Chapter 38: The Sacred Spring Has Spirit

“Little sister, you’ve been at the observatory for two days—have you grown accustomed?” the senior brother asked them with concern.

“Accustomed.”

“Accustomed!”

“Are there any chores here that feel too tiring?”

“Not at all—I was always busy back in the village; too much leisure would make me uncomfortable,” Lin Jue replied honestly.

“I’m not tired either.”

“I’ve given you two some chores to keep you from idling and to help you adapt to mountain life,” the senior brother said. “Life here is simply like this.”

“Understood. Senior brother, give us any task you like.”

“I understand too.”

“There’s actually work. The observatory’s water is nearly gone. After you eat, go to the nearby mountain spring and bring back a few buckets. Take less each time, make more trips—get tired, but don’t injure yourself.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll go too!”

“Good. Little brother, I’m free today—I’ll start refining your earth-wood essence,” said the second senior brother, sitting nearby, addressing Lin Jue. “Refining the five-element spiritual essence requires holy water. There’s a sacred spring in the mountains that gathers heaven’s and earth’s spiritual energy and the essence of sun and moon—perfect for this. But it’s far. Let Big Black guide you; go fetch one bucket first.”

“Yes.”

“The journey is long. I’ll give you a Divine Travel Pill—don’t take it yet. Use it as training. If you’re too exhausted to go on, or if it’s too late, or if you’re chased by a demon, then take it. Once swallowed, your legs will be swift as wind—you’ll move much faster walking or running.” The second senior brother said, “Remember, the sacred spring is sentient. When you reach the source, you must be sincere—no disrespect. State your purpose clearly: say, ‘Please, sacred spring, let water flow.’ The water will come naturally.”

“Noted.”

Lin Jue received from him a green pill, stored in a tiny porcelain bottle no bigger than a thumb.

There was actually little to do at the observatory.

Especially for the senior brothers—they didn’t even perform morning or evening rituals, and cultivated or practiced spells as they pleased. Each day brought only a few minor chores.

Such as receiving pilgrims, chopping firewood, fetching water, going down the mountain to buy supplies. With the world growing more chaotic, more pilgrims now came up the mountain. Sometimes they arrived with requests, and then they’d have to accompany them down to exorcise demons and purge evil. Most of the time, they simply passed the hours.

With two new junior siblings, these chores were now shared more evenly.

They’d probably become even more idle.

Lin Jue and the little sister had slightly more duties—they had to recite scriptures every morning, would soon learn spiritual cultivation and spellcraft, and still had to do chores.

Lin Jue didn’t mind.

The little sister seemed the same.

Like today’s water-fetching—this had nothing to do with cultivation. Lin Jue simply knew spiritual cultivation couldn’t be rushed; idle time was idle time, and doing something was fine. Besides, as the senior brother said, they’d just arrived and naturally felt uneasy and out of place. Too much idleness would only make it worse. Some work helped them slowly adapt to mountain life and the observatory.

He hadn’t expected the little sister, who hadn’t been assigned, to volunteer to come with him.

Even when he needed to fetch water from the Sacred Spring to refine earth-wood essence—a trip that would take half a day—she brought a bucket and insisted on coming along.

Lin Jue guessed it was because he’d let her choose her room and helped her read scriptures each morning. She felt grateful and wanted to repay him—that was natural.

They were fellow disciples, both newly admitted, both the lowest-ranked in the observatory, nearly the same age—naturally they should grow closer. He’d shown her kindness repeatedly; it was normal she’d grown fonder of him.

Perhaps right now, thinking back to how wary she’d been of him, she regretted it deeply.

Lin Jue thought of this and almost smiled.

At this moment, the two of them each carried a wooden bucket, guided by a slender black dog, moving through mountain trails and forest paths toward the Sacred Spring.

Behind them followed a tiny fox, no bigger than a palm.

This little creature, like a common kitten or puppy, grew restless when alone, whining nonstop—but quieted the moment someone was near. Its flaw? It insisted on following people. Lin Jue took one step; it had to take ten just to keep up. He feared it might collapse halfway.

The mountain paths were overgrown with vegetation, steep and hard to traverse.

“Senior brother…”

The girl spoke softly, initiating conversation: “Do you know how our observatory came to be?”

“How did it come to be?”

“I heard that long ago, our founding master was a virtuous, respected man who longed to become immortal and learn immortal arts. One day, on the road, he met a celestial being. He begged the immortal to teach him cultivation and spells. The celestial, moved by his many good deeds, couldn’t refuse. He pointed ahead—no, he pointed to a hill—and said…”

“If you can level this mountain, I’ll teach you immortal arts.”

