Chapter 25, The Mystery of the Blue Tears

Translator: StarReader

 

Alone in the straw shack, Su Chen wrinkled his nose at the musty smell and rolled up his sleeves. He began by cleaning and washing all the utensils inside and outside. Then, in the herb garden, he efficiently set to work. He carried water, applied fertilizer, weeded meticulously, and tilled the soil.

 

This was similar to working on a farm—just make sure not to harm the roots of the herbs. Different types of herbs required different methods; this called for a good understanding of herbal knowledge.

 

After inspecting the thorn hedges surrounding the herb garden, ensuring they were tightly secured to keep wild rabbits and mountain rats from the nearby forests from grazing on the herbs, Su Chen had a clear picture of the ten-acre herb field.

 

Spanning across it were dozens of varieties of herbs, primarily categorized into three groups.

 

The first category consisted of common herbs used for treating minor ailments, fevers, and injuries—these were destined for Medicine King Group’s thirteen county pharmacies in the Wu Region.

 

The second category included third-rate practitioners’ cultivating materials for their Lower Dantian. These herbs could be further subdivided into blood-nourishing, sinew-strengthening, bone-reinforcing, skin-enhancing, and marrow-supplementing types, all classified as lower-grade herbs.

 

The third category comprised second-rate and first-rate stage practitioners’ essential cultivating supplies for their Middle Dantian, specifically for enhancing True Qi and strengthening the foundation. These included common herbs like ginseng, lotus seeds, and astragalus root, categorized as mid-grade and high-grade herbs. The older the herb, the more valuable it became.

 

These cultivating-specific herbs were mainly supplied to Medicine King Group’s middle and upper management or sold to other martial factions across the land in exchange for silver.

 

The fields were meticulously counted, with every herb carefully recorded in a herbal ledger by Zhou Mieyan. The Medicine King Organization was known for its strict discipline and harsh methods, far more severe than those of government authorities; naturally, no disciple would lay a hand on these herbs.

 

By afternoon, Su Chen had finished his work and made himself a meal of soybean paste rice in the shack. He then turned his attention to his Upper Dantian, for this was by far the most important matter—one that weighed immeasurably heavier than tending to the fields.

 

Su Chen focused on practicing Turtle Breath, hoping to delve into his Upper Dantian and observe any changes in the faint blue light within. Regrettably, he was left disappointed.

 

Su Chen found himself sleeping a deep, peaceful nap in the shack, waking up refreshed with renewed energy.

 

Still, no progress had been made toward reaching the limits of his Upper Dantian.

 

Su Chen had made repeated attempts, but each effort ended in failure. Only then did he become certain: despite his prior visit to the Upper Dantian, he could not, using just the Turtle Breath, close off the six senses and re-enter that mystical realm.

 

Recalling his last experience, Su Chen’s mind wandered back to the foot of the Vaulting Mountains, where he had been bitten by a golden-banded viper. Bereft with grief, he had shed tears of blue, consumed half of a wild ginseng, and then was swallowed whole by a massive fish monster. It was during that harrowing experience, as he practiced the Turtle Breath, that his six senses were sealed off, allowing him to stumble into the Upper Dantian. There, he had discovered his soul and the existence of Spirit Mountain.

 

Now, re-entering the Upper Dantian proved no easy feat. The mere thought of encountering the golden-banded viper’s deadly venom and the peril of being devoured by the fish monster sent shivers down his spine. Such risks were too great to face again.

 

…

 

Days passed quietly in the tranquil garden.

 

Su Chen rose early every morning and worked diligently, completing over ten loads of fertilizer—each load carried in two hours—in a swift manner. He spread this fertilizer across ten acres of herb garden before moving on to weeding and tilling.

 

From morning until noon, he spent two hours cultivating martial arts, mastering the introductory skills for a practitioner. Without herbs to aid in strengthening his body, it was advised that cultivating beyond two hours daily could be detrimental. The risks of overexertion were clear, as pushing oneself too hard would only lead to harm.

 

In the evening, after slowly cycling through the Turtle Breath, Su Chen found himself needing just two hours of sleep to restore his energy. Oversleeping left him unable to rest properly.

 

This gave him ample free time in the afternoon and during the late hours. He often sat idly in his shack, staring at the ten-acre herb garden before him. The task of watching over the herb field was as monotonous as it was unyielding—any lapse in attention could risk allowing wild animals like mountain cats or rabbits to breach the fence or even face theft.

 

Such negligence would result in losses that could bring financial penalties upon them. In severe cases, the punishment could be far harsher, coming from the Errand Hall.

 

After several days, Su Chen finally understood why the young senior brother looked so dejected and tired, even unwilling to argue with Zhou Mieyan when his wages were docked, feeling a sense of urgent relief as he left.

 

In this lonely and deserted herb garden, guarding it for three whole months without anything to do could indeed make anyone incredibly bored and frustrated.

