The mysterious little figures wore solemn expressions as they danced atop the plump ears of black wheat. Moving to a distinctive rhythm, they appeared to be conducting some sort of ceremony.
Qin Ming halted in the distance, holding his breath and suppressing all ripples of consciousness. Harmonizing with light and dust, he melted seamlessly into the pitch-black night, concealing himself completely.
What unfolded before his eyes stretched beyond his understanding. Could fifth-realm beings truly sprout from the soil? He stared in a daze; among those figures—each merely three inches tall—genuine grandmasters indeed existed.
Was this a "divine field"? Qin Ming found the notion absurd and observed with great care.
Yet, examining the soil here, he noticed nothing out of the ordinary; it was quite common.
Not a single blade of grass had once grown across this pitch-black, desolate expanse of baked, hard earth. Now, however, continuous swathes of black wheat flourished vigorously, their stalks bent low beneath the weight of heavy ears.
"It appeared once several decades ago?" Qin Ming stared ahead. Relying on his intuition, he felt that this black wheat had to be exceptionally nourishing and of immense benefit to the physical body.
The troupe of little figures moved with practiced, fluid grace. These were no mindless, reflexive actions; they resembled a rigorous, ancient war dance, as though they were offering sacrifices.
They shifted and leaped among the wheat ears, dissolving one moment only to coalesce the next. As they danced and offered prayers, indistinct visions emerged, seemingly summoning wind, rain, thunder, and lightning. Faint, shimmering projections of the sun and moon even manifested.
The wheat ears were heavy, swaying in the night mist beneath the patter of tiny feet and giving off soft, rustling whispers.
They converged into grandmasters borne aloft on dark clouds, then dispersed into invisible vapor to sink back into the black wheat. What grade of plant was this? Was it some miraculous gift from the earth?
"No wonder this realm was recorded in the ancient texts, personally selected by past sages." Qin Ming pondered it for a long while without arriving at an answer.
If placed in Yezhou or above the nine skies, this field of black wheat would unquestionably be considered a rare, supreme medicine—after all, it had taken human form.
Yet had these plants truly transformed into spirits? It did not look like it. The vast, dense expanse of black wheat grew in great numbers, lacking the inherent traits or spiritual fluctuations of demon spirits.
Qin Ming opened his Eye of the Newborn to gaze upon the heavy black wheat. He could tell it was exquisite; its rich inner essence and spiritual nature could surely consolidate one's foundation and cultivate primeval energy. Yet it did not seem so miraculous as to be an Earth Immortal-grade great medicine. That was what baffled him: how could it possibly sprout grandmasters?
There was no fire spring nearby. Could an extraordinary plant truly grow from barren, dark wasteland? This upended his understanding.
In Yezhou, any place of fortune or splendid landscape possessed a fire spring; without that infusion of spiritual quintessence, no plants could take root, leaving the land desolate and lifeless.
Qin Ming stared at the hard, baked earth, wondering if something lay buried beneath it. But he did not act rashly, having no desire to be besieged by grandmaster-level little figures.
A mutated saber-horned deer—evidently a creature of considerable spiritual acumen from the nearby mountain ranges, already in the late stage of the second realm—caught the scent of the grains. It bounded over rapidly, its thick antlers razor-sharp as blades and its eyes burning with hunger as it charged toward the black wheat field.
*Thump!*
It had only just approached when a three-inch-tall figure smashed its massive skull with a single punch. The deer carcass, weighing over a thousand jin, collapsed heavily to the ground.
Shortly after, a long-billed scythe bird glided through the night sky, its beak curved like a sickle. It was another mutated beast drawn by the wondrous field.
It uttered a shrill, piercing cry, summoning a large flock of its kin from the distant mountains. Shrieking together, they swooped down in a dive.
In response, a grandmaster-level little figure struck. The fist light flared upward, cleaving the night sky like a blazing inferno of celestial fire, instantly blowing hundreds of long-billed scythe birds to pieces.
A heavy shower of blood rained down, mingled with fluttering, ragged feathers.
Sure enough, these little figures that gathered and dispersed at will possessed genuine power, not mere illusory phantoms.
Qin Ming watched intently. Their combat arts resembled a fusion of battle qi and the divine path. Simple on the surface, they were devastatingly practical.
He silently withdrew, intending to probe the catfolk elders for the deeper history of this land.
Over the past few days, Qin Ming had frequently descended the mountain. As the village sat right at its foot, many locals were well-acquainted with him.
"Elder, what is the story behind that wheat field?" Qin Ming asked an old catman resting by the village entrance.
