Chapter 53: Spirit Essence, Cooking in Progress
Water beast spirit essences—perhaps it is more fitting to call them water carp spirit essences. These three water carp spirit essences had been flopping about in front of Ji Ming for nearly a quarter of an hour, making him once again feel the naivety and innocence of his own nature. He had truly believed the Golden Nemean Ape had given him something precious. Well, to look at it another way, it was indeed a good thing—a treasure well-suited for battle in the water.
Each of these three water carp spirit essences was over a meter long; judging by the solidity of their spiritual forms and the divine light in their fish eyes, they must have been spirits in life. Yet unless he truly became some “water ghost or river demon,” it would be hard to put them to use on land.
Ji Ming simply could not understand—how could something refined into pure essence still behave as it once had in life, flopping about on the ground? He tapped his bug-like head, chiding himself for celebrating too soon. Next time fortune fell into his lap, he would have to remain composed.
Bubbles gurgled up from the pool, and Ji Ming quickly packed away the spirit essences, pretending he hadn’t used the command talisman at all.
“Let’s go! Why put up with this nonsense? We’ll find it ourselves.”
The Golden Nemean Ape, emerging from the pool and breathing heavily, cursed under his breath and beckoned Ji Ming to join him as they made for the depths of the mountains.
“Have that person’s disciples been here?” Ji Ming asked, a suspicion forming in his mind.
Seeing the ape’s demeanor, Ji Ming assumed the situation was like that in the old temple—the mountain spirit had already submitted to the intimidation of the Temple of Four Sorrows.
“No, but she doesn’t want to offend that person,” the ape replied, his face twisted with anger, baring his teeth. “To think she’s a mountain spirit, a subordinate of the Earth Lord, yet so spineless, truly…”
With a crash, the pool exploded, a thick mist spraying forth and shrouding the surface. Within the fog, a mountain waterfall seemed to hang upside down, and two red lanterns appeared, probing into the air ahead. Behind those two lanterns, a long, winding shadow snaked across the pool—a serpent demon, no doubt.
A clear, ethereal voice drifted from the mist.
“The third peak!”
Upon hearing this, the Golden Nemean Ape was overjoyed and immediately made for the third peak.
“How reckless!” Ji Ming silently grumbled, casting a glance at the giant snake in the pool before following after.
“What mountain is this?” Ji Ming asked along the way.
“Mount Bird Peril—a famed mountain in these parts. Eight peaks cluster together, shrouded in mist-filled valleys. It’s a place where the hundred birds attain their way.”
“The way—do you mean the human path?”
“Of course, the human path. If the hundred birds attained the fruit of the earth-immortal path, this land would become a haven for demons.”
As they walked and talked, the ape and the centipede soon crossed the hills and reached the third peak.
From broad daylight until late at night, they nearly circled the entire third peak, yet found not a single clue.
“Why don’t you try divining again?” Ji Ming suggested as he withdrew his illusory limbs and coiled to rest. Ever since reaching the summit, he had realized this wasn’t the destined place for the celestial child’s birth—the vision from his spirit eye didn’t match this mountaintop.
“I know the mountain spirit here. She’s not one for playing tricks.”
“In that case,” Ji Ming analyzed, “if she sent us to this third peak, she must have some other purpose.”
“It’s too quiet,” the Golden Nemean Ape suddenly noted. “It’s far too quiet here—unnaturally so for a mountain peak.”
“Has someone been here?”
“Yes…someone has,” the ape replied.
“Are they still in the mountain?”
“No,” the ape shook his head. “With the commotion we’ve made, if they were still here, they’d have come out to subdue us long ago.”
Ji Ming lifted his upper body, surprised. “You are the son of the Water Lord of the Southern Pan River—would those people dare lay a hand on you?”
The ape gave a self-deprecating laugh, his earlier high spirits fading. “The Water Lord has thousands of offspring. What am I in comparison?”
“Surely they’d at least show some caution,” Ji Ming reasoned. Though he understood the harsh realities monsters faced in the human world, as one of the river gods, the ape’s status ought to afford him some special protection.
“They do,” the ape admitted. “The lower disciples are wary, the middle ones give a bit of face, but as for the upper echelons…”
Ji Ming fell silent. It was like a wealthy man complaining to the poor about an unsatisfying dinner—truly, the sorrows of monsters were not all the same.
“It seems we’ll accomplish nothing these next few days. I’ll escort you back to Hengshan.”
“Very well!” Ji Ming agreed. He had been away long enough and missed his den. He told the ape, “If you hear anything, be sure to let me know.”
Unbeknownst to Ji Ming, his words greatly moved the ape. To the Golden Nemean Ape, searching for the celestial child in secret meant standing against the entire Temple of Four Sorrows, perhaps even Mount Taiping itself. That the centipede would stand with him, undeterred by danger, was the very embodiment of loyalty.
After escorting Ji Ming back to Hengshan, the ape took out several spirit fruits and pressed them into Ji Ming’s hands, kindly saying, “When you’ve finished, don’t bother saving the pits—they won’t grow. One day, I’ll bring you a sapling of a spirit fruit tree, and teach you the secret art of cultivating spirit plants.”
Ji Ming felt a rush of warmth—he hadn’t expected his little habit to be noticed by the ape. Truly, he was so poor that every bit had to be carefully saved.
The ape and the centipede exchanged a few more words before parting reluctantly at the riverbank.
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Southwest of Hengshan, in a stone cave.
Ji Ming descended from the wind and landed outside the cave. First, he checked the progress of his three apprentices, then inventoried all the supplies in the den.
The children’s food supplies were ample, but his own stock of poisonous fare was running low. He felt the tips of his venomous hooks; without enough poison to sustain him, his toxicity would decrease by at least thirty percent.
“Mingyue, Qingfeng—fetch the medicinal incense from my chambers!”
“Songhe, add firewood to the cauldron and prepare to summon the insects for venom-making!”
At Ji Ming’s command, the three apprentices bustled into action, each preparing their tasks in an orderly way.
“Master, there’s not much incense left for summoning insects—just three boxes remain.”
“No matter,” Ji Ming waved his hand, reassuring the apprentice. “Pour one box into the cauldron and roast it gently over a low flame.”
Ji Ming sat before the cauldron, directing the children. Qingfeng and Mingyue poured the incense into the cauldron one by one, while Songhe added firewood beneath and began to stoke the flames.
The fire heated the cauldron, and the incense inside began to smoke. Thick clouds of it billowed from the cauldron’s mouth.
“Go!” Ji Ming produced three spirit tablets, dispatching the three household ghosts to patrol the outside world and report any disturbances immediately.
“Rise!” Ji Ming conjured a gust of ghostly wind within the cave, carrying the smoke from the cauldron out through the entrance, dispersing it into the mountains and forests, blowing it beneath rotting leaves.
Any cultivator unaware of the truth, seeing this scene, would surely think Ji Ming was refining pills. Little would they imagine he was—simply cooking.
It’s only when you run a household that you realize how costly food and firewood can be. Even for a spirit creature, maintaining a home was no easy task!
Sitting before the cauldron, Ji Ming soon saw venomous insects lured by the smoke, crawling in from outside, each entering the cauldron in an orderly procession.
“Perhaps it’s time to put that plan into action,” Ji Ming thought. Though the matter was somewhat unspeakable, the second time was always easier than the first—his guilt was much less now.