Chapter 177: Dwelling Cultivator

Tang Dao severed the flower's neck, and the blossom fell to the ground.

Meng Ling Hua was severely wounded and temporarily lost control of her technique.

Freed from the constraints of the Dream Cultivator's technique, Li Banfeng could easily awaken.

The wine gourd sprayed a mouthful of liquor onto Li Banfeng's face; the burning liquid jolted him back to consciousness.

"Master, you've finally awakened," Tang Dao exclaimed in delight.

While Tang Dao was looking at Li Banfeng, a stamen emerged from the petals, trying to burrow into the ground.

Tang Dao leapt up instantly and sliced the stamen in two.

Did you think Tang Dao would lose focus just by speaking to Li Banfeng?

You're mistaken.

Even if Tang Dao were sparring with Li Banfeng, if Meng Ling Hua dared to flee, he'd still cut her down.

The lower half of the stamen lay still; the upper half still writhed.

Li Banfeng gripped the upper half of the stamen in his hand; it shrieked: "Spare me! I know my fault! Spare me!"

Li Banfeng was about to crush Meng Ling Hua outright, when he suddenly remembered something.

The folding fan had been reforged by Hong Lian and still lacked some spiritual essence.

Li Banfeng asked the gourd: "Is this flower's spiritual essence sufficient?"

The gourd pondered a moment, then said: "Meng Ling Hua is a rare thing—its spiritual essence is certainly enough, but it's best if Big Sister handles it first."

When she said "Big Sister," she meant the phonograph.

The phonograph had slept for so many days—she ought to be waking up soon. Maybe tonight I'll try some machine oil?

Li Banfeng prepared to carry the stamen into his Personal Dwelling, when the stamen wept: "Grandfather! I've only got this half-body left—I won't survive half a day!

You're a kind soul—please have mercy! Take my remaining fragments with you! I'll serve you daily, do whatever you command!"

Li Banfeng was indeed soft-hearted; seeing such unique petals and leaves, he couldn't bear to leave them outside—what if this thing could be used in an elixir?

He collected the entire Meng Ling Hua plant into his Personal Dwelling; Meng Ling Hua thanked him profusely.

The pendulum sneered inwardly: "This foolish woman—wouldn't a swift death be better? Wait until Madam awakens—you'll wish you were dead."

As expected, the phonograph awoke.

Not from sleep—she was woken by Meng Ling Hua's singing.

Upon entering the Personal Dwelling, Meng Ling Hua had been well-behaved, quietly resting in the vase without a sound.

After Li Banfeng left and the other magic treasures departed, Meng Ling Hua couldn't resist singing.

It was her nature—she couldn't suppress it.

Even when gravely ill in life, she'd still take the stage.

She died on stage, then lingered in the dance hall for seven days.

After seven days, instead of reincarnating, she went to this new land and became Meng Ling Hua, singing still.

Over the years, countless living beings—including passersby—had died from her songs.

Those who heard her melodies would stand frozen, listening for three days and nights, their bodies wasting away until they turned into one of her leaves.

The evening gown she wore was woven from the accumulated remains of these listeners.

But today, she chose the wrong audience.

Hong Lian found her annoying and had long wanted to subdue her, but Zhen Kui was in the critical phase of refinement—Hong Lian had held off.

Besides, Hong Lian didn't consume living things; even if she destroyed Meng Ling Hua's form, she couldn't extinguish her soul.

But waking the phonograph—that was a different matter.

"Damn bitch, singing so badly and still screeching nonstop!" Three needles pierced the petals at once, devouring the singer's soul clean amid her wails.

The soul was devoured; Madam retained the spiritual essence.

The Meng Ling Hua, now only spiritual essence, lost most of her memories—she remembered only fragments of lyrics—and stood beside the bed, continuing to sing.

Madam exhaled a puff of steam, sealing the singer's mouth: "Hearing you hum even once dirties my ears."

Hong Lian sneered: "You wicked woman—where did you even get ears?"

The phonograph snapped: "Wretch, finish eating Zhen Kui's head! Are you waiting for me to refine your magic treasure?"

That night, Li Banfeng returned and discussed refining the treasure with the phonograph.

Madam said: "Dream Cultivators excel at ambushes; Virtue Cultivators excel at maneuvering. Combining a Dream Cultivator's spiritual essence with a Virtue Cultivator's sinews and bones can indeed forge a fine treasure—balanced in offense and defense.

But its quality depends entirely on Hong Lian's skill. Husband, think of a name for this treasure first."

"Dream plus Virtue," Li Banfeng pondered, then said, "Call it Meng De!"

The phonograph praised: "Husband, what a fine name!"

Tang Dao snorted: "So Master can come up with a nice name after all."

Li Banfeng glared at Tang Dao: "Is 'Er Dao' not a good name?"