 

Sui Chen sat cross-legged on the mat with a blank expression, lost in thought, wondering what to do.

 

[If only I had the money to buy a basic martial arts manual from the library to cultivate, at least it would pass the time,] he thought. But he was penniless. He couldn’t afford it. At least three months of working as a menial laborer taking care of the herb garden would earn him nine hundred copper coins, which might allow him to purchase a single volume of a basic martial art.

 

Sui Chen had also wanted to use this downtime to research the Upper Dantian and spirit, but after several days of repeatedly attempting the Turtle Breath without being able to enter the Muddy Grain Palace, he became increasingly frustrated and disappointed, abandoning that idea.

 

[Better find something to do before I go crazy,] Su Chen thought to himself.

 

Then, one day, Su Chen recalled the strange phenomenon that occurred when he had shed tears by the lake.

 

Every time he cried, his tears would fall to the ground and quickly solidify into small blue stones, indistinguishable from ordinary pebbles. They had never exhibited any special properties. He kept them in a pouch as mementos.

 

But that time was different. The two tears fell directly into the lake. Perhaps diluted by the water, they failed to solidify and instead dispersed, emitting a powerful, alluring fragrance that stirred the depths of the lake, causing thousands of fish to boil with excitement, scrambling to feed on the scent.

 

“My tears—why do they smell so strongly? And why are they causing such a commotion… Could it be that these blue stones have some unknown special benefits that would attract countless fish to fight over them?”

 

Su Chen pondered deeply. If the fragrance of the blue stones could draw an entire lake full of fish, even stirring the attention of that terrifying fish monster, then this must be an extremely rare and extraordinary item!

 

Su Chen felt a strong desire to experiment to see if the blue tears had other magical uses. Unable to enter the Upper Dantian, he couldn’t study the Spirit Mountain or the spirit’s effects. But obtaining blue tears was simple; all he needed was to shed tears.

 

Previously, Su Chen had avoided crying because without ginseng, his health would fall, leading to death. Now, he took out half of a thirty-year-old wild ginseng root he’d gathered during his last trip into the mountains. He had only eaten a small portion, leaving the rest untouched. This ensured he wouldn’t die from shedding the tears.

 

Of course, he had learned from past mistakes and didn’t dare eat it raw. In his shack, he had a set of pots and pans to make broth.

 

In the dense forest behind the mountain, Su Chen caught a small bird, plucking its feathers and removing its entrails before washing it thoroughly in the clear stream water.

 

He then gathered some firewood from the forest, built a fire on the heated bed, sliced some medicinal herbs, and, together with the bird, simmered a large bowl of nourishing mountain sparrow ginseng soup, adding a pinch of salt for flavor.

 

Using a large wooden bucket, he collected a pail of clear mountain stream water from the same area where the bird had been caught, intending to catch the bluestone tears. Once everything was ready, Su Chen cradled the large wooden bucket and burst into a loud, mournful cry.

 

He rarely cried in his life—let alone openly weeping—but after letting out a few dry sobs, he realized no tears came out, no matter how hard he tried to force them. Even if he tried to pretend to be utterly heartbroken, it was completely ineffective. He squeezed his thigh hard several times, causing it to swell up red and purple, the pain making him howl in agony. Yet despite this, he still couldn’t cry, unable to squeeze out even a single tear. Why was this happening?

 

Su Chen stood there for a long while, eventually relinquishing this futile attempt with a reluctant sigh. “A man’s tears are meant to be held back until true sorrow strikes. It seems I’ve been holding myself in too tightly these years—so tightly that I’ve forgotten how to cry.”

 

No tears, no experiment.

 

Regretting the wasted effort, he turned to the wild ginseng soup with sorrow.

 

Su Chen sadly downed the bowl of nourishing soup made from mountain sparrow and wild ginseng. Even though he couldn’t save the ruined ginseng, the broth itself was still a great tonic for his body. After finishing every drop of the medicinal soup and every morsel of the tender mountain sparrow meat, his belly felt warm and cozy. The ginseng’s potent effects gradually spread through his system, replenishing him from within.

 

As nightfall descended over the Medicine King Estate, the sun set low and stars began to twinkle in the sky. When midnight struck, the heavens were sparsely adorned with constellations.

 

Inside the shack, Su Chen lay listlessly on the floor, idly chewing at a clump of dog’s tail grass while gazing up at the herb garden beneath the starlit sky—a scene that spoke volumes of his boredom.

 

Guarding the herbal garden was a tedious and monotonous job. Su Chen turned over, only to be jabbed painfully by the small pebbles in the cloth pouch tied around his waist.

 

He suddenly froze, sat up sharply, and slapped his head.

 

“Oh, I’m such an idiot! There are more than ten blue stones in that pouch. Even if they don’t produce the blue tears’ effect, I could at least try them out!”

 

Su Chen reached into his chest pocket, carefully handling the small cloth pouch that had accompanied him for over a decade. The thought that it might contain a shocking secret made his heart race with excitement.