The turtle pearl was taken from the giant turtle at the bottom of the cavern in Xianling Lake. Aside from its demon core, the giant turtle had condensed the essence of centuries of cultivation into spirit pearls. Since this was for his own use, he naturally couldn't be stingy, tossing an entire turtle pearl in as an ingredient.
As for the toad venom, its origin was just as extraordinary: while traversing the Panlong Desert aboard the walnut boat, Grand National Preceptor Sun Fuping had harvested it from purple-gold toads that leapt onto the vessel. In plain terms, they were toads mutated by the influence of the Dafang Pot, yet they still secreted venom from their bodies and behind their ears; once dried, this became toad venom.
Sun Fuping had an eye for treasures. Before tossing the two dead purple-gold toads off the boat, he had extracted their useful parts, never expecting that just before his death he would be robbed by He Chunhua, and his treasures would fall into an enemy's hands.
Once two jin of local honey and the Emperor's Flowing Dew went into the pot, the sugary liquid instantly thickened, resisting the movement of his spoon. When the five medicinal herbs were added, the syrup turned a pale black and grew extremely murky.
He Lingchuan waited until it began to bubble before pouring in the final ingredients: the turtle pearl and the powdered toad venom.
Strangely enough, the liquid in the pot had been dark and oily, resembling the muddy water of a swamp, but the moment these two items were added, the color began to fade, shifting from pale black to dark brown, then to light brown...
In the end, it settled into an uneven, murky yellow.
"No way. Why this color?" He Lingchuan raised his candle to illuminate the bottom of the pot. The more he looked at it, the more it resembled—
Refusing to give up, he simmered it for another half cup of tea's time, but the color refused to budge.
This batch of concocting had reached its end. Besides, the liquid was now as thick as maltose, capable of being twirled up with chopsticks; boiling it any longer would only scorch it.
A'luo had explained that the higher the quality of the refined Emperor's Flowing Powder, the more brilliant its color: gold, crimson, or crimson-gold for the best, and at the very least a dark green. The color He Lingchuan had ended up with was, frankly, barely even a passing grade.
If A'luo had been here, he might have kicked the pot over in disgust.
There was no helping it; he was a novice, after all. Of course, the most likely culprit was the poor quality of the herbs he had bought from the town.
Holding a pair of chopsticks, He Lingchuan carefully scraped the medicinal paste from the bottom of the pot.
The murky yellow paste wound several times around the bamboo chopsticks, growing thicker and rounder with each turn.
This color, this shape... Sigh.
And he had to eat it.
Even though he knew exactly what it was, bringing himself to swallow it was downright embarrassing. Who told him to be a clean freak?
He Lingchuan squeezed his eyes shut. *Down the hatch!*
Huh? It actually tasted pretty good—quite sweet, with no strange flavor.
He smacked his lips and took two more licks.
Just then, the cook suddenly hurried out from the back barefoot, brandishing an iron pot and shouting, "Who's there? Who is it?!"
He had gotten up in the middle of the night to check the hour when he suddenly heard a commotion here.
"Daring to steal food from the officials, you little thief, you—ah!" The cook came to an abrupt halt as He Lingchuan instinctively looked back.
The cook's tone twisted violently upward:
"—It's Eldest Young Master! Never mind, then."
He offered an awkward chuckle and beamed a round, moon-faced smile at He Lingchuan, pivoting on his heel to leave.
The moment he turned his back, the smile vanished.
What was Eldest Young Master holding in his hand? What was smeared around his mouth?
Could his eyes have deceived him?
*No, impossible... Eldest Young Master has eaten every delicacy under the sun. Why on earth would he—?*
Yet the next instant, he couldn't help recalling the dogs he used to keep back home.
"It's not..." He Lingchuan tried to explain, but the man had greased his heels and was already gone beyond recall. "I didn't..."
Even if he talked until his tongue went dry, would the man believe him?
