Dig a Hole

The Setting Sun's afterglow shone upon the water, painting it a blazing red and shimmering gold. Beneath the surface, the shadows of lotus leaves and stems swayed in an intertwined dance, like a shadowy forest.

Su He lay completely limp at the bottom of the pond. Several gashes had been torn into the base of his left hind leg near his tail, exposing upturned flesh. The scent of blood sent the fish and shrimp in the pond into a frenzy. Fortunately, the bleeding had stopped, though the wounds had turned somewhat pale by This Time.

The otter beside him was already thoroughly dead. Su He had bitten a palm-sized chunk of flesh right off the Back of the Neck.

This Time, Su He had pulled a dirty trick with a sneak attack, seizing the crucial point of the otter's fate so that its nimble movements could not be brought into play at all. Then, relying on his superior ability to hold his breath, he had drowned it.

It had been fortunate, but it had also been strength. But what about next time? If the Wolf King could bring one otter, he could bring ten. With even two otters, Su He would be unable to win.

Turtles had never been a species suited for battle. What turtles competed in was endurance; what they excelled at was retreating into their shells to evade danger.

But a turtle shell could not stop an otter. Otters knew to attack a turtle's limbs. Retreating into the shell only turned it into a walnut—crack it open, and there was a delicious treat inside.

This pond was too small. If four or five otters were let in, there would not even be anywhere to flee.

He needed to plan himself a way out.

A turtle without distant worries was bound to have immediate troubles. Either he killed the Wolf King and drove away the Wolf Pack, or he found a retreat where he could stand undefeated.

I'm still far too weak!

He was too young. Su He had been reincarnated for less than two years. The only reason he had grown as large as a washbasin was because the dice had been so effective. The little turtles born in the same batch as him that had luckily survived were only palm-sized.

As Long As he was given another two years to grow as large as a manhole cover, he could run wild without restraint. Even if a crocodile came biting at him, it would shatter every tooth in its mouth.

Dig a hole!

He would dig a hole, then seal its entrance with a stone slab. He would try to snatch a few more fish from the Giant Salamander, then crawl into the hole and grow slowly.

If he got lucky and snatched another Red Carp, then rolled a five or Six Points, perhaps he would soon grow as large as a manhole cover.

Su He dove beneath the water and found an excellent place to dig. Hidden amid a patch of Lotus Flowers, it was surrounded by plant roots and stems that clutched the soil tightly. He could excavate a huge burrow without fearing that the pond water would crush it into collapse. Once he crawled inside and cut through the layer of earth overhead, boulders as large as bushel baskets would fall and seal the entrance.

Forget an otter getting in—even if Su He wanted to get back out, he would have to dig through the mud from behind and make a new opening.

Otters closed their nostrils underwater, so they could not possibly smell him or find him. If there was too much movement, Su He would be awakened. A turtle's hearing was extremely sharp.

Having planned everything out, Su He plunged headfirst into the pond bottom, swinging his claws to break through the silt and begin digging.

The Sky Color gradually darkened, and the lakebed was the first to sink into darkness. Wolf howls rose and fell one after another, while pairs of eyes glowed green in the dark. Combined with the violent atmosphere, it was especially chilling.

Su He, huddled at the pond bottom, could see none of it. He was digging his hole.

Fifty li away, on an inconspicuous island in Listening Sea Lake, a streak of sword light descended and transformed into an old man and a youth. One was a Slovenly Old Daoist, the other a Page Boy with his hair tied into twin knots.

The Page Boy held a bronze mirror in his hands. Watching the flickering points of light upon it, he said somewhat dejectedly, "Patriarch, Listening Sea Lake has produced eighteen Demon Transformation Fruits in all, and they are all Colorless Fruits."

He put the mirror away, his face showing a trace of envy. "Patriarch, when do you think Azure Origin Mountain will produce an Azure Transformation Fruit?"

Yesterday, he had followed the Patriarch to meet Qing He Daoist of Profound Purity Temple. A green fruit had formed within their territory and been swallowed by an old mastiff the sect had raised for over a decade. Those two little Daoist Boys had put on quite a show in front of him.

As though they had been the ones to eat the fruit.

The child's eyes sparkled. "Patriarch, do you think it's possible that a Demon Transformation Fruit in our Azure Origin Realm produced a Red Fruit, and we missed it?"

This treasure mirror could only detect Colorless Fruits and Azure Transformation Fruits. What about the legendary Red Fruit? The Slovenly Old Daoist bit into a large chicken leg, his mouth gleaming with oil. "You little brat sure dares to dream! Whenever Starfall comes once every sixty years, Demon Transformation Fruits fall from the heavens and grow from the earth. It takes sixty years for an ordinary fruit to mature, and three thousand six hundred years for a green fruit. Red Fruits have never appeared; it is merely conjectured that one might form after a hundred or two hundred thousand years of gestation. Let alone the fact that there aren't any—if there truly were, could our Azure Origin Sect guard it?"

Everything within ten thousand li of this place belonged to the Azure Origin Sect. The pond where Su He lived and Listening Sea Lake, spanning a hundred li around it, were naturally no exception.

The Old Daoist gave the child a knock on the head. "Instead of thinking about all that nonsense, Better Not To think about how to make roast chicken taste better. Make it well, and your Patriarch here will reward you with a few trifles—enough for you to Show Off for half your life!"

