Chapter 83: Spirit Tree Harvest (Requesting Moon Tickets)

Osmanthus falls from the moon, heavenly fragrance drifts beyond the clouds.

Before they knew it, another autumn had come.

“Let’s go, little sister.”

“Yes, big brother!”

Lin Jue called for his little sister and Fuyao, and they set out together; just in case, he carried three vials of spirit liquid.

Lin Jue hadn’t climbed the mountain to gather herbs in a long time—unless he happened upon some on his cultivation path—so now almost all the spirit liquid came from the little sister’s refined spirit plants.

Before they even left the inner courtyard, a voice came from behind:

“Where are you headed?”

Both humans and fox turned at once—it was their third senior brother.

“What’s wrong, third senior brother?”

“Is there some task to do?”

“No task, just letting you know—the Grand Rite at Mingchao Mountain is coming soon; we’ll depart half a month early. Should we prepare some dried rations?” The third senior brother looked at Lin Jue.

“Are you leading us this time?”

“No choice! It’s harvest season—your first senior brother is busy, your second senior brother prefers solitude, so only I, the third senior brother, can stay drunk in my room and still roam the world. If we meet demons on the road or rude demon folk at the Grand Rite, I can protect you. Who else is better suited?”

“I see.” Lin Jue thought a moment, then asked, “Did we bring dried rations to the last Qiyun Mountain Grand Rite?”

“Qiyun Mountain isn’t far, and there are places to eat along the way, so we didn’t prepare much—except Master went to visit an old friend and brought some rice crusts. He took the crusts, dried them out. Also, second senior brother made some Emergency Pills—good for staving off hunger on the road, taste like stones, the only difference being you can pass them afterward.”

“This…”

Lin Jue now understood.

“Leave it to me.”

“Then I’m at ease.” The third senior brother grinned, “You’re going out?”

“I told you—we think our fruit might ripen soon.”

“Oh, your little opportunity.” The third senior brother nodded calmly, as if uninterested, “Ripe is good—even if you can’t make pills, you can take it to the Grand Rite and see if anyone needs it.”

“Alright.”

“Go on then.”

The two humans and the fox headed into the mountains.

Fuyao grew livelier by the day, sprinting ahead; unlike most foxes, it loved to leap—whenever it encountered an obstacle, it jumped over, light and tireless.

It was again the season of wild fruits, the path often fragrant, frequently drawing it to stop and sniff.

“How old is Fuyao?”

The little sister stared at the fox ahead, her expression puzzled.

“When we found it, it was barely born—now it’s been over a year and a few months.”

“Big brother, haven’t you noticed Fuyao’s grown bigger than an ordinary fox?”

“Really?”

Lin Jue looked closely.

The fox, once the size of a palm, had indeed grown—now nearly as large as a dog—but only now, hearing the little sister’s remark, did Lin Jue realize—

Most foxes are smaller than dogs down in the valleys.

As if hearing them speak of it, the fox mid-leap over a dead log suddenly turned its head, eyes sharp and alert, fixed on them.

Lin Jue smiled and kept walking.

The path was already familiar.

The two carefully climbed down; the fox found protruding rocks and leapt one by one to the valley floor—if seen by valley folk, this alone would become a tale of a fox spirit.

Before they even reached the bottom, an unusual fragrance filled the air.

At the valley floor, several spirits were already waiting.

Lin Jue stood as always near the cliff wall; seeing the spirits watching them, he bowed in Daoist greeting, and the little sister copied him, bowing too.

Some spirits nodded in return; others merely flickered their eyes, unfamiliar with the custom.

“You’re here early!”

A golden pheasant’s voice came from the branches above.

Its voice was clear and hollow, like a bird’s call.

The golden pheasant, trailing five-colored tail feathers, looked down at them—it was one of only two spirits in the valley who could speak human speech, the other being the unusually large cloud leopard.

But the other spirits weren’t necessarily lacking in cultivation—they simply lived deep in the mountains, far from humans, with no one to teach them speech and no need to speak, so they never learned. This golden pheasant likely learned from contact with a Daoist temple in the mountains.

“You arrived even earlier, friend,” Lin Jue said kindly; every seven days he came here, and over time, he’d grown familiar with them.

“The fruit should ripen today!”

“Ripen today?”

Lin Jue couldn’t help but smile.

This joy wasn’t just from acquiring treasure—it was the quiet happiness of seeing his labor rewarded, his spirit liquid paid back. Such joy was simple and pure.

“It should!” The golden pheasant was pleased too. “This tree appeared once ten years ago—back then, it didn’t grow nearly as well!”

“Did you find it ten years ago too?”

“Fate! I found it!”

“Hmm…”

Lin Jue roughly understood the reason.

Before Lin Jue joined, these spirits had nurtured the sapling mostly with their own primordial energy, or gathered other spirit-infused substances suitable for nurturing spirit trees—but none compared to Lin Jue’s refined spirit liquid, so when he entered midway, they accepted it.

But it wasn’t just Lin Jue and the little sister’s doing.

The mountains had their own rules; spirits were naturally simple. Seeing how much Lin Jue and the little sister gave, they refused to fall too far behind—since then, they’d given more than before.

It had almost become a competition.

“Friend, since you’ve harvested this spirit fruit before, what are its effects?”

“You’re asking about the fruit?”

“Naturally.”

“Eat the fruit, and you grow wiser, advance your cultivation.”

“Besides the fruit, are other parts useful?”

“Of course.”

“Please enlighten us.”

“Leaves and branches can be used to line nests.”

“What benefit does lining a nest bring?”

“It smells nice!”

“Ah…”

“Don’t stand so close to the cliff,” the golden pheasant warned them. “Other spirits say that over the past year, people have been throwing stones down from the mountain. Be careful when walking near the cliff—don’t get hit.”

“...”

Lin Jue turned, glancing at the little sister.

The little sister stared blankly, scratching her head.

He looked ahead at the small tree.

The tree remained lush, now as tall as a man, half-hidden in mist; whether from reflection or something else, the mist often shimmered with strange colors.

On its branches hung bright yellow spirit fruits, no larger than a chicken’s egg.

Lin Jue looked up at the sky.

Today was clear, the blue sky washed clean.

There was no mist in the mountains—only around the tree.

Probably spirit mist.

Gradually, more mountain spirits gathered until a cloud leopard, as large as a tiger, leapt down from the mountain—then all were present, every gaze fixed on the sapling.

The cloud leopard stepped forward, sniffed the tree closely.

Then turned, scanning the other spirits.

The spirits exchanged glances.

Based on his understanding of them, Lin Jue guessed the spirit fruit was truly ripe—but he didn’t know what the mutual glances meant.

As he wondered, most spirits turned their eyes to the cloud leopard, watching intently.

The two humans and the fox followed suit.

The cloud leopard growled softly, took half a step forward, approached the tree, and examined its branches and leaves for a long while—then stretched its head, seized a fruit hidden beneath the top leaves.

“Shhh…”

With one tug, the tree shook violently three times.

The cloud leopard stepped back.

All spirits fixed their eyes on its mouth, necks stretched, peering to see how large the spirit fruit was—then they looked at each other again. After a moment, most turned their gaze to the unusually fat macaque.

The macaque waved a hand, stood up, walked to the tree, stared for a long time, then chose one fruit.

Using both hands, it gently plucked the fruit.

Lin Jue understood.

He looked up at the sun—

It was already noon, and the mountains were somewhat sunbaked.

Choosing like this would take too long.

Just as he lowered his head, he noticed most of the spirits had turned their gazes toward him, their eyes shifting constantly.

“Hm?”

Lin Jue immediately realized and quickly rose to his feet, bowing deeply to them.

“Thank you!”

Then he stepped forward.

This spirit plant was indeed exhaling mist and clouds, and the mist carried an exotic fragrance that felt refreshing to inhale; when it touched the skin, it was especially cool.

There were still fifteen fruits on the tree.

After thinning the fruit, the nutrients were more than sufficient, and the sizes didn’t vary much.

Even if they didn’t vary much, there were still differences.

“This…”

Lin Jue finally understood the difficulty the cloud leopard and the macaque had faced.

All the fruits were perfectly round, hanging at different positions on the tree—high and low, left and right—and often half-hidden by leaves. Finding them all was hard enough; comparing their sizes was even harder.

So Lin Jue also spent some time choosing, until he picked one he judged to be the largest.

Not long after, there were three.

Even in hand, the fruits still swirled with spirit mist and emitted an exotic fragrance; this scent seemed to instinctively attract all living beings, making one yearn to swallow them, saliva dripping.

Ordinary mountain plants growing in areas rich in spiritual energy could occasionally absorb heavenly and earthly qi and transform into spirit plants; if they were already rare flowers or exotic herbs, so much the better.

But most such spirit plants showed no remarkable features until they bloomed and fruited, when their spiritual energy might drift out with the fragrance of flowers and fruit, allowing spirits or animals in the mountains to find them. At other times, they were merely slightly denser in spiritual energy. Only cultivators who searched carefully could detect their oddity.

This spirit tree not only radiated divine light and strange radiance even before fruiting, but also required so many spirits and so much spirit fluid refined from other plants to nourish it—and after fruiting, it exhaled mist and clouds, clearly no ordinary thing.

“Huh…”

Lin Jue blew gently, and the spirit mist receded.

This was a crucial technique in harvesting: it ensured the spiritual essence of the celestial treasure he collected would not dissipate and its precious nature would endure.

Then he waited patiently.

All the spirits did this—

While waiting, they were restless, scratching their ears and rubbing their heads; but once they climbed up, even if only a few fruits remained, they still spent long moments carefully comparing and selecting.

Once all the spirit fruits were picked, in an instant, the tree’s leaves turned from green to yellow, as if dead. The mountain spirits, clearly experienced in this, showed no regret—only stepped forward and plucked, snapped, and uprooted every leaf, branch, and root.

The distribution of roots, trunk, and branches was far more casual.

The roots weren’t carefully excavated like ginseng; there was only one clump, not many. The cloud leopard and macaque split it evenly, no one knew what they’d use it for. Lin Jue’s group took three thick sections near the base of the trunk; the later ones were equal in length but thinner, and after that, only branches remained.

The leaves were even more casual.

The cloud leopard gathered them into a pile, swept a few times with its paw, and distributed some to each person. Clearly, they weren’t precious, and no one objected.

Lin Jue focused on the trunk sections his group received.

About the thickness of a wrist, nearly the length of a palm, firm to the touch—he wondered if they’d suit making bean soldiers.

At least the size was right.

After all, bean soldiers were shorter than a palm and thinner than a wrist; even the thickest trunk section had extra thickness to spare.

His little sister’s and the fox’s were slightly thinner.

Of course, the fox’s was also Lin Jue’s.

As for his little sister’s, it depended on the use—if it had no other special application for her, it would naturally be Lin Jue’s.

“Thank you, fellow cultivators.”

Lin Jue bowed to them with courtesy and sincerity.

“Farewell.”

The two climbed upward, the fox leaping through the mountains.

All the spirits dispersed.

In the blink of an eye, the valley held nothing left.

But Lin Jue would likely remember them forever.

For such a process of obtaining treasures was truly unforgettable.