Chapter Six

The world of cultivation is just like this—cruel, yet affectionate. A world full of contradictions that nonetheless attracts countless envious eyes.

Li Mengze soon lost interest in the conversation she overheard. In truth, it was no surprise she understood so much of the darker side of this realm; after all, she’d been a seasoned veteran in the workplace for years before. No—she was not just experienced, but the elite among elites. These sorts of tricks were nothing new to her.

Of course, that wasn’t to say she’d ever done such things herself, but she’d certainly done her share of standing by and watching from the sidelines.

She carefully browsed the array of artifacts along the wall but failed to find anything suitable. It wasn’t that there were none available, but the quality was simply too low—these tools barely contained any spiritual energy, making them no different from mundane hoes, and they were so huge she’d struggle to wield one. With her small frame, a hoe taller than she was would be nothing short of a joke.

Perhaps because Li Mengze had been looking for some time, a cultivator from the Myriad Arts Hall came over to offer assistance. Partly it was because she wore the robes of a direct disciple, but mainly because Kunlun hadn’t had any new disciples as young as her recently, except for the blood kin of Lord Cangjianfeng. Such people were always generous; if pleased, a single tip could easily match a month’s allowance.

“This way, Junior Sister. The artifacts here are all basic grade, meant for new disciples. If you need something better, we have finer items inside.” His tone was polite and respectful, without a trace of presumption despite his eagerness to please.

Li Mengze’s eyes brightened. She thought as much—how could a great sect like Kunlun only offer such low-quality artifacts? So there was a VIP room after all.

The so-called “inside” was actually a small chamber partitioned off behind the artifact wall. It wasn’t large, but thanks to a spatial array, it didn’t feel cramped at all.

“I need a small hoe, preferably one that saves effort and is easy to use. I want to bring a spring from the back mountain into my courtyard. Do you have any artifacts that would make this easier?” Li Mengze wasn’t familiar with these things, so she decided to be direct. With her uncle being a Nascent Soul lord, no one here would dare deceive her.

Lü Fang considered for a moment. “For what you want, Junior Sister, we have a medicinal hoe designed for spirit herb cultivators—small, convenient, and you can adjust the area it tills by controlling the amount of spiritual energy you pour in. As for channeling a spring from the back mountain, that’s quite simple. You could have a Foundation Establishment cultivator carve a trench for you, shaping waterfalls and streams in your cave-dwelling as you please. It would be beautiful.”

Li Mengze had never heard of such services—having someone decorate one’s cave-dwelling, creating waterfalls and streams like a fairyland. It sounded wonderful. But sadly, the task she had in mind was one she could only accomplish herself.

Lü Fang had spent over a year in the Myriad Arts Hall and had met all kinds of people. Unless someone was deliberately hiding their intentions, he was skilled at reading minds—his livelihood depended on it. Sensing Li Mengze’s reluctance to accept outside help, he didn’t press further. People with quirks were commonplace, especially the prodigies; their tempers were unpredictable. He’d given his suggestion—whether she took it was her business.

“If you’d rather do it yourself, drawing water is simple too. We have an array here—not particularly practical, but quite popular with female cultivators. It can draw upon any water source within a hundred miles, creating a curtain of water like a rainbow. It even saves you the trouble of irrigating your spirit fields.”

That was exactly what she needed. “How much?”

Lü Fang smiled. “It’s not expensive. The medicinal hoe is twenty lower-grade spirit stones, and the water curtain array is eighty-five.”

It was indeed cheap. Li Mengze knew that most arrays cost four or five hundred spirit stones; for this one to be so affordable, it must be rather unimpressive. Otherwise, how could it have fallen to such a price?

But for her purposes, the cheaper the better.

She unhesitatingly took out the spirit stones and placed them on the table, adding three more as a tip. It was unavoidable—if she were buying in a regular shop, she might have saved the tip, since who would recognize her after she left? But here in Kunlun, it was different; it was easy to offend minor functionaries, and the consequences wouldn’t be worth it.

Lü Fang handed her the items she needed and pocketed the stones—three of them into his own storage pouch. It wasn’t much, but if every customer were as generous, he’d have saved up enough for a batch of pills by now.

Before returning to Cangjian Peak, Li Mengze made a detour to the main dining hall and bought enough food for three months. Only then did she board her flying artifact and return to her small courtyard.

She was determined to set up her space properly this time. At the very least, she wanted the land to support the lowest-grade spirit herbs. By then, her cultivation might even rise to Qi Refining level four.

Lately, the space had absorbed a little spiritual energy from her body; though it looked much the same as before—still overgrown with weeds taller than herself—her senses were sharper. At least, she no longer felt the air was so thin. Now she could occasionally detect faint traces of spiritual energy. Fortunately, she hadn’t planned to cultivate inside the space for the time being. Although time flowed differently within, the spiritual energy was pitifully scarce; cultivating here for ten years might not even lead to Foundation Establishment. She might as well farm for the rest of her life.

