Chapter 014: Stunned Beyond Words

Why did Old Zhao end up joining the siblings at the table, eating three huge plates of shredded and sliced potatoes with them? Even Old Zhao himself couldn’t quite explain it. He figured he must have been bewitched somehow—one moment he was being sweet-talked by the two youngsters, and the next, he was sitting down to share their meal.

Still, he couldn’t just give up on that patch of land where spiritual fruits of the ninth tier could be harvested in the future. After mulling it over, Old Zhao fetched the ninth-tier defensive formation that Shen Fangxu had entrusted to him before leaving, a formation specifically designed to protect farmland. He took it to the little hillside and set it up himself.

With this formation in place, unless someone had an access token, neither man nor beast would be able to enter easily. The fruits on the hill would flourish even more in the days to come.

Just as Old Zhao finished setting up the array, a voice called from behind, “Uncle Zhao, I knew you’d make it here.” It was Qingzhen, accompanied by Clear Spring, both carrying shovels and various tools for digging and leveling.

“We came to fix up the mud hole—make it easier to go down there in the future,” Qingzhen explained.

“Not a bad idea. That spot does need some proper renovation. It’s just a pity that Old Shen only gave me one ninth-tier Spring Sun Wooden Defensive Array. None of us expected to find such a treasure trove of spiritual fruits here. This array was bought at great expense, just in case the abundance of fierce beasts here made it impossible for you to grow spiritual grain. The original plan was to find a fertile patch of land, set up the formation, and let you plant spiritual crops there.”

“Uncle Zhao, why don’t you come with me to Meishan tomorrow? We can sell off the rest of the live grass carp, as well as the flying squirrel meat and claws, and whatever else we’ve got. That should be enough to buy another ninth-tier array, right? I heard that such formations are much cheaper here in the Eastern Wilds than back in the heartland.”

“It’s not that easy to afford another one. Arrays here are indeed cheaper, but the price of fierce beast meat isn’t nearly as high as in the human lands. Still, I’ll go with you to Meishan town tomorrow. If I don’t, I’m really worried you’ll get swindled,” Old Zhao said with a sigh.

“Why don’t we bring along those ten or so big crab shells we got earlier, and that huge turtle shell as well? Whatever price we can get, as long as we can sell them. Otherwise, they’re just cluttering up the house. If only the black potatoes could fetch a price,” Qingzhen lamented.

“They’re called Crimson Essence Fruits, not black potatoes,” Old Zhao replied, exasperated.

“But they look just like potatoes, and taste pretty much the same,” Qingzhen insisted. “The only real difference is they’re brimming with spiritual energy. Just one bite and you can feel a gentle stream of energy nourishing your organs—warm and comforting.”

Qingzhen practiced wind techniques, which made his spiritual power rather volatile, so the Crimson Essence Fruit was especially effective in nurturing his meridians.

“Crimson Essence Fruits aren’t meant to be shredded into stir-fries. They’re best used in alchemy for optimal effect,” Old Zhao said, looking pained at their waste.

“You say that as if you weren’t eating them yourself. Didn’t you finish faster and eat more than both me and Little Hu’er?” Qingzhen retorted, unimpressed.

Old Zhao was speechless; this kid always kept a close eye on him, an old cultivator—whatever happened to respecting elders?

“In any case, no more shredded potatoes from now on,” Old Zhao declared. But that wasn’t quite right; he should have said, “Don’t waste any more Crimson Essence Fruits.”

“My sister said we’re not having shredded potatoes tonight. She wants candied potato chunks.”

“People usually make candied yam or sweet potato, and you’re going to use the Crimson Essence Fruit for candied potatoes? That’s outrageous! Such waste!” Old Zhao was beside himself.

“Then don’t eat any tonight,” Qingzhen threatened.

“I suppose I’ll just keep you company. After all, I promised Old Shen I’d take good care of you two,” Old Zhao relented.

Qingzhen was left speechless. So this is the real Old Zhao—never again will I believe in a righteous, self-sacrificing Uncle Zhao who won’t fight us for candied black potatoes.

That afternoon, the three-story stone house where Qingzhen and Qinghu would live was finally topped off. The solid wood furniture was already crafted and placed in each room. Old Zhao got a small suite on the first floor, enough for him alone.

Qingzhen was temporarily staying on the second floor, and in the room next to him stood a large wooden chest, overflowing with Crimson Essence Fruits. Not just anyone could indulge in such spiritual treasures; Little White could only manage a few bites at a time, and Clear Spring could finish a small plate.

The five men sent by their father could polish off a large plate together.

Deng Xiaolai simply watched, not daring to try even a bite. This was a spiritual treasure, far more potent than any fierce beast meat. Mishandled, it could cause one’s body to explode from the surging energy. He wisely abstained.

As for those who could eat freely, it was just Qingzhen, Qinghu, and Old Zhao. The three of them polished off three large plates, and in the end, each was holding his stomach, groaning from overeating.

The next morning, just as dawn broke, Qingzhen was already up. Uncle Zhao soon followed. They gathered their people, cleaned out big water buckets, and stuffed the live grass carp inside, so tightly packed the fish rolled their eyes at them in protest. Not even the last leg of the journey would be peaceful!

They also brought along all the crab shells picked clean ages ago, a whole giant turtle shell, and some chilled segments of grass carp specially prepared for their mother.

With the cart drivers long gone, they had to load everything onto three newly built flatbed ox carts. Three sturdy yellow oxen, urged on by their shouts, set off through the dewy morning.

Qingzhen bounced along in one of the carts, jolted by every bump and dip. “What kind of road is this? Why are there so many potholes?”

“Here in the Eastern Wilds, all the roads are dirt, so of course there are lots of potholes. You think you’re in the human heartlands, with proper highways? We’d love to build roads here, but the fierce beasts won’t allow it. What can we do but keep bouncing along?” Old Zhao’s voice wobbled with every jolt.

Qingzhen burst out laughing at that.

Meishan town was only thirty li from Pansnake Territory—not far at all by ox cart, though the constant hills made the journey a bit tedious.

As soon as they entered the town, a young lad stopped their little caravan. “Are you folks here to sell mountain goods? I know a fair place that won’t cheat you, pays decent prices, and knows what’s what. How about I take you there for ten copper coins as a guide fee?”

“Do you know where the postal station is?” Qingzhen asked, noting the boy seemed about his own age, and took an interest.

“Are you sending some of this home?” the boy asked knowingly.

“A small portion will be sent home; the rest we intend to sell. But we want to post the package first. Can you take us there? I’ll pay you double for guiding us both ways.”

Hearing that, the boy thought to himself—one job just turned into two, not bad.

“Alright, follow me,” he said.