As they spoke, the Meng Ling Hua beside the bed began singing again.

Li Banfeng frowned: "Aren't her soul and spirit already devoured? Why is she still so fond of singing?"

Clang clang clang~

"Hey, husband—her soul is gone, but her spiritual essence remains. This wretch sings because it's her nature."

Li Banfeng thought a moment: "So refining a magic treasure and devouring the soul seem unrelated."

"Hey, husband—you're wrong. If you don't devour her soul, she'll never forget who she was. The treasure will be hard to refine, and even harder to control…"

Madam explained.

In plain terms: devouring the soul means erasing the target's self-awareness.

Take Meng Ling Hua as an example—if she retained her self-awareness, you couldn't redefine her.

She wouldn't become a loyal general like Tang Dao, nor a beloved companion like the gourd.

She'd remain that singer—the one who'd rather die than leave the stage. Under such conditions, even if refined into a magic treasure, she'd cause endless complications.

Retaining only spiritual essence is the best way to preserve the treasure's power and ensure obedience. Of course, spiritual essence brings its own problems—Madam had already said: all magic treasures have a price, and this is one you must bear.

Tong Lian was still working on Zhen Kui's head and couldn't yet refine the treasure. The phonograph had no choice but to endure Meng Ling Hua's singing.

"This bitch sings too much—can't even shut her mouth. If she sang well, fine—but this noise is like tearing a foot rag! How dare she show it off?"

Meng Ling Hua fell silent, staring fixedly at the phonograph, and retorted: "Do you sing well? If you're so good, sing a verse!"

The blood-stained pendulum roared: "How dare you!"

The phonograph wasn't angry. She exhaled a puff of steam, enveloping Meng Ling Hua, and sang slowly:

"Winter comes, snow blanketing all,

Warm clothes made, sent to my love's call,

A fair maiden hides within her room,

And adds another wife for her groom!"

"Wait!" Li Banfeng leapt up. "Madam, hold on! Not ready yet! Slow down!"

The Four Seasons Song!

The Four Seasons Song isn't something you sing casually.

This is an ascension.

Li Banfeng had sensed it—Madam had consumed so many fine things lately, her condition was excellent, and his ascent to the fourth level was inevitable.

But the process took him by surprise: a gust of steam surged forth, sucking him straight into the horn's mouth.

Fifteen minutes later, Li Banfeng wriggled free from the horn's mouth—his hair, beard, and eyelashes all curled into tight waves.

The phonograph glanced at Meng Ling Hua: "Learned it?"

Meng Ling Hua stayed silent.

She was ashamed.

Before the phonograph, her singing was truly pitiful.

Li Banfeng wiped the moisture from his face, sat beside Madam, and asked: "Madam, forget her for now—let's talk about the fourth-level technique."

Clang clang clang~

"Hey, husband—the fourth-level technique of the Dwelling Cultivator is called 'Golden Chamber, Hidden Beauty.' It's a technique all Dwelling Cultivators possess.

It's difficult—unusually so. Husband, you must devote careful thought to mastering it."

Golden Chamber, Hidden Beauty.

Li Banfeng smiled, placing his hand beneath the needle arm and scratching it: "Madam, 'Golden Chamber, Hidden Beauty'—isn't the beauty I've hidden you?"

"Hey! Hey! Don't scratch my armpits, little slave can't stand it—I'm ticklish, I can't hold on!

No more! I'm laughing too hard! Husband, spare me!"

"Laugh! I'll make you laugh! You ascend without warning, then you laugh? Tonight I'll oil you—see if you still laugh!"

"No oil for you, no scratching my armpits—

Little slave knows her fault! Isn't that enough? Husband, stop playing—little slave can't breathe…"

Wheezing, wheezing—the whole room filled with steam.

The gourd was envious; the other magic treasures stayed silent; Hong Lian offered them two clear dewdrops.

The phonograph calmed down and said: "Little slave will first explain the principle of the technique. Husband, can you bring some clay? If not, flour will do."

Flour would be hard to find.

Li Banfeng remembered encountering some clay along the way.

He stepped outside and returned within a quarter-hour, a sack of clay slung over his shoulder—Wu Xiu's pace was indeed swift.

His wife brought a metal basin, filled it with water, and told Li Banfeng to mix the clay.

"Hey, husband, mold a beauty out of this clay—the more beautiful, the better."

A beauty?

What kind of beauty can clay even make?

It's not just about shape—you must consider the essence.

Li Banfeng pondered carefully, grabbed a lump of clay, and shaped it into a large sphere.

He grabbed another lump and shaped a small sphere.

He rolled three more lumps into long strips.

The small sphere is the head.

The large sphere is the body.

The four strips are the arms and legs.

The clay figure was done.