"Go! Take a look around and see whether that Turtle Boy has come. This Old Daoist arrived on the Seventh Day of the Seventh Month as promised."

Last year, the Old Daoist had gotten drunk beyond measure and babbled nonsense. Is Located on this little island, he had preached the Dao to a group of swimming fish and turtles for three days. When he sobered up three days later, he discovered that there truly had been a turtle listening earnestly the entire time.

After teasing it a little, he found that turtle exceptionally spiritual. It seemed to have opened its spiritual intelligence and had actually bowed to thank him.

The Old Daoist had been overjoyed and wanted very much to take it away immediately. Yet he could not bear to cut off its chance to transform into a demon. Starfall, which came once every sixty years, was approaching, and Beasts from all directions had a chance to transform. Taking it away would mean burying this opportunity.

The cultivation world had rules: humans could not participate in the struggle for Demon Transformation Fruits.

Thus, the Old Daoist had agreed to return this year on the Seventh Day of the Seventh Month, when the Lotus Flowers bloomed. If it was fortunate enough to swallow a Demon Transformation Fruit, he would take it back to the sect and teach it properly. If it remained a beast, he would take it in as a pet.

Today, the Seventh Day of the Seventh Month had arrived.

The Page Boy climbed high and looked into the distance. The lake water shimmered, schools of fish swam in groups, little turtles drifted gracefully as if flying, and Water Birds soared in carefree ease. Yet the little turtle the Patriarch favored was nowhere to be seen.

He searched carefully, but still found nothing. The turtle had broken their appointment.

The Patriarch was probably foolish. No matter how spiritual that turtle was, how could it understand an agreement before it had consumed a Demon Transformation Fruit and opened its intelligence?

He ran down from the small hill, shouting as he ran, "Patriarch, Patriarch, have you gone silly? You agreed with the turtle that you would meet when the Lotus Flowers bloomed on the Seventh Day of the Seventh Month. How would it know when the Seventh Day of the Seventh Month was? This year, Martial Aunt Su's battle with someone caused spring and summer to arrive late around Azure Origin Mountain. The Lotus Flowers still haven't bloomed This Time!"

The Slovenly Old Daoist Suddenly Froze, a chicken rump hanging from his mouth, his Face Full of Shock.

Even this old Daoist, who has considered a thousand plans, has made one mistake? He let out a heavy sigh. "This means we simply were not Destined!"

He had specially set aside time to come today. At midnight, he had to head to the Three Rivers Wasteland to preside over this year's opening of the wasteland. It was impossible for him to wait until the Lotus Flowers bloomed.

At the very least, it would take another month for the Lotus Flowers to bloom, would it not?

The Old Daoist plucked two Lotus Leaves, carefully wrapped up the half-eaten roast chicken, tucked it into his robes, then rose and summoned his immortal sword.

The child blinked. "Patriarch, are you going back on your word? Aren't you going to look for that little turtle?"

With the Old Daoist's divine abilities, would he not be able to find it with a single glance? "Pah!" The Old Daoist snorted and haughtily raised his head. "If anyone is to look, it should come looking for me. Would it be proper for me to look for it?"

Who was the seeker of the Dao? Who was the transmitter of the Dao? Should that turtle not endure every hardship, pass through seventy-two tribulations upon tribulations, and crawl before the Old Daoist to offer its most sincere worship? The Patriarch was simply too proud!

The Page Boy's eyes rolled around. "Then what if... that little turtle's fortune defies the heavens, and it ate an Azure Transformation Fruit?"

An Azure Transformation Fruit could create a demonic genius with peerless talent.

The Old Daoist snorted disdainfully. "So what?" Having cultivated to his level, who had not been a genius?

"What if it ate a Red Fruit?"

The Old Daoist flicked the child on the forehead. What did that little head spend all day fantasizing about? So what if it was a Red Fruit? Was a Red Fruit so impressive? It was merely a fruit that existed only in legend. Would this Old Daoist care about it? Could it be that he was supposed to kneel and impart the Dharma to it? At worst, he would stir up a Blood Rain and savage wind with the other sects, snatch it away, and accept it as a disciple in place of his master—giving the old master a final disciple.

With the fortune of someone capable of eating a Red Fruit, the Old Daoist could not withstand it, nor would he dare refuse to take it in. In any case, the Old Man's bones had long since rotted away, so he was not afraid.

The Old Daoist lightly stamped the ground, grabbed the little Page Boy, and leaped onto his immortal sword, shooting straight into the nine heavens.

The wind blew past. The stone he had stamped shattered with a clatter across the ground, revealing a turtle statue in the center, carved as though cleaved by axe and blade. The turtle stretched out its limbs and neck, its eyes faintly closed as it faced the Bright Moon and breathed in and out.

The Old Daoist's cultivation was profound enough to seize Good Fortune itself. The turtle he had carved with nothing more than a stomp actually contained a Breathing Technique.

A clear breeze blew past and entered the Stone Turtle's nostrils. It was like the turtle breathing—sometimes long, sometimes short, sometimes rapid, sometimes slow...

At this moment, in the small pond fifty li away, Su He was digging his hole.