Chapter 61: The Eight Treasures Merit Clay

At first, he too believed it was merely a peculiar illness; after all, soul-loss in children was hardly unheard of. But he never imagined that his grandson’s affliction was truly the loss of his very spirit!

“Lord Guo! Someone is targeting us! To think they would lay hands on Lin’er—this is shameless beyond measure!” Zhang Yuan’s tone was icy, his heart clearly ablaze with fury. If he ever caught the mastermind, he would make them taste the agony of a thousand cuts, that alone would be worthy retribution for the suffering his little nephew had endured.

The elder closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. He nodded and spoke to Zhang Yuan, “It seems the House of the Carefree Marquis has enjoyed peace for too long, and now others have begun to plot against us! Had you not advanced to Grandmaster, Yuan, we would still be in the dark.”

He did not know who had stolen his grandson’s soul, but the elaborate scheme told him the perpetrator must have a purpose. Yet what baffled him was the motive—what could one gain from taking the soul of his grandson? Was it meant to threaten the House of the Carefree Marquis?

After a long contemplation, he said to Zhang Yuan, “I had intended to bring Yuan Lin here for treatment, but circumstances have changed. It is no longer suitable to leave Yuan Lin here, nor is the Marquis’s residence necessarily safe. We must find a proper place to settle him.”

Now that they knew they were being targeted, the two naturally had to investigate. That meant they could not ensure Guo Yuan Lin’s safety.

Zhang Yuan pondered for a moment before asking, “What does Lord Guo think of Red Pine Mountain?”

A trace of interest flickered across the elder’s face. Yet he could see that Master Jade Morning was not one to welcome trouble, so he feared the Daoist might refuse to take in his grandson.

After some hesitation, he turned and took out a sealed jade casket, handing it to Zhang Yuan. “This is a relic of the Immortal Way, the treasured artifact of medical arts. Take it with you to Red Pine Mountain.”

Zhang Yuan accepted the casket, surprised by its weight. He asked, “Lord Guo, is this truly connected to the Immortal Way?”

The elder nodded. “Open it and see for yourself.”

Zhang Yuan hesitated briefly, but curiosity won out. He opened the casket, and inside lay a lump of jade mud, about the size of a baby’s fist, shimmering with eight colors but dried and cracked, unremarkable in appearance.

“This was a secret treasure of the previous dynasty’s imperial family, known as the Eightfold Merit Jade Mud. My father acquired it by chance. The rare medicines you took before, those were cultivated using this mud,” the elder explained.

The previous dynasty’s Spirit Emperor was obsessed with the Immortal Way, and he collected many related artifacts, all hidden within the imperial vaults. When the dynasty fell, many treasures were scattered across the land. The Eightfold Merit Jade Mud, sealed in a jade box, came into the possession of the elder’s father by chance.

Through study, the elder discovered that planting withered medicinal herbs into this mud would revive them, restoring life where there was none. Thus, it became revered as the supreme treasure of medicine—or rather, of the way of herbs.

Now, after several uses, the mud was no longer what it once was; perhaps two or three more uses and its mystical properties would be gone forever. Even so, it remained a precious and rare object. That was why the elder offered it as a prize for the medical conference, to attract renowned healers from all regions to diagnose his grandson.

Zhang Yuan was moved by the explanation; no wonder the Marquis’s residence had rare, extinct herbs that had supported him to the verge of Grandmaster. He closed the casket and carefully stored it away. He did not know whether the treasure would sway his teacher, but it was worth a try.

…

Within the city of Jinhua Prefecture.

A gaunt Daoist clad in a black-and-white robe, holding a golden soul banner, was examining something with a purple copper compass. When the compass showed no reaction, he put it away with mild disappointment.

He muttered, “It’s only natural. To nurture a latent dragon in a single province is already rare enough; you can’t expect such luck every day. Harvesting a latent dragon’s soul this time is enough to exchange for ten bottles of spirit pills from the National Preceptor!”

This Daoist, named Cang Erzi, had been dispatched over a decade ago by the current dynasty’s National Preceptor, Master Wusheng. Armed with the Dragon-fixing Compass, he wandered the realm seeking those with the fate of latent dragons or latent flood dragons.

With the help of this immortal artifact, his soul banner now contained three souls, more than sufficient to report back and claim a bounty of cultivation resources.

But hearing that the Jin Prefecture was hosting a grand gathering of cultivators, he decided to stay in the city a few more days before returning. Since it would only delay him briefly, he might as well attend the rare gathering and then return to the capital to report.

Thinking of the rich reward awaiting him, Cang Erzi’s spirits soared. He gazed at the three faint golden souls drifting within his banner, as if admiring bottles of animated spirit pills.

“I’m nearly done here, but I wonder how Six Plagues is faring? The epidemic in Jiang Prefecture must be his handiwork; it seems he’ll gain a great deal of elemental essence this time!”

At this thought, Cang Erzi’s eyes brimmed with envy. The Six Plagues had meticulously bred plague insects capable of devouring the vital essence of ordinary folk, extracting elemental source qi to be sent back to the master of plagues.

This elemental source qi was a key ingredient in the National Preceptor’s spirit pill refinement; once Six Plagues handed over his harvest, he would surely be lavishly rewarded.

In this era of declining spiritual law, the two of them relied on the National Preceptor’s patronage for cultivation—a rare fortune indeed. Ordinary wanderers, by contrast, could scarcely hope to obtain cultivation resources; many had never even glimpsed a spirit pill.

Even if a lucky soul chanced upon rare herbs or spirit pills and managed to cultivate some true qi, how could they ever reach the ninth and perfect level?

Reflecting on this, Cang Erzi felt a lofty sense of superiority.

Yet, for all their poverty, these wandering cultivators sometimes unearthed remarkable treasures at the grand gatherings—spirit treasures, rare herbs, and even spirit pills might appear. With his level two true qi, he could easily seize some loot after the gathering, a tidy windfall indeed.

With his mind made up, Cang Erzi prepared to depart.

But he had scarcely taken a few steps when he spotted a man shouldering an ancient sword, hastily cradling a child as he hurried away. The man moved quickly and did not notice Cang Erzi’s presence. Yet Cang Erzi instantly recognized the child—he was the owner of the last latent dragon soul he had harvested.

Where were these two headed?

Cang Erzi narrowed his eyes and slipped into the shadows. The sword-bearing man had the strength of a half-step Grandmaster, not someone Cang Erzi could easily confront with his current second-level true qi. Yet, relying on his skills, escape would not be difficult; after all, he had already stolen the child’s soul without a trace.

Curiosity piqued, Cang Erzi concealed his presence and quietly followed.