“So the founding master began moving the mountain—digging from dawn to dusk, rain or wind, never stopping. After thirty years, he finally moved the hill to the other side.”

“Then the celestial taught him these seven immortal arts.”

“Master told me yesterday!”

The little sister was actively drawing closer to him.

A girl of barely fifteen—every word, every tone, revealed her emotion and personality.

“So it’s this ‘moving mountain’ story.”

“Yes! Later, the celestial told the founding master that this place had once been his… his… his…”

“Practice ground.”

“Yes! Practice ground! Then he told him to cultivate here. So he built this observatory—our Fuxiu Observatory.”

“So that’s how it happened.”

No wonder Master Yunhe loved picking up disciples on the road—our founding master had received his legacy on the road too.

But legends always twist with human preferences—often exaggerated, embellished, or distorted. Words like ‘celestial’ or ‘immortal arts’ must be interpreted through the lens of common beliefs and the era’s customs. Whether true or false? Too much time has passed—it’s hard to say.

“Then what is ‘Ji Shi’?”

“Master said it’s a powerful earth technique, ideal for combat—it turns stones to dust and other things to mush. But best used against stone.”

“Sounds powerful.”

“I haven’t learned it yet…”

“Study hard, little sister. Maybe one day, your senior brother will need your protection.”

“I’ll work hard!”

Her tone was firm.

From observing her these past days, Lin Jue believed she was diligent and earnest, unafraid of hardship or fatigue—he truly believed her.

As they talked, they reached the Sacred Spring.

Looking back, the little fox cub was still running behind them, leaping over branches, hopping over small ditches, its four legs moving so fast it was almost heartbreaking to watch.

“You little thing…”

Lin Jue looked down as it approached, slowing its pace as it neared.

“Did you hear? Fourth senior brother couldn’t find your parents on the mountain. If they’re still missing in a few days, you’ll have to stay with me.”

Naturally, no reply came.

Most people speaking to cats or dogs like this didn’t truly believe they understood.

Lin Jue shook his head, unwilling to let it keep running. He picked it up and tucked it into his chest, then lifted both buckets and followed the black dog forward.

There, a spring source.

The spring bubbled from a rock face, about three feet off the ground. Carved into the stone in seal script were the three characters: “Sacred Spring.” Below, shallow grass and scattered stones bore the marks of water erosion.

No water flowed now.

Lin Jue stepped before the spring, sincere and earnest, as the second senior brother had instructed:

“Sacred Spring above, I am Lin Jue, twelfth-generation newly admitted disciple of Fuxiu Observatory. On the road, I met a spirit craving holy wine. I had some, so I traded it for a piece of earth-wood essence. Now I wish to refine its spiritual essence and require holy water.”

Though he spoke these words, he was inwardly curious—could this spring truly respond to a request?

Then he stiffened—was this doubt itself disrespectful? Was it sacrilege? He dared not gamble, fearing even testing it might offend. He hastily silenced his thoughts.

“Please, sacred…”

Before he finished, a soft *plop* sounded.

It came from the spring source.

As Lin Jue, startled and ashamed, believed his thoughts had offended the sentient spring, the source began gurgling—air bubbles, then water—within moments, a steady stream poured forth.

First a thin trickle, then a forceful jet.

Lin Jue snapped to action and rushed to catch the water in his bucket.

Behind him, the little sister was equally astonished.

The fox, only its head visible from his chest, widened its eyes.

One bucket filled halfway, the other a quarter—soon, he had enough.

“Enough, enough.”

Lin Jue couldn’t help speaking.

Strange—no sooner had he spoken than the flow slowed.

Within moments, it ceased entirely.

Lin Jue stood frozen, bewildered.

“Thank you, little sister.”

“Not a bother!”

Together, they carried the water back, pausing often, eating eggs to stave off hunger, picking wild berries they recognized. It took far longer than the journey up—normally, one person needed two trips to fill one bucket; with her help, they did it in one.

They handed it to the second senior brother.

As Lin Jue stepped out to fetch more water, he met the old Daoist and stopped to ask.

The old Daoist looked up, stroked his beard, and smiled:

“This mountain has a spirit. The Sacred Spring is sentient. Can water not sense your reverence—or your character? If your heart is sincere, why need incantations to compel it?”

“If your heart is sincere, why need incantations to compel it…”

Lin Jue murmured softly, lost in thought.

The cultivation of magic in this world differed from what he’d imagined—and every experience continued reshaping his understanding, refining his perception of this world.