Chapter Forty-Nine: The Loach

There was no rush to enter the mountains in search of medicinal herbs; after sowing was finished in the next few days, there would be plenty of time. He came to the medicine field and, as expected, saw the Primordial Spirit Root’s leaves shriveled against the soil, leaving only two pale yellow leaf buds exposed.

With practiced hands, he dug and pulled them up. This time, for reasons unknown, these two roots seemed undernourished—the hollow central chamber was noticeably smaller than the one he had planted the first time.

He swiftly split them open. Having gained experience, he did not cut them completely in half; instead, he made an inverted triangle incision on the surface. With a dagger pressed against the skin, he gently pried out this small piece.

He paused for a moment; wisps of smoke curled upward, gathering slowly into a bead in midair.

No matter how many times he witnessed this, the scene always struck him as wondrous.

After admiring the dazzling beauty of the spirit bead, he blended it with well water, then poured the resulting spiritual liquid into his water pouches.

There were not many water pouches in the Daoist temple—just four in total. One still had some left, while the other three were now filled to the brim.

The remaining spiritual source and energy were sealed away by Chen Yu, the opening plugged, hopeful that less would dissipate this time than the first.

“If only there were more water pouches,” he mused.

Perhaps he should try bamboo tubes, or even wooden barrels?

From his experience, aside from their mystical properties, spiritual liquid was no different from water—it would evaporate and seep. Thus, storing it in wooden barrels would require airtight craftsmanship.

Bamboo tubes, on the other hand, seemed suitable and worth a try.

The main issue was that Chen Yu had yet to discover a use for the spiritual energy and source and could only passively synthesize spiritual liquid. He had experimented with rainwater and sewage, both of which could be synthesized, but unfortunately, neither was potable.

Clearly, spiritual energy lacked the ability to purify water.

He had also tried using spiritual energy directly on plants, but the results were disappointing. As with the earthworm beetles, contact caused them to instantly explode.

Death came swiftly and cleanly.

After storing the spiritual liquid and sealing the surplus spiritual source within the Primordial Spirit Root, Chen Yu returned to the fields.

He did not rush to begin a third round of spiritual mechanism catalysis. Instead, he waited, observing the wooden boards and pottery jars containing medicinal herbs, seeds, and grains. This time, he used both the spiritual mechanism and compared with added spiritual liquid.

If the spiritual liquid could also produce effects, perhaps this medicine field would yield even greater utility in the future.

“Let’s smooth it out first.”

This batch of Primordial Spirit Root was inferior to the last—perhaps the spiritual mechanism was dispersed, or the soil fertility was lacking. He intended to fertilize and till the earth.

“Next time, I might try catalyzing two or more spiritual mechanisms…”

…

April 11th. Clear skies.

Ah—choo!

On the mountain, in the small observatory, Chen Yu finished his cultivation and stood up, watching the morning glow gradually spread across the horizon.

The Reed Ginseng Paste had been depleted three days ago, so he could only maintain twenty-five cycles of cultivation. Fortunately, during this period, his liver had grown much stronger thanks to the nourishment of spiritual liquid and medicinal paste. A complete cycle no longer pressed him as it had at the beginning.

He stretched lazily, still clad in his simple white shirt.

These past five days had been busy with chores. After tilling the earth, it was time to sow seeds, and the cultivation of medicinal and grain seeds in the previous period had required much more attention than ordinary plants.

But hard work paid off. Along the courtyard wall, a row of pottery jars held two revived medicinal herbs, thriving and vibrant, their roots and leaves stretching toward the dawn light.

One was called Garlic Lily Leaf, the other Dry Celery.

The former sounded like scallion, and the latter was the famed celery.

Both could be used as medicine and were not picky, so he selected them for experimentation—afterwards, they could even be used for soup and flavoring.

Speaking of flavor, Chen Yu stroked his slightly stubbled chin, feeling it was time to prove himself.

He had already planned to go up the mountain in search of Reed Ginseng, and now, conveniently, he could catch that black fish as well.

“Celery and fish—just thinking about it feels delicious.”

Without hesitation, after breakfast, he went to the vegetable garden, dug up seven or eight lively red earthworms, and placed them in a bamboo tube hanging from his waist.

He then picked up a bamboo rod he hadn’t used before, fishing line stowed in a cloth pouch. Two bamboo baskets, one large and one small, were slung over his back—the bigger for medicinal herbs, the narrow-necked smaller reserved for the black fish.

Spring was halfway through, and the mountain forests were flourishing wildly.

He climbed and trekked along, his machete nearly worn dull, and after more than half an hour, finally skirted the steep cliffs behind the mountain. He avoided the old, crumbling walkway and instead cut through dense woods.

Qingtai Mountain was not high; the sunlit side was covered in thick woods, frequented by many, paths worn smooth by years of passage. The shady side, however, was less lush, but twisted and low, making navigation more difficult.

Bushes sprawled everywhere.

Beyond the mountain’s back, the sound of flowing water could be heard from afar.

Chen Yu picked a direction heavy with moisture, thinking it might yield good results.

Despite his long trek, this woodland was still on the outskirts. Qingtai Mountain lay on the side of the Baiqi Mountain Range; the farther west he went, the denser and heavier the forest became.

Of course, the deep woods were rich in medicinal herbs, attracting many herbalists, but they were also rife with insects and snakes, taking countless lives.

After another half hour, Chen Yu estimated he had walked a mile or two, the sound of the stream always lingering in his ears. He had not strayed, following the creek forward.

Along the way, he saw many common medicinal herbs like Garlic Lily Leaf and Yellow Heart, but he had enough for his experiments and did not pick any.

He hadn’t forgotten his real purpose in coming out.

Soon, half an hour had passed. When the flow of the stream was no longer audible, he guessed he had reached its source and finally stopped, heading toward a certain spot.

The woods grew tighter, making progress increasingly difficult. Luckily, Chen Yu had martial skills; otherwise, another person would probably still be wandering miles away.

Reaching such depth was nearly impossible.

He looked around, sensing he had arrived beneath the Baiqi Mountain Range, some distance from Qingtai.

He passed through the dense forest, using his exceptional eyesight to avoid poisonous insects—dry branches and fallen leaves piled thick, all yellowed, and among them lurked hunters camouflaged in matching colors.

Chen Yu avoided them when he could, and if he accidentally stepped on one, his reflexes let him dodge their attacks.

Then, with a machete, he dispatched them.

For most Daoists in this world, the prohibition against killing was observed mainly in special circumstances. Besides, he was hardly a proper Daoist.

Naturally, his strikes were swift, precise, and ruthless!

Crunch!

He pushed aside the grass and plants before him, revealing a patch of mud.

Further ahead, two ponds clogged with all manner of decaying debris stretched out, scattered with broken branches.

Duckweed piled up.

Chen Yu advanced a bit farther, his view widening. The two rows of trees nearby were tall, shading the sun and casting a dim scene.

A marsh hidden deep in the forest appeared.

He did not risk venturing in—who knew what beasts might lurk there?

He turned back, searching along the edges of the pond.

Not far along, the overflow from the pond, filtered through earth and grass, became clear, converging into a tiny stream.

Chen Yu stopped, gazing at a crack in the rocks ahead. A slender, flat creature with several pairs of whiskers was buried in the water, motionless.

“That’s… a loach!”

His eyes lit up. Instinctively holding his breath, he slowed his steps and crept quietly closer…