Chapter 85: The Spirit of the Fisherman

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On the western slope of Wooden Fish Island, tiered spiritual fields had been hewn from the earth. Bathed in sunlight, the irrigation channels winding through the fields shimmered with a gentle, silvery light, imbuing everything with a sense of tranquility and beauty.

“These spiritual fields have finally taken shape,” murmured Hongyu. Dressed plainly, her hair gathered with a single pin and devoid of any extraneous ornaments, she scooped up a handful of soil, feeling its spiritual resonance with careful attention. A smile blossomed across her face.

“You all should try as well—see if you can sense the spiritual aura within.” Still smiling, Hongyu looked over at her five disciples gathered nearby.

At her words, all five immediately reached down to grasp the soil, even the youngest among them—a mere nine-year-old novice—who, born into poverty, understood just how rare this opportunity was.

Watching this scene, Hongyu felt a surge of satisfaction. Though these five hailed from varied backgrounds—a wealthy scion, a wandering swordsman, a farmer’s child—they all approached the path of cultivation with equal seriousness, cherishing the chance to embark on the immortal way.

After a moment, they each gave their answers; some faces shone with delight, while others drooped with disappointment.

Hongyu said nothing further. The path of cultivation was never easy, nor was it fair—aptitude, talent, ancestry, all weighed heavily in one’s progress.

“Next, I’ll demonstrate the Minor Cloud-and-Rain Arts. Watch closely.” She made no effort to console those who were disheartened. With hands forming intricate seals, Hongyu began her incantation.

After dispersing her old foundation and starting anew, she had managed, aided by the lingering benefits of her past, to return to the proper path of cultivation. She had now completed the tempering of her limbs and was soon to begin tempering her body, though progress had slowed at this stage.

With a rush of spiritual energy, dark clouds gathered. Under Hongyu’s control, a cloud mass a hundred paces wide slowly formed above, and in an instant, a fine rain began to fall.

The five disciples watched this in rapt attention, unwilling even to blink. To summon rain from nothing—this was the wondrous art of immortals, a power forever beyond the reach of ordinary mortals.

After a while, her spiritual strength depleted, Hongyu ended the spell, carefully concealing her fatigue.

“All right, go cultivate diligently. Once you succeed in refining your spirits, I’ll teach you this Minor Cloud-and-Rain Art.” With this casual promise, she sent the five disciples off to their training.

They bowed deeply and retreated at once, eager to refine their spirits soon and become immortals who could soar through the skies and command wind and rain.

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Hongyu was well aware of their secret hopes, though she said nothing. “The immortal path is arduous. I wonder how long their enthusiasm will last,” she mused, shaking her head as she watched their departing figures.

Though the world did not lack those with mediocre talent who ultimately achieved greatness in cultivation, such people were rare and often possessed some unique quality. For the vast majority, if both their background and natural endowment were ordinary, their achievements would likely be so as well.

“Qi refining... I wonder how long it will take before I reach that stage,” she sighed, collecting her thoughts as she made her way to the uppermost part of the fields, where a specially dug cave awaited. Inside, spiritual spring stones were stored, and wolfbane vines had been planted.

“Now that the spiritual fields are established, it’s time to begin cultivating spiritual rice in earnest. I can barely manage on my own for now, but the results are still lacking. Perhaps I could have some suitable spirit beasts captured to help with farming.”

“Training qualified spiritual farmers takes time, but with the aid of beast hides, there is a shortcut. Once donned, even a martial artist can wield the corresponding spells.”

Ascending step by step and considering matters from the perspective of the field steward, Hongyu pondered her options. This was not idle fancy—it was quite feasible. In fact, the opening of these fields owed some credit to Skinny Monkey, whose Green-Arm Gibbon mastered the Earth-Cleaving and Flying Stone Arts, both invaluable in this work.

The only complication was that such beasts were hard to find and would require considerable effort to capture.

By the time Hongyu finished her musings, she had reached the summit of the western slope. Before her stood the entrance to Clear Spring Cavern.

The entire western slope was enclosed by Taiping Sect, with guards posted all around—save for this cave. Only a few rats watched from afar, never daring to approach, for wolfbane vines grew within. For an ordinary person to venture inside was certain death. Once the vine bloomed, any living creature that strayed too close would fall prey to its methods and become fertilizer for the plant.

“What’s this...?”

Standing at the cave mouth, Hongyu caught a faint, exotic fragrance and immediately understood.

In the next instant, she shielded herself with spiritual energy and steeled her mind before stepping inside.

“It’s blooming at last!”

Deep within the cave, she saw the bright red wolfbane flower and felt a surge of joy. She knew how much Jiang Chen valued the wolfbane flower and had thus devoted great effort to its cultivation. At last, her toil had borne fruit.

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“Spiritual spring water and medicinal soil—it seems these two things truly are most beneficial to the wolfbane flower.”

“Compared to other spirit plants, the wolfbane flower is much easier to cultivate. It has hardly any taboos.” With these thoughts and a heart full of delight, Hongyu carefully plucked the bright blossom. She also collected some of the vine’s sap, which could, to some extent, stimulate the awakening of bloodlines—meant for the rat colony.

After making sure she had left nothing undone, Hongyu departed from Clear Spring Cavern.

Meanwhile, as Taiping Sect flourished, a weary group was drawing near to Qinghe County.

“Master, we’re almost at Qinghe,” said a tall, dark-skinned middle-aged man aboard a river boat. He carried a fishing spear across his back and looked every inch the fisherman.

At his words, a white-haired old man, who had been meditating, opened his remaining eye. His skin was sallow and weathered, his face marked by hardship. He had lost one eye, which was wrapped in cloth, as if the injury were recent.

“At last... I hope the Gao family’s promise was true,” the old man said, rising to gaze into the distance with a sigh.

His name was Luo Qiao, once a fisherman on the rivers of Changfeng County. Later, fortune smiled upon him, and he embarked on the cultivation path. After enduring countless tribulations, he achieved Qi refining and founded his own sect—the Spirit Fisher Sect.

After years of growth, Spirit Fisher Sect had gained some foundation, with dozens of disciples and even a prodigy who reached Qi refining before the age of thirty, promising great things for the sect’s future. But their good fortune did not last. Chaos broke out in Changfeng County, and the Spirit Fisher Sect suffered a devastating blow.

The prodigy fell in the turmoil, and most of the remaining disciples were killed or scattered. In the end, as the sect’s patriarch, Luo Qiao fled with his only two surviving disciples.

In his earlier years, Luo Qiao had formed a friendship with a Qi-refining cultivator of the Gao family. Now, at the Gao family’s suggestion, he had come to Qinghe County to establish new roots. The Gao family had been forthright about the situation—they wished for Luo Qiao’s sect to compete with Taiping Sect.

This undertaking was not without risk, but in exchange, the Gao family would provide support to help him rebuild the Spirit Fisher Sect if he agreed.

After much deliberation, Luo Qiao accepted the terms. For now, he and his disciples had nowhere else to go.