Chapter 3

The outdoor stove was packed with firewood, blazing fiercely, and a large iron pot atop it boiled furiously.

The large white goose lay overturned beneath the stove, its feet bound, flapping and squawking in struggle.

Liu Xiaolou gripped the goose’s neck with his left hand, a kitchen knife in his right, muttering: “Big White, don’t blame the Daoist for this. If you’re reborn, come back to my home—I’ll raise you again.”

That precious spirit stone I barely got, this beast stole and devoured it—my master’s rage would have spilled blood three feet high!

Just as the knife was about to fall, tears streamed from Big White’s eyes, gazing at Liu Xiaolou with deep affection.

That look melted the resolve Liu Xiaolou had just forged; the knife hovered over the goose’s neck for ages, yet he couldn’t bring himself to strike.

Big White’s tears kept falling; Liu Xiaolou finally slumped down, the cold-glinting knife clattering from his palm to the ground.

“Big White, do you know what trouble I risked for that spirit stone...”

“I haven’t had a single drop of spiritual energy in three months. The Dongyang Sect won’t take me either...”

“You’ve eaten spirit stones before—what good did it do you? Useless...”

“Besides, this isn’t for me—it’s a gift for Brother Wei! A gift, you understand? I wouldn’t even eat it myself...”

“Who knows where the old man hatched you from? You can’t do anything, can’t cultivate into a spiritual bird, and after all these years, you’re still as fat as a pig...”

“All you do is steal...”

After venting, he finally untied the rope binding Big White and let the goose flap its wings and flee.

“Go! Don’t come back! Just seeing you makes me angry!” Liu Xiaolou shouted after the beast.

Big White glanced back once, then fled farther, vanishing into the bamboo grove in an instant.

The sun blazed overhead; sweat beaded on Liu Xiaolou’s forehead. The cicadas in the bamboo grove chirped incessantly, lulling him into drowsiness. He steadied his mind, forced himself to focus, chopped a bamboo shoot from the woods, peeled off its husk, and tossed it straight into the boiling pot.

The spirit stone was already gone—dwelling on it was useless. Life must go on. His cultivation realm was still low—only the Second Layer of Qi Refinement. He dared not even dream of the advanced Bi Gu technique. First, he needed to fill his belly.

As the tender bamboo shoots boiled, Big White darted back from the grove, clutching a fat fish nearly a foot long. Flapping its wings, it leapt onto the stove and hurled the fish into the boiling water. The fish thrashed a few times, then surrendered, still. Big White leapt down satisfied, squawking twice at Liu Xiaolou as if demanding praise.

Liu Xiaolou kicked it away in annoyance: “One fish is supposed to make up for my spirit stone? Why don’t you just die?”

Big White flapped away and vanished into the bamboo grove again.

Raising this beast had one advantage: it often brought back mountain delicacies—fish, shrimp, rabbits, rats—saving him the trouble of hunting, so he never starved.

The bamboo shoot and fish soup filled Liu Xiaolou’s belly. He entered the house, moved the bedboard, brushed off the dirt, and revealed a wooden chest buried beneath.

Inside lay an ancient ginseng. Not an ordinary mountain ginseng—it was the spirit ginseng passed down by the late old man, three hundred years old. Even without using it in pills, just eating it raw could greatly increase true qi, worth at least three spirit stones!

Today was his sworn brother Wei Hongqing’s dual-cultivation wedding. The planned gift was one spirit stone—but when Su the Shopkeeper suddenly visited, Liu Xiaolou let his guard down, and in a blink, Big White swallowed it. Who could he complain to? The old man’s Three Mysteries Sect was as clean as a whistle; to give a gift, only this last spirit ginseng remained.

After all, Wei Hongqing was his sworn brother who had shown him kindness—how could he show up empty-handed on his wedding day?

Liu Xiaolou was reluctant, hugging the ginseng and sighing, feeling every moment he held it was precious. As dusk neared and the wedding banquet time arrived, he could no longer delay. He finally tied a red silk ribbon around the ginseng, adding a touch of festivity, and descended the mountain with it.

