Chapter 31: Copper Lotus, what are you doing?

At dusk, the herbalists left the open area and headed to the next location.

Their departure proved the snake-spot chrysanthemums here had been mostly harvested.

Old Smoke Cannon sucked his pipe, exhaled a plume of smoke, and kept following the herbalists.

After trudging over an hour, they finally found a second good spot with the herbalists—a relatively sparse forest, more remote, with even more flowers.

But with more flowers, everyone’s efficiency dropped.

The mist on Kuwu Mountain was eroding everyone, including the herbalists; all grew weak and sluggish.

Fatty was affected least; Li Banfeng was affected most—he felt numbness in his limbs and his vision blurred in waves.

By nightfall, the night mist thickened further, making their situation even more dire.

Peach Girl had a pocket watch; it was past nine, and she too was barely holding on.

“Let’s retreat, shall we? We’ve already broken even on this trip.” Peach Girl had gathered thirty-five snake-spot chrysanthemums, worth two thousand nine hundred seventy-five yuan—truly enough to break even.

Li Banfeng had gathered two more than Peach Girl, matching his expectation, and he felt if they didn’t descend soon, their lives would be in danger.

Fatty refused to leave; he’d gathered the fewest flowers—only sixteen—worth over a thousand three hundred yuan at the herbalists’ posted price.

After deducting all expenses along the way, would he still make a profit?

He’d still make a profit, just a small one.

Fatty wasn’t satisfied.

The snake-spot chrysanthemums here were clearly easier to find than at the first spot.

And Fatty’s physical condition was clearly better than everyone else’s; by his own estimate, he could hold out until dawn without issue—this was the perfect moment to push harder, gather more, earn more.

He refused to leave; Little Leaf refused too, relying on various medicinal candies to sustain her, her body showing no major ill effects yet.

Old Smoke Cannon smoked two more pipes; in his words, as long as he had tobacco, he could endure.

Since none of them left, Peach Girl stayed too—she too felt unwilling to give up.

Watching her waist sway, those two peach-like curves nearly motionless, Li Banfeng truly wanted to urge her to leave.

But he had no strength to speak; under intense dizziness, saying even a few words might make him vomit.

Besides, he barely knew Peach Girl—he was more worried about Fatty.

But Fatty stubbornly refused to leave, so Li Banfeng descended alone.

Before leaving, Little Leaf stepped forward and warned: “Brother Baisha, if you’re a Wu Xiu, you must rest at least half a month after returning—Wu Xiu bodies are weak and suffer the most from this toxic mist.”

If you’re from another Dao sect, you’ll still need at least three to five days of rest.

If you’re a Zhai Xiu, then forget what I just said.

Li Banfeng was just catching the key point when Peach Girl interrupted: “Sis, what’s wrong with Zhai Xiu?”

Little Leaf widened her eyes: “Sister, are you a Zhai Xiu?”

Peach Girl smiled: “I was just asking out of curiosity.”

Little Leaf lowered her voice: “Even a Zhai Xiu without a Zhai Spirit can neutralize the poison by sleeping seven or eight hours in their residence; if they have a Zhai Spirit, they don’t even need seven or eight hours.”

That’s the power of a Zhai Xiu—as long as they return to their residence, they fear nothing.

Peach Girl sighed softly: “If only I were a Zhai Xiu.”

Little Leaf shook her head: “Sister, Zhai Xiu rarely venture out—so are you really…?”

As she spoke, Little Leaf kept staring at Peach Girl, clearly intrigued by her sect.

Peach Girl patted Little Leaf’s cheek: “After we finish this job, come visit my residence—you’ll find out if I’m a Zhai Xiu.”

Li Banfeng had no patience for this chatter; he leaned close to Fatty and warned:

“Stay here and keep gathering flowers. Don’t move locations. Gather a few more, then descend immediately!”

Fatty nodded vaguely.

He wouldn’t change locations—there were indeed plenty of flowers here.

But he wouldn’t leave easily—he planned to endure until morning.

Gold-Rimmed Glasses had said: snake-spot chrysanthemums bloom at unpredictable times, but always last a full day and night.

The flowers opened around seven this morning; they wouldn’t wither until seven tomorrow morning. This night, they’d surely yield another twenty blooms.

Descending after dawn means enduring a few days of vomiting and diarrhea, but a couple good meals will make up for it.

Watching him focus on gathering flowers, Li Banfeng left the forest, hid his key in a secluded spot on the trail, and returned to his personal residence.

