Chapter 19

By afternoon, he returned to Wu Chao Town and headed straight for the town’s grain shop.

The shopkeeper, seeing the four sacks on his shoulders, brightened and asked, “Liu Xiao Immortal, are these spirit rice?”

Liu Xiaolou set the sacks down. “Master, one-one-one.”

The shopkeeper beamed and immediately called two apprentices to weigh them, asking, “Immortal, you’re here early this year—first one! Is this spirit rice from Eyang Mountain?”

Liu Xiaolou watched the apprentices weigh the sacks and said to the shopkeeper, “Besides Eyang Mountain, where else in Xiangxi has spirit paddy fields?”

The weighing finished quickly: three hundred twenty-eight jin and six liang—Liu Xiaolou’s six days of hard labor.

“I’ll take the extra, keep three hundred jin. Set your price, Master,” Liu Xiaolou said. Spirit rice? Just a taste. He was alone, not from a cultivation clan, had no fortune to eat it as daily rice. Three hundred jin of spirit rice—how long would that last? Half a year just to digest it. Sitting on the mountain day after day, eating it grain by grain? Too much time wasted. Would he even work anymore?

“Same as always—one hundred jin of spirit rice for one hundred sixty taels of silver...”

“No silver. I want spirit stones. Master, I know you have some. You don’t use them—swap them for me.”

“Heh... spirit stones aren’t easy to come by...”

“Same as Eyang Mountain—one hundred jin of spirit rice for one spirit stone.”

“Heh, Immortal, are you mocking me as a non-cultivator? I may not understand cultivation, but I know market value. What you’re quoting is Eyang Mountain’s penalty rate, not the real price.”

“Then... two spirit stones total, plus a hundred taels of silver! My rice is first harvest—fresh!”

“Immortal, you’re joking. Three hundred jin of spirit rice? Market price is one and a half spirit stones. Of course, no half-stones—let me make it up with two hundred taels of pure silver.”

“Master, my teacher just ascended to immortality. I’m left alone in this world—with no one to turn to...”

“How does that have anything to do with your teacher’s passing...”

After much negotiation, Liu Xiaolou left all three hundred jin of spirit rice at the shop, receiving two spirit stones—a fair price. The shopkeeper eyed the remaining twenty-plus jin in his sack and asked, “Not selling that too?”

Liu Xiaolou smiled. “I worked hard to harvest this rice. I ought to taste what it’s like. Honestly, I’ve harvested it twice, never actually eaten it. I don’t even know the flavor.”

The shopkeeper nodded. “Fair enough.”

Just as he was about to hand over the payment, a group of people shoved through, crowding around a young master and shoving Liu Xiaolou aside.

Liu Xiaolou was about to rage—when he saw the young master’s retainer draw half a longsword, the rest still sheathed, yet already glowing with frost-like sword aura.

Liu Xiaolou’s anger vanished instantly. He stepped further aside.

The young master didn’t even glance at him. He turned to the shopkeeper with interest. “Oh? First harvest spirit rice? Rare. Does Xiangxi even grow spirit rice?”

The shopkeeper instantly beamed. “Esteemed young master, your demeanor is extraordinary. Where are you from?”

Someone answered for him: “My family is the Ouyang Clan of Yuezhou. We’re just passing through. Don’t mistake us for easy prey. Do your business properly—you won’t lack rewards.”

The shopkeeper gasped. “So you’re the young master of Lianxi Hall! Your humble servant bows! This is spirit rice from Eyang Mountain—deeply rooted in spiritual essence. Are you interested?”

The young master asked, “Eyang Mountain?”

The swordsman who drew the blade whispered, “Lord, we mustn’t delay. We must ride through the night.”

The young master nodded. “Then skip Eyang Mountain. Take all of this.”

Liu Xiaolou couldn’t hold back. “That’s my rice!”

The shopkeeper said, “You already sold it to me.”

Liu Xiaolou said, “You haven’t paid the spirit stones yet.”

The young master grew impatient with their bickering. He turned to Liu Xiaolou. “How much did you sell him for?”

Liu Xiaolou replied, “He offered two spirit stones. I was still hesitating.”

The young master glanced at the four sacks and nodded. “That’s the price.”

The shopkeeper said to Liu Xiaolou, “See? My shop is always fair...”

Before he finished, the young master turned to Liu Xiaolou. “I’ll give you three.” Then he strolled off, continuing down the street.

His servants carried off the four sacks. The swordsman came over, tossed three spirit stones at Liu Xiaolou, and followed his master.

Liu Xiaolou watched their backs and sighed. “Rich dog!”

The shopkeeper nodded. “The Ouyang Clan of Yuezhou? They’re big shots—bigger than you can imagine...”

Liu Xiaolou patted himself all over, finally pulling out his last twenty taels of silver and placing them on the counter. “Master, thank you.”

The shopkeeper chuckled. “Just luck.”

Liu Xiaolou suddenly felt regret. “I should’ve kept two jin. I’ve never tasted it.”

The shopkeeper said, “Farmers never eat their own rice—it’s natural! Stick to ordinary grain. Here—twenty jin. Fresh rice. Enough for a month.”

Though he didn’t get to eat his own spirit rice, Liu Xiaolou was still pleased. He returned to Wu Long Mountain, sat briefly with Tian Bo, heard no rumors, then went home to Gan Zhu Ridge.

He boiled one jin of new rice into a large pot of porridge—fragrant and rich.

The big white goose flapped over, dropped a fat fish into the pot, circled Liu Xiaolou’s feet, delighted as if it were a festival. This time, the fish’s innards were removed—had it learned to gut fish?

Liu Xiaolou ladled out a basin of fish porridge. The two of them sat before the stove, slurping loudly, feasting with great joy.

The only slight regret: he hadn’t eaten the spirit rice. Of course, spirit rice contained little spiritual energy. Even a whole pot would yield only a tiny fraction as true qi—useless for cultivation. Such things must replace ordinary rice for long-term consumption, accumulating slowly to yield benefit. For a destitute like Liu Xiaolou, it was pure fantasy.

So he didn’t care. The three spirit stones in hand were the true path of cultivation.

Poor households couldn’t hold onto surplus wealth. Liu Xiaolou wasted no time—he immediately entered cultivation.

He activated the Three Mysteries Technique, drawing out the spirit stone’s energy grain by grain, refining it into pure true qi through his meridians, pushing it to the second point of the Hand Jueyin Meridian—Tianquan—repeatedly striking the acupoint.

He didn’t know how other sects opened meridians, but the Three Mysteries Sect’s method was this: slow, persistent work—repeated, relentless, with subtle variations: light or heavy, fast or slow, like a steady stream or a sudden storm.

It seemed ruleless, yet followed one unwavering principle: all cultivation methods must respond to the meridian’s feedback under impact, adjusting strategy based on the sensations received.

Thus, practicing the Three Mysteries Technique was never dull—it was fascinating, even addictive.