Chapter 53

At the end of the year, the weather was bitterly cold, and the days passed quickly.

A heavy snowfall had turned the continuous mountain ranges of the Supreme Sect into a vast expanse of snowfields.

With a clattering sound, snow from the eaves was shaken loose, falling in cascades. Inside the drafty tool shed, two sighs echoed.

“Isn’t it about time to wrap up? We planned to go down the mountain for some antique stew today, remember? That thin slice of spiritual lamb, dipped in sesame sauce and wrapped in sesame bread, oh, just talking about it is making my stomach growl louder than the wind.”

Yuan Ye rubbed his hands, sore from woodworking for too long, exhaled into his palms to warm them, and massaged his ears, stiff from the cold wind.

Lin Du, who was completing the array formations on a battle-worn and scarred tool, finally finished his task and put his tools away. “Didn’t we agree to head down the mountain at sunrise? It’s still early.”

“The snow is falling so heavily that it’s hard to tell if it’s day or night.”

Yuan Ye jumped up, adjusted the luminous pearl on the octagonal glazed lantern, and a soft, thin light illuminated a small corner of the warehouse. There, all sorts of farming tools were neatly arranged.

These tools, once infused with spiritual power, could plow, sow, water, fertilize, and remove pests on their own. They were an impressive array, though upon closer inspection, they showed signs of having been patched up for another year.

Lin Du, with a glowing crystal stick in his mouth for light, squinted as he carefully used tweezers to check the array’s circuits.

Yuan Ye had no choice but to pick up the saw and some wood, placing his foot on a bench as he resumed sawing.

Cultivators didn’t have the habit of celebrating the New Year, but today was indeed the last day of the old year. The only thing that marked the New Year’s festivities was the various activities held by shops in the cities to encourage people to spend.

“I heard that every year during the New Year, every shop in town makes ice lanterns, with all sorts of carvings.”

Lin Du raised an eyebrow. “Ice lanterns?”

“Yeah, Senior Brother was even planning to make one for Junior Sister today. Unfortunately, though he’s good at building houses, his carving skills aren’t up to par, so he switched to building snowmen with a shovel instead.”

Sawdust fell softly, mixing with the cold wind and snow blowing in, making it hard to distinguish between snowflakes and wood shavings.

Yuan Ye cursed under his breath, silently picking up a wooden board to nail over the window frame.

A figure dressed in a crimson robe walked in, casting a spell with a wave of their hand to block the wind and snow. “The snow is so heavy, and you’re still working? Take a break; no one really expects you to finish this month.”

Lin Du turned around with the glowing stick still in his mouth, mumbling, “Senior Sister.”

Feng Chao smiled and tossed them each a red embroidered storage bag. “A New Year’s gift for the personal disciples. Don’t go spending it all on the first day of the new year. Mo Lin and Tian Wu are waiting for you.”

The two workers were hastily made to drop what they were doing. A quick scan with their spiritual senses revealed the contents of the bags: spirit stones, healing medicine, and basic elixirs neatly packed in boxes.

“Senior Sister, is this for this year or next year?”

Feng Chao gave them a sideways glance. “Does it matter?”

Lin Du understood. Clearly, it was for the new year. These were end-of-year bonuses. At least they weren’t just given a red slip.

Feng Chao closed the warehouse door behind them, urging them out like herding sheep.

Yuan Ye hadn’t forgotten to invite the sect leader to join them in going down the mountain.

Feng Chao shook her head with a smile. “You kids go have fun on your own.”

Cultivators rarely kept track of their age once they passed a hundred years old.

Lin Du and Yuan Ye were the last to arrive. Ni Jin Xuan was having fun sliding down a small snow-covered hill.

Mo Lin was up at the top, pushing her sled.

The young girl slid right to Lin Du’s feet.

“This shape… Isn’t that the wooden bucket from the sheller we just fixed?” Yuan Ye’s gaze turned sharp.

Lin Du folded his arms. “Yan Qing was sliding down the hill too. If I’m not mistaken, he removed the blades from two shovels and used them as skis, right?”

