Chapter Five: Going to the Market

Early the next morning, as the first light crept across the sky.

“Coo, coo!!”

At the entrance of the dilapidated temple, a toad the size of a calf squatted atop a large bluestone. Li Yang sat cross-legged on its head, his hands forming seals, their breaths perfectly synchronized as they faced the rising sun, inhaling and exhaling in harmony. With each rise and fall of their chests and abdomens, the resonant croaking sounded like the muffled beat of a distant drum.

Not until the sun had fully risen above the horizon did Li Yang finally open his eyes. A surge of turbid air burst from his mouth like a wave, shooting out several meters before dispersing into the morning air.

He glanced down at the toad beneath him, its skin now gleaming with a deeper luster, and nodded with satisfaction. The secret method handed down in his family had not disappointed him.

By linking his breath with that of his life-bound beast, he could not only help it purge impurities from its body, but also greatly accelerate his own cultivation. He had expected, given the depletion of his vital blood, that it would take at least a week to recover. Yet judging by today's progress, three days might suffice for a full restoration.

The bloodline of this ancient beast was truly formidable. Though the spiritual energy of this era was far from abundant, his own rate of absorption and refinement was but like drawing silk from a cocoon—slow and painstaking. Yet the golden toad devoured energy like a whale, accepting all and sundry. If only he could utilize more of the energy it absorbed, his cultivation would advance at an even greater pace.

The usual path of the Human-Immortal was fierce and domineering: cultivating vital energy within to nourish the body, tempering the skin, bones, and sinews without, and mastering deadly arts of combat—peerless in battle, the very embodiment of triumph over fate.

Yet the Li ancestors had radically transformed this harsh method, discarding the martial techniques and external training, retaining only the internal refinement to temper vital energy and nurture the body.

The traditional Human-Immortal regimen required astronomical time and resources—a bottomless pit. The rare herbs alone, not to mention the daily consumption of beef by accomplished practitioners, and the years of patient grinding away, made success a distant hope.

The method founded by the Li forebears, with all the time spent nurturing beasts and refining elixirs, left no room for such diversions. Human energy was finite, after all.

Thus Li Yang practiced only the internal aspects of the Human-Immortal path, having never learned the arts of combat—not for lack of family tradition, but for sheer lack of time.

The resources required to raise a single beast to maturity dwarfed those for any human, yet the beast’s stamina was prodigious; it would absorb any form of energy, whether demonic, ghostly, or corpse-born, and could refine it all. Their strength in battle was formidable, offering ample protection.

So the Li legacy had long forsaken other magical arts to focus on nurturing beasts. Before fusing with a life-bound beast, one possessed no magic and little more than a sturdy body—but with one or two extraordinary creatures for guardianship, one could roam the world unchallenged.

This approach to cultivation was a far cry from tradition, and compared to the orthodox practitioners, the Lis more closely resembled unorthodox shamans.

After completing his morning regimen, Li Yang rose and gazed toward the steaming cauldron over the fire nearby. As he approached, a pungent stench assaulted him, making him wrinkle his nose in displeasure at the sight of the bubbling, reddish-brown concoction within. The look on his face was far from pleasant.

This single batch of marrow-cleansing elixir had cost an entire gold bar. The expense of nurturing exotic beasts was truly beyond the means of ordinary folk.

Though the beast’s hide was thick and its appetite for energy insatiable, it accumulated many impurities that must be purged to stimulate the growth of its bloodline. The marrow-cleansing elixir was essential. In addition, various supportive elixirs were required, each one devouring more wealth than the last—a mountain of expense, which made Li Yang sigh with worry.

After a night’s simmering, the red-brown elixir was ready. At his mental command, the golden toad—the size of a calf—hopped over with a loud croak and swallowed the scalding potion in one gulp.

As the elixir slid down, the toad’s warty, yellow-spotted skin flushed red before Li Yang’s eyes, hot steam curling from its nostrils. Li Yang pressed his palms against the creature’s back, chanting incantations in a low hiss, his own vital energy surging to help the toad refine the medicinal power.

After half an hour, seeing the toad before him visibly thinner and a lump of black-brown impurities expelled from its mouth, Li Yang finally withdrew his hands, wiping the sweat from his brow with satisfaction.

“Croak, croak...”

“All right, stop complaining. I know you’re hungry. I’ll get you something to eat soon,” he said, casting a helpless glance at the toad now hopping around him incessantly.

Ah, to think I’m raising an ancestor in my own home!

Shrinking the toad and tucking it into his pocket, Li Yang stepped into the ruined temple. He looked at the still-sleeping Xiao Liu, and called softly, “Liuzi, get up, let’s head to the market in town.”

“Go on without me, Brother Li. I haven’t had enough sleep,” Liuzi mumbled, half-awake, and turned over to continue his slumber.

Seeing this, Li Yang could only shake his head in resignation. The life of a beggar had its perks—one could sleep as long as one wished, eat only a single meal a day, and aside from being dirty and poor, enjoy a certain freedom.

With a wry smile, he banished these idle thoughts from his mind, added some firewood to the embers in the temple, grabbed a red carp from a broken jar in the corner, and set off toward Nuqing County.

Nuqing County was not far—less than half an hour’s walk from the ruined temple. As he approached, the low walls and the architectural style reminiscent of the Republic era came into view—no guards at the gate, nor any toll as one might see in a television drama.

Though he had some knowledge from his predecessor’s memories, Li Yang could not help but frown as he entered the town.

The low, haphazard houses sprawled without order, streets choked with mud and a pervasive stench of rot. Cow dung littered the way, beggars in rags were everywhere, and the crowd was a mix of Han and Miao, making the town resemble more a refugee camp than a county seat.

Only when he ventured deeper did the houses gain some semblance of order and the stench recede. Occasionally he would spot an inn or tavern, though these were far from the elegant establishments depicted in dramas, and instead looked old and worn.

“Damn this place! Rotten to the core, no wonder no one wants to live here. Boss, don’t you agree—”

At that moment, a conspicuous group appeared ahead, starkly different from the rough-spun hemp and headscarves worn by the rest of the street.

At their head was a young man in white, sporting a pair of dark glasses. He was handsome, his hair slicked back with oil, the very picture of a wealthy scion. Beside him stood a weathered middle-aged soldier with one blinded eye, and a petite young woman in a red dress, her hair braided. She was slender, her face bare of makeup, yet her brows carried a fierce, spirited air.

The instant he saw them, Li Yang’s pupils contracted, countless thoughts swirling through his mind.