Inside the county temple’s official offices, Sun Qinghan had just concluded an internal council meeting, a trace of gravity still lingering between her brows.
Jiuchuan County had many deep-rooted ills: the people lived in poverty, the immortal officials were lax in governance, and more troublesome still, even within the county temple itself, consensus was difficult to reach on many important matters—especially when it came to the attitude of Gu Yuankang, the officially appointed County God.
When she first arrived in Jiuchuan, Sun Qinghan had once thought Fellow Daoist Yuankang supported her.
As for the “Spirit Orange Plan” she proposed, he had scarcely shown any hesitation before summoning several Daoist brothers whose names were enshrined on longevity tablets in the county temple to discuss it. Before long, the proposal to trial the cultivation of spirit plants such as the Liuxiang Orange within the county was approved.
With the first matter proceeding smoothly, Sun Qinghan wished to seize the momentum and push forward another major undertaking: the construction of a “spirit road” in Yunwu Township, famed for producing “Cloudmist Tea.”
Cloudmist Tea had been Jiuchuan’s signature product for a thousand years, long known as the foremost spirit tea of the Lushan Blessed Land.
During the reigns of the two Great Celestial Venerables, Yankang and Chiming, though the world had been poor and annual output had amounted to no more than a few thousand jin, this tea was still listed as a coveted good and shipped to blessed lands in every direction.
Now, although production was gradually increasing, the treacherous mountain roads and great difficulty of transport made it hard to ship out in large quantities.
Thus, building roads—especially “spirit roads”—had become the key to Jiuchuan’s economic development.
A so-called spirit road was a trackway formed by spirit arrays structured through the void. It could cross mountains and span waters, allowing unobstructed passage. Once completed, spirit tea from the deep mountains could be transported out in a steady stream.
Yet this proposal had not received Fellow Daoist Yuankang’s support as the previous one had.
The Daoist brothers on the longevity tablets also raised one objection after another. They debated among themselves, and in the end, no decision was reached.
At its root, constructing a spirit road would cost no small sum. The county temple’s stores were empty, and the only possible method was to attract merchants and raise funds.
But from the eyes of her colleagues, Sun Qinghan could read the words they had left unsaid: this newly arrived County God Sun was ambitious and talented, intent on remaking heaven and earth, but unfortunately she was out of touch with reality. What she envisioned was, in the end, no more than a castle in the air.
She could only silently remind herself: official matters had to be handled step by step.
After returning to her office, Registrar Zhao Rong came forward to report:
“County God, the Agricultural Spirit Temple has already submitted a request to the Wind and Rain Department to send down spirit rain. They said it was your intention. The Wind and Rain Department sent a talisman message asking for confirmation. What do you think…”
“I understand. I’ll speak to the Wind and Rain Department myself.”
Sun Qinghan gave a slight nod, lightly tapped the county temple’s communication jade talisman on her desk, and said in a clear voice:
“This is Sun Qinghan of the county temple. Connect me to Chen Chan of the Wind and Rain Department.”
…
“Correct. It is my intention. The Wind and Rain Department must fully cooperate with the Agricultural Spirit Temple. The ‘Spirit Orange Plan’ concerns Jiuchuan’s economy and must not be delayed. Approve it at once.”
“Good. Then it is decided.”
She set down the jade talisman and instructed Zhao Rong:
“Keep a close eye on the Agricultural Spirit Temple. Whatever they require, approve it without exception.”
“Yes.”
After ending the transmission,
Sun Qinghan propped her chin on her slender hands and pondered. The Liuxiang Orange was only an experiment. They still needed to seek out more economic crops; they could not place all their hopes on one thing.
…
A few more days passed.
The rain writ application had yet to be approved, but the Agricultural Spirit Temple did issue wages.
Qin Chuan received his salary for the previous month: a base pay of two spirit yuan, which was two thousand spirit coins, plus the bonus he had earned from doing odd jobs, for a total of two thousand five hundred spirit coins.
“Finally got paid.”
He muttered inwardly.
The vegetables and fruits he had brought from his hometown had sold for a few spirit yuan. After making two trips to Sifu Street and buying daily necessities, he had only two left.
This money had come at just the right time.
“I can make another trip to Sifu Street.”
Over the past month, he had already examined every farming tool in the Agricultural Spirit Temple’s observation fields, and had pretty much squeezed all the Dharma essence out of them.
If he wanted the handful of spells he had to advance any further, there was no other way. He still had to rely on Dharma essence.
“If I can get through this spirit orange hurdle, I wonder if I can apply to be transferred to warehouse management…”
Qin Chuan calculated inwardly.
That Heavenly Essence Furnace of his specialized in extracting Dharma essence from old objects.
The warehouse of an institution like the Agricultural Spirit Temple was sure to be piled with plenty of tools once used by old Daoists. There might even be damaged magical artifacts.
