My Journey to Immortality Begins with Hunting
Chapter 274 – Everyone Has Their Own Obsession, The Life-Devouring Weaponsmithing Skill - Part 2

Chapter 274 – Everyone Has Their Own Obsession, The Life-Devouring Weaponsmithing Skill - Part 2

Half a month later.

Amidst the waterfall’s rushing current, random feathers fluttered silently along the water’s flow, all but invisible in the pounding spray. Even Cui Wuji thought it was impossible to detect such things, let alone catch them, but Li Yuan extended his hand to grab them, then slowly pulled back.

Cui Wuji floated down from above, hovering over the surging waters. “Master Li,” he asked the figure perched on a slick stone, “did you get them?”

In response, Li Yuan opened his hand to reveal nine feathers—exactly the number Cui Wuji had thrown. He also held two grains of sand and a single flower petal that had drifted by naturally.

Stunned, Cui Wuji stared. Catching sand in a tumbling waterfall? It was beyond imagination.

At length, he heaved a long sigh. “The heavens are unfair indeed...”

Li Yuan let the feathers, sand, and petal wash away, then rose to his feet. A glance at his skill window confirmed he’d achieved his goal.

Master Wind-Thunder Perceiving Blooms - Rank 6 (160/160)

“Let’s go, Old Cui,” he said. “It’s time for a different kind of training.”

Cui Wuji, still reeling, guided Li Yuan back to the carriage. As the wheels turned away from the waterfall, he couldn’t help feeling regret. What a monster. If only he hadn’t ended up on the path of a wandering martial artist...who knows how far he could’ve gone?

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The next day.

Li Yuan arrived at a hidden chamber near a blacksmith’s workshop, following another method described in the notes. This exercise was called Singling Out The Steel, meant to sharpen perception by picking out discordant sounds in a busy smithy. Most blacksmith shops were located in noisy market districts where the clang of metal mixed with countless other distractions.

The weaponsmith’s notes instructed training in a sealed room roughly a kilometer from the smithy—far enough that only a sixth rank martial artist’s sense of hearing could reach. Even then, it was a punishing routine. Li Yuan settled in and began to focus on the faint ring of hammers striking iron, sifting out every subtle imperfection in the rhythm.

Of course, this training was by no means straightforward; it involved plenty of subtle details.

Li Yuan took a fasting pill and locked himself in the chamber to begin his practice. Every day, the local blacksmiths would gather outside, and he would point out their flaws one by one—pinpointing the mistakes in their hammer strokes and offering advice.

At first, his explanations were choppy, and he even embarrassed himself a few times. But after his first real breakthrough, he noticed a new entry in his skill list.

NEW! Basic Listening For Thunder in Stillness - Rank 6 (1/10)

From then on, Li Yuan’s insights came faster and grew more precise.

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Two months passed.

By the time he emerged, Li Yuan could hear every subtle defect in the metal’s resonance. He glanced at his skill window with a satisfied smile.

Master Listening For Thunder in Stillness - Rank 6 (160/160)

Li Yuan left the sealed room reeking from not having bathed in so long. While the fasting pill did away with the need to eat or relieve himself, sweat still accumulated, leaving an unappealing odor.

Upon returning to the Jing estate, Li Yuan found neither of his wives nor Yao Jue at home. The Jing Clan had sent a maid to help him bathe and change instead. After his bath, now wrapped in a robe, he entered his study, moved the paperweight aside, and picked up a letter on the desk.

“Husband, I must head out for a while and couldn’t wait for your return to tell you in person. The situation won’t allow for delays. I have to leave now. If all goes well, I’ll be back within a month; if not, it may take three. I promise I’ll return.

-JIng Shuixiang

The brushstrokes were bold and slanted with a certain austere elegance—an oddly unsettling air that called to mind some sinister hidden serpent.

Li Yuan stared at the letter for a long time before putting it away. Then he set out again for the Vine Pavilion.

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Mid-April arrived.

The vines of the Vine Pavilion had turned a vibrant green. Li Yuan thought of the fantasy worlds he used to read about before he transmigrated, where forest elves inhabited lush realms. As always, the pavilion was peaceful, a true sanctuary from the upheaval of the outside world.

Having reaped such clear benefits from his last studies, he went hunting for more notes. Though there were no cultivation manuals here, there certainly was no shortage of written records—texts on alchemy, beast taming, puppetry, and more.

Alchemy, however, was off-limits to him. It was a jealously guarded skill; if he wasn’t already a sixth rank alchemist himself, merely following someone else’s notes wouldn’t unlock any new skills.

There were only a few notes on taming beasts or crafting puppets, indicating that these weren’t the Holy Tree Temple’s strengths.

Thinking about beast taming reminded Li Yuan of the two secret arts the temple master had promised him but never delivered.