Wei Hongqing cultivated at Ghost Dream Cliff, barely half an hour’s hike from Dry Bamboo Ridge. When Liu Xiaolou arrived, the sun was sinking; he quickened his pace up the cliff. His sworn brother’s dual-cultivation wedding had been delayed, and he felt deep guilt.

A stone cave atop the cliff was Wei Hongqing’s dwelling. Ulong Mountain cultivators’ caves were always simple—either thatched huts or stone caves, sparsely furnished, with no valuable items. Why? So they could flee easily when orthodox sects came to purge them.

But today was special: Wei Hongqing’s Ghost Dream Cliff had been decorated. Red silk ribbons and lanterns hung across the cliff face before the cave. Three tables stood outside, laden with wine and dishes. Wei Hongqing had few close fellow cultivators—he’d invited only six people total. Add the bride’s family and teachers, and there were barely twelve seats.

He was the first to arrive.

Wei Hongqing sat alone at the main table, sipping wine.

Liu Xiaolou smiled and sat beside him. Wei Hongqing poured him a cup; he raised it and drank, then took out the ginseng and placed it on the table, pushing it forward with a pained expression.

“This spirit ginseng was gathered by my master from Shouyang Mountain—three hundred years old. Today, on your dual-cultivation, it’s just a token of my heart. Don’t refuse.”

Wei Hongqing didn’t refuse. He took it, studied it for a moment, then bit into it.

“Wait—” Liu Xiaolou was stunned, wanting to stop him, then remembered the ginseng was already his gift. He gritted his teeth: “You don’t eat it like that! Why not steep it in wine? You’re wasting it! Besides, your bride hasn’t arrived yet—what if you eat it all? She hasn’t even seen it! Don’t eat it—”

Wei Hongqing had eaten only a few bites, but his face was already flushed crimson. Though his Qi Refining Fifth Layer cultivation gave him far greater tolerance than Liu Xiaolou, swallowing half a root of spirit ginseng in one go overwhelmed him with its potent true qi.

When he finally caught his breath, Liu Xiaolou looked mournfully at the remaining half and said: “Don’t eat it—save it for your bride as a token. Otherwise, she’ll think I came just to mooch.” He glanced at the empty cave and vacant tables. “When will the bridal party arrive? Where are Left Canyon Master and the others? Why haven’t they come?”

But Wei Hongqing’s eyes were red. He stared at Liu Xiaolou, silent.

“What’s wrong, Brother Wei? Speak—say something!”

“Ling’er won’t marry me...”

“What?”

“I’ve been broken off by the Xia family...”

Liu Xiaolou froze, then exploded: “Why? I’ll go confront them!”

Wei Hongqing mourned: “She’s been betrothed to the Zhanglong Sect—becoming a concubine to their inner disciple, Zang Qianli...”

Liu Xiaolou’s rage vanished instantly.

What of their promised love?

The Zhanglong Sect was a famed major sect of Xiangxi, owning the blessed land of Zhanglong Mountain. Zang Qianli, as an inner disciple, had an unquestionably bright future. Even as a concubine, Ling’er was far better off than marrying Wei Hongqing, a mountain cultivator of Ulong Mountain. No wonder the Xia family broke the engagement.

Liu Xiaolou could only comfort: “Brother, you’ve suffered great humiliation. We brothers will stand united. This autumn harvest, I’ll rally our mountain companions—we won’t work for them again.”

Wei Hongqing patted his hand in thanks.

Liu Xiaolou asked again: “Where are Left Canyon Master and the others? Won’t they come to the banquet?”

Wei Hongqing smiled bitterly: “No wedding ceremony—what wedding banquet? No banquet—why come?”

Not knowing how to comfort him, Liu Xiaolou simply drank with Wei Hongqing in silence.

As the saying goes: wine doesn’t intoxicate—the heart does. After drinking long, Liu Xiaolou remained sober, but Wei Hongqing collapsed drunk. Before passing out, he finally wept: “Xiaolou, go home. Don’t worry about me. Let me be alone for a while...”