Chapter Sixty-One: The Art of Summoning Divinity

May 4th. Clear skies.

Smoke curled in the kitchen as Chen Yu wielded his spatula, stirring the iron wok back and forth. Fresh green beans, each no larger than a thumb, rolled about, their skins gleaming with oil and water, giving off an enticing luster. The rich, savory aroma surged before him, and even he hadn’t expected the mutated beans to possess such an outstanding flavor.

There’s no need to dwell on the testing process. Suffice it to say, once he saw Brother Rooster safe and sound in the henhouse, he began exploring the possibilities of these beans—specifically, all the ways they could be eaten.

The beans’ effects were ordinary, lacking the marvelous properties of their predecessors. Chen Yu had tried both the thick pods and the beans themselves; the former were tough and useless, but the latter tasted quite good, though they served only one purpose: satiety.

They reminded him of ‘Senzu Beans’ from some work in his previous life. Yet these couldn’t heal wounds or restore strength—they simply filled the belly. Roughly estimating, after shelling, five beans would suffice for an ordinary meal for the average person. For him, perhaps three handfuls—fifteen to twenty beans—were needed.

What truly interested him was that this feeling of fullness genuinely replenished the corresponding energy spent. However, eating too many in a short time affected oxygen to the brain, making one sleepy. Overindulgence also caused bloating and, quite freely, flatulence—loud flatulence at that. He figured combining them with bowel-softening herbs would be quite a torment.

“Well, I’ve found my rations for traveling,” Chen Yu thought. He didn’t mind; it just meant another way to fill his stomach. After all, he found he’d have to eat thirty or forty beans at once for the side effects to appear, and his appetite was nowhere near that.

He kept stirring, removing the beans only when their skins turned golden, then tossed in fresh greens—proper vegetables, since the mutated verdant roots were unsuitable for high heat and had become his snacks instead. Lately, he’d also been considering what to plant next and what kinds of spirit plants he might cultivate.

Chen Yu called these ‘spirit plants’—those grown under the influence of spiritual catalysts. As for those nourished only by spiritual liquid, since they had no remarkable properties, they hadn’t been graced with a name by Master Chen.

Just yesterday, he’d already moved two spring millet seeds—previously infused with spiritual catalysts—to the medicinal fields. Many had died at first, so they only occupied a small patch, leaving plenty of space in the expanded fields.

After weeding and turning the soil, Chen Yu fetched water to irrigate; now the medicinal field was ready for new crops. Yet he hadn’t decided what to plant, still torn in his thoughts.

“Time to take the pot off,” he muttered, stuffing two handfuls of straw into the stove to stoke the flames. Once the greens were ready, he splashed them with a ladle of well water, then steamed rice over the oil and broth.

Later, he’d toss in two dried mushrooms to simmer a bowl of soup, and today’s lunch would be a delight.

Stepping out, Chen Yu fetched dried mushrooms from the storeroom, washed them, and set them on the table. Then he scooped two handfuls of rice and scattered them in the chicken pen—he had forgotten to feed the hens and rooster earlier, busy with martial practice.

The temple had no chaff for feed; millet alone was not a long-term solution. Fortunately, the chicks had grown well of late. Wild cassia and saliva grass flourished around the yard; he thought to fence off the patch behind the house after his return, plant a few ‘Snakebane’ bushes along the border, and let the flock roam free to forage.

Brother Rooster, however, would not be included. Not only did he need the bird’s help in ongoing research on spiritual catalysts, but the rooster was energetic and, if released, would likely spend his days pecking at Chen Yu himself.

Lost in thought, Chen Yu set the second pot on the fire. There weren’t many dried mushrooms left, and on a whim, he decided to use them all—he could always gather more from the mountain.

He had an idea to try. The Lan Court fruit was naturally sweet and tart, good for soup, but what if, after removing the flesh, he stir-fried it with mushrooms in oil? The mere thought conjured a strange image, but curiosity got the better of him. In any case, with beans to fill the meal, it didn’t matter.

Why not try?

Cooking was a pleasure for him. As Chen Yu often said, he had little talent for anything else. If he could claim any skill, it was farming, cooking, and, perhaps, fishing—though he’d lately demoted fishing to a hobby, suspecting that the fish here were incompatible with his methods.

He hadn’t even started, but already he envisioned the ideal colors, aromas, and flavors. This dish would use more than just mushrooms and Lan Court fruit; he’d also picked some wild greens gathered on earlier mountain trips. Each time he went foraging, Chen Yu collected wild vegetables with unique tastes, thinking they might come in handy someday, or at least serve as side dishes or condiments.

He planted them at the edge of his garden, letting them grow as they pleased. Today, he’d use some—threeleaf kudzu, yuan-yi, sourwood pulp…

As for the dish’s name, he’d already decided: ‘Sour Silk Mushrooms.’

How it would taste, he had yet to discover—he’d have to wait and see. In any case, he would certainly share it with Brother Rooster.

…

That afternoon, Chen Yu lay flat on a bluestone, eyes lifeless as he gazed at the sky. Distant peaks were beautiful, but his spirit was so drained he had no energy to appreciate them.

No need to mention the reason.

“As the saying goes, failure is the mother of success. Learn from your mistakes, reflect and summarize, and next time you’ll make the dish you envisioned!” he declared, puffing up his cheeks.

He sighed helplessly. He had meant to say ‘make the ideal dish,’ but on reflection, perhaps simply producing something edible would be enough.

“Thank goodness for Brother Rooster.”

If not for the rooster, he might have boldly eaten the dish himself. Had he done so… well, the taste defied description, and Chen Yu preferred not to remember it.

As for Brother Rooster? He was fine, despite eating a good deal. It was well known that chickens and humans were different. What Chen Yu found unpalatable was merely unfamiliar to him; Brother Rooster was another story entirely—the sensitivity of their palates was worlds apart. At the very least, the rooster had survived a whole spoonful.

Setting aside these vexing thoughts, Chen Yu, having failed at culinary invention, turned his attention to martial arts. He sat up, palms resting on his knees, back straight.

The fusion of Spirit-Breathing Body-Strengthening Technique with inner cultivation methods was no simple task, especially since he had yet to master ‘soft force’ and knew nothing of internal training. For now, he could only follow the instructions of ‘Cloud Crane Skill’ by rote, parsing each word, carefully pondering, and comparing it with his own fledgling method to see if there was room for adaptation.

His greatest progress in cultivation recently, however, was not in these techniques, but in the mental discipline he’d struggled with for over half a month.

At last, Chen Yu had found a breakthrough.

After much reflection, he developed a rough new technique he called ‘Soul Summoning Method.’ Compared to before, he no longer had to grind away, breath by breath, but had found a more efficient path. In guiding his spirit, he could also sharpen his senses.

Given his abundant spiritual reserves, each attempt further heightened his perception. Most directly, this was reflected in a deeper control over his body—no longer limited to the surface as before.

Chen Yu was satisfied, even if this method, derived from Daoist introspection, was more incomplete than his early attempts at the Spirit-Breathing Technique.

But the benefits of the Soul Summoning Method were real—not only did it aid in perception and spiritual guidance, but it also helped him control his internal power.

Power arose from flesh and blood; the finer the perception, the more useful it became.

At this rate, he felt it wouldn’t be long before he crossed that threshold.

“I wonder, once I’ve mastered my spiritual power, will I be able to achieve the legendary ‘inner vision’?”

Having drawn from introspective methods, he naturally looked forward to that possibility. If he truly gained inner vision, his control over both body and power would surely leap to new heights.

At that point, perhaps he’d reach mastery even faster than his previous breakthroughs…