Chapter Fifty-Two: Budding

Because he hadn’t managed to catch any snakeheads—in fact, not a single bite for hours—Chen Yu, upon returning yesterday, promptly released all the remaining earthworms from his bamboo tube into the vegetable garden, intending to retrieve them for the next wild fishing trip.

The medicinal seeds cultivated in jars remained inert, yet the grain seeds laid out on the wooden planks had sprouted within the past few days, their tender green shoots tinged with a hint of snowy white.

Upon closer inspection, however, it became clear that only the spring millet had germinated; the other three grain seeds had failed to sprout, perishing before they could emerge. Fortunately, he had anticipated this outcome. Both autumn wheat and long white millet were typically sown in summer, so their failure to sprout at this time was hardly surprising, and Jinyang rice, precious as it was, demanded rich soil—there was nothing unusual about its inability to thrive in the ordinary dirt he had hastily dug up.

In the end, only the spring millet survived.

Wait—?

As Chen Yu crouched beside the wooden planks, he noticed something unexpected: only the section watered with spirit liquid had sprouted, while the area exposed to spiritual energy was as motionless as the medicinal seeds. The third plank, which had received no additives, was equally quiet, though upon closer examination, a slender green shoot had emerged from one corner.

But… this appeared to be Jinyang rice?

The seedlings of the four grain types each bore distinctive features, and Chen Yu had sought guidance from Uncle Liu when acquiring the seeds, so he was certain of what he saw. Thus, this must be a fluke—he had scattered many seeds, yet only one had sprouted, suggesting most Jinyang rice simply could not tolerate the barren soil.

He shifted his gaze to the other two wooden planks, each presenting a markedly different landscape.

Could it be that the effect of spiritual energy was inferior to that of spirit liquid?

Yet, recalling how spiritual energy had worked wonders in the medicinal field before, he doubted this was the case; perhaps there was another explanation.

Chen Yu remembered that the spring millet sown in the half-acre mountain field outside the temple had been planted a couple of days earlier, yet had not sprouted as quickly as those on the wooden planks before him.

So, does spirit liquid accelerate plant growth?

He sensed that even if spirit liquid’s catalytic effect wasn’t as potent, its ability to hasten grain development warranted serious attention.

There was only so much spiritual energy—each extraction was laborious—while spirit liquid could be produced abundantly simply by cultivating more Primordial Spirit Roots in the medicinal field.

If diluted with water, could it be used to irrigate the spring millet in the mountain field…?

Chen Yu suppressed his eager thoughts, focusing on the present.

Whether spirit liquid could expedite ripening was still mere speculation; he’d need to wait for the spring millet’s progress on the wooden planks to confirm it.

Moreover, any plant altered by spirit liquid should first be sampled by Brother Chicken.

Spirit liquid was harmless, and so was spring millet, but who could guarantee their combination wouldn’t yield unforeseen effects?

Still, if all proved beneficial in the end, wouldn’t that mean he’d cultivated a new variety of grain?

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Reflecting on the vow he made long ago—that half an acre of land would yield a thousand catties—it now seemed entirely possible.

…

His various experiments proceeded in an orderly fashion, with plenty of spiritual energy and spirit liquid invested. Herbs, medicinal seeds, grains, and vegetables all fell under observation.

Chen Yu didn’t fret over constant monitoring; alone on the mountain, most of his specimens were stored in the courtyard and utility room, the medicinal field left idle. Even if the greedy deer returned and leapt the fence, there was nothing left to eat.

He washed and crushed the reed ginseng, following prior experience to prepare it into a medicinal paste. Concerned about the potency dissipating, he divided the seven short ginseng roots into three batches, each yielding about three tubes—enough for six or seven days’ consumption.

The young codonopsis seedling, after a simple transplant, showed signs of wilting, but was ultimately revived with spirit liquid, saved from death.

Additionally, he steamed six large mountain crabs from the water jar, their roe tender and delicious.

The remaining loaches and crabs he kept in the jar, later heading up the mountain to select a basket of stones and chop several bamboo tubes, constructing a temporary home for his reserve stock.

Unfortunately, he had to change the water every few days, especially since loaches were finicky about water quality and prone to turning belly-up.