Unfortunately, warehouse work had always been a coveted post. There was little work, it was leisurely, and one could casually skim a bit off the top. How could it ever fall to a newly arrived fire-tending Daoist like him?
After work, Qin Chuan set off on foot, heading straight for Sifu Street.
Seeing many people on both sides pedaling those familiar bicycles imported from beyond the heavens, he said to himself:
“I commute every day on my own two legs. Though my cultivation lets me travel quickly, it’s still not as convenient as other people. Should I get one too?”
As he pondered,
half an hour later, he arrived at Sifu Street.
After a month or so, the place did not seem to have changed much. There were just a few more street stalls by the roadside.
His luck was not bad today. After only half a circuit, he came across something with Dharma essence at one stall—
[Item: Marching Pot]
[An old pot used for ten years. It has been stained with quite a bit of the Dharma nature of military cooks. One portion of “spirit chef” Dharma nature can be extracted from it, or it can be smelted down into 5 points of Dharma essence.]
The pot was so battered it was barely fit to look at. It had clearly been collected as scrap by the stall owner and placed here to pass off as an antique.
Qin Chuan was not surprised.
In his previous life, he had seen people selling ration coupons, old cassette tapes, and transistor radios at antique markets in the northwest.
At a place like an antique stall, nothing was strange.
What made his heart skip was that the “spirit chef” Dharma nature carried by this broken pot could actually be smelted down into 5 points—more “valuable” than that deputy City God’s calligraphy.
This meant that the person who had used this pot back then had definitely been no ordinary figure.
As far as Qin Chuan knew, meals cooked in the stoves of the heavenly soldiers all had nourishing effects. Some special units ate what was called “spirit cuisine”; otherwise, they simply could not withstand training all day long.
Some retired old military cooks went back to their hometowns and opened restaurants selling spirit cuisine, and their business was wildly popular.
Jiuchuan County had such a place too, but it was absurdly expensive. Qin Chuan had only heard others talk about it and had never dared step inside himself.
After haggling with the stall owner for a long while, he finally bought the pot for thirty-five wen.
The stall owner had never treated it as a treasure in the first place. He was selling it purely at scrap-iron price.
Carrying this iron pot worth 5 points of Dharma essence, Qin Chuan was delighted beyond measure, feeling as if he had picked up a huge bargain.
He continued strolling forward.
He had barely taken a few steps when another surprise came crashing down on him—
[Item: Talisman Brush]
[A talisman brush, buried deep underground for roughly five hundred years and only recently seeing the light of day again. Its owner used it to draw talismans his entire life. Even after it was worn out, he did not throw it away, but brought it straight into his grave.
A cultivation in “talisman arts” can be extracted from it, or it can be smelted down into 100 points of Dharma essence.]
Qin Chuan’s eyelids twitched violently.
A talisman brush worth 100 points of Dharma essence!
This was absolutely the most formidable brush he had seen so far. The talisman arts cultivation within it was unfathomably deep. He estimated that if he got his hands on it, smelting it alone would probably take him an entire night.
But when he asked the price, his heart went half-cold.
The stall owner stared at Qin Chuan. “Seeing as you are a Daoist, you should understand. This is a tool for drawing talismans, not some ordinary trinket. Twenty spirit yuan, and you can take it.”
Twenty spirit yuan!
So expensive!
Qin Chuan inwardly sucked in a breath of cold air. That was nearly a full year of his wages.
Even if he sold himself right now, he could not scrape together that much. He could only brace himself and ask:
“Any cheaper?”
“Twenty yuan. Fixed price.”
The stall owner had pegged him as a Daoist and refused to budge.
“Then keep it for now.”
Qin Chuan turned and left.
It was not that he did not want it. He truly had no money. More importantly, he could not let the stall owner see how badly he coveted it, or even if he saved up enough money later, he would still be at the man’s mercy.
Seeing him leave so decisively, the stall owner instead began to mutter inwardly.
He had indeed not misjudged him. This young man was a cultivator, but…
He lowered his head and looked at the talisman brush.
Although he knew this was something used by Daoists, he was not, after all, a practitioner himself, and could not be certain exactly how much it was worth.
He had bought the item not long ago from a group of “ground rats,” who said they had dug it out of an old Daoist priest’s grave.
That Daoist priest had even been recorded in the Jiuchuan County annals five hundred years ago. He had been a talisman master.
Relying on that alone, the stall owner dared to hold firm at twenty spirit yuan.
On the other side, Qin Chuan swept through the entire street again, but did not find a third item carrying Dharma essence. Yet his mind had long since been hooked away by that talisman brush.
One hundred points of Dharma essence!
How powerful would the talisman arts cultivation have to be? If he could extract it, wouldn’t he become a talisman expert outright?
But feeling the little money in his pocket, he could only sigh:
“No matter what, I’ve got to get some money!”