Chapter Twelve: The Town

After sharing half-cooked roast pork with Da Huang, Ji Xun lay on his bed, lit a candle, and began to read the “Record of Strange Tales by the Stream.” Ji Xun’s former self could read; he had been sold to the Serpent Kingdom at the age of six. His memories before that age were hazy, but he retained some knowledge of written characters. He never let this skill atrophy, often seeking instruction from the literate elders in the village. This book bore no trace of demonic energy, nor was it of any particular grade, and thus could not be brought into the Demon-Refining Gourd—Ji Xun always kept it hidden away.

An hour later, Ji Xun had finished most of the book. It was annotated by a Daoist named Master Sui Xi, recounting various curious events, each with the master’s commentary. These notes gave Ji Xun a better understanding of the current cultivation system. The cultivation levels of Mystical Realm practitioners, from lowest to highest, were ranked from ninth grade to first. There were three principal directions of cultivation: refining the spirit in the upper elixir field, refining essence in the middle elixir field, and refining qi in the lower elixir field. Each direction was further divided into numerous schools—Blood Demons, Ghost Demons, Corpse Demons, Dao Demons, Buddhist Demons, and so on.

Ji Xun’s own path had begun with the essence of a hundred beasts, later supplemented by part of the “Heavenly Demon Profound Transformation Method.” All seemed to fall naturally into place, and he had taken the route of refining essence in the middle elixir field—the path of physical cultivation. Regarding the middle elixir field, there were two main theories: one placed it at the Shanzhong acupoint, between the breasts; the other, at the heart. The “Heavenly Demon Profound Transformation Method” adopted the latter view.

Mainstream body cultivation techniques generally focused on strengthening six aspects—skin, flesh, sinews, bones, blood, and marrow—across the first six grades. The order was not fixed; upon perfecting one grade, one could move to the next, though the most difficult—marrow refinement—was usually left for last. By chance, Ji Xun had used the essence of a hundred beasts to refine his own blood at the ninth grade, thus treading the proper path.

Mystical techniques and treasures were classified into five grades, from lowest to highest: inferior, common, superior, supreme, and absolute. Ji Xun had known this, but the book provided a more comprehensive explanation, including famous mystical artifacts and their wielders, as well as approximate market prices. It also noted that powerful cultivating clans could, at great cost, mass-produce supreme-grade artifacts. However, absolute-grade items were rare, impossible to manufacture by will alone; they were products of fate or divine craftsmanship, obtained only by chance.

Thus, the nine cultivation grades, the five levels of natural treasures, mystical tools, and techniques, all echoed the mystic numerology of nine and five...

And so, Ji Xun lay abed for three days, cultivating and making subtle modifications to the “Heavenly Demon Profound Transformation Method” to better suit the current world and his own body.

When hungry, he shared wild boar meat with Da Huang; when tired, he slept. Each night, he would wander to a village ten miles away to catch insects, living freely and content. Unfortunately, during the three months of winter, the Hundred Beast Grass was not sown, and those insects had all hidden away somewhere. As for venturing into the mountains, Ji Xun planned to wait until his cultivation advanced further. Besides, his arm still ached faintly, not yet fully healed.

This winter, there had been no labor assignments—perhaps the Serpent Demon county chief was otherwise occupied. While Ji Xun was turning the pages of the “Record of Strange Tales by the Stream,” Da Huang suddenly sat up and let out a low woof in his direction. The meaning was clear: someone was coming, and it was someone familiar.

Sure enough, after a moment, there was a knock at the door.

“Dali, are you home?”

“Uncle Lin, I’m here.”

Ji Xun opened the door to see Lin Changshan standing outside and invited him in.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Uncle Lin, come have a bite.”

Lin Changshan looked a bit embarrassed; recently, he had received half a root of blood ginseng from Ji Xun and had been feeling guilty, wondering how to repay the favor. In the end, unable to refuse Ji Xun’s hospitality, he sat down.

The thatched hut was small, cold in winter and hot in summer, with no table. Cooking was done outside, and inside, there were just two straw mats on the ground. The utensils were even more primitive: two chipped stone bowls and chopsticks whittled from tree branches.

As they ate and talked, Lin Changshan took a bite and immediately noticed something off.

“What kind of meat is this? It’s so chewy.”

Ji Xun couldn’t help but laugh. To call it “chewy” was putting it kindly. The wild boar demon’s meat, after its demonic energy was removed, was so tough that even ordinary fire could hardly cook it through. He had roasted, boiled, then dried it, repeating the process several times before it became barely edible for ordinary people.

“A boar’s leg I found on the mountain—about this big,” Ji Xun said, gesturing.

“With a leg that size, the boar must have weighed eight or nine hundred pounds—maybe it was about to become a spirit itself. No wonder it’s so tough,” Lin Changshan replied, gnawing at the meat with all his strength, his face turning red.

“You might be right,” Ji Xun replied, tearing into the pork himself. After eating it for days, even his jaw was sore.

“Let me be frank,” Lin Changshan said, “tomorrow morning, my father’s heading to town to sell the Hundred Beast Grass and buy supplies for the winter. You should come with us.”

Hearing this, Ji Xun realized they might be grooming him as the next village head. In the past, the headman always took his relatives to town for purchases, to keep prying eyes off the village accounts.

Ji Xun had no particular ambition for the position, but he did want to visit the town. In the Serpent Kingdom, demons were plentiful, and even a small town was home to various factions and a trade in mystical items.

“All right, I’ll go with you tomorrow,” Ji Xun agreed readily.

They chatted a while longer, and then Lin Changshan left, carrying some pork that Ji Xun had insisted he take. This wild boar demon’s meat, once purged of demonic energy, was not only harmless but actually nourished the qi and replenished the blood.

After cleaning up, Ji Xun lay on his bed, thinking about the town.

“The village head is elected by the people and answers to the grain overseer. Each headman is in charge of three villages, about a hundred and fifty households in total. Each household is usually five to seven people—so a headman manages around nine hundred. Under a single town, there are more than sixty such headmen—over fifty thousand people. Add in the town’s various factions, free and bonded folk, lone demons, and traveling merchants, and a town might host nearly a hundred thousand souls, humans and demons together. A county holds more than ten towns—over a million in all, comparable to a modern city. With such a mix of peoples, no wonder governance is so difficult.”

These were Ji Xun’s deductions, based on village rumors and information from the “Record of Strange Tales by the Stream.” The reality might differ considerably.

Before dawn, seven or eight men set out for town, driving donkey carts, Ji Xun among them. The carts were all wooden, made after the grain harvest by craftsmen commissioned by Old Man Lin, completed only last night. The journey was bumpy—the jolting nearly shook old Lin’s bones apart—but the carts were quick, and they reached town before noon.

It happened to be market day, and the town was bustling. Merchants and stall-keepers alike were run off their feet, wishing for extra hands. Of course, the centipede demon vendor had no such problem—a single demon rivaled a dozen men in speed.