Changji stared at it for a moment, then asked Li Banfeng: "Husband, you call this a beauty?"

Li Banfeng fetched some rouge and painted a red lip on the clay figure.

"Wife, is this beautiful enough now?"

His wife sighed lightly: "Husband, you're never serious. The technique of 'gold chamber, hidden beauty' demands elegance—the object must be a stunning beauty; the more exquisite the form, the greater the combat power."

Li Banfeng stared at the clay figure in his hands: "This thing has combat power?"

Changji nodded: "Once a dwelling cultivator steps outside, he gains no advantage against other sects—he relies entirely on the four-layer technique to boost combat power."

"Husband, focus your mind and give this clay figure a drop of blood."

Li Banfeng took a awl, pierced his fingertip, and dripped a drop of blood onto the figure.

"Husband, focus your mind—look at this clay figure!"

Li Banfeng stared at the figure for nearly ten minutes—slowly, it stood up.

Success! It moved!

Li Banfeng was delighted.

Changji praised: "Husband, you have remarkable talent. Take this figure outside and test its skill."

Li Banfeng walked out the gate with the figure and spotted a rabbit foraging in the wilderness.

Li Banfeng ordered the figure: "Go catch that rabbit for me."

For a first trial of the technique, don't choose too difficult a target—focus on building your confidence and establishing rapport with the figure.

The figure received the order and stepped forward, beginning to chase the rabbit.

Its speed seemed too slow—it could never catch the rabbit, but maybe it could catch the earthworm right in front of it.

Catching an earthworm is fine too!

On the way, it encountered a stone.

The figure tripped.

Its head fell off.

Then…

There was no more.

Half an hour passed—the figure never moved again.

Li Banfeng picked up the figure and brought it back to his dwelling: "Wife, this thing is useless."

Chit-chit!

"Hey, husband, didn't I tell you? You must make a beautiful lady—the more beautiful the lady, the stronger her combat power."

"It's clay sculpture—I don't know how to do this…" Li Banfeng scratched his head, troubled.

"Clay sculpture is indeed difficult. Husband, how is your painting skill?"

"Painting? You mean drawing? I can do that."

"You could paint a picture of a beauty—but the combat power of the painted beauty will be reduced."

Even reduced, it's far better than this useless clay figure.

Li Banfeng took paper and brush and carefully painted a beauty.

First, a small circle for the head.

Then a large circle for the body.

Then four sticks for the limbs.

After looking at it, his wife asked again: "Husband, you call this a beauty? I can't even tell it's a woman."

Can't tell it's a woman?

That can't be right.

Li Banfeng added a few long strands of hair to the "beauty."

His wife studied it for a moment—then all three trumpets smoked: "Huh! You madman, even a three-year-old child could draw better than this!"

…

At dawn, the millipede woman's mother stumbled out of the plot, dazed.

She ignored the wild boar beside the plot and walked straight into the deep forest.

The millipede woman waited on the path, glaring fiercely at her mother.

The millipede mother lowered her head: "Daughter, listen to your mother—things aren't what you think. I'm not the kind of person you imagine—I was ensnared by his technique…"

"Shut up! Don't you dare speak another word!" the millipede woman snarled. "Think about how many tricks you played with him! Look at your wrinkled face—where will you even show it now? How will we two ever live here again?"

"Let's move," the millipede mother wept. "We can't stay here anymore."

The millipede mother and daughter left.

Ma Wu struggled to stand, stared at the wild boar outside the plot, and shouted: "Are you coming or not?"

The wild boar trembled, fell silent for a long while, then his gaze changed.

He turned his head and walked into the deep forest.

He was at peace.

The forest was good—there were deer to eat, sheep to eat; after satisfying his meat cravings, he could eat some plants too.

After eating, he could sleep; after waking, he could rub against a big tree to scratch his itch.

Isn't this a good life?

Cultivation can wait.

Don't ruin yourself over this little cultivation base.

…

The wild boar left.

Ma Wu exhaled deeply.

Feng Daili's talent only worked on women.

This wild boar was male.

If it had truly charged in, Ma Wu would have had to team up with Xiao Genzi and fight it to the death.

…

The millipede mother and daughter's affair had spread for a hundred li around.

No other beings wanted to come near this plot.

The land god hovered above the plot, glaring down at Ma Wu: "This one's even more shameless! More shameless than the last one!"

A male eagle flew to the land god's side and whispered: "A wandering monster has come to the land."

The land god frowned slightly: "What kind of monster?"

A bagworm.

The land god smiled: "Lure her over."

The wandering monster came—on her own. Don't blame me for putting you in a bind!

Young man, if you value your life, get out now!

PS: Madam Su'e is not one creature, but a type of monster—mentioned earlier, and her origins and background will be explained later.

For Ma Wu, the greatest trial was coming.

(End of Chapter)