Chapter Fourteen: Five Years

At this moment, there was no trace of injury left on Lin Cong. He had changed into a fresh set of clothes; the garments stained with blood had likely already been discarded. The hollow in his chest was fully healed, no longer bearing the frightening appearance it once had. Now, Lin Cong looked little different from any other cultivator, except for the fact that his imposing and rugged build had returned. After a month and a half of recuperation, he had made a complete recovery.

Gazing at Lin Cong before him, a glimmer of light flashed in He Song’s eyes. “Spiritual Sight!” With a glance, He Song saw that Lin Cong’s cultivation was still at the third level of Qi Refinement, without having broken through to the mid-stage. Over the past month, He Song had practiced two basic spells to the point he could use them freely, without loss of power. He had fully mastered both Spiritual Sight and Voice Transmission techniques. Thus, upon encountering Lin Cong, He Song instinctively used Spiritual Sight to assess his cultivation.

“Congratulations, fellow Daoist, on your complete recovery. Please, come in.” The spiritual light faded from his eyes as He Song smiled and spoke. As his neighbor had come to visit, He Song naturally did not turn him away. He opened the door and invited Lin Cong inside to sit. There was little in He Song's home suitable for entertaining guests, so he brought out the tea set gifted by Wei Fan and brewed a pot for Lin Cong. He Song had no idea of the quality of the tea, but reasoned that tea gifted by someone as powerful as Wei Fan, a cultivator at the late stage of Qi Refinement, could hardly be ordinary. To serve it to Lin Cong, who was at the third level, was surely more than sufficient.

“Excellent tea. Fellow Daoist, you certainly know how to enjoy life.” Lin Cong praised after taking a gentle sip. At this, He Song raised an eyebrow. Those words—he recalled having said something similar to Wei Fan before. He wondered if Lin Cong truly appreciated the tea, or if he couldn’t tell the difference and was merely making conversation. Pouring another cup for Lin Cong, He Song shook his head, dismissing his musings. It was just a pot of tea, after all.

“As to the tea’s quality, I cannot say, but both the tea and the set were gifts from a senior. My humble abode has little to offer, so I hope fellow Daoist will not mind this simple hospitality.” He was certain the tea and tea set were both of the finest quality. For someone at the beginning of Qi Refinement, such a gift from a late-stage cultivator was a rare opportunity. Although He Song did not know their exact value, he was sure they were not cheap. He mentioned this in hopes of arousing Lin Cong’s curiosity, so that he would inquire about the identity of this senior. Should Lin Cong ask, He Song could then reveal that he had a friend at the late stage of Qi Refinement, making it clear that he had backing.

A memory flashed in his mind—the fate of the man who had climbed into Lin Cong’s home a month earlier—and He Song’s eyes showed a trace of wariness. These rogue cultivators who lived on the edge were too dangerous for him. If he could not make them wary of him, he would never have peace of mind in the days to come.

“Oh? A gift from a senior? Might I ask, fellow Daoist, what is that senior’s cultivation?” As expected, Lin Cong’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Seventh level of Qi Refinement.”

...

A short while later, He Song personally saw Lin Cong out of his house. By this time, Lin Cong’s demeanor toward He Song had changed significantly. Originally, although Lin Cong had been polite, it was only because of He Song’s official status, and simply to avoid trouble. Now, knowing that He Song had the support of a late-stage Qi Refinement cultivator, Lin Cong was eager to befriend him. Being an inner member of the Immortal Market was not intimidating in itself; what mattered was having powerful backing. Who could say whether He Song might be able to call upon his powerful friend if needed? Making such a connection could prove invaluable in the future. With these thoughts, Lin Cong’s attitude had changed quite naturally.

Watching Lin Cong depart, He Song closed the door, sat back at the table, and poured himself a cup of still-warm tea. “Backing and status—these are but illusions, like flowers in a mirror or the moon reflected in water. The only thing I can truly rely upon is myself.” He sat upright at the table, showing no trace of self-satisfaction. Even though invoking his powerful friend had made Lin Cong regard him with new respect, He Song felt no particular pride. He knew that backing and status were fleeting; only his own cultivation could truly allow him to stand tall. One’s backer might cut ties at a whim; one’s official position could be stripped away at any moment. Only the power cultivated within himself could never be taken by anyone.

Still, He Song was pleased with how he had handled matters. For people like Lin Cong, who lived life on a knife’s edge, a little intimidation was necessary; otherwise, He Song would never feel at ease even in his own home. Only by making it clear he was not to be trifled with could he prevent any ill intentions. In this, his aim was achieved. The change in Lin Cong’s attitude before and after the visit was proof enough that he was unlikely to cause trouble. The last of He Song’s worries dissipated.

He drained a large cup of tea, then began his cultivation for the day.

...

And so the days passed, one after another, with He Song living a disciplined life. Each morning, after completing his cultivation, he would go out to the spiritual fields and perform the Rain Technique for half an hour, then return home to meditate and restore his spiritual energy. If business called, he would go out again after recovering his strength; if not, he might visit Wei Fan at the Spirit Building Pavilion for tea and conversation, or seek out Meng Guan at the Spirit Herb Pavilion for the same. Other than that, He Song immersed himself in cultivation each day.

Time flowed on, swift as an arrow. In the blink of an eye, five years had slipped by. These five years had been peaceful for He Song: no attacks from evil cultivators, no natural disasters or calamities, not even any sect wars. All was calm. Occasionally, He Song learned of events in the wider world through Wei Fan. Stories of rogue cultivators who, after buying goods at the Immortal Market, were ambushed by evil sects upon leaving; of those who, unwilling to live ordinary lives, resigned from their posts and set out for Qingyuan Immortal City, only to vanish halfway there; of precious ore veins discovered and fought over by countless clans, until finally the Houtu Sect intervened and claimed the prize. Such stories deepened He Song’s understanding of the cultivation world.

His own cultivation had also advanced, rising from the first to the third level of Qi Refinement. Seated on a meditation cushion, He Song let out a long breath, spiritual light flashing in his eyes. Having just broken through to the third level, he found it difficult to control the surging spiritual energy within him, causing a trace of it to leak from his eyes in a brilliant flash.

“Third level of Qi Refinement. Next, I must accumulate spiritual power and prepare to break through the bottleneck to the middle stage.” Feeling the greatly increased power within him, He Song smiled. With this new strength, he could manage more spiritual fields, and with more fields under his care, his income in spirit stones would likewise increase.