Accumulation

The outer sect's lecture grounds didn't have senior brothers or stewards giving talks every day.

Lin Chan asked a few disciples there, confirmed there was no lecture today, and headed to the Scripture Gorge on his own.

The place on Shu Mountain's Tianquan Peak where Daoist texts were stored was a gorge—this very Scripture Gorge. Countless hidden compartments were carved into the cliffs on both sides, holding most of Tianquan Peak's collection.

At the very top of the gorge hung two broken swords.

These were the key array eyes of the Scripture Gorge's formation, which shielded the gorge from wind and rain and drove away snakes, insects, rats, and ants.

Outer sect disciples could borrow one book at a time, with a maximum loan period of one month. It had to be returned by then, or a fine would be charged.

Inner sect disciples could borrow freely, but they couldn't take too many at once—at least not more than they could carry away—and there was no clear time limit.

Still, the Scripture Gorge saw few visitors each day. Cultivation emphasized resources, methods, companions, and environment.

That meant sufficient cultivation resources, the right cultivation methods, fellow Daoists to train with, and a suitable place to practice.

Relying solely on self-study was clearly not the superior path.

Without a good teacher's guidance, it was easy to go astray.

So outer sect disciples preferred listening to inner sect senior brothers give talks at the lecture grounds.

Inner sect disciples, meanwhile, sought out their masters when they had free time to ask for guidance.

Lin Chan, however, felt that True Person Xuan Chen had just guided his cultivation for a few days recently, and he didn't know many senior brothers well enough to waste their time on a minor spell like the Cleaning Spell.

The steward of the Scripture Gorge was an old steward at the late Qi Cultivation stage, surnamed Zhang, named He. Though over eighty, he was hale and hearty, full of energy.

"Daoist Lin, what books are you borrowing this time?" Zhang He asked with a smile.

After all, there were fewer than fifty inner sect disciples on the entire Tianquan Peak, all with known names. Lin Chan had come a few times, so Zhang He recognized him.

Since Zhang He came from the outer sect and became a steward through seniority, never having taken a Core Formation True Person as a master, he couldn't call Lin Chan "junior brother" properly, nor was he comfortable calling him "senior brother" due to his age, so he addressed him as "Daoist friend."

"Steward Zhang, I'm not reading essays this time. I want to learn the Cleaning Spell," Lin Chan said with a smile.

Previously, when he borrowed books from the Scripture Gorge, he always took senior practitioners' records of strange tales and sightings, all written in Daoist language.

He read them partly to review Daoist language and improve his proficiency, and partly to learn about various monsters, broaden his knowledge, and sharpen his memory. Of course, reading these curious stories also helped lift his spirits and relax his mind.

"Daoist Lin, what a coincidence. I've labored in the Scripture Gorge for years, constantly dusting off Daoist texts, so I've studied the Cleaning Spell quite a bit. How about we discuss it together?" the old man Zhang He said with a smile. He thought highly of Lin Chan.

Of course, Lin Chan's future didn't need his approval—most inner sect disciples reached Foundation Establishment, so how could his prospects be dim?

"Then I'll trouble Steward Zhang to generously share your knowledge," Lin Chan said with a smile.

Having a senior point the way was far better than fumbling in the dark alone.

Zhang He led Lin Chan deep into the Scripture Gorge, found an uncleaned spot, and demonstrated his skill with the Cleaning Spell before Lin Chan.

A gentle breeze stirred, and a bead of water carrying gathered dust appeared in his hand.

"Steward Zhang, your divine abilities are vast," Lin Chan said, tossing out cheap praise.

"Daoist Lin flatters me," Zhang He replied, laughing heartily at Lin Chan's words.

Over the next few days, Lin Chan came to learn from Zhang He whenever he had time, draining his cultivation energy before heading home.

At first, Lin Chan thought this was a very simple spell.

But it actually had some difficulty. Not only did he have to learn to raise the wind, but also control its strength and make it move according to his thoughts.

When necessary, he had to supplement it with water droplets to clean stubborn stains. It was a relatively complex spell, not the lowest tier.

Fortunately, Lin Chan had the innate talent of [Eidetic Memory], so he never forgot the spell's details and learned quickly.