He could only silently lick off the rest of the paste from the chopsticks, then stand and head back to his room.
Halfway there, his stomach suddenly let out a rumbling gurgle followed by a sharp spasm of cramps, nearly doubling him over.
It takes effect... th-this fast?
*And why does it take effect in this department?*
He Lingchuan didn't have time to ponder. He broke into a sprint midway and bolted for the latrine.
The moment he squatted down, qi surged through his dantian in an earth-shattering eruption that nearly frightened off the birds roosting outside the thatched hut.
Fortunately, it left as quickly as it came. When He Lingchuan stood up, his whole body felt immensely relieved and light, as though he had shed four or five jin in an instant.
When others consumed Emperor's Flowing Dew—including himself that morning—a warm current would rise in their bellies, urging them to quickly circulate their breath. Why was the first reaction to consuming Emperor's Flowing Powder a desperate dash to the latrine?
A difference of a single word, and such a world of difference?
He Lingchuan didn't dare muster the courage to look down. He hastily scooped water to wash his hands and face, then headed back.
Taking a stride, he felt as if springs were attached to his heels, making him practically float along the ground.
This lightness, as if he could fly like a swallow, was even more invigorating than after his breath-regulating session that morning—no, even better than how he felt just waking up.
Back in the room, He Yue was fast asleep. Perhaps due to the effects of the Emperor's Flowing Dew, his second brother, who was normally reserved even in sleep, was actually snoring softly tonight.
Sitting on the bed, He Lingchuan felt no drowsiness; after all, he had only been awake for a few hours.
Whatever, he might as well cultivate for a while.
He got up, fetched a round prayer mat, found a quiet spot, and sat down.
Moonlight flowed like water, draping gently over him.
The chirping of insects around him was much louder than the night before, but it could not disturb him.
As soon as He Lingchuan evened out his breathing, he entered a meditative trance—far faster than usual.
...
This meditation lasted another four shichen.
When He Lingchuan opened his eyes again, dawn had broken, and morning sunlight from the east shone directly onto his face.
Two guards stood outside the courtyard, presumably posted by He Chunhua to prevent idle onlookers from disturbing him.
Seeing him stand up, the guards quickly turned and bowed. "Congratulations, Eldest Young Master!"
Just as He Lingchuan was about to ask what there was to congratulate, a breeze blew past, and he suddenly caught a foul, rancid stench, like rotting fish and spoiled shrimp left festering on a wharf for days and nights.
While not quite on the level of the scent buns, it was enough to make anyone give him a wide berth.
For instance, the two guards reflexively backed away three big steps.
He Lingchuan lowered his head and sniffed, finally confirming that the stench was wafting from his own body.
Pulling open his lapel to look, he saw his skin covered in a layer of pale black slime, foul and rank.
It was everywhere—on his arms, shoulders, legs, and all over.
Madam Ying happened to pass by. Pinching her nose from thirty feet away, she shouted to him, "Phew, that stinks! Chuan'er, go bathe at once, the hot water is ready!"
"Ah, right away."
In the room behind the kitchen, several wooden tubs were lined up in a row, steaming with hot water.
The moment he jumped in, the slime on He Lingchuan dissolved into the water like ink, instantly staining most of the tub black.
Helpless, he had to switch to another tub.
After washing through five tubs, lathering up with soap pods four times, and scrubbing vigorously with a stiff brush, the black grime was finally thoroughly removed. Soaking in the hot water, He Lingchuan felt every pore in his body open up as warm vapors circulated through his internal organs, bringing an indescribable sense of ease.
By the time he finished bathing, cleaned up, and changed his clothes, he had the distinct illusion that every cell in his body was brimming with power, as though he could punch a hole right through the heavens with a thrust of his fist.
He Lingchuan knew that this state indicated that the Emperor's Flowing Dew he had consumed was finally taking true effect.
When humans are born, they are pure and flawless. But as they tumble through the murky mortal world, their innate spiritual energy dissipates, and acquired filth gradually accumulates.
