Chapter Sixty: Useless

The matter of the footprints could not be rushed; he certainly couldn’t rely on a mere hatchet to search the mountain forests for those massive creatures. For now, he could only hope that none would come to the temple and bring disaster.

Descending the mountain and returning home, his basket was piled high. Chen Yu dumped the heap of herbs used to repel insects and snakes onto the stone steps. He sorted through them, first selecting those with roots and leaves still muddy—these wild senna plants could be tried for cultivation. Planted in front of the courtyard gate and outside the chicken coop, living snakebane would surely be more effective than powdered ones. Whether they would survive, however, remained uncertain.

“It shouldn’t be a problem,” he mused, studying them for a moment. With his spiritual elixir, and given the season was already suited for wild senna, unlike crops that defied their natural growth cycles, these plants had a much higher chance of survival. He set aside those intended for transplanting and continued picking through the basket. It contained not only spitgrass and wild senna, but also several other herbs reputed to repel insects, all gathered along the way.

He sorted them by efficacy according to his memory and tied them into bundles with dried grass. Rising, he walked to the chicken coop and chose two corners near the fence to dig pits. For these direct outdoor transplants, it was necessary to clear any competing weed roots from the area, lest they rob the medicinal plants of nutrients.

With the pits ready, he buried a wild senna in each. The sprawling leaves were somewhat wilted, but that was no concern. Chen Yu untied his water pouch and poured a mouthful of spiritual elixir onto them.

The effect was visible: when he returned after hanging the remaining herbs out to dry in the courtyard, he found the previously drooping leaves now unfurled—half shaded by the eaves, half basking in sunlight, gently swaying in the breeze.

They had survived. This proved that while the spiritual elixir could aid growth, it could not defy the seasons. The spiritual engine, however, was different: it cared nothing for times or weather—so long as you fed it, it would catalyze growth, unless the object was too weak to benefit.

Chen Yu recalled the grains that, after being forced by the spiritual engine, had shriveled and split open, and thought perhaps he should first use the spiritual elixir to nourish and strengthen them before employing the engine—otherwise, the survival rate was too low.

“There should still be some spring millet left from the previous batch of elixir cultivation. I can give it a try.” With this resolved, he returned to the courtyard and fiddled with the tree of drying herbs, awaiting their transformation into powder to scatter around the temple.

…

After these labors, Chen Yu resumed his humble life, occasionally weeding the mountain fields and feeding the chickens. Perhaps stung by the rooster, the king banded snake did not dare reappear, though the lost chick would not return, and his future food supply diminished by one.

As another day drew to a close, nearing his descent from the mountain, good news finally came from the medicine field behind the courtyard: the third batch of spiritual vegetables had matured.

The Divine Fruit of Lanting hung heavy, with shapes large and small, long and short. Three kinds of fruit grew on a single tree—an odd marvel.

He picked a round one, smooth as an orange, thin-skinned and thick-fleshed. Biting into it, he tasted a familiar flavor and felt a familiar effect.

He then harvested a greenling root, pinched off the bud and popped it into his mouth, savoring it with spiritual elixir.

Sure enough, the upper limit loosened, but only by a small margin. He estimated that he would need to eat many more to break through this layer and continue absorbing elixir, nourishing body and mind.

“The effect has weakened greatly.” It was not surprising—every person had their limits. The greenling root breaking through twice was already a stroke of luck, and he always suspected this was not its true purpose.

Moreover, as Chen Yu had previously anticipated, not only the greenling root but also the Divine Fruit of Lanting saw diminished potency after continued use. His spiritual accumulation was substantial, and he had eaten many divine fruits; it was only natural that their tempering effects diminished. This was unrelated to the elixir absorption limit and would not recover even after breaking through.

Still, they were useful enough.

Thinking this, Chen Yu turned his gaze to the thickest-skinned, smallest Divine Fruit of Lanting—a brand new variety. He picked one, flicked off the wriggling green worm atop it, and tried to break it open, but even half his strength barely dented the skin, which remained wholly intact.

