Master of Strange Dao

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When he reached the entrance of the dugout, Yu Ziqing paused, then turned back and sat across from Old Yang, carefully considering his words.

On the first day he met Old Yang, Yu Ziqing knew that Old Yang claiming to be just an ordinary teacher was sheer nonsense. Who doesn't put on a guise when out and about?

Indeed, Old Yang taught him many things, from the official language to writing, to various kinds of knowledge.

Given this world's background, how could someone with such insight and scholarship be just an ordinary teacher?

Trust between people can sometimes be very firm, yet at other times very fragile. When people can trust each other, digging into things they don't want to disclose makes no sense.

Yu Ziqing understood this well. Ever since Old Yang hadn't disclosed his name from the start and got away with it, he never pressed him again, always respectfully calling him "Old Sir."

Someone unwilling to share their name is either of a sensitive identity, potentially risking death if revealed,

or has too many enemies, risking death if disclosed.

But as time went on, Yu Ziqing grew more aware of the extent of Old Yang's knowledge; his areas of expertise were somewhat incredible.

Breaking a part of the Beast Creation Evil Skill—could a regular person know such methods?

Using the Jinlan Mushroom as a raw material to create sedatives—could an average person know about this?

Moreover, Old Yang wasn't even willing to fabricate a fake name casually or lie about such things. This subtle pride led Yu Ziqing to a conjecture.

A sensitive identity and many enemies likely meant he was someone from Daqian, of not low status, who had somehow ended up here.

Yu Ziqing even speculated boldly that Old Yang was caught deliberately to evade enemies.

Then he encountered Yu Ziqing, the transmigrator, imparting him with literacy, language, and knowledge.

If he didn't have special abilities, then Old Yang was akin to a grandfather who had stumbled into misfortune.

Of course, all of the above was just Yu Ziqing's wild imagination. If Old Yang didn't want to talk about it, Yu Ziqing wouldn't inquire further; he was here to ask about something else.

"Old Yang, I think I might need your guidance."

Old Yang lifted his eyelids and responded directly,

"Rest assured, I have met the village chief here. As long as you don't break the rules he's set, the people here won't harm you.

Also, remember my words: Do not practice any cultivation methods other than the Nourishing Body Technique."

"Old Yang, since when did you start speaking in riddles? Knowing the facts but not the reasons behind them can sometimes lead to misjudgment. Why not make it clearer?"

Old Yang raised his head, glanced outside, and was silent for a while.

"The moment a secret is spoken, it is no longer a secret. Some words, upon being spoken, are akin to exposure. Even certain words, names, or seemingly harmless phrases can become locked Dao Marks once spoken.

Outside, I wouldn't even speak these words.

At the Jinlan Mine, it's only here where I dare say such things. This world is far more dangerous than you think, and true powerhouses are more terrifying than you can imagine.

In the mines, there's an alien power that permeates the world, creating strong obstacles both externally and internally.

So cultivating Qi Refinement here is akin to seeking death. The moment a Qi Refiner enters here, absorbing alien power will self-destruct their foundation.

Generally, outsiders won't come to the Jinlan Mine, but now it's uncertain.

A few months ago, in the northwest of the Wilderness, the Great Sun appeared, causing disasters beyond anyone's imagination. Calculating the time, the first wave of people arriving in the Wilderness should be here by now. The second wave from various forces should also be gathering.

You should eat more here, get your body in shape, and then quickly head south."

Yu Ziqing was a bit taken aback. He had only intended to ask about some matters concerning the Jinlan Mine for potential preparation.

He didn't expect Old Yang to suddenly lay all his cards on the table.

So he really was in hiding.

Just saying not to act like a Riddler for fun, and now you're dropping all pretense, how boring would that be?

Two hours later, Yu Ziqing came out of the dugout, still somewhat dazed.

Old Yang, uncharacteristically, had said a lot, from how to leave and head south to where to go next. Yet Yu Ziqing increasingly felt as if Old Yang was delivering last words, fearing there wouldn't be another chance later.

Calculating the time, it was nearly dinner preparation time. Yu Ziqing went to the underground Mushroom Forest, laboriously wielding an axe to chop down Jinlan Mushrooms. He also used a small knife to scrape off some raw materials for sedatives.

With nothing else to do in the evening, he could try refining medicines first.

After all the kitchen ladies swiftly finished gathering and left the caves, Yu Ziqing was still chopping.

From deeper within the Mushroom Forest, a gaunt, skeletal hungry ghost cautiously peeked out from behind a Jinlan Mushroom, with a fearful glance in Yu Ziqing's direction, then quickly retreated, only to peek out again later.

Yu Ziqing sensed it, glanced over, but didn't mind, continuing to chop.

Once he managed to chop one down with much effort, he realized he couldn't carry it back alone.