In less than half a month, Lin Chan mastered the spell to a usable level.

If you find this book enjoyable, to avoid losing track next time, please remember to add it to your bookshelf.

"Daoist Lin truly lives up to being an inner sect disciple. Such comprehension leaves me in awe," Zhang He couldn't help but remark.

In just over ten days, Lin Chan had grasped about a third of the spell Zhang He had spent most of his life perfecting.

"It's all thanks to Steward Zhang's patient guidance," Lin Chan said very humbly.

And he wasn't lying.

Steward Zhang had worked in the Scripture Gorge for decades, casting the Cleaning Spell almost daily.

In this single spell alone, he had undoubtedly reached perfection. With his patient teaching, plus Lin Chan's [Eidetic Memory], progress was naturally swift.

To thank Steward Zhang for his guidance, Lin Chan specially sought out the outer sect's kitchen, ordered some Spiritual Meals, and bought a bit of Spiritual Wine, inviting Steward Zhang to drink together.

Because Registered Disciples all needed to eat, Shu Mountain wouldn't specially issue Bigu Pills—which required alchemists' effort to refine—to Registered Disciples, so each peak had a kitchen responsible for cooking for them.

The stewards and menial workers in these kitchens also wanted to earn some perks, so this Spiritual Meal business sprang up.

A small table of Spiritual Meals, including Spiritual Wine and processing fees, cost Lin Chan one Mortal Talisman Coin in total.

It seemed affordable, but in truth, it wasn't.

You see, one Mortal Talisman Coin was worth one to two hundred silver taels, enough to buy a decent house in Yulin City—converted to meals, that would be who knows how many.

Clearly, the value was high.

It could roughly exchange for several dozen batches of Bigu Pill ingredients.

Thus, among the outer sect, or even among rogue cultivators, the Mortal Talisman Coin wasn't the most basic currency.

Bigu Pills were.

Because they were durable, a necessity for low-level cultivators, and their value was relatively stable, they were common in bartering among low-level cultivators.

One Mortal Talisman Coin was roughly equal to a hundred Bigu Pills of decent quality.

Lin Chan's current monthly allowance was still just one Mortal Talisman Coin.

So, he had bled a bit.

But it was all worth it—Lin Chan had always been clear on gratitude and grudges. Zhang He had shown him kindness, even if small, and Lin Chan wouldn't let it go to waste.

This meal, Zhang He enjoyed thoroughly, chatting freely with Lin Chan, pouring out his grievances, nearly pulling Lin Chan into swearing brotherhood.

This move was a bit abrupt.

Seeing him drunk and being an old man, Lin Chan didn't hold it against him.

But becoming friends across generations was fine; there was no need to become sworn brothers.

After sending Zhang He back to Scripture Gorge, Lin Chan hurried to his cave dwelling, using the Spiritual Meal's spiritual energy to train his techniques hard.

He kept training until his meridians ached, yet some spiritual energy still remained.

At that point, Lin Chan could only stop and rest well.

After a night of Deep Sleep, Lin Chan rose early, his whole body incredibly refreshed, the ache in his meridians mostly gone.

The reason was simple: Lin Chan had the [Deep Sleep] talent, allowing sleep to slowly recover injuries.

Meridian damage from overtraining fell under this category.

For ordinary people, this would be a hard-to-cure hidden ailment, but for Lin Chan, it was just a matter of a night's sleep.

So, Lin Chan trained to the point of overexertion every day.

Of course, this degree had to be controlled.

If the damage was too great, [Deep Sleep]'s effect would be too weak to do much.

And if meridians were too severely damaged and left untreated for long, it could become irreversible, weakening the potential ceiling.

So, Lin Chan gradually increased the time, finally figuring out that after feeling muscle strain, he could train for an extra quarter-hour—that is, one-eighth of a shichen, a quarter of an hour—then stop, and recover fully by night, with no impact on his meridians, even slightly strengthening their overall resilience.

A quarter-hour wasn't long, but an extra quarter-hour daily, accumulated day by day, became quite considerable.

Without accumulating half-steps, one cannot reach a thousand miles;

Without accumulating small streams, one cannot form rivers or seas.