Chapter 29: Hard to Pluck a Beautiful Flower

As for forming a partnership, Little Fat wasn’t opposed—he and Li Banfeng weren’t even acquaintances, just had a brief encounter at the peddler’s stall.

The reason he’d given Li Banfeng so much help along the way was precisely to form a partnership.

Now that he’d met this expert with the gold-rimmed glasses, Little Fat naturally didn’t refuse—he immediately agreed.

When he agreed, the other four around him also agreed.

An insider speaking so sincerely—there was simply no reason to refuse him.

The four others were: a middle-aged man in his fifties named Old Smoke Cannon, who claimed to be a Smoke Cultivator, Level One, never letting go of his tobacco pipe.

A plump, beautiful woman in her twenties named Oil Peach, who claimed to be a Body Cultivator, just started, no level yet.

A half-grown girl of about fourteen or fifteen named Grass Leaf, who claimed to be a Medicine Cultivator, also just started, no level yet.

A young man in his early twenties named Tiger Cub, who claimed to be a Wu Xiu, Level One.

Their names were clearly fake, and their cultivation bases and sect affiliations were equally dubious.

Since his own sect had already been guessed by the gold-rimmed glasses, Little Fat openly admitted: “I’m Little Fat, a Food Cultivator, no level.”

When asked about Li Banfeng, Li Banfeng replied: “I’m Bai Sha, a Joy Cultivator, no level.”

Little Fat froze, staring at Li Banfeng for a long moment.

Originally he’d introduced himself as Li Qi—whether Bai Sha was his real name didn’t matter.

But when had he become a Joy Cultivator?

Wasn’t he a Traveler Cultivator?

Was he deliberately lying to the gold-rimmed glasses?

Then was what he told me true?

The gold-rimmed glasses were also curious, asking Li Banfeng: “You’re a Joy Cultivator? You came alone?”

Joy Cultivators usually appear in pairs, for mutual cultivation.

Li Banfeng pointed at Little Fat: “I came with him.”

All eyes turned to Little Fat, who fell silent for a moment, then unslung his pack and revealed the dried rations inside, saying to the group:

“I’m a Food Cultivator. I can eat five catties of dried rations in one meal, sometimes ten. I’m telling the truth—I’ll prove it right now.”

The gold-rimmed glasses addressed the group: “I’m Kai Shan, a Traveler Cultivator, Level One. I enjoy touring famous mountains and rivers—I’ve been to Kuwu Mountain a few times before, and I’ll point out anything worth noting on the path.”

Tiger Cub chimed in: “Big Brother Kai Shan, we all trust you—you’re our leader. When we harvest the flowers, we’ll give you two-tenths as per the road’s custom. What do you say?”

At this, the others were displeased.

You just decide to take a cut? Did you ask us?

The gold-rimmed glasses shook his head repeatedly: “I won’t take any of your flowers—these blooms are bought with lives.

I’ve done you no favors; I help you, you help me—that’s mutual support, nothing more.”

Hearing this, the group grew even more respectful toward the gold-rimmed glasses—naturally, they accepted him as their leader.

Figures from the Medicine Guild were faintly visible through the thick fog; the gold-rimmed glasses led the group, following at a steady pace.

Ahead lay a stone bridge, a meter wide, just enough for two or three people to walk side by side.

“This is Wu Hui Bridge,” the gold-rimmed glasses adjusted the nose pads of his glasses. “You may feel your throats tightening—that’s because you’ve already inhaled the poison mist.

Beyond Wu Hui Bridge lies the territory of Kuwu Mountain. I don’t know if your claimed cultivation bases are real, but I sincerely advise you: if you have no cultivation, don’t go further.

Every year, people without cultivation climb Kuwu Mountain hoping for luck—but none of them ever return alive.

I’m not blocking your path to wealth—I’m urging you to think carefully.”

The group exchanged glances, silent. Tiger Cub sneered: “Big Brother Kai Shan, you’ve said it all. If anyone still doesn’t get it, they’re asking for death.

Girl, I can tell you have no cultivation—I say you should turn back now, while you still can.”

The girl, Grass Leaf, lowered her head, blushing: “I really am a Medicine Cultivator. I understand herbs—I can help.”

Tiger Cub glanced again at Old Smoke Cannon: “You’re an old man. Even if you do have cultivation, you won’t be useful on the mountain, will you?”

Old Smoke Cannon smiled: “We’ll see.”

No one showed any sign of retreating—the seven of them crossed the bridge.

On the other side, Li Banfeng felt his throat tighten, and began coughing in waves.

Li Banfeng had entered his sect under heavenly light—he lacked the long-term accumulation others had, and his physical weaknesses showed.

The gold-rimmed glasses frowned: “Brother, you really do have cultivation, right?”

Li Banfeng nodded: “Yes. Joy Cultivator.”

Old Smoke Cannon chuckled: “Joy Cultivators are frail—they can’t withstand Kuwu mist. That’s understandable.”

As he spoke, everyone turned to look at Little Fat.

Little Fat puffed out his chest: “I’m a Food Cultivator.”

The gold-rimmed glasses told Li Banfeng: “Brother, if you can’t hold up on the mountain, turn back early—don’t let greed cost you your life.”

Grass Leaf pulled a palm-sized cloth bag from her bosom and took out a sugar cube.

