The air hummed with crashing echoes around Lei. Everything, from the insects crawling about the backyard to the birds chirping loudly in the sky, had become clearer. It was different. He felt, rather curiously, like a spectator watching it all happen from a distance above, and yet at the same time, he could hear them clearly in his mind.

A frown stretched his lips thin when his senses coiled around the heavy blanket that covered the once peaceful city. The rot had a biting quality about it. Like an insidious viper, it tried seeping through his pores, even as Lei stood there, hampered by an invisible current that coursed right under his skin.

“Hah…” Lei breathed, slightly shaken as the new mana-spiritual energy blend in his body fought against the stubborn rot.

He could now catch the meaning behind the Spiritual Sensitivity skill’s alarms with such clarity that he immediately noticed the sources feeding the invisible rot permeating the air. Three different currents hissed as they weighed on the ambient spiritual energy of Jiangzhen.

“Healing the people alone won’t make a difference,” he muttered, mind heavy with thoughts. “We have to get rid of those sources; otherwise, nothing’s going to change.”

With a weary sigh, he distributed his stat point among his usable three stats, feeling his bones and muscles click with newfound strength. Then he opened the back door and entered inside to find curious faces peering straight into his face.

“So?” Fatty Lou said, arms crossed over his chest. He eyed him strangely. “I’m guessing you’re all good now, right? Good enough to talk, surely.”

“More or less.” Lei went through them and into the kitchen, gazing at the Earthshaker Boar’s body parts placed over the counter. The others followed him inside, waiting. Lei didn’t keep them long. “We will move right after I’m done with this.”

“What do you mean?” Fatty Lou asked as he tapped him on the shoulder. “You’re acting all mysterious, and I’m still waiting to hear the reason for it. Not to mention you have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

“That one.” Fatty Lou waved a finger before his face. “The crazy look. The one you have when you decide to cook something… different.”

“We’ve already prepared the remedy.” Zhu Luli leaned against the counter and arched an eyebrow at them. “What we need to do right now is wait and see. The Governor’s Office wouldn’t let the matter slide once they see people are getting better.”

“It’s pointless,” Lei muttered as he checked the ingredients one by one. There was a lot to go over, more meat than they’d handled before. He could feel the vitality and the strong essence of the boar even though the creature was long dead. The muscles and the fat, the energy coursing through them… He could do a lot with them.

“Big Brother Lei,” Little Mei’s carefree voice dinned over the others. Little Yao was perched over her shoulder, and they were both staring at the ingredients over the counter. “Food…” she mumbled.

“Little Mei, it’s not the time for—” Fatty Lou was saying, only to close his mouth when Lei gave him a look.

“I’ll prepare something nice, don’t worry,” Lei said instead, managing a smile over his lips. Then he grew serious and cracked his knuckles before reaching for his knife. The handle of the cookware just felt right in his palm. He clenched it tight and rolled a piece from the boar’s thigh before him, letting the knife bite into the thick layer of fat.

“You can’t be serious!” Fatty Lou’s eyes turned at the sight. “You’re going to cook. Now?! We should go check Aunt Lifen to make sure she’s all right.”

“He’s right,” Zhu Luli said. “Most guards are sick with rot, but we still don’t have any idea about the Governor’s people. I don’t think they’re lying all sick in their beds and waiting for help to arrive. They’ll move soon.”

“Healing the sick is pointless,” Lei muttered without tearing his gaze away from the meat. “We’re only treating the symptom. We have to get rid of the rot making people sick.”

“And how will we do that?” Zhu Luli asked.

“By cutting the sources,” Lei answered as he sliced a clean cut from the thigh piece. “We have to cut the sources feeding the rot, but I don’t think they’re going to watch us do that. They will try to stop us.”

“And that’s why you decided to cook?” Fatty Lou said incredulously. “Because why not, right? Helps clear the mind, no doubt. Makes it a whole lot more sense now that you told us about it.”

“You know you’re not helping, right?” Zhu Luli rolled her eyes at him.

Fatty Lou snorted. “What do you expect me to say? The man’s gone mad!”

“He’s always a little mad, but that’s a Heavenly Cook for you,” Zhu Luli chuckled silently. “Though, I’m not sure either how that’s going to help us, Brother Lei.”

Lei sliced another piece from the thigh before moving over to check the rib bones of the Earthshaker Boar. Zhu Luli had snapped them into pieces that could fit inside the pots, some of which they used for the remedy. Still, bones were one thing they were surely not lacking.

He picked a couple of them and placed them in a big pot, adding some energy-rich random meat cuts from the creature to the mix. Then he poured enough water and kindled the wooden stove. That’d get him a good broth.

“These people use mana,” Lei said as he pulled out the vegetable basket from underneath the counter. He placed it with a thump and tapped a finger on his chin. “And that energy is inherently against the spiritual energy of our world. The two just can’t stand each other.”

