Chapter 28

The next day, Mo Shan hurriedly returned.

When Mo Shan arrived at the Apricot Grove Hall, his clothes were tattered and caked with dirt, his arm wrapped in a bandage, as if torn open by some demonic beast, with blood seeping through.

He must have just finished fighting a demon-hunting team's battle and rushed back without treating his wound.

Hearing his wife's life was not in danger, Mo Shan finally sighed in relief; after Master Feng examined Liu Ruhua's condition, he also treated Mo Shan's arm wound.

Several days later, Liu Ruhua returned home to rest; following Master Feng's instructions, she ate light meals, avoided exertion, took her pills on schedule, and could not use spiritual power for a full month.

After staying home for a few days, Mo Shan and Mo Hua were both sent out by Liu Ruhua—Mo Shan, as captain of the demon-hunting team, needed to lead his members to hunt demons, and Mo Hua, as a sect disciple, had to return to the sect for cultivation and could not neglect his studies.

Fortunately, Liu Ruhua could only not use spiritual power; her normal daily life was unaffected.

Mo Shan could only ask neighboring aunts to help care for her, and he often returned home whenever he had free time, while Mo Hua, on every ten-day break, would request leave from his instructor to visit home.

Instructor Yan was understanding and did not make things difficult for Mo Hua, only reminding him not to neglect his cultivation or sect studies.

A month later, Liu Ruhua's body had nearly recovered; though she still had to stay home and could not use spiritual power—otherwise she would cough uncontrollably—there were no other damages.

Mo Hua finally relaxed, but noticed his mother was not very happy; though she still smiled, her expression was clearly much more subdued than before, and she often sat alone lost in thought.

Mo Hua was deeply worried but could not understand why, so he asked Mo Shan.

Mo Shan sighed and said to Mo Hua: "Your mother's thoughts are simple—what she most wants is to save up spiritual stones for you, so you can cultivate well, grow into an adult, and one day marry and have children… But now she cannot use spiritual power, and without it, she can do nothing—not even earn spiritual stones."

"After working hard for half her life, suddenly being unable to do anything, unable to help you at all—it naturally leaves a hollow feeling inside."

Mo Hua felt a pang in his chest and asked: "Does your mother have any other things she wants to do?"

"Other things?"

"Yes, like interests—such as pills, talismans, arrays…"

Mo Shan thought for a moment and said: "She doesn't seem particularly fond of those, but she does love cooking—no exaggeration, within a ten-li radius, no one cooks better than your mother."

Mo Shan sighed again: "When I first pledged my life to your mother and became her Dao partner, I boasted I'd open a restaurant for her so she could specialize in researching dishes—but all these years, she's only suffered with me, and I've never fulfilled that promise…"

Mo Hua looked at his father, who seemed guilty, and knew it wasn't his fault.

Mo Shan's cultivation and Dao techniques were among the best among nearby demon hunters; for years he'd fought demons at the cost of his life, returning home each time covered in blood, yet their household still barely made ends meet.

Fundamentally, the life of a low-level cultivator was simply too hard—just surviving drained all their strength.

Mo Hua said: "Father, don't worry—I'll definitely open a huge restaurant for Mother someday!"

Mo Shan knew his son was trying to comfort him; he patted Mo Hua's head and said with quiet pride: "Good!"

But his wife couldn't use spiritual power, and even as a culinary master, one needed spiritual power—even if they opened a restaurant, without spiritual power, she could hardly be a culinary master.

Thinking of his wife's gloom, Mo Shan felt a pang of sorrow and patted Mo Hua's shoulder: "Spend more time talking with your mother when you can—sometimes your words matter more than mine. Don't let her think too much."

"Mm." Mo Hua nodded.

After that, whenever Mo Hua had free time, he actively sat and talked with Liu Ruhua; her complexion did improve slightly, but when alone, she still looked desolate.

"If only Mother could use spiritual power," Mo Hua thought, but he knew that was unlikely.

Illness strikes like a mountain falling, and heals like silk being slowly pulled—especially a chronic ailment built up over years; only slow nourishment could help, and a quick cure was impossible.

The cultivation world certainly had heavenly treasures capable of curing this, and Master Feng had mentioned a few—but for a family like Mo Hua's, there was no way to find them, and even if found, they could never afford them.