The four jars—one large, three small—held the loaches in the smallest vessel, its bottom padded with stones and a layer of soft mud for burrowing.

As for feeding them… seven loaches seemed too many; Chen Yu planned to reduce their number soon, lest the garden’s earthworms run short.

He cared more for them than even the Grand Dao Master, having forgotten to offer incense just two days ago.

In truth, he hadn’t raised them long, simply treating it as a leisure activity to relax himself.

During this period, Chen Yu busied himself not only with these tasks but also maintained his martial practice. Having finished the White Cloud Powder he’d previously concocted, his progress was evident. Even without further medicinal assistance, his daily intake of spirit liquid had rendered his liver ever stronger, and with ample reed ginseng paste, he’d restored his daily exercise from twenty-five rounds to thirty-six cycles. At this rate, he’d likely reach minor mastery of internal energy before descending the mountain to participate in the Nine Miracles Grand Life rituals.

Such rapid progress startled even him.

Perhaps spirit liquid improved physiques as well.

Though only a guess, he felt it was highly probable—otherwise, how could he have advanced from an ordinary, untrained individual to his current level in just over a month?

Even Qian Xuanzhong, who’d studied martial arts from childhood and trained for years, remained stuck at the threshold of minor mastery.

Of course, level was one thing; the true measure of strength was determined in real combat.

Among martial artists, aside from internal energy marking the third rank and external force denoting the elite, most other distinctions were proven by genuine skill.

The more renowned one became, the more challenges and rivals would arise.

Speaking of the Azure-Clad Swordsman, Chen Yu recalled that the latter had gifted him two items: a finely crafted, ancient bronze sword, and a pouch of processed Zhongyang seeds.

The Zhongyang seeds were treated and couldn’t be transplanted or cultivated like codonopsis.

“Pity that Qiyang is in Yunzhou, far from Xizhou.”

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Otherwise, he’d truly wish to visit him on his next trip down the mountain. But, with less than twenty days since Liu Bao’s defeat, and the Azure-Clad Swordsman intent on sharpening his skills across the land, perhaps he hadn’t left Guangyong Prefecture yet.

If he remained, then he would surely not miss the upcoming Daoist grand event—after all, such gatherings traditionally featured martial contests and the celebration of heroes.

No doubt, a throng of martial knights and wandering swordsmen would come to join the spectacle.

There was still time before the rituals began, and the rest was but trivial matters. What truly preoccupied Chen Yu was the subtle change he had recently noticed.

The effect of the Spirit Summoning Body Technique had waned.

Not because his own improvement made it seem weaker by comparison, but because the technique—designed specifically to stimulate the liver and enhance spirit liquid absorption—was itself losing potency.

The last noticeable instance occurred a few mornings ago, when he drank spirit liquid and swallowed a mouthful of reed ginseng paste, then performed thirty-six cycles of his practice as usual.

Yet, the effect diminished somewhat.

His liver was still stimulated, but the amount of spirit liquid absorbed and metabolized by his gut had decreased.

Overall, one practice session now yielded only about one-tenth the effect of his earlier Cloud Crane routine.

Thirty-six cycles amounted to nearly one less complete Cloud Crane session.

Thankfully, the reduction wasn’t severe, so his normal training wasn’t affected. Still, he estimated that if this weakening continued, his eventual ability to absorb spirit liquid might grow exceedingly difficult.

At this juncture, Chen Yu recalled an earthworm he’d once experimented on, which had grown stronger after exposure to spirit liquid, but ceased absorbing after only a few drops.

A limit, perhaps?

He didn’t know—maybe this was truly the human absorption threshold. Yet, whether there was a way to overcome it became his greatest concern.

He needed to plan ahead. Though he could still absorb spirit liquid at a fair pace, he wouldn’t simply wait for problems to arise.

Recently, Chen Yu focused closely on this matter, gathering all sorts of items at hand, including the plant specimens altered by spiritual energy.

He turned the soil in the garden once more, and soon, the earthworms he’d released days ago were dug up again.

Perhaps luck was on his side. With little hope, Chen Yu discovered something new among the pile.

Especially the Azure Spirit Root, which he had set aside—it brought him no small surprise.