In the end, he had to put on a thick face, fetching one of the ladies, and only by promising to teach her the secret to making soup did she help carry the mushroom back.

The next day, when Yu Ziqing went back into the cave, he found that beside the Jinlan Mushroom he chopped yesterday, another one, already chopped down, had been placed there. Judging by the cut, it was obviously freshly chopped.

Yu Ziqing was a bit puzzled; the village had clear divisions of labor, and each person wouldn't be idle. It wasn't easy to get someone else to help with his tasks, nor would anyone willingly help, and besides, no one would let others do their work here.

Having work was very important for the people here.

Looking around, Yu Ziqing glanced towards the depths of the Mushroom Forest. That hungry ghost was still peeking out with half its head, eyeing this direction with a hint of fear.

"Was it you?"

As soon as he spoke, the hungry ghost seemed startled and quickly fled into the darkness, disappearing.

Yu Ziqing chuckled wryly.

This fellow, nearly got hunted last time, yet instead of staying far away, he actually came to help with the work.

What was he thinking?

It couldn't be explained by something rational; he definitely retained some self-awareness, and was quite clever at that.

Yu Ziqing didn't bother with it as long as it didn't cause trouble, everything was fine.

...

Life in the village was peaceful, and work went smoothly. Yu Ziqing just needed to join the kitchen ladies to prepare breakfast and dinner, and then he didn't need to worry about anything else.

Eating well daily, Yu Ziqing's body, severely weakened from long-term starvation, also started to improve gradually.

Plus, he had experimented extensively with Jinlan Mushrooms, quickly becoming the culinary expert of the kitchen. He didn't even have to do tasks like scrubbing pots and washing dishes.

After sharing many recipes, Yu Ziqing began pondering how to extract oil from Jinlan Mushrooms.

If he wanted to offload some laborious tasks, there were plenty of ways to get those extremely strong and eager-to-learn women to help.

At dinner, the routine chopping still had to continue. Yu Ziqing looked at the little bit of thick soup remaining in the pot, hesitated for a moment, then took out a wooden bowl, filled it, and carried the bowl down to the Mushroom Forest.

Upon reaching the Mushroom Forest, as expected, in the area he aimed for, a Jinlan Mushroom toppled over in the distance.

That gaunt hungry ghost, flustered, tried to retreat into the deep darkness.

"Don't be in a hurry to run," Yu Ziqing shouted from afar.

The hungry ghost hesitated, turned back and glanced, eyes immediately filled with tangible fear, hurriedly climbing onto the rock wall, hiding behind a protruding rock, merging with the environment, seemingly vanishing in an instant.

Yu Ziqing shook his head, already accustomed to this.

The hungry ghost always timed it perfectly, cutting down a Jinlan Mushroom just before he arrived.

Even after being told not to help, the hungry ghost insisted, stubbornly executing this task and hiding each time it was done.

Yu Ziqing approached the depths of the Mushroom Forest, placing the wooden bowl with some thick soup on the ground, speaking as he did so,

"I don't like to be helped for no reason. If you're willing, that's your business. I won't feel indebted because of it.

This is just my act of generosity and has nothing to do with your help, you must understand this.

Here's some broth, from me, to you.

Once there's no one around, remember to take it away."

Without seeing the hungry ghost's silhouette, Yu Ziqing didn't force it. After putting down the wooden bowl, he went to call someone to haul the Jinlan Mushroom away.

Once the Mushroom Forest returned to silence, illuminated only faintly by phosphorescence, revealing just a bit of it, a hungry ghost suddenly appeared on the stone wall.

He cautiously climbed down the wall, circled around the wooden bowl a few times, eyes filled with desire, but soon that desire turned into agony.

He opened his mouth wide in a silent scream, at which point one could see that deep within his mouth, unlike the anatomy of a human, there was a plate-like solid blocking his throat completely, as if sealed by an iron barrier.

He couldn't consume anything, not even drink a drop of water.

The hungry ghost circled the bowl a few times, understanding it was Yu Ziqing's goodwill, possibly unaware of his inability to eat or drink.

He hesitated for a while, staring at the bowl, but eventually picked it up, intending to take it back as a regular gift, still of significant meaning to him.

However, in the moment he picked up the bowl, it was as if struck by lightning, freezing in place, his eyes wide in astonishment.

His hands trembled slightly, and as the bowl's broth began to shake, he hurriedly placed it back down, afraid of spilling it.

Kneeling on the ground, his hands shook as he reached for the bowl again, his eyes trembling, wanting to cry but with no tears left.

After a moment of calmer reflection, he solemnly picked up the bowl, opening his mouth wide.

Deep within his blocked throat, a whirlpool-like pattern emerged, featuring a tiny pinhole-sized opening at its center.

He cautiously licked a few drops of thick soup with his tongue, then looked skyward and closed his eyes.

He drank it.

Like sweet rain.

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