He felt uneasy—not because he desperately wanted them, but because the temple master did not seem like someone to go back on his word. If the temple master wasn’t the type to break a promise, had he simply forgotten? But how could a fourth rank martial artist forget anything so easily?

Perhaps there was more to it, but Li Yuan didn’t delve deeper. The temple master, in many ways, was not someone he wanted to examine too closely. Li Yuan had no desire to court trouble.

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A few days later.

Having once again left the Vine Pavilion, Li Yuan tried another training approach from the notes; this time, it didn’t spark any new skills.

Returning home, he found that Jing Shuixiang was still away, but Cui Huayin had come back. Those two never seemed to get along; whenever Jing Shuixiang was home, Cui Huayin had a habit of staying at the Cui residence.

“Master, I’ve reached sixth rank!” Yao Jue exclaimed happily, running up to him and taking his arm. Then, looking at Cui Huayin, she added, “My lady’s made a lot of progress too. She says that line of poetry you came up with really inspired her!”

“I’m glad your cultivation is going well.” Li Yuan smiled and turned to regard his third wife. In the short time he’d been away, Cui Huayin’s once-ethereal beauty had taken on a colder edge, like a streak of darkness in the snow or a spot of shadow in the light—an undercurrent of Yin.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

She seemed to know exactly what he meant but didn’t want to elaborate. “It’s just cultivation.”

“You’re cultivating the Cycle of Withering And Growth, aren’t you?” Li Yuan recalled that the temple master himself also practiced the Cycle of Withering and Growth.

Yao Jue nodded. “Right! The Cycle of Withering And Growth is one of Holy Tree Temple’s most intricate core techniques, and only those with tremendous aptitude are permitted to learn it. Cultivating it comes in two phases—either from withering to growth or from growth to withering.

“From witheringto growth means you start off cold and detached but gradually grow vibrant, teeming with life. Because of that, most people choose withering first, then move toward growth. I’ve heard that’s also how the temple master approached it. Now he’s so radiantly upright that he must have fully succeeded.”

“Yao Jue,” Cui Huayin said icily, “don’t talk about cultivation so much.”

Li Yuan gave her a puzzled look. “Why keep it from me?”

“We just don’t want to distract you,” she replied, somewhat evasively.

But Li Yuan realized the unspoken thought behind her words. She considered him a wandering martial artist forever stuck at sixth rank. If she told him about a powerful technique’s bright future, it might hurt him, so she’d rather not say anything.

“I’m not that fragile,” he protested.

“Not that fragile?” she echoed, eyeing him skeptically. “Who was it that drained an entire jar of liquor and played Longing on the rooftop?”

“Yes, that was me,” Li Yuan admitted.

“You’re homesick,” Cui Huayin remarked coolly. “Once a man starts missing home, it reveals his soft side.”

Li Yuan shook his head in exasperation. “You’re overthinking this.”

“Calamity starts with the slightest oversight, and every detail warrants attention,” she retorted, adopting her usual lofty air.

Not wanting to argue, Li Yuan changed the subject. “If the south is ever truly pacified, would you be willing to put on plain clothes and go home with me? I used to make my living hunting; I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of my days out in the wilderness with a single bow, a loyal dog, and a jar of wine.”

“That sounds wonderful!” Yao Jue cheered. But midway through her applause, she caught sight of Cui Huayin’s glare and promptly went quiet.

Cui Huayin sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m not the kind of woman who can don coarse fabric and while away her life in the mountains. I will stay by your side for as long as we both live, but I’m not cut out for cooking or scrubbing, nor can I imagine setting foot in muddy fields in search of some easygoing freedom.” She lowered her voice. “Even in your dreams, I can’t live that life with you... Sorry.”

An awkward hush fell over them. Li Yuan finally broke it with a laugh. “So, how’s your cultivation coming along?”

“Same old routine every day,” she answered. “I’d rather not talk about it at home.”

They suddenly realized there wasn’t much else to say. So they went about their usual routines—eating, bathing, lying down together, and sharing a bed for the night.

Before dawn broke, Cui Huayin rose to resume her practice. Li Yuan headed past the third gate into the first gate and made his way to Culinary Delights.

There, he ordered the same soup dumplings he used to share with Sheng'er a year before. He asked for ten baskets and ate them in silence. To any onlooker, it was clear he was chewing on memories rather than food. No one disturbed him; they all knew his daughter was gone, that the lively little girl no longer brightened his days.

Afterward, Li Yuan visited the Famous Toast, ordered Springdream Brew, spiked it with burning heart flowers, and drank himself into a stupor. Those keeping an eye on him from a distance didn’t dare interfere, and with Cui Huayin and Yao Jue focused on their own cultivation, no one came to check on him.