By afternoon, he had returned to Wu Chao Town and headed straight for the grain shop.
The shopkeeper's eyes lit up when he saw the four burlap sacks hanging from Liu Xiaolou's shoulder pole. "Young Immortal Master Liu, is that spirit rice?"
Liu Xiaolou set the sacks down. "Shopkeeper, weigh it."
The shopkeeper beamed and immediately called over two clerks to weigh the sacks. "Young Immortal Master, you came early this year—the very first! Is this spirit rice from Goose-Goat Mountain?"
As Liu Xiaolou watched the two clerks weigh the sacks, he said to the shopkeeper, "Other than Goose-Goat Mountain, where else in western Hunan are there spirit fields?"
The weighing was soon finished. There were three hundred and twenty-eight jin and six liang in total—the fruits of Liu Xiaolou's six days of hard labor.
"I'll take the odd amount with me and leave three hundred jin. Name your price, Shopkeeper." Liu Xiaolou said. Spirit rice was only for a taste of something new. He was alone, not from some cultivation family, and did not have the good fortune to eat spirit rice as ordinary food. Three hundred jin of spirit rice—how long would that last him? He would not finish it even in half a year. If he stayed in the mountains guarding all that spirit rice and ate it meal after meal, how much time would that waste? Was he supposed to stop working?
"The usual price: one hundred jin of spirit rice for one hundred and sixty taels of silver..."
"I don't want silver. I want spirit stones. Shopkeeper, I know you have them. You can't use those things anyway, so just trade them to me."
"Hehe... spirit stones aren't easy to come by..."
"The same as Goose-Goat Mountain: one hundred jin of spirit rice for one spirit stone."
"Hehe, does the Young Immortal Master take this old man for someone outside the cultivation world? This old man may not understand cultivation, but he understands the market. What the Young Immortal Master mentioned is Goose-Goat Mountain's penalty price, not the market price."
"Then... two spirit stones total, and throw in one hundred taels of silver! My spirit rice is the first harvest—fresh!"
"Young Immortal Master, you jest. Three hundred jin of spirit rice is worth one and a half spirit stones at market price. Of course, there is no such thing as half a spirit stone, so this old man will make up the difference with two hundred taels of pure silver."
"My family's master has just ascended to immortality and passed on. I'm all alone in this world now, with no kin to turn to..."
"What does your master's passing have to do with this..."
After some haggling, Liu Xiaolou ultimately left all three hundred jin of spirit rice at the grain shop in exchange for two spirit stones. It was actually a very good price. Looking at the remaining twenty-odd jin of spirit rice in his sack, the shopkeeper asked, "Not selling that?"
Liu Xiaolou smiled. "I worked hard to grow this rice myself. I ought to taste what it's like, shouldn't I? It's rather embarrassing to say, but I've harvested spirit rice twice before and never properly eaten any. I don't even know what it tastes like."
The shopkeeper nodded. "That's true."
Just as they were about to complete the transaction, a group of people crowded in around a Young Master, shoving Liu Xiaolou aside.
Liu Xiaolou was about to lose his temper when he saw someone behind the Young Master sneer and reveal half a longsword to him. Most of the sword remained in its sheath, yet its icy sword radiance already gleamed like frost.
The rage filling Liu Xiaolou's chest was immediately doused as though by a bucket of cold water. He could only step farther aside.
The Young Master did not even spare him a proper glance. Instead, he asked the shopkeeper with interest, "Oh? First-harvest spirit rice? That is rare. Does western Hunan produce spirit rice too?"
The shopkeeper immediately greeted him with a smiling face. "This Young Master bears an extraordinary air. May I ask which treasured land you hail from?"
Someone answered on his behalf. "My family is the Ouyang Clan of Yuezhou. We are merely passing through. Do not think you can deceive us. Conduct your business honestly, and your benefits will not be lacking!"
The shopkeeper said in surprise, "So it is the Young Master of Lotus Creek Hall. This little old man offers his respects! This is spirit rice from Goose-Goat Mountain in western Hunan, with exceptionally deep spiritual roots. Is the Young Master interested?"
