Chapter 112: Gifted Until My Arms Grew Tired

Facing the enthusiastic congratulations of his fellow cultivators, Liu Xiaolou felt deeply ashamed and humbly said, “Elders, fellow cultivators, I have merely done a trivial thing, yet you all show me such kindness—I am truly uneasy. Tonight, let me host a feast on Gan Bamboo Ridge for all of you.”

“We’ll definitely come, definitely!”

“I’m going down the mountain to buy wine—I’ll empty every bottle in Wuchao Town, ha!”

“I’ll buy spirit rice—tonight’s grand feast demands spirit rice to go with the wine!”

“Too bad Zhang Ma and Qing Jie moved to Yueyang...”

Amid the chaos, Jiang Feihu shouted, “Everyone, everyone! Let’s set aside Liu Xiaolou’s wedding for now—first, let’s rescue the Lingling cultivator. What do you say?”

The Seven Heroes of Gu Zhang Mountain also said, “Today is a day of great joy for Wulong Mountain—we don’t want bloodshed. Consider yourself lucky, Dong—release the man and get off the mountain!”

Someone immediately added, “Yes, yes, Liu Xiaolou, say the word—quickly settle this so we can prepare for your wedding!”

“Yes, yes! Today, fellow cultivators will spare Danxia Sect face and not press them.”

More people pushed Liu Xiaolou forward: “Quickly vouch for them! Don’t refuse— you’re Danxia Sect’s son-in-law, you have the standing.”

“Truly an honor!”

“Ha! My heart is so joyful, it’s as if I were the one marrying a Su woman!”

“Exactly! I agree—let’s drain a large cup!”

“Which Su woman did you marry? Tell us, Xiaolou!”

“I know! Xiaolou said yesterday—it’s Su the Fifth, a Foundation Establishment high cultivator, the future head of the Su family in twenty years!”

“Heaven has eyes...”

Pushed forward by the crowd, Liu Xiaolou could only vouch: “I vouch for you—release the Lingling cultivator at once and leave the mountain. I will not hold today’s incident against you.”

Longshan Sanren stroked his beard and said, “Make them leave their silver and spirit stones as gifts for Xiaolou.”

Dong Wei and the others had no spirit stones—their spirit stones had all been won by Lingling Ke. They did have some silver, totaling over two hundred taels, all confiscated to buy wine and rice in Wuchao Town.

Just before letting them go, Dong Wei whispered, “Liu Daozhi, please, don’t tell anyone about today’s incident—if it gets back to Qishan, I’ll never be able to show my face again—I’ll have no choice but to die. I was pushed to it—I was almost destroyed by my family...”

Liu Xiaolou sighed, “Dong Brother, how did you sink so low? Setting up a rigged gambling scheme? You were lucky today—Wulong Mountain cultivators overlook it. Elsewhere, you’d have suffered terribly!”

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All fellow cultivators nodded around him, and someone added by example: “Three years ago, I set up a rigged scheme too—got caught, had both legs broken, nearly died. Did I say anything? I just bowed my head and submitted! No matter what you do, follow the rules—character shows in the rules—that’s how you live!”

Dong Wei and the others had no courage to argue—only nodded in agreement and fled down the mountain like rats.

That night, a grand feast was laid out on Gan Bamboo Ridge—over a hundred Wulong Mountain cultivators came to congratulate, and gifts piled up in a room. In total, they received four spirit stones, nine low-grade magic treasures, over ten kinds of spirit materials, plus over seven hundred taels of silver and dozens of pearls, jade, and emeralds.

Gan Bamboo Ridge had never been so lavish!

Liu Xiaolou carefully listed every person and gift, tucked the list into his robe, planning to repay them properly later. He was no longer Wei Hongqing—he couldn’t roll up his face and flee with gifts; he still had to live on Wulong Mountain. When the three-year deadline came, he’d have to return obediently.