He didn’t descend—the advice from Little Leaf had reminded him.

He chose to recover first inside his residence; once sufficiently restored, he’d descend—otherwise, he might face disaster on the way.

Something was wrong with this journey—seriously wrong.

He didn’t trust Gold-Rimmed Glasses, though most of his actions seemed reasonable.

Everyone else’s behavior was also reasonable—a group of strangers offering mutual support within reasonable limits was a wise choice.

But one thing wasn’t reasonable.

They’d been attacked three times by the same person.

On Kuwu Mountain, everyone wanted snake-spot chrysanthemums; being robbed was understandable.

But being robbed three times by the same person? That wasn’t reasonable.

The first encounter with the bald man on the path was coincidence.

The second encounter on the mountain trail—what was that?

Coincidence?

And the third time, when the bald man came again to steal flowers—how do you explain that?

Calling it coincidence no longer holds water.

The bald man must be following our group—but how is he tracking us?

On Kuwu Mountain, visibility is terrible; tracking someone is extremely difficult. Without Old Smoke Cannon, this group couldn’t have kept up with the herbalists.

Yet this bald man followed us the whole way—could one of them be a skilled tracker?

Or did someone leave marks for him?

Li Banfeng unslung his sack, tossed it aside, and lay flat in his residence, trying to reconstruct the events—but searing pain across his body prevented focus.

It hurt too much. This mist on Kuwu Mountain was deadly.

The dizziness paired with pain made Li Banfeng want to vomit.

No—he couldn’t vomit inside his residence. Not on the floor.

This room had no ventilation; if he vomited on the ground, the stench would linger for days.

But he couldn’t hold it in!

Li Banfeng tore open the sack, spilled out the snake-spot chrysanthemums, and used the sack to vomit—emptying his stomach, even the bitter bile.

After vomiting clean, he felt better, tied the sack shut, tossed it aside, and collapsed onto the floor, falling into deep sleep.

He slept for an unknown length of time before suddenly waking to a strange odor.

Inside his residence, besides dust, there should be no other scent.

Was it the scent of snake-spot chrysanthemums?

On Kuwu Mountain, he hadn’t noticed any special smell from these chrysanthemums.

The mist on Kuwu Mountain must have masked their scent.

Now, back in his residence, with no other odors interfering, he smelled them again.

It must be the snake-spot chrysanthemums—he detected a unique floral fragrance.

He’d nearly forgotten: Little Leaf said these flowers were poisonous! Eat one, and you’re dead!

Was the fragrance itself poisonous?

Li Banfeng froze in alarm and sat up quickly.

The snake-spot chrysanthemums had been carelessly scattered across the room—he had to find a safe place to store them.

He pulled out a match, lit a candle.

Surprisingly, after sleeping, his pain was gone, his dizziness vanished—he felt nearly fully restored.

But the next moment, his scalp prickled, as if electric currents rolled from his forehead to the back of his skull.

Where are my snake-spot chrysanthemums?

The thirty-seven painstakingly gathered snake-spot chrysanthemums—where did they go?

Not a single one remained!

Losing the flowers meant losing the money—but that wasn’t the worst part.

Only I can enter this residence—so who stole the flowers?

Could I have eaten them myself while sleepwalking?

You can’t eat these things!

Li Banfeng searched everywhere—but not a single petal remained.

The candle’s light was limited; he hadn’t noticed his feet and tripped over something, stumbling hard.

He turned the candle back and saw it was the copper lotus on the floor.

Wait—is this the copper lotus?

The copper lotus had always been on the floor, its position unchanged—but its condition was different.

It had bloomed.

Li Banfeng saw the flower’s center, saw the lotus pod.

Inside the pod was a single seed—fully ripe.

Li Banfeng carefully peeled off the lotus seed, and the lotus flower immediately closed, nearly trapping his finger.

The pale green lotus seed trembled gently in the center of Li Banfeng’s palm.

Li Banfeng had no idea where the lotus seed came from or what to do with it.

Suddenly, the lotus seed swelled, expanding to the size of a fist, then burst with a loud pop.

Li Banfeng flinched and quickly pulled his hand back; eight beads fell from the shattered seed, each the size of a thumbnail.

Li Banfeng picked up one of the beads, examined it—it had a white base with black spots, as if inlaid with some kind of scale.

What is this thing?

PS: Salad has decided—tomorrow’s chapter will be an extra long one. Dear readers, give Salad some strength.

(End of Chapter)