The Young Master asked, "Goose-Goat Mountain?"
The man who had drawn his sword whispered in his ear, "Young Master, we cannot linger. We must travel through the night."
The Young Master nodded. "Then we will not go to Goose-Goat Mountain. Take all of this back with us."
Liu Xiaolou could no longer endure it. "That is my rice!"
The shopkeeper said, "You already sold it to me."
Liu Xiaolou said, "You have not paid me the spirit stones yet."
The Young Master, however, had no patience for their quarrel. He asked Liu Xiaolou, "How much did you sell it to him for?"
Liu Xiaolou replied, "He is only offering two spirit stones. I was still hesitating."
The Young Master glanced over the four burlap sacks and nodded. "That is the price."
The shopkeeper said to Liu Xiaolou, "See? My shop is always most fair..."
Before he could finish, the Young Master said to Liu Xiaolou, "I'll give you three." With that, he swayed away, continuing down the street to browse the shops.
A group of servants behind him carried off the four burlap sacks. The attendant who had drawn his sword came over, tossed Liu Xiaolou three spirit stones, and hurried after them.
Watching their retreating backs, Liu Xiaolou sighed. "Damn tycoon!"
The shopkeeper nodded. "The Ouyang Clan of Yuezhou truly is a great household—so great there is no end to it..."
Liu Xiaolou searched every part of himself before finally pulling out his last remaining twenty taels of silver and setting them on the counter. "Shopkeeper, many thanks."
The shopkeeper smiled. "It was only a coincidence."
Liu Xiaolou suddenly felt a little regretful. "I should have kept two jin. I still have not tasted any myself."
The shopkeeper said, "It is only natural for farmers not to eat their own rice! Eat ordinary grain honestly. Here—twenty jin. It is new rice too, enough to last you a month."
Though he had not eaten his own rice, Liu Xiaolou was still very pleased. He returned to Wulong Mountain and sat briefly in Uncle Tian's house. Hearing no news, he returned home to Qianzhu Ridge.
He put a jin of new rice into the pot and cooked a huge pot of congee, its fragrance filling the air.
The great white goose came flapping over, tossed a fat fish into the pot with its beak, and circled Liu Xiaolou's feet. It was as delighted as though celebrating a festival. This time, the fat fish's innards had been removed. It could actually gut fish now?
Liu Xiaolou served it a basin of fish congee. Man and goose sat around the stove, slurping away and stuffing themselves to their hearts' content. What a satisfying meal!
The one small regret was that he had not eaten any spirit rice. Of course, spirit rice contained very little spiritual energy. Even if one ate an entire huge pot, only a tiny bit would ultimately be converted into true essence, making it almost useless for cultivation. This sort of thing had to replace ordinary grain as a long-term staple; only through accumulated days and months could it offer any benefit. For a destitute, ruined household like Liu Xiaolou's, it was undoubtedly a luxury beyond reach.
So Liu Xiaolou did not mind. After all, the three spirit stones now in his hands were the true path of cultivation.
A poor household could not hold on to surplus wealth. Liu Xiaolou did not wish to delay for even a moment and immediately entered a state of cultivation.
The Three Xuan cultivation technique began to circulate. It drew out the spiritual energy within the spirit stone in his palm thread by thread, tempering it through the Meridians into pure true essence. It surged toward Tianquan, the second acupoint of the Hand Jueyin Meridian, continuously knocking against the acupoint barrier.
Liu Xiaolou did not know how other families' cultivation techniques opened their Meridians, but the Three Xuan Sect's technique worked this way: the grinding work of water against stone, again and again, persevering without cease. Naturally, it contained all manner of variations—sometimes light, sometimes heavy; sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes like a thin stream flowing endlessly, sometimes like a violent storm.
It seemed to follow no pattern at all, yet it had a consistent cultivation principle: every method of cultivation centered upon responding to the various feedback produced when the acupoint barrier was struck, applying different striking strategies according to the sensations brought by that feedback.
Thus, cultivating the Three Xuan cultivation technique was not dull at all. On the contrary, it was immensely interesting, enough to make one sink into it and struggle to pull free.
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