Chapter 99: The Art of Listening to the Wood

Muyu Island, dawn’s sunlight cast a warm hue over the still unmelted snow and ice. A fierce wind and heavy snow had ushered the entire Qingyuan County into winter overnight.

Thud, thud, thud—the morning bell tolled, and disciples of the Taiping Sect began their early training. The whole island instantly buzzed with activity. Some of the junior disciples were organized to clear the roads and remove the accumulated snow. Although it was Qinghe County’s first snowfall of the season, it was exceptionally heavy.

Meanwhile, on the western slope where the spirit fields were concentrated, Hongyu was leading a group to inspect the condition of the spirit rice crops.

“Old Huang, do you think this snow will affect the harvest of the spirit rice?” Hongyu asked, brushing aside the snow to examine the seedlings beneath.

Hearing this, Old Huang—also known as Huang Shi—did not immediately reply. He squatted by the field, extending his rough palm to gently stroke the one-foot-tall rice seedlings, as if sensing something.

After a moment, he withdrew his focus and replied, “Master Guan, judging by the response of these seedlings, the heavy snow hasn’t had much effect. Compared to ordinary rice, this spirit rice is at least an annual plant that must endure all four seasons; it’s inherently resilient. But if this weather continues, that’s another matter.”

Old Huang furrowed his brows as he shared his thoughts.

Ordinary rice would have been harvested by December, except for spirit rice, which was remarkably hardy—it had withstood yesterday’s fierce wind and snow without faltering.

Hearing this, Hongyu breathed a sigh of relief.

Old Huang had been granted a Qinglin Deer Demon pelt and mastered the Minor Cloud Rain Technique and Wood Listening Technique, allowing him to sense the condition of the spirit rice to a certain extent through listening. Since he said there was no major problem, it was likely true.

“Everyone, work hard to clear off the snow. We can’t let these spirit rice plants be crushed by the snow if it keeps falling,” Hongyu ordered, scanning the group with a sharp gaze.

The crowd bowed in acknowledgment, and Old Huang immediately sprang into action. Agile despite his age, he skillfully swept away the snow without damaging the seedlings, showing none of the frailty one might expect from an elderly farmer.

Though he was a minor steward and technically not included in Hongyu’s order, he was more than willing to help. The thought of spirit rice being crushed by snow would surely break his heart.

Seeing Old Huang’s dedication, Hongyu’s gaze shifted slightly.

Old Huang came from a humble farming background. Before meeting Jiang Chen, he was just an ordinary man who toiled relentlessly for mere subsistence. His recognition by Jiang Chen wasn’t only because of his farming skills but also due to his steady temperament and unwavering seriousness about cultivation, never slacking off.

Because of this, he was granted alchemical pills and martial arts techniques, forcibly trained into a third-tier martial artist, and given a Qinglin Deer Demon pelt.

“Even the seemingly ordinary can possess extraordinary qualities. When it comes to farming, I might truly not compare to Old Huang,” Hongyu muttered, shaking her head as she thought of his recent performance.

The Taiping Sect had inherited farming knowledge from the An family, and she had diligently studied it. Yet, her understanding was rigid and mechanical; mastering it perfectly required time and experience. After receiving the Qinglin Deer Demon pelt, Old Huang was permitted to delve into this legacy as well.

He seemed born for this work—many things he grasped instantly, understanding deeply at once. Among the three who received the Qinglin Deer Demon pelts, his performance was the most remarkable.

Although all three had mastered the Wood Listening Technique, the other two were hit-or-miss, often receiving vague information, while Old Huang’s results were consistently reliable.

“Unfortunately, Old Huang lacks spiritual insight and is too old; otherwise, he might have had a promising future,” Hongyu sighed and began working with her own hands.

The Taiping Sect currently cultivated only two types of spirit rice—White Dew Rice harvested in spring and Red Flame Rice harvested in summer. Neither could afford to be jeopardized now.

While the entire Taiping Sect busily cleared the snow, Jiang Chen remained immersed in his cultivation.

In the Qingxin Retreat, a silent chamber constructed from materials provided by the An family, Jiang Chen continuously refined the essence energy of a tiger-striped catfish.

“Open!”

At a certain moment, having accumulated enough energy, Jiang Chen looked inward, focused on a star, and struck once more with his sword. As the sword light fell, an invisible barrier was severed, and the once dim star suddenly illuminated—a new acupoint was opened.

Simultaneously, under the influence of the catfish’s essence energy, a vast amount of formless true qi was generated, instantly filling the newly opened acupoint.

“Thirty acupoints finally achieved. Now the small breakthrough in Qi Refinement is near. However, cultivation at this stage indeed slows down the farther one progresses. It took me one day to open the first ten acupoints, two months for the last ten, and even now it still takes two months, but the resources consumed are incomparable to before.”

“If it weren’t for the support of the Taiping Sect, or the treasure fishing rod in my possession, my cultivation speed would have slowed considerably.”

Silently circulating true qi to quell the restlessness brought by the breakthrough, Jiang Chen’s mind churned with thoughts.

Cultivation was never easy. Though the small breakthrough in Qi Refinement was within reach, he was uncertain when he would truly step into the next stage, let alone achieve full Qi Refinement perfection.

“Qi Refinement focuses on opening 108 acupoints, forming three small cycles of 36 acupoints each, progressing from visible to invisible, from easy to difficult. Each completed cycle doubles the difficulty of the next, for a slight move affects the entire body.”

“When all 108 acupoints are fully opened, the three cycles merge into one, forming the Great Cycle, and Qi Refinement is complete. Yet, this step has defeated countless practitioners.”

Jiang Chen shook his head and gathered his thoughts.

His cultivation speed was indeed swift, having covered in six months what others might take ten years or even decades to achieve. Still, there was no need to rush. Take the Corpse Daoist, for example—he had spent over forty years in the Qi Refinement stage and had only opened eighteen acupoints, with two years per acupoint considered generous praise.

“With my current strength, dealing with the Turtle and Snake Demons should pose no problem. It’s time to visit the Demon Mountain the two elder hermits mentioned. For two monsters to take up residence there and never leave, there must be some mystery.”

Leaving the quiet chamber, Jiang Chen noticed the icy cold and thought of traveling. The world was clad in white; riding the wind and soaring through the air would surely be a unique sight.

Following his instincts, he called Wang Yuan over, gave simple instructions, and then soared away on the wind, departing Muyu Island.

With his sword cutting through Luo Bridge, the power of the Taiping Sect in Qinghe County reached its peak. Everyone fell silent; no disturbances remained, so there was nothing to worry about for the time being.