As per custom, Liu Xiaolou took two hundred taels of silver to distribute among the villagers below, asking Longshan Sanren to handle it, so the whole village could share in the joy of his wedding.

That night on Gan Bamboo Ridge was wildly festive, and Liu Xiaolou got thoroughly drunk again—for now, we set this aside. But the next day at noon, Wei Hongqing, far away on Tianmu Mountain, sent a letter.

The letter informed Liu Xiaolou that they had found news of Miaofeng Mountain. It lay deep within the Ten Thousand Mountains in the southwest, its builder unknown. Rumor said it housed unidentified alchemists who called themselves the Miaofeng Alchemy Sect—over the years, many spirit pills appearing in the cultivation world originated from this sect.

The letter also said someone had confirmed seeing Yan Sanfei leave the Tianmu Mountain marketplace over a month ago, accompanied by several unfamiliar women—though it was unknown whether Yong E was among them.

Seeing it was in the Ten Thousand Mountains, Liu Xiaolou relaxed—such a remote place couldn’t even be reached by the southwestern great sect Qingcheng, let alone Jingxiang, thousands of miles away—Dongyang Sect and Qingyu Sect would die searching and never find it!

Thus, Liu Xiaolou settled down to cultivate steadily on Gan Bamboo Ridge, possessing ten spirit stones—all gained through his marriage into the Su family. Even if Su family sent him a divorce notice today, he’d still have profited enormously.

Liu Xiaolou calmed his mind. Over three months, he opened the Guanchong, Yemeng, Zhongzhu, and Yangchi acupoints. By May, his cultivation had advanced greatly! Each acupoint opened not only accumulated true qi but also transformed his body.

Acupoints like Guanchong, Yemeng, and Zhongzhu strengthen the mind, promote clarity, and benefit the eyes and throat. Yangchi was even more crucial—it was not only a major reservoir of true qi along the Hand Shaoyang Meridian but also a key point for regulating yin and yang. Liu Xiaolou alone spent three spirit stones on this single acupoint.

Between cultivation sessions, he also re-refined pine resin into Mili Fragrant Sinew. With his cultivation advancing further, the Mili Fragrance’s power grew stronger—having this on hand, he could finally sleep soundly.

At this point, Liu Xiaolou still had three spirit stones left—enough to open two more acupoints—but the date set by Wu Niang was approaching; he must hurry back to Shenwu Mountain to join Su the Fifth at Danxia Sect’s thousand-year anniversary ceremony.

This was not only his duty but also his hope—as a lowly Wulong Mountain hermit, to attend a ceremony in the mysterious heavenly realm—what a rare honor!

On the fifteenth of May, Liu Xiaolou packed his gifts into a chest, carried it on a shoulder pole, brought his white goose to the Wuchao River, tied together a bamboo raft, and was about to push it into the water when urgent footsteps sounded behind him—it was Tan Ba, shouldering a satchel, gripping an iron rod, chasing after him.

“Xiaolou, I heard you’re returning to Shenwu Mountain. I’ve thought and thought—I can’t rest easy. The Su family is a giant, and you’re a son-in-law—what if they mistreat you and you have no one to help? After much deliberation, I’ve decided to go with you.”

Liu Xiaolou laughed and sighed: “Tan Brother, your kindness moves me, but my position is awkward—I’m a son-in-law. How could I bring someone into Shenwu Mountain? The Su family would never allow it.”

Tan Ba said, “I thought of that too—I won’t enter the estate. I’ll just rent a room with a farming family on the mountain, pay them silver monthly—you don’t need to worry about any of that. As long as you need help at a critical moment, I’ll be there. This is also the wish of Elder Longshan and Brother Zuo—they told me, if anything happens, I’m to send word—Wulong Mountain cultivators will stand by you!”

This deeply moved Liu Xiaolou—he no longer refused. He widened the raft another layer, boarded with Tan Ba and the white goose, and floated downstream, the chest of gifts aboard.

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