The snow on Jimo Peak never melted, remaining year-round like a natural cotton cushion. Zhong Wuxi covered his arm and stood up, glaring fiercely at the puffy layer of snow. Ouch, that fall hurt.
Zhong Wuxi untied the qiankun bag from his waist, intending to take a medicinal pill given to him by Xuan Ling. Suddenly, he remembered something and turned his head to stare at Yin Jiuli with eager eyes.
Yin Jiuli lowered his gaze and cast a spell. A soft white light enveloped Zhong Wuxi’s arm. He felt a ball of warm, gentle true energy circulating through his meridians, flowing into his internal organs and reaching out to his limbs. The damaged cells began to repair themselves continuously, and the pain vanished almost instantly.
Zhong Wuxi touched his perfectly healed arm. “Master, can the mutated Light Spirit Root heal any kind of injury? If a person were severely injured and on the brink of death, could the Light Spirit Root save them too?”
“It would deplete their lifespan.”
Zhong Wuxi processed this. His Master meant that even if someone were dying, the Light Spirit Root could heal them, but doing so would cost the practitioner their own lifespan.
Deplete their lifespan?!
Zhong Wuxi pursed his lips. “Master, what if the person possessing the Light Spirit Root is the one who suffers a severe injury?”
He had intended to ask if the Light Spirit Root would automatically heal itself if the possessor were severely wounded. However, his Master was so powerful that surely no one in the Qingyuan Realm could defeat him. His Master would never suffer such a serious injury, so naturally, he would not know the answer.
If only the Light Spirit Root could self-heal, it would be ideal. In case he could not escape the plot in the future, the Light Spirit Root might just save his life. But it was too early to talk about this. Zhong Wuxi did not remember the specifics of the novel, but he remembered every experience of the cannon-fodder character who shared his name.
According to the original plot, the Zhong Wuxi in the book died at eighteen. Eighteen was still many years away. He should focus on cultivating for now.
Zhong Wuxi looked up and asked Yin Jiuli many questions about how to guide qi into his body. Although his Master was taciturn and detached, he answered every question thoroughly.
Zhong Wuxi limped to an open space where the snow was not too deep. “Master, may I cultivate here?”
Seeing his Master’s gaze land on his leg, Zhong Wuxi quickly covered his knee. “No, it is fine!”
“Why?”
Zhong Wuxi straightened his posture. “It is just a minor injury; it is not a hindrance.”
The air fell silent for a moment. He carefully observed his Master’s expression. Yin Jiuli did not seem angry, and his gaze was calm, but Zhong Wuxi could feel an immense pressure.
Finally, he crumbled. “Master, please do not heal my injuries again in the future. Doing so damages your cultivation and depletes your lifespan.”
Yin Jiuli looked at the little teenager standing before him with his head bowed.
“It does not.”
With his knee healed once more, Zhong Wuxi felt a pang of heartache over the cultivation his Master had sacrificed. He unfastened his qiankun bag and poured out all the herbs and pills inside.
“This is the Purple Jade Muscle-Generating Paste that Senior Brother Zhangmen gave me, and these Ice Spirit Grasses were also from him. This is the Qianyuan Dingkun Pill personally refined by Senior Sister Xuan Ling, and there is also the Miasma-Removing Grass that only grows on Sade Peak.”
He did not know which herbs were beneficial to his Master, so he explained everything. After speaking so much at once, his throat felt parched, so he took a sip of water.
Suddenly, something flew over and hit him on the head, causing him to almost choke on his water. He looked up and saw a translucent green jade bottle floating in the air, with medicinal herbs dropping from it incessantly. Zhong Wuxi stared blankly, and by the time he reacted, he had already been buried by a mountain of herbs.
Zhong Wuxi remained silent.
He struggled with great effort to save himself from the herb pile and asked dizzily, “Master?”
Yin Jiuli’s gaze landed on his little disciple, and then he raised his hand to point at his own hair.
Ever since he transmigrated into a child’s body, his reaction speed had indeed slowed down, but given a little time, he could figure everything out.
Zhong Wuxi felt a bit wronged. “Master, I am not stupid.”
Yin Jiuli paused, bent down, and plucked a medicinal herb from Zhong Wuxi’s soft hair.
Zhong Wuxi remained silent.
He seemed a bit stupid. No, very stupid.
Yin Jiuli lowered his eyes, watching Zhong Wuxi. The little disciple was flushed red, his expressions shifting rapidly as he sighed and stomped his feet, muttering something to himself.
The fresh scent of flowers and trees mixed with the snowy scent of Jimo Peak, and Zhong Wuxi finally pulled himself out of his complex emotions. He picked up a white herb hanging from his collar. “Master, what is this?”
“Tianshan Ice Lotus.”
Tianshan Ice Lotus. Zhong Wuxi’s hands trembled as he carefully placed the priceless herb back in place, then picked up another herb with red leaves and green flowers. “Master, what is this?”
“Bixiao Blood Dragon Ginseng.”
Bixiao Blood Dragon Ginseng!
