Chapter 98: The Mastery of Magic

Time slipped quietly into December, and at last, the lingering summer heat was fully dispelled. The ceaseless rains finally faded, easing the minds of many who had feared flooding might erupt. Over these two months, the Taiping Sect developed methodically, providing Jiang Chen with spiritual materials each month to support his cultivation. Some of these materials were gathered by the disciples from rivers and forests, others obtained through exchange.

Though spirit sand was the universal currency in the cultivation world, gold and silver were not without value for cultivators, especially those in the Spiritual Sensing stage—not to mention martial artists. Thus, with the right connections, gold and silver could also be traded for spiritual materials, albeit at a steep rate: an ounce of gold exchanged for a mere tenth of an ounce of spirit sand. Given the prevailing circumstances, spirit sand was far easier to trade for gold than vice versa. Sometimes, the exchange rate was even more unfavorable.

With the support of the Taiping Sect, and the resources he had acquired from the Fisher Spirit Sect previously, Jiang Chen was able to cultivate with undistracted focus.

Upon the river, a solitary boat drifted with the current. Jiang Chen sat at its prow, one hand holding a fishing rod, the other propping up his head. His body leaned slightly, eyes half-closed, as if his spirit wandered the heavens.

The river surged, its waters roaring, wind howling, as if all the world was in motion—save for his heart, where the tortoise and serpent coiled, suppressing all turbulence. Over two months, he had successfully transformed his martial secret, the Tortoise-Serpent Meditation, into a soul technique intrinsic to himself.

With this method perfected, the tortoise and serpent guarded his mind, allowing no stray thoughts; it aided him immensely during cultivation, ensuring his focus was unwavering.

Suddenly, a cold wind swept by, and light snow began to fall—the season’s first. As time passed, the snow grew heavier, but Jiang Chen remained unperturbed, invisible true energy swirling about him, weaving into a cloak that shielded him from the elements.

When the snow finally dusted the riverbank in pale white, the fishing float dipped beneath the surface. Jiang Chen opened his eyes at last.

“The Thread Technique has finally reached perfection.”

Grasping the Dragon Rod, he engaged in battle with the fish, joy swelling in his heart.

Catching a spirit fish was a delight; achieving a breakthrough in sorcery was equally joyous. The two together doubled his happiness.

The Thread Technique, though basic, was not easy to master. For Jiang Chen to perfect it at the early stage of Qi Refining owed not only to his formidable soul, but also to the aid of the Tortoise-Serpent Meditation.

The presence of the Dragon Rod had further hastened his progress. So long as he could hold his mind steady, angling itself became a form of cultivation.

The large fish thrashed, stirring up undercurrents, threatening to overturn Jiang Chen’s little boat. As he reeled in the rod, the fish struggled wildly beneath the water.

Seeing this, Jiang Chen exhaled, steadying the rocking boat.

“You’ve eaten my bait and still wish to escape? There’s no such easy fortune in this world.”

True energy flowed ceaselessly; Jiang Chen hauled the fish from the river. It resembled a catfish, nearly a meter long, striped like a tiger, its mouth full of sharp teeth, giving it a fierce appearance.

“So it’s a tiger-striped catfish—no wonder it’s so strong.”

“Well, well, the weather today is perfect for a fish hotpot. With pickled vegetables, it should be quite delicious.”

Seeing the spirit fish in full, his happiness grew. Though ferocious, it contained rich spiritual energy; even a Qi Refining cultivator would benefit greatly from consuming it. He had already opened twenty-nine acupoints; perhaps eating this spirit fish would let him break through to thirty.

“The weather is truly strange—summer’s heat lingered so long, and now, in a blink, heavy snow falls.”

Stowing the spirit fish, he stood at the bow, gazing at the swirling snow. A subtle, dim light flashed in his eyes—the Yin Spirit Sight.

After some cost, the Skinny Monkey had succeeded in bringing out a considerable number of Yin Stones from the deep mountain gorge. That place was thick with yin energy; though no true vein had yet formed, many Yin Stones had nonetheless emerged.

According to Taiping Sect’s assessment, fully mining the site could yield between a thousand and two thousand spirit stones’ worth of Yin Stones. The extraction was difficult, requiring significant manpower and resources, but for Taiping Sect—lords of the land—such demands were not burdensome.

To ensure safety, Jiang Chen even had the Black-and-White Elders personally oversee the mining. For the great families like the Lu clan, scattered extraction of Yin Stones was insignificant—they owned their own spiritual veins and controlled Qingyuan Prefecture’s spirit sand mines. Yet for smaller cultivation families and rogue cultivators, such a haul was considerable wealth.

Generally, low-grade spiritual materials were worth less than a hundred spirit stones; first-tier materials varied, ranging from several hundred to rare items exceeding a thousand.

From this perspective, the batch of Yin Stones was valuable—assuming, of course, they could be mined. Ordinary rogues lacked such capability.

“Strange phenomena often indicate the unusual. Taiping Sect must prepare early, even if it seems unnecessary—better wasted effort than to be caught unprepared.”

Making plans for the future, Jiang Chen’s mind stirred. The various anomalies in Qingyuan Prefecture reminded him of the apocalyptic days; at that time, many strange signs appeared, but people, content for too long, lacked any sense of crisis. They merely regarded them as curiosities, making no preparations, and ultimately disaster befell the world.

In fact, to guard against possible flooding, Taiping Sect had already stockpiled supplies. When the rains receded and floods did not come, many in the merchants’ guild complained—the preparations had cost the sect dearly.

“It’s time to return. May this world remain peaceful a while longer.”

His mood spent, Jiang Chen lost interest in further fishing. Chaos may present opportunities to rise, but for him now, a stable environment was best—he needed time to accumulate his foundation.

Returning to Wooden Fish Island, Jiang Chen immediately had the tiger-striped catfish cooked, enjoying pickled fish hotpot amid the snow. With the energy provided by the spirit fish, that night he began assaulting his thirtieth acupoint.

Time waits for no one; the signs of anomaly stirred a sense of urgency within him.