegetables and fruits, these wild grasses and flowers showed much more pronounced and intense growth and mutation.

On the other hand, saplings in a corner of the herb garden remained quiet and upright, appearing indifferent despite the spiritual energy catalysis and maturation liquids.

Chen Yu dug up a small soil mound and pulled out a bundle, opening it to reveal various oddities.

A lampstand, a rusted bronze mirror, a broken seal, a leather scroll painted with tribal patterns...

At first touch, they still shimmered faintly. But when he held the Longqing seal, which he had scavenged from the foot of the mountain, before his eyes, the glow flickered briefly then vanished.

His spirit enveloped it, perceiving only a denser surface layer; the inside showed no change.

“Spiritally cultivated dead objects really won’t work,” he mused.

Not much disappointment followed; this was expected—perhaps even normal.

With the residual spiritual energy in the soil, he selected a few items showing slight change and reburied them firmly.

The rust on the bronze mirror faded somewhat; the lampstand’s remaining wick had altered slightly from before burial. He returned these two to the soil again, while carefully storing the rest, including the seal.

As the old Taoist’s death anniversary approached, he planned to offer the seal alongside wine and fruit as tribute.

He remembered the old Taoist had a fondness for seals.