Curious, he fetched a small knife and pierced it. After pushing through a hide tough as leather, droplets of fragrant liquid seeped out.

It carried its own orchid-like scent.

Splitting the fruit along the crack, he found inside a layer of white flesh like coconut, with a hollow center.

Faced with this new divine fruit, the rooster ‘volunteered’ to eat a piece. Only after waiting nearly an hour with no adverse effects did Chen Yu cautiously sample a bit himself.

Activating the Spirit-Strengthening Technique, he felt a wave of coolness in his mind, which soon faded.

“It feels much the same as the other two,” he thought, sensing the changes within his body. He devoured the remaining flesh in one bite.

He was not disappointed; though it brought no novel miracles, at least it offered a new flavor of juice.

…

With new spiritual vegetables from the engine, he seized one last opportunity, consuming all the greenling roots, supplemented by divine fruit and elixir, aiming to further enhance his physical constitution.

As expected, even after surpassing the limit, the elixir’s strengthening effect on his body was much less efficient than before. The improvements grew slower and slower, until finally they ceased entirely.

Ultimately, his body had been fortified to its utmost—at least, the elixir could do no more.

The new limit arrived faster than the previous two, taking less than two days in total.

This time, Chen Yu could not think of any solution. The greenling root was powerless; it was not that he failed to absorb, but that the elixir could no longer strengthen him.

“Well, using it to refresh and fight fatigue isn’t bad.” Calculating, he found the elixir still useful as a restorative tonic, and more so for watering plants to aid their growth. Its uses remained broad.

The only regret was the Spirit-Strengthening Technique.

…

He swallowed a gulp of elixir and tried to activate his self-created technique. Yet the elixir in his stomach remained unmoved, and though his liver was stimulated, it seemed to refuse to process or absorb.

With no options, he sighed and gave up.

Still, the new technique was not entirely useless. Back in April, Chen Yu had begun refining and supplementing the Spirit-Strengthening Technique, and it had proven to be the right path.

After blending in the essence of external cultivation, it played a significant role before reaching mastery. From now on, though, he would need to make some adjustments, shifting the focus toward bodily strength—perhaps incorporating internal cultivation methods. As for elixir absorption, that would have to wait.

Returning to the present, after a period of consumption, a few fragments of greenling root and Divine Fruit of Lanting remained. He chose not to discard them, instead gathering and storing them.

Even if their effects had faded, their flavor was pleasant. The greenling root was chewy, like corn candy, while the divine fruit offered three distinct tastes.

They would serve as snacks in the future.

At least, that was all they could do for him.

“It’s time to find something new to plant.”

Chen Yu had come to understand the role of the spiritual engine: essentially evolution, enhancement, and mutation—and so far, all positive.

So, after tidying up a batch of plants, he grew curious about what else might grow if other things were fed to the engine.

However, no matter how eager, that would have to wait until after the upcoming ritual.

…

On the stone table, a handful of beans lay in a sieve.

This time, besides greenling root and Divine Fruit of Lanting, he had deliberately transplanted two strings of beans, erecting a trellis with stakes just for them.

He picked one and examined it.

Though it shared the same name as the long, slender cowpea, these beans differed in both growth season and appearance, as well as in taste.

Yet they did share one similarity: their method of preparation. Both simply required steaming until tender, then cooling and mixing for a superb flavor.

Of course, those were ordinary beans, while the ones in Chen Yu’s hand were catalyzed by the spiritual engine, and naturally had their differences.

“The skin is still too thick.”

He had experimented with beans long ago, but without soil to buffer and dilute, a direct injection caused violent changes and immediate death.

The present batch, though not as thick-skinned as the first—when even a knife could hardly cut through—still proved difficult to peel. Compared to ordinary beans, they certainly couldn’t be steamed directly.

If one tried, after two or three hours, they would still be tough, let alone edible.