The elder had a very long original name. For convenience, Qin Ming simply called him Old Orange Cat in his mind, since his ears, tail, and hair were all bright orange.
Following local customs, Qin Ming also held a lengthy moniker of his own, which roughly translated to: *A luminary worthy of being inscribed upon ancestral bronzes, a rising star of the erect ape fiend race.* In this realm, such titles carried auspicious meaning. Back in Yezhou, it could be condensed into Ape Dingming.
Old Orange Cat leaned against the wooden courtyard fence, sighing gloomily. "Meow... that place is full of mystery. More than sixty years ago, it appeared just as abruptly and triggered a fierce war. Some nearby villages escaped unharmed, but others caught in the crossfire were wiped off the map. It was devastating."
His face grew heavy with worry as he pointed into the distance. "Meow, do you see that broken mountain? Sixty-three years ago, several supreme experts blasted it to rubble. I was only nine years old back then, and I saw it with my own eyes."
Qin Ming felt a chill run through him. Shattering a mountain like that would have required several grandmasters at the very least.
Old Orange Cat continued, "We heard those experts say that once the black earth revived, it wouldn't yield divine grain a second time. That put our hearts at ease. Who could have known it would appear again?"
According to him, peerless figures had congregated back then. All manner of flying creatures had arrived, some glowing like the bright moon, others dazzling like the sun, hanging high in the night sky. The ground had caved in, eventually leaving behind a bottomless abyss.
"Meow, my grandfather’s ears were deafened by the din."
Qin Ming said, "I saw a vast rift valley covering a wide area, but the black wheat didn't sprout there this time."
Old Orange Cat nodded. "Aye, it chose a different spot this time, but it's only a dozen li away. It must come from the same source."
Qin Ming did not rush him, continuing to chat casually and slowly teasing out details from that era.
Old Orange Cat reminisced as he spoke. "Back then, an insect-man who seemed like a chieftain buzzed his wings with a sound like rolling thunder. He warned the other factions that they had to wait until the wheat ears ripened before taking action, to watch a cycle reach its completion. Everyone had to exercise restraint beforehand to avoid courting disaster. At the time, I didn't understand what he meant at all."
Qin Ming was startled. This seemingly barren world harbored many deep secrets. He was still stumbling in the dark, his grasp far from thorough.
Old Orange Cat's face was clouded with sorrow. Some villagers wanted to flee, but the crops in the fields were on the verge of harvest. If abandoned, they would be stripped bare by the long-billed scythe birds and other beasts, leaving the village to face famine in the second half of the year.
Beyond the village, vast patches of yellow wheat in the fire fields would ripen in just a few days. In addition, silver wheat—a grain endowed with a trace of spiritual essence—was already glimmering like specks of silver.
Silver wheat was a premium crop. The villagers could never bear to eat it themselves; they sold it at high prices to wealthy households in distant cities.
This crop tasted exquisite and refined, harboring beneficial nutrients. Consuming it as a staple over the years was said to extend an ordinary person's life by ten to twenty years, though its yield remained meager.
Qin Ming returned to the Mountain God Temple, resolving to observe developments for now.
Down in the village, elders like Old Orange Cat and Old Black Cat assembled the able-bodied adults and made a final decision.
"Take the children and leave. We old bones will stay behind to watch over the homes."
"Don't worry. That site is dozens of li from us. Besides, we old folks might finish harvesting the crops before those outsiders even start fighting."
The elderly catfolk urged the young adults to depart with the women and children.
At the foot of the mountain, children wept while adolescents clung to their elders, reluctant to part. Yet their parents dragged them along, moving out with their families.
Qin Ming stood on the mountain, watching Sanhua, Lihua, Heibai, and the others wipe away tears as they trudged into the distance.
However, less than an hour later, the fleeing villagers came rushing back in panic. Several grown men were wounded, blood smeared across their lips as they limped along.
A youth informed the village elders, "The bandits from Cloud Severing Stronghold have blocked the road. They threatened that no one is allowed to leave. If a single person goes missing, they'll slaughter the entire village!"
"Those mountain thieves!" Old Black Cat muttered, seething with resentment.
The miraculous black wheat had become known to all surrounding villages, and word had clearly leaked out. The brigands occupying the mountain wanted to suppress the news so they could hoard the divine grain for themselves.
"They even unleashed spirit eagles to circle above the villages at night. They declared that if anyone dares to send out birds with messages, their whole village will be eradicated."
Cloud Severing Stronghold possessed a ferocious reputation across two hundred li, housing several hundred ruthless bandits. Reportedly, they had only settled here temporarily after committing a bloody atrocity in a distant region, which had forced them into exile.