At Qi Refining level three, she could use some simple spells—like the Light Body Technique, which was extremely useful. At least she didn’t have to trudge along on her short legs anymore.

She set up one end of the array in the plantation, then cast Light Body Technique to reach the other end. It sounded fast, but even though she was quicker than before, it still took her almost a full day to reach the spirit spring at the far end.

She placed the array on the stone where the spring bubbled forth, fitted in a spirit stone, and with a flash of white light, a slender jet of water slowly arched into the air, forming a narrow bridge.

Li Mengze was dumbfounded. This was nothing like the “rainbow curtain” she’d been promised—just a stream barely as thick as her wrist! No wonder it was so cheap. To form an actual water curtain, she’d need to buy at least seven or eight of these arrays, which would cost as much as a higher-grade one. She regretted ever thinking it was a bargain and almost wanted to ask for her tip back.

But there was nothing to be done. She could only console herself: at least now water was flowing to the plantation, which was a big step forward. Soon she’d have a yard full of spirit herbs and a space where even breathing would increase her spiritual energy.

Still, the amount of water was far too little for the parched, cracked land—it was a mere drop in a bucket.

Resigned, she took out the medicinal hoe she’d bought. It was time to do things herself.

The little hoe was perfect for her—half a meter long, with a head the size of her fist. It didn’t look sharp, but once infused with spiritual energy, it shone brightly.

A single swing dug a small pit, and that was with her holding back the energy.

After her disappointment with the water curtain, this effect was a pleasant surprise.

First, she dug a small pit at the mouth of the spring to collect the water and prevent it from scattering. Then, she carefully dug a narrow channel—about two fists wide—from the spring toward the plantation. The hoe was excellent, but her body was small and the distance considerable. Even with her spirit-enhanced strength, it took her a whole day to cover less than half the distance.

Along the way she encountered many unfamiliar plants. She didn’t know if they were good or bad, but remembered something from her previous life—a village called Longevity Village, famous for its spring water. The secret to its miraculous water was that it flowed down from distant mountains, passing the roots of countless medicinal herbs and absorbing their essence. Even ordinary spring water gained extraordinary properties this way.

So, this time, Li Mengze was careful not to avoid those plants; instead, she guided the spring water to flow past their roots, hoping it would pick up some of their medicinal qualities.

As it happened, her hunch was right. Many of the spirit herbs here had existed since the space first formed, and most were now extinct in the outside world. The spring already contained spiritual energy and medicinal properties; nourished by these rare herbs over time, who could say what it might become?

The idea was lovely, but the labor was immense. It took Li Mengze three days to finish channeling the water to the plantation. Once done, she left it alone, having discovered that though the spring’s output seemed small, it was actually continuous and inexhaustible—she needn’t worry about it running dry.

With the channel complete, the water diversion project was nearly done. But there was still one major problem left to solve—the wild grasses towering over her head. The withered weeds were an eyesore and, if not cleared, would make planting impossible. Worse, if the spring revived them, all her efforts would be for nothing.

Fortunately, cultivation granted her a great convenience—fire. She didn’t need to worry about losing control of the flames; if necessary, she could call down rain at any time.

After activating her flying artifact, Li Mengze climbed onto the bamboo crane’s back, added a protective barrier, and dropped small fireballs from above at intervals. Soon, the ground was ablaze, and the rampant weeds were reduced to ashes. She then cast a rain spell, dousing any lingering embers.

Now, the space looked even more desolate than when she first entered—blackened earth, mixed with spring water, resembling a muddy country road after a heavy rain.

As for planning the space, Li Mengze had no fixed ideas. She was the only one here and could alter it whenever she liked.

Now, she just needed to wait for the soil to moisten before erecting a fence and planting spirit herbs. The spiritual energy remained thin, so she couldn’t grow high-grade medicinal plants yet. But she could start with low-grade herbs and spiritual rice, which would improve the land, increase the space’s spiritual energy, and provide a small profit if she sold them.

Having made up her mind, Li Mengze left the space. The training room Li Yunzhan had arranged for her was far from comfortable—a true swordsman’s abode: “Step into a room, four walls all around, a cushion in the center, too small to lie down.”

She seated herself cross-legged on the mat, guiding her spiritual energy through her meridians. The spiritual energy around her was like playful children—drawing near, yet refusing to be caught. Patience was essential; only when they relaxed would she gently draw in the spiritual energy of the right color, circulate it through her meridians, and finally store it in her dantian.

Li Mengze was exceedingly patient—not at all like a restless child who couldn’t sit still. After all, she couldn’t truly act like a four- or five-year-old brat!