“Big Brother, suck on this medicine sugar—it works.”

Medicine sugar?

What was this?

Li Banfeng stared at the sugar cube, wondering whether to take it.

Seeing his hesitation, Grass Leaf put the sugar cube in her own mouth, then offered another to Li Banfeng: “Big Brother, I’m not bad.”

To refuse now would be rude.

Li Banfeng put the sugar in his mouth—the cool, slightly sour juice slid down his throat, instantly relieving the dry, itchy pain.

He stopped coughing. This stuff really worked.

Li Banfeng thanked her and continued walking with the group. After more than half an hour, they finally reached the foot of the mountain.

A winding dirt path stretched upward, visibility limited to twenty or thirty meters—still no clear view of the mountain’s full shape.

“Sister, give me one too. When we sell the flowers, I’ll pay you,” said the plump beauty Oil Peach, who had begun coughing, asking Grass Leaf for a medicine sugar.

The mountain path was narrow and steep; the group walked in single file, Li Banfeng right behind Oil Peach.

Li Banfeng had seen many beautiful girls, but Oil Peach’s figure was truly rare.

Her hair styled in soft waves, dressed in a red-and-green qipao, her shoulders and back flowing smoothly, her waist slender enough to encircle with one hand.

Especially the two peach-like curves below her waist—plump, proud, large yet exquisitely refined, brimming with unique vitality.

No wonder they called her Oil Peach.

This peach was flawless.

She was right before him, swaying step by step, swaying step by step…

Was she really here to climb the mountain and pick flowers?

Why wear a qipao to climb a mountain?

It’s clearly inconvenient!

This is clearly meant to distract me!

Li Banfeng tried to shift his gaze away from those curves—when suddenly Oil Peach turned around and smiled at him.

Her crescent-shaped eyes carried endless charm; that smile tightened Li Banfeng’s chest.

“Little brother, are you really a Joy Cultivator? I heard Joy Cultivators can go seven or eight times a day without trouble.”

Li Banfeng replied calmly: “Sister, you flatter me.”

Oil Peach’s crimson lips trembled slightly as she whispered: “How about we spar sometime?”

Li Banfeng shook his head: “My cultivation is still shallow—I’m no match for you, Sister.”

Oil Peach glanced at Little Fat behind Li Banfeng and smiled faintly: “Almost forgot—you’ve got a partner. You like round ones, not flat ones.”

Little Fat wiped sweat from his brow: “I’m a Food Cultivator…”

Traveler Cultivators are highly sensitive to distance; according to Li Banfeng’s estimate, the group had walked over five li along the path when a flower with black-and-white markings appeared beside the trail.

The flower’s shape was peculiar—each petal narrow at the top, wide at the bottom, white with black spots, like a snake’s head covered in scales.

Snake-Spotted Chrysanthemum!

The gold-rimmed glasses had described the Snake-Spotted Chrysanthemum’s features—Li Banfeng recognized it instantly; the flower matched his description exactly.

Little Fat recognized it too, and was about to rush forward to pick it—when suddenly a man burst from the bushes beside the path, wielding a long-handled shears, snatching the flower first.

Little Fat flew into a rage—not just because someone stole the flower, but because of who it was.

The man was the bald one they’d met before climbing the mountain.

It’s him again!

Little Fat lifted his axe again—this time, he truly meant to strike.

The bald man sneered: “Dumber than a pig—you miss every chance! What are you doing with that axe? Try swinging it!”

The gold-rimmed glasses blocked Little Fat—the bald man vanished into the bushes.

Little Fat gritted his teeth: “That bastard—I’m going to chop him to pieces!”

The gold-rimmed glasses held him back: “One or two flowers by the roadside—don’t care. When we reach a good spot, there’ll be plenty.”

“Where’s this good spot?” Little Fat still wasn’t satisfied.

The gold-rimmed glasses glanced at the path—the Medicine Guild’s people had moved fast and were already out of sight.

“Hurry up—see if we can catch up to them.”

Old Smoke Cannon lit his pipe and sucked hard, exhaling a cloud of white-tinged-yellow smoke.

The smoke shot forward swiftly; he chewed his pipe stem, savoring the taste.

“They haven’t gone far—they took the right fork up ahead.”

The tiger cub blinked in surprise: “Old bastard, don’t talk nonsense if you don’t know.”

Old Smokepipe tapped his pipe twice: “If you don’t believe me, don’t follow us!”

Gold-Rimmed Glasses believed Old Smokepipe, because there truly was a forked path ahead.

Turning right along the fork, they walked over an hour more; beyond the dense forest beside the mountain path, a clearing appeared.

“They’re right here,” Old Smokepipe stepped into the clearing, Gold-Rimmed Glasses right behind him.

The Traveling Cultivator moved quickly; Li Banfeng could have easily led the way, but he deliberately slowed, his eyes seemingly fixed on the two halves of the peach.

After searching the clearing for a moment, Li Banfeng spotted a flower with black-and-white markings at his feet.

Having watched peaches sway all along the way, he thought he was seeing things.

He bent down to look again—he wasn’t mistaken; it was indeed Snake-Spot Chrysanthemum.

He pulled out his sickle and, following the method Gold-Rimmed Glasses had described below the mountain, pinched the stem and cut the flower just over an inch above the root.

The first Snake-Spot Chrysanthemum, in hand!

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(End of Chapter)