Chapter 8: Bottom of a Cliff

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[ Author's Note - There's lots of terms in this chapter, but just use your imagination, it's not too important. The important ones have been given lots of love inside the chapter itself lol. Enjoy and don't skip to conclusions! ^_~ ]

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Mystical cultivation requires resources.

Just like raising a cow, the farmer has to provide it with shelter, food, and plenty of open space for it to graze and run around. Not that cultivating into a xian is anything related to raising a cow, because it's so much more meaningful and... what's really the point in explaining? 

Ying Ru removes the big wicker basket strapped to her back, setting it down on a big dry rock next to the stream. 

The temperature just keeps getting colder and colder as winter sets in. Maybe in a few days, parts of the stream will already be frozen. 

The mountains around Bamboo Forest, where the vegetation starts changing from one into the other, is rich in special herbs such as Kirin Root, Ginkgo, and Gogi berries, along with a whole list of others that Master has them consume regularly to boost meditation and aid as a way to help the physical body keep up with the qi that is being refined inside of it. Where Ying Ru is standing right now is a plot of white pines. 

The white pine is, according to what Master said, the xian's tree. It produces many substances that's beneficial to cultivators like the four of them. Everything on this tree is useful. It's needles, cones, seeds, bark, and resin can all be used for different purposes. Just looking at it, it seems to exude a sense of importance. That's especially true when Ying Ru chances on the occasional proud white crane perching on it's limbs. The most important provision of this tree for them is the resin though. White pine's resin is a sort of vitality soul-substance. The scrolls that she's read back at Bamboo Forest all say that it's of no use to mortals which are not interested in pursuing immortality, but to them, it's more valuable than gold. That is fine though, because cultivators are few and white pines are one of the most populous trees growing on Pangu. Most individuals with an intent in mystical cultivation will likely settle in an area where there is an abundant patch of these trees to supply those necessary resources. 

Being the student with the least things to do, the undeniably important task of gathering these herbs just spontaneously fell into Ying Ru's hands. She has been responsible for this task for about five years and can confidently say, she's gotten quite expert at it. Who can she complain to? It's Master's order, might as well get some praise for it. 

Just as she's thinking this, her footing was lost on a slippery snow-covered rock. Her other foot tramples around searching for a place to step on, but everything was too fast. A high-pitched wail flies out of her mouth as the ground under her feet receded. How can her feet catch any ground at this strange angle? Ying Ru closes her eyes tightly and braces herself, feeling the fall with every pore on her body. Leaves, dirt, twigs, branches, maybe even startled animals flew past her as she rolled down the steep incline. 

OOF.

A pile of wet, cold snow landed on her pain-distorted face. Stupid tree, just had to break her fall in this way. 

Ying Ru stirred on the dirty ground, reaching a hand to the back of her waist to massage the area the tree had connected with. She opened her eyes, surveying the tipped over scene from the ground up. Above her head loomed a tall pine tree, the culprit that had nearly broken her back. Behind it, at an exaggerated angle, looking so far away was the brim of the wicker basket she had placed on that rock. Ying Ru managed to get herself into a sitting position, pulling up her sleeves to examine the chips and bruises she had received from the fall. Good, there wasn't anything serious.

Black Butterfly KnotWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu