Chapter 145: Sneaking out in the dead of night

The night is deep and quiet.

The sky is like a piece of dark, heavy silk; the moon is dim and invisible, obscured by thick, dark clouds.

Not a single star adorns the night sky. In this pitch-black night, the distant mountains are only visible as blurry, dark shadows, and beneath her feet, she cannot even tell if it is mud or fallen leaves...

Song Tan pushes open the bedroom door without a sound.

Spiritual energy wraps around the old wooden door, doing its best to keep it from making that dreadful creaking noise.

When she was in the Cultivation World, she had imagined countless times what it would be like to live in the modern era, but it certainly never included using spiritual energy for this kind of thing.

But at this moment... desperate times call for desperate measures.

Having finally made it out of the main hall's door, she looks at the locked iron gate and has no choice but to circulate her already meager spiritual energy, leaping instantly onto the top of the two-meter-high gate before successfully jumping out of the courtyard.

There is no other way; to guard against thieves, her father embedded iron nails and shards of broken glass into the cement on top of the one-to-two-meter-high courtyard walls.

It is true that she is currently at the Qi Refining stage, but the spiritual energy in this village is so thin; it has been over a month, and she still hasn't cultivated a Diamond Indestructible Body!

In the world of Wuxia, this would be no more than just having internal energy.

It is truly miserable to speak of; Song Tan usually doesn't want to recall it, otherwise, every time she thinks about it, it stabs at her heart.

If it weren't for the lack of spiritual power, why would she be running to the back mountain in the middle of the night like a thief?

Back then, with a flick of a finger, her spiritual energy could cover the entire Yin Yue Peak. Now, a flick of a finger only scatters a few soybean-sized specks of spiritual energy.

Precisely because of this, to ensure the growth quality of this batch of fruit trees worth over a hundred thousand, she has no choice but to find another place to cultivate in the dead of night.

With insufficient spiritual energy, she has to rely entirely on nighttime cultivation to gather it.

Around her house, even the wild grass grows robust and tender, and the squirrels that scurry along the wall every morning do so because she is cultivating in her room.

Song Tan moves silently, circling from outside the courtyard to the back mountain. The beehives are quiet and still, but further ahead, as she pushes aside a cluster of bushes, a shadow in the darkness, blacker than the night itself, suddenly lifts its head—

"Shh!"

She lowers her voice: "Dawang, be good, go back to sleep."

The large dog lets out a low whimper from its throat.

Dabai, sensing movement in its daze, opens its mouth to let out a "Ga," but is immediately pinched shut by Song Tan, who stuffs its head back under its wing:

"Go back to sleep."

It indeed stops moving.

Dawang lies back down, though its eyes remain fixed firmly in Song Tan's direction.

Song Tan continues forward, arriving at the spot where the peach trees are planted, selects the center position, and sits down cross-legged.

She guides her spirit, focusing her mind, holding the One.

The sky is clear, the earth is bright, and all things are breathing.

She slowly settles her mind, and white mist, visible to the naked eye, gradually begins to swirl around her, blending perfectly with the dark night in the peach orchard, and soon it seems to vanish without a trace.

Only the chirping of insects around her suddenly intensifies, and heavy dew condenses on the grass blades, then drips onto the ground with a "plop," making the leaves visibly more upright and emerald green.

The roots of the peach trees planted just that day quietly sprout in the soil, breaking through the original small layer of earth, step by step gripping tightly onto the surrounding new soil.

Finer capillary roots slowly emerge.

With the soil as a medium, the various nutrients within it travel along the branches accompanied by wisps of spiritual energy, and then, as if with a crisp, clear "pop," one tree opens its leaf buds, blooming with the first tender, light green leaf.

The silent back mountain seems to possess a soundless bustle at this moment.

Dawang, not knowing when, has already walked to Song Tan's side and slowly lies down.

Its massive body, like a tiger's, has fluid lines, and the yellow fur on its body trembles slightly, as if flowing light is quietly streaming across it.

In the darkness, it appears even more majestic.

Dabai seems to sense something; it lets out a "Ga," pulls its neck out from under its wing, and then, in a daze, claps its feet and runs toward the back mountain.

The wild boars in the pigpen let out deep, sleepy grunts, and all of them shift in their sleep toward the direction of the peach orchard...

In the direction of the chestnut orchard, the three-treasure German Shepherd and the four-treasure Malinois let out long, drawn-out howls, like wolves.

They stare into the pitch-black night at the distant mountains glowing with white mist, their paws moving longingly, but in the end, they whimper and lie back down, honestly guarding this stretch of mountain forest...

Early the next morning.

Song Sancheng has just gotten out of bed and walked into the courtyard when he sees a row of ugly local gray-haired squirrels standing on the courtyard wall, each one staring at him, scurrying back and forth on the wall.

Whoa!

He is startled. Are there so many squirrels on the mountain this year? Every morning there is a huge group, like mice holding a meeting.

"Until Wu Lan," he raises his voice: "Have you hidden our things well? Don't let the squirrels ruin them."

These squirrels are real troublemakers; they eat everything and steal everything, and now, just like magpies, they even dig up the seeds just sown in the fields.

Song Sancheng is puzzled; they were there in previous years, but he only occasionally saw a bold one scurrying on the wall.

But what is going on this year?

It seems like there is a long line of them at the door every day.

But if there were really that many, he didn't feel it on the back mountain before!

He is full of confusion.

Until Wu Lan has also just come out of the room and, hearing this, glances at them nonchalantly: "What could there be to eat? Just a few old dried corn cobs; if they steal them, let them steal them."

Even if they were poor, would they be short of these few cobs?

However, she is also puzzled. She glances at the rafters under the utility shed; the few corn cobs are there, dry and withered, and she hasn't seen any squirrels touch them.

Could it be that they dislike them because she hung them up years ago and forgot about them?

Just as they are talking, Seventh Uncle also comes out from the side room, smiling happily, looking a bit embarrassed:

"Woke up late, woke up late..."

He himself is puzzled; at his age, it is usually hard to sleep well.

When he was in the city, sleeping four hours intermittently in one night was a big deal, and he would have to open his eyes at three or four in the morning.

But now, looking at his watch, it is already half-past five, nearly six o'clock!

He went to sleep at nine o'clock last night and hasn't woken up once!

Looking at his wife, she also looks rosy and full of energy...

Well!

The old couple knows in their hearts: it must be because the air in the countryside is nourishing. Coming back this time was truly the right choice.

Until Wu Lan has lived for more than half her life, and this is the first time she has hired a chef, so she is also a bit embarrassed:

"Not late, not late, we usually just get up around this time too."

Seventh Uncle sees her awkwardness and discomfort, and quickly walks toward the kitchen: "How many people are eating this morning? I'll start tidying up now."

He also laughed on the side: "I've been cooking for large banquets for so many years, and logically speaking, I'm quite good at estimating the number of people. But never once has it been like yesterday, where the plates and bowls were all eaten completely clean."

According to the rural philosophy of hosting guests, one would rather have leftovers than empty plates.

If it weren't for the fact that everyone left with their bellies protruding as if they were five months pregnant, Seventh Cousin-Grandpa would truly have felt ashamed—

To invite guests to eat and not let them get full is a great discourtesy!

The local gray-furred large squirrels really don't look very good.

There's more.

(End of this chapter)