“It looks that way.”

They both chuckled coldly, glaring at the two who had added to their workload.

“Who taught you to do this?” Yuan Ye grumbled.

“What?” Yan Qing held a stick in each hand, with his feet strapped to two flat, concave iron plates. “You mean these? Tian Wu said that when they first joined the sect, Elder Cang Li and Elder Ju Yuan taught them how to play like this.”

So it was a case of bad influence from the top down.

Lin Du rubbed his forehead. Fine.

“Let’s go, let’s go, time to eat. It’s a rare day off from training.”

Mo Lin landed beside them, followed by Xia Tianwu. Today, her clothes were no longer the usual white with subtle patterns but adorned with vibrant embroidery of flowers and butterflies. The red plum blossoms in her hair added a touch of warmth to her usually reserved demeanor.

Lin Du glanced at her several times.

When Xia Tianwu noticed and looked over questioningly, Lin Du softly complimented her, “The red plum blossoms look lovely against the snow.”

“They suit you well, too.”

Xia Tianwu smiled shyly. “I finished reading the story you gave me while I was refining pills.”

Lin Du eagerly asked for her thoughts.

“I think… this wolf demon needs to study more about alchemy. The way he used the medicine ingredients is completely wrong.”

“The author must not have learned alchemy.”

Lin Du was stumped. “You’re right.”

She really hadn’t studied alchemy.

How did this cold and focused disciple turn into a love-struck character in the original plot?

“It’s just a story, not an alchemy text.”

“But it’s indeed inaccurate. According to the book, after the grass demon got pregnant and the spirit fetus was used as medicine, the fetus soul would have formed. Although the medicinal power would be enhanced, it would become a highly dangerous object. When the malicious power returns, the person who consumed it would likely be haunted by resentment or even possessed by the fetus soul.”

“No alchemist, not even a bloodthirsty demon, would do something so foolish.”

Lin Du’s eyes flickered. “Really?”

“Yes. If the author didn’t make it up, then the wolf demon was simply an idiot.”

Xia Tianwu spoke in a calm, indifferent tone.

“But speaking of it, wolves aren’t exactly known for their intelligence. Their brains are so small; it’s only natural they aren’t very smart.”

Lin Du nodded in agreement. That was good—better for them to be a bit dumb.

He had no awareness that he was also being insulted in the process.

The group of six bustled into the private room they had reserved, and the waiter came to take their order.

“Let’s start with a hundred plates of spirit lamb and twenty sesame buns.”

The waiter’s hand, which was holding the teapot, trembled slightly, and his voice rose in surprise. “How many?”

“A hundred plates… Does that seem like too little?” Mo Lin glanced around. “Then make it… one hundred and twenty plates?”

The waiter, who could usually serve tea with a steady hand and remain unflustered even if someone tried to start a fight, was now trembling, the cups clinking together with a crisp sound.

“One hundred and twenty plates? Are all the masters of the Supreme Sect coming to eat? Isn’t this room a bit too small?”

“No, it’s just the six of us,” Yuan Ye said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. “Hurry up, we’re starving. And make sure to bring plenty of sesame sauce.”

The waiter staggered out, walking like a ghost, and made his way to the kitchen, where the chef was cutting lamb with growing impatience.

“How many do they want? Twenty plates?” The chef, knife in hand, raised an eyebrow in irritation.

“One… one hundred and twenty plates.”

“How many??” The chef raised the cleaver.

“Supreme Sect… Top-level private room, one hundred and twenty plates. The young masters said they’re hungry, so hurry.”

The chef cursed, slamming the knife onto the chopping block. “They should come do it themselves! A hundred and twenty plates—are they trying to kill me?”

“Does the Supreme Sect even have a hundred and twenty people in total?”

“Oh, they just brought six.”

Seeing the shock shift from him to the chef, the waiter felt a bit happier.

“How many?”

“Six.”

The chef gritted his teeth and picked up the cleaver. “I’ll take the lamb to their room myself. I want to see how six people plan to eat one hundred and twenty plates.”