Mo Hua could only give up.

Another half-month passed, bringing the hottest month of the year; the sun hung high, the ground scorching hot, and Tongxian Sect, as usual, granted a one-month summer break.

The annual break and the summer break were the two longest holidays of the year.

With the heat, demons rarely appeared, and those that did were fire-elemental, growing stronger in such weather and extremely difficult to fight—so summer was also the off-season for demon hunting.

Mo Shan would stay home longer, only leaving for a few days when team members found valuable demons, returning with some spiritual stones or demon hides and pelts.

Once, after Mo Shan returned from a few days away, he brought a large package; when Mo Hua opened it, he found a huge bundle of beef tendon and stared wide-eyed: "Father, this is…"

"It's wild mountain ox meat—no spiritual energy, not worth much, but compared to other demons, the meat isn't too bad, and the odor isn't too strong."

"Our demon-hunting team hasn't had much luck lately—only this one wild mountain ox. After skinning and cutting it, no one wanted to buy it—they all said the beef was too tough, too old, couldn't be cooked soft or chewed—so we each took some to bring home and eat," Mo Shan explained.

Mo Hua hesitantly asked: "Father, are you going to cook this meat?"

Mo Shan rubbed Mo Hua's head: "What? You think your father's cooking is bad?"

Mo Hua smiled but said nothing.

At noon, Mo Shan cooked the beef, spending half the day to finally stew it, then serving it in a large open white porcelain bowl.

"Try it—see how it tastes!"

The white porcelain bowl held reddish-brown beef.

After seeing the beef, Liu Ruhua put down her chopsticks and only used a spoon to take a sip of broth, sipping slowly.

Mo Hua picked up a piece of beef, put it in his mouth, chewed several times, his teeth aching—the meat remained stubborn, showing no sign of breaking apart.

Mo Hua awkwardly but politely spat out the meat, picked up a spoon, sipped the broth, and praised: "The broth is great!"

Mo Shan glared at him: "The broth was simmered with your mother's seasoning—of course it's good."

Liu Ruhua smiled faintly: "I know you mean well, but cooking isn't something you can do casually—even with spiritual power to fuel the stove, there are many rules: when to use strong fire, when to use weak fire, when to add which seasoning, how much—everything must be precise…"

Mo Hua suddenly asked: "If you cook it long enough, wouldn't the beef eventually soften?"

Liu Ruhua said: "Theoretically yes—but a cultivator would have to guard the pot day and night, continuously using spiritual power to fuel the fire…"

"Normal cultivators couldn't possibly do that—and those who could probably wouldn't be that bored," Mo Shan added.

"What if you used an array?" Mo Hua's eyes lit up.

"An array…" Liu Ruhua thought for a moment and said:

"I'm not sure, but I heard from head chefs at big restaurants that some large kitchens have alchemists forge special stoves, then array masters inscribe arrays on them—so you only need to activate them with spiritual stones to simmer ingredients for long periods without draining a cultivator's spiritual power. But hiring an array master is very expensive—previously, that restaurant couldn't afford such a stove."

"I see…"

Mo Hua fell into thought.

Mo Shan picked up a piece of beef, chewed a few times without success, then admitted: "It really is hard to chew." He swallowed it whole and forced it to dissolve with spiritual power.

That night, Mo Hua practiced arrays on the broken stele while thinking about the restaurant.

The next day, Mo Hua did not stay home to draw arrays; instead, under the blazing sun, he went straight out to Beidajie.

The weather was scorching; after walking a few steps, he was drenched in sweat, yet along the roadside, some street vendors still endured the searing sun, shouting their wares—though their voices were weak and listless.

Mo Hua arrived at Beidajie and found the largest restaurant on the street—talisman Restaurant—and asked the Shopkeeper: "Is your Young Master surnamed An, called An Xiaopang… no, An Xiaofu?"

The Shopkeeper did not look down on Mo Hua because of his plain clothes; instead, because Mo Hua's tone was so familiar, he guessed the man might truly be an acquaintance of the Young Master, and replied politely:

"You're quite right, Young Master. He's upstairs. Would you like me to announce you?"

Mo Hua replied courteously: "Please, kind Shopkeeper, announce me—say a fellow sect member surnamed Mo is here to see him."