Though they had arrived not long ago, their extortion of the surrounding villages was merciless, demanding tribute in silver wheat to satisfy their daily needs.
Now that a wondrous land had sprouted precious medicine, they naturally coveted it.
Not long after, little Sanhua ran up the mountain out of breath. Catching sight of Qin Ming, the little girl's eyes curved into crescents, her pure smile radiating joy. "Meow meow, Ape Brother, I brought you something tasty!"
Wrapped in a lotus leaf was a steaming cut of black goat meat. Holding it up in her small hands, she offered it to him. "Meow meow, it's stewed until it's super soft and tender! It practically melts in your mouth! Hurry and try it, Ape Brother, meow."
Qin Ming took it and asked, "Why did you butcher a goat today?"
Though innocent and lively, Sanhua's face took on a hint of gloom. "My dad said bad people are nearby, and our sheep might not be safe. It was better to eat it quickly, meow."
Soon after, Lihua and Heibai arrived as well, carrying cooked meat. Panting from the climb, their little faces flushed red. Qin Ming often fed them treats, so when good food came their way, they thought of him immediately.
All three children had bright, clear eyes, insisting on watching Qin Ming eat the steaming food they had carried up.
Qin Ming sighed inwardly. He was merely a passing traveler in this world, hoping to avoid entangling himself in complex karma. Yet now, a ripple of unease stirred in his heart.
"Meow meow, Ape Brother, is the goat leg good, meow?" Sanhua asked expectantly.
"Is the brocade pheasant tasty, meow?" The spirited Lihua and the bashful Heibai blinked their large eyes and asked in unison, each secretly swallowing a mouthful of saliva.
Qin Ming nodded. "It's all delicious!"
The next day, Qin Ming quietly approached the black earth. He was taken aback—the black wheat ears had grown plumper, and more critically, the little figures atop them had changed.
After just a single night, they seemed older. Some sprouted beards, while fine wrinkles creased the corners of the women's eyes.
Even the grandmasters had aged noticeably.
Qin Ming was startled. In just one night, these unique beings appeared to have lived through many years. He could not fathom the cause.
Yet, upon closer inspection, he noticed that certain grandmasters had grown more formidable in their cultivation. At this rate, these three-inch-tall figures would soon become exceedingly dangerous.
Aside from resting, they spent their time performing war dances and sacred rituals. The miraculous sights of wind, rain, thunder, and lightning upon the wheat grew clearer, accompanied by the cyclical rise and fall of the sun and moon, ethereal and hazy.
Qin Ming lingered for a long time, watching in silence. He realized that while half a day passed in the outside world, years might have elapsed for the little figures in the wheat field.
*Does time flow differently between the two realms?* Qin Ming frowned, though he felt that was not quite the case.
*Or do these creatures simply have naturally brief lifespans?* he pondered.
When Qin Ming returned to the Mountain God Temple, the cries of children drifted up to him. The village below was in turmoil; the bandits from Cloud Severing Stronghold had arrived, showing their vicious nature.
"Keep your mouths shut! If anyone leaks word of this, your whole village burns!"
"Also, your silver wheat is growing nicely. Once you harvest it in a few days, hand over fifteen hundred jin!"
Old Orange Cat’s heart turned cold upon hearing this. He pleaded hurriedly, "My lords, the yield of silver wheat is terribly low! Adding together all the fire fields of every family in the village, we only harvest around three thousand jin in total. We rely on it to trade for daily necessities in the city. Please, couldn't we offer more yellow wheat instead?"
A bandit glared at him. "What's wrong with taking half your silver wheat? You should be grateful we're in a good mood! Otherwise, we'd take every last kernel and slaughter your chickens and dogs down to the last pup!"
*Crack!*
A whip lashed across Old Orange Cat's face, carving a deep, bloody furrow that nearly exposed the bone. Blood streamed down as the bandit swept a harsh gaze across the terrified villagers.
Many children were too frightened to cry out, while the adults stood by helplessly. They were simply no match for these ruthless outlaws.
"Huh? Are you the temple keeper here?" One of the bandit leaders sensed something and glanced toward the modest summit.
"I am," Qin Ming replied, looking down upon them.
"Let's go," the bandit leader said, turning away. He sensed that the young ape possessed some skill and was no weakling.
"Boss, why are we leaving?"
"That ape is formidable; don't stir up unnecessary trouble. Just wait a little longer. The harvest from that black earth is something even our stronghold cannot swallow alone. If word leaks out, we could all be wiped out. The Chief has already reported this to his sect. Once their grandmaster arrives to hold down the fort, nothing can go wrong. A share of the scraps will be more than enough for us!"
