Chapter Sixteen: Yearning (Please leave a comment!)

Year Two of Yuanping, the twentieth day of the third month.

Springtime, clear skies.

At this moment, Chen Yu sat upon a stone stool. Before him, placed atop the table, was the “giant radish” he had pulled earlier.

Unlike an ordinary white root, this particular white stalk, after ten days of growth under the catalyst of spiritual energy, had transformed completely: it was now round as a ball, with fine leaves, and the flesh of its root was almost translucent, revealing within the skin a faint mist encircling the inner layers.

Quiet as a maiden, it floated gently within.

Leaning closer, he caught the faint earthy scent, tinged with a familiar sweetness—the very aroma of the white root itself.

The small knife, which had only just sliced into the worm king, was once more in his grip, poised as if ready at any moment to pierce the pale flesh.

Yet, though the tip hovered above, he could not bring himself to strike.

The memory of the insides of the worm’s belly at lunch remained vivid; he could not help but worry whether, upon cutting, another bizarre thing might emerge.

But he did not hesitate long. With a decisive motion, he brought the blade down.

As the knife fell, he summoned all his strength, employing the Cloud Crane Step to float away gracefully, pausing only when he was a full twenty feet distant.

A crisp sound—the knife was sharp, or perhaps the mutated white root had grown soft-skinned, for the blade split the entire root in two, cleaving it from the plumpest center into perfect halves.

Looking back, Chen Yu saw, with his keen gaze, a wisp of milky smoke drifting out from the core.

Unexpectedly, the unknown vapor did not disperse as one might expect. Instead, it gathered together, sometimes twisting into a ball, other times stretching into a strand.

It swelled and scattered without pattern, as if invisible hands in the air kneaded it gently.

For a long while, the vapor floated, finally settling some three feet above the stone table, and there, it ceased to change. What greeted Chen Yu’s eyes was a bead, more dazzling than the finest jade.

Crystal-clear and translucent, a mist clung to its surface, swirling like clouds veiling the moon, shimmering with five colors as the sunlight struck it.

He waited a long moment, confirming that no great danger or terror had unfolded, then walked slowly back to the stone table.

Gazing down at the bead, he examined it from all sides, yet could not discern its origin or its use.

“It feels as though I’ve returned to the past,” he sighed inwardly. This nameless vapor baffled him, just as the spiritual energy in his mind had upon first awakening in this world.

Its source? Unknown.
Its effect? Unclear.
Whether it was harmful? He did not know.

He was utterly at a loss. Fortunately, he had already begun to grasp some rudimentary uses for spiritual energy. Though much remained obscure, at least now he could manage to use it, if only barely.

But before he could unravel one mystery, another arrived. Judging by its appearance, this too was likely some strange affair.

He was not foolish enough to reach out and touch it with his bare hand. Instead, he pondered, then picked up one of the split root halves.

This is… water?

Chen Yu noticed that inside each half was a shallow pool of milky liquid, yet none had spilled onto the table. By rights, when he split the root, a fair amount should have splattered.

His eyes flickered as realization dawned.

He tilted one half slightly, and a drop of the pale liquid dripped onto the tabletop.

In the next instant, wisps of milky vapor escaped the liquid, curling delicately into the air.

As the vapor rose, the liquid on the table dried up and vanished before his eyes.

So that’s how it is.

A glimmer of understanding struck Chen Yu, and once more he looked to the bead in the air. The newly released vapor partly entered the bead, making it rounder and fuller, while the rest drifted aside, slowly condensing into a second bead.

One large, one small.

He glanced at the smaller bead and let fall another drop.

One wisp, two, three… five.

He watched as each drop became five strands of vapor, swirling upward and merging into the bead, which trembled and seemed to grow larger.

Suppressing his thoughts, Chen Yu decided to pour all the liquid from the half-root onto the table.

Dozens of milky vapors rose at once, and in mere moments, the smaller bead grew to match the first.

Then came a third bead—condensing, swelling. A fourth, a fifth… In the end, when all the liquid was spent, there floated seven beads in all, each formed from that unknown vapor.

The first six were as large as a thumb, the last barely the size of a soybean.

Six and a quarter.

By rough calculation, Chen Yu found that a single drop of liquid yielded four to seven wisps, depending on how steadily he poured. Yet the beads seemed different: fourteen wisps was the fixed upper limit—exceed it, and a new bead would form.

The other half of the root contained less liquid; perhaps it could form at most four beads and a fraction.

With this thought, Chen Yu’s mind wandered. If liquid could become vapor, then bead, could the process be reversed?

He did not know whether the mutated white root played a role, but it was worth the experiment.

Drawing water from the well, he fetched a ceramic dish and raised it to touch the floating beads.

Nothing happened.

Though they looked like precious gems, the beads were intangible—at a touch, they scattered, and once the dish was removed, some vapor returned to the smallest bead, causing it to swell, while the one he touched shrank.

He wetted the dish and tried again.

This time, there was a change.

Chen Yu’s eyes widened as, upon contact with the well water, the bead dissolved instantly and merged into the liquid! Lifting the dish, he saw the bead had combined wholly with the water.

Peering down, he found the water had changed, no longer clear as before; wisps of milky matter drifted within.

At the same time, a wave of hunger and thirst surged through him.

It came suddenly, at first a mere trickle, easily ignored, but in a flash it became a raging torrent, roaring and overwhelming like a river bursting its banks!

Every limb, every organ, every cell, every hair, every bit of skin howled and moaned, sending their yearning to his mind—

The brain was not exempt. As it received signals from the body, it too swelled with fierce emotion.

But he was not like ordinary men.

As the storm of craving threatened to snap his nerves, a ripple rose in the ocean of his consciousness, spreading and swelling into waves, then surging into a towering crest.

In the next moment, an endless tide crashed down!

As if the heavens had collapsed.

A tremendous buzzing roared through his mind, and in an instant, all agitation vanished; his mind cleared.

Chen Yu trembled, the dish falling from his grasp and shattering at his feet. Leaning on the table for support, he stared at the puddle of well water at his feet, now laced with milky wisps.

He stared at it for a long time, even bending close for a better look.

Fortunately, nothing untoward happened this time.

Exhaling deeply, Chen Yu relaxed at last. He cared nothing for beads or vapors now, but slumped onto the stone stool, gazing blankly up at the sky.