Zhong Wuxi suddenly felt the herb in his hand weighed a thousand catties, making it impossible to lift his arm. He placed the herb on the ground very piously, even wanting to bow to it.
Ye Yizhou had once given him an encyclopedia on all the herbs and beasts in the Qingyuan Realm. Zhong Wuxi took the reference book out of his qiankun bag and began to compare them to the descriptions. That purple herb was the Fuling Phantom, capable of killing silently in a mirage; the transparent flower was the Silver Moon Profound Silk Flower, which could wash the marrow and cut the meridians; that prickly, hedgehog-like ball could actually increase one’s cultivation by fifty years upon ingestion!
This was not just a pile of herbs; it was an inexhaustible gold vault! Zhong Wuxi was dazzled by the golden light, and even the drifting snow of Jimo Peak looked golden to him.
“Keep them.”
The translucent green jade bottle suddenly grew larger and absorbed all the herbs. Zhong Wuxi reached out to catch the bottle, completely stunned.
After being dazed for a long while, he finally realized that his Master intended to give him all these priceless, rare flowers and herbs.
Zhong Wuxi gripped the jade bottle tightly. “Master, if you give all of these to me, what will you do?”
Sensing something off in his little disciple’s voice, Yin Jiuli lowered his gaze and saw Zhong Wuxi’s reddened eyes.
So, he repeated, “Keep them.”
Zhong Wuxi sniffed. Originally, he had wanted his Master to eat an herb to replenish the cultivation he lost healing him, but he had not managed to give his herbs away; instead, he had received so many from his Master. Not to mention that the quality of these herbs could serve as the town-sect treasure of any other sect.
“Master, how do you have so many supreme-grade herbs?”
“I forgot.”
Senior Sister Xuan Ling had once said that when she joined the sect, Master was already at the mid-stage of the Spirit Transformation realm. No one knew his age, and no one knew his origins.
If Master said he forgot the origin of these herbs, did he even remember his own background?
Zhong Wuxi looked up at Yin Jiuli. No matter what he said or did, his Master’s face was always covered by a layer of indifference—the indifference of one who views all living things as mere grass and trees.
Senior Sister Xuan Ling had said Master was a sword cultivator who did not practice the path of heartlessness. Why, then, did he have no seven emotions or six desires? Could he have forgotten all his own emotions?
How could that be?
Zhong Wuxi interrupted his own chaotic guesswork and knelt on the ground, kowtowing earnestly. “Thank you, Master, for the treasure. This disciple will definitely practice diligently and not fail your expectations.”
He very carefully put away the jade bottle, but the bottle was stubborn and refused to enter the qiankun bag no matter what. Zhong Wuxi touched the cool, smooth surface of the bottle. All things had spirits; the bottle must feel that the qiankun bag was not worthy of it, but he had no better one.
Before he could finish the thought, a brand-new qiankun bag floated before his eyes. It was embroidered with simple cyan silk threads and had no decorations, but Zhong Wuxi could feel the surging spiritual energy inside.
“Reach out.”
Zhong Wuxi obediently reached out. A snowflake drifted across his fingertip, cutting his finger.
It did not even hurt.
Following his Master’s guidance, Zhong Wuxi dripped his blood onto the qiankun bag. It gradually changed from cyan to a transparent light green, and the surging spiritual energy calmed down.
Magical treasures grew their spirit through the energy of heaven and earth, and once a treasure recognized its owner through blood, it would establish a bond and communicate through thought. But why did the color of the qiankun bag change?
Zhong Wuxi looked up. “Master, does the appearance of a treasure change after it recognizes its owner?”
“It does not.”
Zhong Wuxi wanted to ask more, but he was afraid of appearing noisy with too many questions. He picked up the new bag, put the jade bottle inside, and then tucked his previous qiankun bag inside as well.
“Discard the old one.”
Hearing his Master’s cold voice from above, Zhong Wuxi explained, “This qiankun bag was a gift from Senior Sister Xuan Ling. Even if I do not use it, I cannot discard it, or Senior Sister will be sad.”
He finished organizing his belongings. The night was deep, and the moon hung high in the sky, shedding its clear brilliance over the earth.
The moonlight on Jimo Peak was different from elsewhere; it was infused with vast spiritual energy. Cultivating while enjoying the scenery—how wonderful life could be.
Zhong Wuxi practiced the techniques his Master had taught him for an hour. As drowsiness gradually crept over him, he stood up and bowed. “Master, this disciple wishes to return and rest.”
Yin Jiuli, who had been meditating with his eyes closed, nodded slightly.
Jimo Peak was extremely cold at night, and the aura on his Master seemed even colder. Zhong Wuxi shivered, ducked into his snow hut, and crawled into bed under the covers.
I seem to have forgotten something.
Zhong Wuxi climbed out of bed and circled the hut. The snow on Jimo Peak had a very fresh scent, mixed with the faint fragrance of lotus flowers; it was delightful.
Lotus flowers.
Zhong Wuxi remembered what he had forgotten. He had forgotten the little ball of fur that looked exactly like his Master.