Two days later, Qin Ming noticed the bandits hunting beasts of spiritual potential, slaughtering them and dumping their carcasses at the edge of the black earth. Doing so did not provoke the grandmasters on the wheat ears.
Qin Ming overheard their chatter: the divine grain from such unique terrain could supposedly be induced to mutate into something even more extraordinary through blood sacrifices.
Unfortunately, after repeated offerings, the bandits found the effect to be virtually nonexistent.
In the end, they hauled the carcasses away to prevent them from rotting and fouling the divine grain.
Qin Ming trailed them in secret, resonating with the minds of several bandits. He discovered that their knowledge was limited as well; they were merely following the directives of prominent figures from afar.
Moreover, experts from the sect backing them had already set out and would arrive shortly.
A few days later, the villagers harvested the crops from their fire fields. Though the yield was bountiful, their hearts were heavy. They had to surrender more than half of their high-grade grain—the very crop that fetched the highest price. Life ahead would undoubtedly be grim.
"Our sect's experts have arrived. We can finally breathe easy," a minor bandit leader disclosed to his subordinates.
"Has the grandmaster arrived?" someone asked.
"The old grandmaster hasn't arrived yet; he went in person to invite helpers. The fortune here is too immense for just one or two grandmasters to claim. Multiple powerhouses must join forces."
In the distance, Qin Ming overheard their exchange. He was both astonished and unsettled. The rainy season was approaching; would he truly have to relocate and rebuild his lightning tower elsewhere?
Over the following days, he quietly visited the wheat field daily. The little figures aged with startling speed, their faces already lined with deep wrinkles and etched with exhaustion.
Meanwhile, the grandmaster-level figures grew increasingly profound in their cultivation, turning ever more hazardous, though none managed to break through into the Great Grandmaster realm.
Two days later, after observing the decrepit figures once more, Qin Ming took a shortcut through the rear mountain to return to the temple. The moment he arrived, he sensed that something was amiss.
Cries and wails echoed from the village below. The bandits had seized numerous villagers, primarily youths and young children. Naturally, the parents tried to resist, only to be beaten bloody. Many lay collapsed on the ground, their bones shattered.
A group of bandits had already left the village, herding their captives toward the mysterious wheat field.
"Ape Brother!" Little Lihua scrambled out from the undergrowth, blood splattered across his body. His large eyes were filled with terror, blood dripping from his arm as he cast fearful glances at the sky.
Shrinking the ground to an inch, Qin Ming crossed the distance in a single stride. He scooped up the child and swiftly staunched his bleeding.
Looking up, he saw a spirit eagle swooping down. With a flick of his finger, feathers and flesh detonated into mist in midair.
Pulling himself together, Lihua spoke frantically: "Ape Brother, they took Sanhua, Heibai, and more than a dozen others!"
Qin Ming realized the truth in an instant. The bandits had received orders to sacrifice boys and girls endowed with spiritual potential, seeking to test whether the black wheat could mutate further.
These people were insatiably greedy, discarding human lives without a second thought just to reap a superior divine harvest.
"Don't be afraid," Qin Ming said, soothing the trembling boy.
The lad had been clever; sensing danger, he had plunged into the brush outside the village and fled up the mountain, only to be spotted by the spirit eagle near the end.
"Ape Brother, you said the ape race can draw on mountains, rivers, and all things to become gods and immortals... Can you save them...?" Lihua murmured, trailing off.
Stained with blood, his frail voice quavered. Tears welled in his large eyes as he slowly lowered his small head. He knew it was an impossible request; no one in these parts could contend with those bandits.
"I'm sorry, Ape Brother..." He bowed his head in apology, tears pattering down like raindrops.
At that moment, something deep inside Qin Ming softened, then gave way. Unable to hold back any longer, he left behind a fragment of his consciousness while his spirit silently wandered forth.
When he had first stepped into this world, he had reminded himself that he was merely a passerby. He would quietly consume his lightning medicine and depart, avoiding undue interference in the fates of others.
Yet after days of shared moments, learning of Sanhua and Heibai's peril shattered his resolve. The Great Dao might be unfeeling, but mortals had hearts. How could he stand by and watch?
He had deterred the bandits with his presence before, keeping them in check. But now that experts from afar had arrived, they had cast all restraint to the winds.
"Mother, where are you? I'm scared..." On the mountain trail, little Sanhua trembled, constantly looking back. A sharp slap cracked against her pale cheek, causing it to swell instantly.
"Sanhua, don't cry. Don't be afraid," the shy Heibai spoke up, offering quiet comfort. He, too, received a backhand slap that left blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
In truth, their parents had been knocked unconscious by a cultivator back in the village; had they pursued, they would have been slaughtered on the spot.