A potato, two tomatoes, and some garlic. Peppers, both green and red, to add more depth to the meal. For a second he thought about whether he should go with two or three onions but decided on three for good measure. You can’t go wrong with more onions. Not when you’re cooking a stew.

“Normally, the ambient spiritual energy in the air should’ve made it impossible for them to gain mana, let alone use it to make a whole city sick,” Lei continued, giving them a glance. “But somehow, they’re doing just that, and the spiritual energy in Jiangzhen stays silent against it. It almost feels like the city has no spiritual energy whatsoever fighting against this outside force.”

“Is that why I couldn’t even manage three damned minor circles when I tried to cultivate?” came Fatty Lou’s voice.

“There are formations that could do that,” Zhu Luli said thoughtfully. “Formation Masters could leave a place completely dry if they want to. It certainly isn’t easy, but doable.”

Lei glanced at her. “Formations… Yes, that’s possible, but I don’t think what we’re dealing with here is a simple formation. It’s keeping the spiritual energy away but also generates mana through this sickness to feed itself constantly. It’s a sort of loop, one that uses the life essence of the city folk as fuel.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Demonic… Arts?” Zhu Luli didn’t look quite sure.

“But why?” Fatty Lou said with a frown. “I get that those rotten bastards can use this rot, but why would the Governor’s Office help them? What’s in it for them?”

Lei clicked his tongue. “I can think of a few reasons. Perhaps they’re under some sort of mind control? Or they could’ve been baited by a promise? The allure of power is nothing to scoff at in our world, is it? People kill each other without batting an eye for mere treasures; why not burn a whole city as well?”

“The Empire will know,” Zhu Luli said, raising her chin. “Jiangzhen might be a mortal city, but the Empire won’t let this matter slide once they get a whiff of the problem.”

“Mm,” Lei muttered. “But I don’t think these people are here to stay, Sister Luli. I think they’re going to make a run for it. That’s why I think we have to act fast.”

“And that’s why you’re cooking?” Fatty Lou said doubtfully.

“Mana and spiritual energy. Their union is the key here,” Lei said, sprinkling a pinch of salt over the now-simmering mixture. “That’s why I have to try.”

Chef’s Touch poked at him from within, a thought away from being activated. Lei focused on the skill and felt the little sprout of his Dao sway around his stomach. It almost looked joyful, as if a mere thought from Lei was enough to make it happy.

The simmering broth glistened with sparkling lights as the skill came alive. Thousands of dots poured from Lei’s skin and eased slowly down into the mixture. They found their way into the spiritual ingredients, blending into the bones and meat parts from the boar.

“I’m not sure about the effects,” Lei mumbled under his breath, eyes fixed on the blinking dots. “But at this point, there’s no other choice but to go all out.”

Lei used Essence Enhancement next. For too long, he’d tried to keep the effects of his skills leashed, fearing it might expose his talent to strangers or overwhelm his close circle with brutal energy, but the kids had proved themselves as monstrous talents. Zhu Luli had said she had difficulty accepting the fact that Snake, Stone, and Little Mei were growing too fast.

Other than them, Lei and Fatty Lou had their fair share of the spiritual food—not to mention the all-time highs they shared together. Lei knew from experience that constantly eating spiritual food had made them somewhat durable against stronger dishes.

Lastly, Lei had promised to cook Sister Luli a special dish for her breakthrough. Getting her to the Qi Condensation Stage would increase their chances against the Governor’s men.

Everything had coalesced around this moment. A final dish before they faced the horrors haunting their mortal city. Lei hoped it would be enough. He had little other choice but to believe. So he poured everything he had into this dish, using his skills on every bit of spiritual ingredient he could find.

“It’s glowing!” Little Mei chirped in a sing-song voice.

Snake and Stone gulped loudly as they inched nearer to the simmering pot.

“We’ll let it sit on that fire a bit longer,” Lei smiled at the kids and moved over to the large pieces he’d carved out of the boar’s thigh. The steaks looked almost like wagyu beef, with white lines of fat trailing the meaty parts of the thick cut.

It was going to be the best damned dish he’d ever cooked in this world.

……

Yuan Cai felt the mountain stir beneath his feet. The surface of the lake rippled as the carps flailed mindlessly around the left side, the tremors disturbing their rhythm. For too long, they had thought time was something they would never lack—that in their constant struggle, they would eventually leap over the dragon gate to grow out of their mortal shells, becoming mighty dragons who had proved they could break their fated chains.

Alas, time waited for no one. Disaster often came without fair notice. Such was life. Truth had a tendency to remind itself to mortals living in ignorant bliss under the mighty Heavens.

