Chapter 67

After the plum rain season passed, the heat intensified, and before anyone noticed, summer had nearly arrived; while other parts of Jiuzhen Commandery grew increasingly hot, the surface of Jiuzhen Lake remained cool as ever.

In the morning mist, a small black-canopied boat drifted lazily with the current, Qian Chen leaning against the gunwale, a bamboo pole beside him with a three-zhang silk line dangling into the water…

But the end of that three-zhang silk line floated on the water’s surface—clearly, not a single hook was tied to it.

Qian Chen simply leaned there, flipping through the Great Marsh Secret Map in his hands. That day, shortly after he shot dead the Three Corpses within Zhen Daoren’s body beneath the big plum tree, Wei Chenghuang had sent ghost messengers to deliver this map… He had no idea how Wei Chenghuang had instructed the two ghost envoys, but when Qian Chen saw them, they looked terrified and cautious, as if he were some monster that devoured ghosts.

This copy of the Great Marsh Secret Map was not very detailed, but the Wei family dared not deceive Qian Chen again—and Qian Chen had another map sent by Cui Dan as a reference… As a member of the Cui clan and the local county magistrate, Cui Dan had countless ways to obtain the most secret maps from local gangs.

Even combined, the two maps recorded only one or two percent of the Great Marsh’s interior.

Over these days, Qian Chen had ventured deep into the Great Marsh several times following the map’s markings, and was far safer than during his first expedition; he had explored much of the interior, gradually filling in the gaps of the map he had purchased, and now it was more than three times as detailed as the original version the Wei family had given him… The quality of the deadly qi he had discovered this time had also improved—he had already found several underground yin veins suitable for refining into the Seven Fiend Banners.

But they still paled in comparison to the Ice Soul Cold Light Gang he possessed.

In truth, the deadly qi corresponding to Ice Soul Gang should be most abundant in the Arctic’s extreme cold… But between the Great Jin’s Chixian Shenzhou and the Arctic ice fields lay the vast Northern Ming Sea; even if one rode a roc capable of flying ninety thousand li in a single day, reaching the Arctic would take three months—and with Qian Chen’s slow Cloud-Pouch, not only was the one-year deadline set by the Wheel of Rebirth insufficient, even if it were extended tenfold, he still wouldn’t have time to make a round trip.

Qian Chen marked several points on the map, noting dangerous zones where the earth’s deadly qi was insufficient, too impure, or absent entirely—places that were natural traps or home to Great Marsh toxins. He also marked locations rich in rare medicinal herbs and heavenly treasures…

Truly, medicinal herbs that could be stored for long periods were few.

Daoists often processed herbs into semi-finished forms—like the nine spirit insect molts Zhen Daoren used in his pill-making, all already blended and prepared into powders—because aside from a few hardy plants like ginseng and lingzhi, and mineral herbs like mica and quartz that never decayed, most medicinal herbs were bizarre and impossible to preserve.

For example, the rootless water commonly used in pill-making—rainwater imbued with pure spiritual energy.

Such herbs could only be gathered fresh; no matter how potent the rootless water, if left longer than three days, it reverted to ordinary water.

Rootless water also had grades: the Pure Yin Four-Phase Water, for instance, required precisely three drops falling at Zi hour, Zi day, Zi month, Zi year, in a place of extreme yin. Similarly, there was Pure Yang Four-Phase Water, falling at Wu hour, Wu day, Wu month, Wu year, in a place of pure yang… Such moments occurred only once every twelve years, which a daoist’s lifespan could easily endure.

But if, on that day, heaven refused to cooperate and not a single drop of rain fell… then twelve years would have been wasted.

The art of summoning wind and rain manipulates atmospheric moisture; ordinary rootless water carries only faint spiritual energy, so summoning some poses no issue. But the Pure Four-Phase Waters require the pure yin and spiritual energy to naturally fuse to achieve their divine effect. If a cultivator waits twelve years only for not a single drop to fall that night, he would surely be miserable.

If one’s luck was poor and after ten such cycles—120 years—one still never saw a single drop of Pure Yin Four-Phase Water, that was not uncommon.

The alchemist waiting for it would surely want to kill the Dragon King.

And if one’s fate was worse still, and during the pill-making, one’s hand trembled and ruined the entire batch—then, as the sun rose, the Pure Yin Four-Phase Water became useless, and the alchemist watched his painstakingly waited-for herb dissolve into ordinary rootless water the moment sunlight touched it… His inner torment was unimaginable.

Qian Chen had read in the Daoist texts of Geng Yuanzi that several famed alchemical ancestors of the Supreme Dao—Ge Hong, Su Fei, Li Shang, Zuo Wu, Tian You, Xu Jian, Chu Ze—all had, in fits of rage, kicked over their cauldrons and sworn never to make external pills again.

The most famous case was Ge Hong’s failed attempt to brew the Elixir of Immortality on Baicao Mountain; enraged, he kicked over the cauldron, causing the half-finished elixir to spill as liquid, and within a single day, the mountain sprouted countless medicinal herbs, becoming a place of wondrous creation. Legend says that afterward, Immortal Ge Hong pointed to the heavens and roared: “Anyone who teaches others to make pills shall be struck by thunder and lightning!”

Thus, many alchemists carved herb gardens into their magical artifacts to harvest herbs on demand—or, like Qian Chen, kept detailed records of locations and returned to harvest only when ready to brew.

“This Jiuzhen Great Marsh is truly dangerous—I just spotted traces of a Nine-Winged Sky Centipede! Fortunately, this creature is still immature; if it grew all twelve pairs of wings… I’d abandon the deadly qi entirely and turn right around and leave…”

Qian Chen knew the incubation period of the Twelve-Winged Sky Centipede was extremely long—it took ten thousand years to mature. This one must have hatched thousands of years ago, its parents likely long gone since the Middle Antiquity… and if they had stayed to raise it, Qian Chen would never dare remain in the Jiuzhen Great Marsh! This was a beast whose mature form rivaled a Nascent Soul…

As he sat, a swift light streaked from afar and hovered briefly above Qian Chen’s head.

After circling once, it turned and descended toward the distant Jiaobu Town.

“With the Dragon Boat Festival approaching, more cultivators are traveling about. It seems the Jiuzhen Commandery’s Dragon Boat Festival truly lives up to Cui Dan’s words—its reputation is considerable, even within the cultivation world!”

The one riding the light was a pair of female disciples; the elder sister launched a flying artifact resembling a silken ribbon, carrying her junior sister toward Jiaobu Town. When she spotted Qian Chen’s black-canopied boat, she softly exclaimed, “Hmm?” The cute junior sister asked curiously, “Sister, look—this place is so close to the Great Marsh, yet there are ordinary people fishing here?”

“This area borders the Great Marsh—crocodiles and dragon-serpents often emerge, capable of capsizing ships dozens of zhang long. This tiny boat drifting here is far too dangerous!” The elder sister, her expression colder, lowered her light slightly. “I’ll go persuade him to leave!”

“Can you fish without a hook?”

As they drew nearer, the junior sister’s sharp eyes noticed Qian Chen’s fishing rod bore only a loose silk line—no hook.

The elder sister also saw Qian Chen lift his head to watch their light, even nodding politely in their direction.

“So he’s a fellow cultivator…” Realizing he was no ordinary mortal, the elder sister raised her light and passed him by. The junior sister chattered on the ribbon: “Sister, he must be here for the Dragon Boat Festival too? But I know all the sects near Jiuzhen—this cultivator seems unfamiliar. Which sect is he from?”

“First, let’s settle in town. This cultivator is here for the Dragon Boat Festival too—he’ll turn up eventually.” The elder sister spoke firmly, guiding her junior sister down toward Jiaobu Town.

Internally, she muttered: “Where did this cultivator come from, fishing with a hookless rod, pretending to be profound, trying to fool some innocent girl?”

She tightened her grip on her junior sister.

Qian Chen stretched, lifted his bamboo pole—the silk line taut, as if pulling something, yet the end remained empty. He said, “Let’s go—back to Jiaobu Town…”

“The Dragon Boat Festival is near. All preparations are done. With more cultivators traveling, I’ll scout further—see if I can find any leads on earth yin veins.”

Only then did Qian Chen’s small boat suddenly rise, leaving a thin trail of water, steering itself toward Jiaobu Town.

Beneath the boat, a black spine broke the surface—only now could one see that the black-canopied boat was being carried by a colossal crocodile, its body several times larger than the vessel itself; wherever it passed, countless aquatic creatures fled in panic… even the crocodiles and serpents capable of capsizing small boats carefully avoided its path.