"Shut your mouths! No more blubbering!" a bandit barked.
Qin Ming overtook the party. A flash of flowing light streaked past, piercing the foreheads of every bandit in the group. They dropped dead simultaneously.
"Ah?" The youths and children cried out in shock.
They searched in all directions, but saw no one. Finally, they turned and raced back along the path.
Qin Ming watched them head toward the village, then sped toward the other intersections. The surrounding hamlets had all suffered raids, their youths and children abducted.
Some villages had met an even darker fate, with parents slaughtered where they stood.
Qin Ming guarded the sole path leading to the black wheat field. After rescuing the final group of children, a chilling frost settled into his eyes.
The bandits had suffered heavy losses without discerning who had struck, leaving them utterly spooked.
Even the sect experts backing them grew intensely wary. Unable to trace their foe, they dared not act rashly for the moment.
That night, lightning cracked and thunder roared as torrential rain poured from the heavens. The rainy season had arrived—or perhaps, it had officially begun.
Qin Ming stood within the high tower, gazing out the window at the dazzling arcs of lightning tearing through the ink-black clouds. The more he thought, the more his anger burned.
"Since I couldn't hold back and have already stepped in, I might as well see it through to the end!"
Taking a deep breath, he calmed his mind. Consuming the lightning medicine remained his most urgent priority; a breakthrough was at hand.
All through the night, the thunder proved deafening, the lightning relentless. Densely packed bolts cascaded downward as though daylight had descended, ripping the pitch-black sky apart.
Within Qin Ming, the purple golden core shone brilliantly, tempered by thunder and fire until it grew ever more unfathomable. He absorbed lightning medicine through the entire night, in amounts far surpassing any previous session.
The lightning never ceased; this single tempest was worth seven or eight storms of the past.
Eventually, countless Dao patterns intertwined across his golden core, imbuing it with inscrutable mystery. As he channeled the nine-colored sword baleful aura into it and condensed his heavenly light within, a thunderclap exploded across the night sky, and a bolt of lightning shattered the entire tower to rubble.
Heart pounding, Qin Ming rose from the ruins. He realized that without knowing it, he had ascended to the sixth heaven of the Mind Lamp realm. In a single night, he had climbed another tier.
The lightning gradually dispersed, though the heavy rain continued to fall.
"Avoiding karma? Stepping back? The more I think about it, the angrier I get! Those bandits and the sect experts behind them belong in hell!"
With a booming crash, Qin Ming dispersed the torrential sheets of rain. Leaving the summit, he vanished into the night.
Cleaving through the veil of rain, he moved alone across this remote region in the deep night, embarking on an unrelenting slaughter.
"Who goes there?" a bandit cried out, startled awake.
"The one who takes your worthless lives!"
Qin Ming arrived radiating boundless killing intent. Above his head, the Yellow Silk Canopy spun slowly, draping streamers of purple qi and divine radiance.
One shoulder bared, his hair flowing loose, he carried a pristine white bone club across his shoulder like a descending demon god.
*Pfft!*
A bandit leader was pulverized into mist by a single strike of the club.
Wails of terror erupted as Qin Ming swiftly butchered over a hundred men.
Cloud Severing Stronghold numbered more than this, boasting over three hundred outlaws in all. Qin Ming had no intention of sparing any of them. Traveling through the rainy night, he tracked down another encampment and continued reaping their lives.
In the end, Cloud Severing Stronghold was wiped out completely.
"Not enough. The ones who ordered the blood sacrifice deserve death even more!"
Qin Ming moved through the sheets of rain like a merciless machine of slaughter.
He had already slain several sect experts during the purge, but others had not been lodging with the bandits. He now sought them out one by one.
It was a night drenched in blood. The strongest among these sect cultivators stood only at the peak of the fourth realm, lacking a single grandmaster. How could they hope to withstand Qin Ming's surging killing intent?
"In for a penny, in for a pound. When your grandmasters arrive, I might as well find the right moment to slaughter them too!"
Carrying the white bone club on his shoulder, Qin Ming faded into the rain.
Two days later, several grandmasters arrived, prowling near the black wheat field. By now, the wheat ears shimmered with dark, translucent radiance, gleaming like crystal.
One grandmaster exclaimed in excitement, "It is about to ripen! To think this land could revive a second time! What an extraordinary place. We must not miss out on this greatest of fortunes!"
In the distance, Qin Ming had also arrived. With the massive white bone club propped on his shoulder, he quietly watched from the shadows.
Chapter 513