When dirt gathers in the heart, it breeds the Three Corpses.
When impurities accumulate in the body, they drain the vital origin.
Over time, escaping the suffering of illness and old age becomes impossible.
Setting aside mental states, the first step for any cultivator seeking true mastery was to purge these acquired impurities, returning oneself to a pristine state so as to lay the foundation for future rapid advancement.
Countless practitioners stagnated at this very threshold because the filth had penetrated deep into their origin, becoming entwined with their being, impossible to thoroughly purge under ordinary conditions.
Beyond opening the minds of the ignorant, this was the greatest value of Emperor's Flowing Dew.
The expelling of this black slime marked He Lingchuan's complete success with the aid of the Emperor's Flowing Dew!
With a solid foundation laid, cultivation would yield twice the results with half the effort.
He Lingchuan stretched lazily. His bones cracked and popped in succession, sounding like a string of small firecrackers going off.
Yet a touch of regret lingered in his heart.
In truth, having rushed to Shuanghe Town the previous night, the herbs he bought had been ordinary in quality and lacking in age. The finished medicine's efficacy was limited; in the end, it was mostly carried by the potency of the toad venom and the turtle pearl.
A'luo had also told him that the formulas Panlong City developed for Emperor's Flowing Dew not only cleansed the marrow and transformed the tendons on the first use, but more importantly, stimulated and magnified the potency of other spiritual medicines.
What was Emperor's Flowing Dew? In essence, it was purified spiritual energy of heaven and earth, the source of essence for all life in the world. Once it entered a living being's circulation, it provided the gentlest, most optimal environment for bodily functions and cultivation.
Originally, the power contained in both the toad venom and the turtle pearl was overwhelmingly turbulent for He Lingchuan. Toad venom was particularly lethal; swallowing it directly would likely rupture his meridians and make him explode to death. But shielded by the Emperor's Flowing Dew, the energies of both were tamed and made docile, set to gradually yield to him over the next three months and complete their transformation from external power into his own true force.
With the magnifying and stabilizing effects of Emperor's Flowing Dew, the variety of medicinal formulas one could create with it was limited only by imagination.
He Lingchuan marveled at the thought: if the crudest Emperor's Flowing Powder he cobbled together had such miraculous effects, just how potent were the various wondrous medicines crafted from it by professional apothecaries in Panlong City?
Alas, that had nothing to do with him. If only he could get his hands on those formulas!
Mmh, but in truth, the hardest thing to get was still the Emperor's Flowing Dew itself, wasn't it?
An opportunity that came once in decades had slipped by just like that. Who knew when he would ever see Emperor's Flowing Dew again?
Then again, why was there an occasion during the Panlong City era when Emperor's Flowing Dew fell four times in three years?
Pure luck?
He Chunhua and the others were seated in a circle outside the thatched hut discussing affairs. When they saw He Lingchuan amble over, they all froze.
Although he maintained his usual slouching, nonchalant air, sharp brilliance gleamed in his eyes, and his stride carried the predatory presence of a tiger and a wolf, making others hesitant to approach.
So much so that a thought crossed He Chunhua's mind:
*Is this truly my worthless good-for-nothing son?*
Unfortunately, the illusion shattered the moment He Lingchuan spoke: "I'm late. Looks like I missed lunch?"
Now that his breath was regulated and his stomach had recovered, it was rumbling loudly with hunger.
He Chunhua could only instruct his men, "Go get him something to eat."
He Lingchuan found a bamboo chair and sat down. Beside him, Wu Shaoyi immediately cupped his hands in congratulation. "Congratulations, Eldest Young Master, on laying your foundation!"
Whether pursuing spellcraft or the martial path, the towering threshold that stood as a formidable barrier in one's way had now been crossed by He Lingchuan. With his vast experience, Wu Shaoyi had recognized it at a glance.
Chapter 159