Chapter 23: A Reward That Drives People Mad!

The monstrous snakes in the rainy mist could be defeated simply by towering above them, suffocating them with sheer stature. But what about these bean soldiers? Did they too fear anything taller than themselves? Or, perhaps, was the contest about who was rounder? Heaven help him—who could possibly compete in that regard?

While Shanglu pondered ways to deal with the bean soldiers, he cast a furtive glance at the elder shaman seated under the canopy. A bold suspicion suddenly sprang up within him: could the man-stealing fogs of Yunhua Mountain, and the man-eating monstrous snakes, truly be connected to this shaman, or to the shamanic institute behind him?

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by startled cries echoing from the training ground. The other bean soldiers that had been “defeated” scrambled to their feet with astonishing speed. Their bodies glimmered with runes, secreting copious amounts of bean sap that healed their wounds before one’s very eyes.

Several regulars, their faces etched with confusion, were about to question the elder shaman—why hadn’t the assessment ended, when the bean soldiers had clearly been vanquished? Yet, before they could voice their protests, the revived bean soldiers pounced upon them like wolves, fiercer and faster than before!

Two regulars, caught off guard, were knocked flat to the ground. The bean soldiers wasted no time, leaping atop them and pressing their sharp sprout-blades and sprout-spears to their throats. Instantly, the two men froze, not daring to move a muscle.

Shanglu, too, was beset by a renewed onslaught from the bean soldiers. Much to Sun Ying’s disappointment, he still wasn’t bested. Not only did Shanglu parry their intensified attacks, he also discerned that the bean soldiers’ strength had indeed increased—a significant leap!

Before, the bean soldiers assigned to test the regulars were somewhat weaker than those who’d mastered Bone-Cleaving at the minor level. Now, however, their strength had advanced a full stage, approaching major mastery of Bone-Cleaving! It was no wonder ordinary regulars couldn’t withstand their assault and were swiftly defeated.

Thankfully, the monstrous snakes in the rainy mist hadn’t possessed this power to grow stronger after death, or Shanglu would have been eaten long before he could compete with them in height.

Yet, this turn of events sparked another suspicion within Shanglu: “Is the shaman testing our true strength? But for what purpose? Could he really be recruiting for the shamanic institute?”

Just then, two soft popping sounds echoed across the field. The two bean soldiers who had vanquished the regulars began to shrink rapidly, smoke billowing from them. In the blink of an eye, the imposing, millstone-sized warriors deflated like punctured balloons, reverting to mere yellow beans.

The elder shaman beckoned, and the two beans obediently rolled toward him and leapt into a pouch covered in runes. At the same time, his voice resonated again in everyone’s ears: “Chen Shuai, Qiu Guang—achieved minor mastery of Bone-Cleaving, passed the cultivation assessment.”

Chen Shuai and Qiu Guang, the two regulars just bested by the bean soldiers, were left both grateful for their lives and worried that their defeat might mean they had failed. To their astonishment, the shaman announced that they had passed.

Their emotions soared wildly, as if swept from the depths of the abyss to the heights of the clouds by some immortal hand. The other regulars began to realize: so even losing to the bean soldiers could mean passing the assessment?

It made sense—after all, the revived bean soldiers’ strength had soared to major mastery of Bone-Cleaving, far surpassing the assessment standard for regulars. It was simply unreasonable to expect them to win.

Though they didn’t understand the shaman’s motives, several regulars currently being pummeled by the revived bean soldiers shouted loudly, “I surrender! I surrender!” “Master Shaman, please recall your bean soldier—I’m going to be beaten to death!”

Despite his stern demeanor and unapproachable air, the elder shaman complied at once, without a word of admonishment. One by one, the bean soldiers reverted to yellow beans amid clouds of smoke and were gathered back into the pouch. The shaman recited a list of names, announcing each as having passed the cultivation assessment.

Soon, few regulars remained on the field. Those who persisted either wished to gauge how far they were from major mastery of Bone-Cleaving or, like Shanglu, sensed something amiss and chose to observe a bit longer. Of course, their endurance was also due to their greater strength, allowing them to withstand the bean soldiers’ enhanced assault.

At that moment, the elder shaman suddenly announced, “Any regular who attains major mastery of Bone-Cleaving will be awarded a vial of Spirit Dew; those who achieve complete mastery will receive a piece of Spirit Fat.”

He made no mention of rewards for those who broke through to the Meridian-Passing Realm, likely assuming none among these regulars would reach such heights. Nor did he speak of what the squad leaders might receive upon advancing, as they had yet to clear even the first round of assessments.

His words left the entire assembly stunned into silence. Spirit Dew and Spirit Fat were luxuries reserved for shamans and children of noble families! For lowly clerks such as themselves to partake in such treasures was unheard of.

While past performance assessments did offer rewards for breakthroughs in cultivation, these were typically meager sums of silver, whittled away by layers of bureaucracy until almost nothing remained. How had the court suddenly become so generous this year? So generous, in fact, as to seem unfamiliar.

Could it truly be that the shamanic institute was recruiting, and on a larger scale than ever? Was this why rewards for breakthroughs had been raised, to serve as encouragement?

While the others speculated in hushed amazement, the regulars still on the field were electrified, shouting with excitement and brimming with fighting spirit. Even those currently being pinned and pummeled by bean soldiers waved their arms and refused to surrender, their voices full of passion.

They yearned not only for the rewards of Spirit Dew and Spirit Fat, but even more for the chance to catch the eye of the shaman and seize an opportunity to change their fate.

Those who had just surrendered, on the other hand, were stricken with bitter regret, their intestines twisted with remorse—why hadn’t they held out a little longer? Compared to the rewards at stake, what was a beating from a bean soldier?

Hearing of these rewards, Shanglu’s heart too began to race with longing. Such treasures, distilled in secret realms, were of immense benefit to cultivation. If offered in sacrifice to the Spleen God in the Temple of Five Viscera, they might even help him break through several meridians at once.

He was determined not to let the opportunity slip away.