Another thrum of the deep earth rocked the mountain’s top with a crushing tide. The carps grew desperate, tensing back as they prepared themselves for a final, desperate push over the invisible gate. A dozen golden carps watched them with curiosity from the other side, eyes glinting with expectation and disdain.

Hundreds leaped. Hundreds fell. The gate proved too tall, too mighty for them to conquer in their desperation.

Yuan Cai sighed heavily, the left side of his chest squirming in painless agony. The tremors of the wound dinned deep in his soul. Mere pain wasn’t something that could prevail over his mighty Will. Being deprived of his life and his touch could, as it had done.

He was never an amicable man with an easy tongue. He had never shied away from stating the truth, however dire it might have been. That was why they called him Grim. Grim of news and grim of truth.

But then, life was grim in the Three Realms. The war was grim on all its frontiers. Even the carps’ desperate struggle was a grim fate laid upon them by the Heavens. How could a man, an honest man, see the truth and instead decide to stay silent?

He now sat here in his humble abode, watching the carps that had been the sole company of his long solitude. They were dying. The thrashing waves crushed them against the sides of the lake. Dozens of them got lost in the sprawling fractures of crumbling earth. Water spilled. Water died. Golden carps floated away and stretched their wings, giving a last look to their lesser kin before flying away—leaving the Old Grim alone.

Yuan Cai felt the parts of his soul shift in his core. A broken man’s duality. The curse had wrecked him from within, turning him into a shadow of his old self. He slowly, painfully forced himself to make peace with the reality, letting the threads of hope binding his broken core die away.

A sound prickled his skin. Wind roared and flapped the sleeves of his robe. Through the shifting tides of ruptured earth, deep within the once-pristine fragments of water, he felt an indignant piece of Will resisting the currents of fate.

It rose defiantly, weaving through the pieces of its broken kin, advancing from between the streaks of spilled blood. With sheer Will alone, it reached the surface, eyes blazing with cold fury. It tensed. It shook. It launched itself forward in a mighty leap, its little heart humming with resolve.

Something shifted in Yuan Cai’s core. The parts of his broken soul that he granted to those kids, the parts that he had withdrawn to face the scene of his own end as a whole, now stirred with such force that they rose over the other, still parts of his heart and roared in his ear.

The carp was sailing in the air. Muddled sunlight glistened on its wounded skin. Yuan Cai clenched his fists as he watched that single soul refuse to accept the fate it had been cursed with. He felt its cries clear in his mind. Felt its Dao right in his heart.

It spoke to him. Reminded him of the times when all was not lost. When he was a mighty Immortal, fighting against the fated enemy for the good of the Realm that left him with an eternal curse.

Struggling, flailing, bleeding… the carp finally managed to leap over the invisible gate and landed in the broken tides beyond. Ethereal wings grew out from under its gills. Golden skin stretched silently across its body. Thus, it had become a dragon of its own kin. Thus, it proved its dormant potential.

Yet it didn’t move.

“Move!” Yuan Cai said, fingers shaking as he scrambled hesitantly forward. “Fly away, little one. Why must you stay still after everything you have accomplished?”

As if noticing him, the carp turned slowly to face him, its eyes glinting with disdain. Who, the carp seemed to ask him, are you to judge my Will?

Yuan Cai froze. It was as though he was standing before a giant—a being that had proved its worth and was now looking down at him. Who, indeed, was he to question this dragon? What quality had he left within himself to think it would pay heed to his words?

He thought himself a prisoner. A mere spectator masquerading as a realist. Why, then, did he try to help those kids? Wasn’t it because he felt the touch of the old enemy? Hadn’t he thought he could prove himself useful after long years of confinement here in a nameless mountain?

No, the carp seemed to say. He hadn’t been doing this to help those kids. He did it because he was afraid of facing the old enemy as a shadow of his old self. He did it because, even though he knew the enemy was hiding under his abode, he had no heart to face it alone.

Lights fluttered fervently before his eyes. They turned and twisted, caught in a fury so old it made his soul sing. Old Grim lent an ear to that hum and cast his Will upon the broken rhythm, patching them together once more. The lights obeyed, coalescing around his hand and stretching into a long, silvery shape.

The carp gave him a last glance, eased its ethereal wings, and took flight. Everything that had to be said had been said.

Yuan Cai clutched the saber in his hand. His old wound sent blinding agony across his broken soul the moment his Dao stirred awake. Yet, he resisted and focused his gaze down the broken mountain. Deep into the maze of tunnels below. Deep under the cage that hid the demon inside.

His Dao of Saber nurtured the newly born saber with his essence. He raised the weapon high and breathed in deep. A last breath. A final show of the Reaper of old. The saber pulsed with anticipation. Yuan Cai’s heart thumped in anticipation.

With a mighty swing, the saber crashed against the broken tides. It cleaved the mountain apart and revealed the demon hiding underneath the earth.

……