“Now that you’re here, don’t ask questions. Just raise the Spirit Chow well for the Immortals, and you’ll be rewarded! Who knows? One day you might become an Outer Sect Deacon like me.”
“Yes, yes, of course. This humble one understands.”
“Mm. Take this package. It will help you look after the livestock. I’ll come back to check on them in half a month. If you haven’t raised them well, don’t blame me for holding you responsible.”
“Understood. Thank you for looking after me, Deacon Li. Please accept this small token of my gratitude…”
“Hoh? You’re quite sensible, aren’t you? Very well. I’m off.”
“Safe travels, Deacon Li. Take care.”
Wang Ba respectfully watched the fat, big-eared Deacon Li disappear into the valley. The smile gradually faded from his face.
A trace of melancholy and bitterness took its place.
“So, it really has come to this.”
“But what can I do? I have poor aptitude and no luck.”
“I really am a disgrace to the title of ‘Transmigrator’.”
Wang Ba’s eyes were full of frustration and resignation. When he first arrived in this world, he had thought he might have a chance to seek immortality and the Dao, and live a long life.
After much effort, however, he had found the nearest Immortal Sect, only to be told that his aptitude was too poor. Even the Outer Sect refused to accept him.
He refused to give up. For eight full years, he tried every method he could think of, but achieved nothing.
Having spent nearly his entire fortune, he had no way back.
Reluctantly, he finally gave up his unrealistic hopes and used what little money he had left to secure an introduction to Deacon Li of the Eastern Sage Sect’s Outer Sect.
Deacon Li took the money and did attend to the matter, arranging a place for him here.
A manor dedicated to raising Spirit Chow for the Immortals.
To Wang Ba, though, a chicken farm would have been a better name.
All around the manor, roosters and hens roamed freely. They were large and vigorous, with a glimmer of intelligence in their eyes, quite unlike ordinary chickens.
The chickens wandered at ease, with people to provide them with fine feed and spirit insects.
Once they had grown plump, they would be sent to the Immortals’ kitchens and made into Spirit Chow rich in spiritual energy.
Deacon Li had told him all this before he arrived.
Aside from Wang Ba, the manor’s only resident was an old man who looked to be in his seventies or eighties, his face covered in age spots. When Wang Ba arrived, the old man simply took a folding stool under the eaves and sat in the sun.
“Greetings, Senior,” Wang Ba said with his customary smile. “I am Wang Ba. We will be working together from now on. I hope you’ll look after me.”
The old man glanced sideways at him with an unreadable look. After a long while, he said slowly, “My surname is Sun.”
“Li sent you here? Seems you didn’t give him enough.”
Wang Ba was taken aback, then managed a smile. “Heh, Old Man Sun, you must be joking. What could I possibly have to offer him…?”
“Hmph.”
Old Man Sun gave a short snort, turned away, and said no more.
Seeing that the old man had no interest in conversation, Wang Ba felt a twinge of awkwardness. He cupped his hands in a silent farewell and headed toward his assigned quarters.
The room was cramped, with only a narrow bed three chi wide and an old wardrobe. When he opened the door, the smell of mold hit him. Cobwebs were everywhere.
It had clearly been abandoned for a long time.
Wang Ba did not mind in the least.
After a quick wipe-down, he eagerly opened the package Deacon Li had left him.
Inside lay a sheet of rice paper, a standard-issue dark blue Daoist robe, and a handwritten book.
He picked up the rice paper and skimmed it. It contained instructions for raising chickens. He tucked it casually into his robe.
Skipping over the robe, he reached straight for the book at the bottom.
Three unremarkable characters appeared on the cover.
Physique Strengthening Scripture.
“This is it!”
Wang Ba’s eyes lit up.
This was his last hope.
When Immortal Sects accepted disciples, Spiritual Root aptitude mattered most. Those with good aptitude had no trouble, but most people had no Spiritual Roots at all. Wang Ba was one of them.
However, there was always a silver lining.
The Physique Strengthening Scripture offered a faint hope of nurturing a Spiritual Root.
The resulting root was usually of such poor quality that even rogue cultivators would look down on it.
But for Wang Ba, it was a lifeline.
Only members of a Sect were allowed to practice methods such as the Physique Strengthening Scripture. That was why Wang Ba had insisted on joining, even if it meant raising chickens.
Now that he had the manual, he could not wait to open it.
“Thirteen layers… This Physique Strengthening Scripture has a full thirteen layers.”
“Each layer mastered adds dozens or even a hundred jin to one’s strength…”
“Reach the tenth layer, and there is a chance to birth a Spiritual Root?”
“And if one reaches the thirteenth layer, one can even achieve a Mid-Grade Spiritual Root!”
“Good! What a fantastic technique!”
Wang Ba’s excitement mounted with every line he read. He hadn’t expected such heaven-defying effects from a mortal manual.
Thirteen layers were a lot, but he only needed to reach the tenth for a chance to nurture a Spiritual Root. At full mastery, he could even obtain a Mid-Grade Spiritual Root! The Eastern Sage Sect’s Outer Sect required only a Low-Grade Spiritual Root for entry.
If he could reach the eleventh or twelfth layer, he could become an official Outer Sect disciple.
The path of Immortality was finally opening up!
“Hoo—calm down. Calm down. Don’t get carried away. A technique this remarkable must be demanding to practice. Let’s take a look.”
Wang Ba took a deep breath to settle his excitement, then carefully turned to the following pages.
“Huh? This technique has no requirements at all? It just takes some time?”
Surprised, Wang Ba hurried to read on.
“The first layer takes one year to master. Okay. That means I’ll be in my forties or fifties when I finally get my Spiritual Root. That’s… acceptable. Not too hard to swallow.”
“Wait. The second layer takes two years. The third layer takes four years…”
As his eyes tracked down the page, Wang Ba’s face began to drain of color.
Exponential growth.
Almost without thinking, he knew how long the tenth layer would take.
Layer ten.
512 years!
Unable to believe it, he hurriedly turned to the next page.
His guess had been right.
The figures were there on the page.
Tenth Layer: 512 Years.
Thirteenth Layer: 4,096 Years.
Wang Ba stood frozen, struck dumb as if by lightning.
Such a span far exceeded even the lifespans of Immortals.
The book did say that those with exceptional aptitude could greatly reduce the time needed.
Wang Ba could only smile bitterly at that line.
To go from the first layer to the tenth required a cumulative total of 1,023 years.
What kind of aptitude could close a thousand-year gap?
He couldn’t do it.
Even if, by some miracle, he mastered it in a few decades and birthed a Spiritual Root… what then?
A mortal’s lifespan was capped at a hundred years.
How would he ever reach Qi Refinement, let alone Foundation Establishment?
It was not quite despair.
But at last he had given up hope completely.
He stood in a daze for a while.
At last he let out a long, heavy breath, as though exhaling all his ambition and frustration.
He tossed the hard-won Physique Strengthening Scripture at the foot of his bed.
In its place, he picked up the sheet of rice paper.
He began to read the instructions for raising chickens.