Chapter 534: Insisting on Borrowing Rain from Heaven

“Save me...”

“Thank you, Immortal...”

“Immortal, please... just one sip.”

“Immortal, we’ve just come from the Western Regions. We’re dying of thirst. The guards at the Medicinal Spring post station refuses to give us water. We won’t make it to Shazhou alive. Please, let us drink.”

“Please, just one sip for my son...”

“Just a sip...”

“My brother is near death...”

“Just one more sip...”

Their voices rose and fell across the desert, carried by the wind.

Sand swirled in the air.

“

Sigh

...”

The Daoist studied their faces in silence.

After a long pause, he finally let out a sigh, lifting the now-empty water pouch.

“Each person may drink no more than ten sips.”

“Thank you, Immortal!”

“Immortal, you’re so merciful...”

The crowd immediately surged forward, voices filled with gratitude.

And when the Daoist tilted the water pouch once more, water poured out again. Each person was allowed ten sips—no more, no less.

Some drank normally, while others gulped greedily.

Soon, someone noticed something strange.

The water pouch was only so large. Even if it had been filled to the brim, it shouldn’t have lasted beyond a few people. Yet, this Daoist had already given water to the unconscious, and now he was distributing it again.

Each person was drinking ten full sips—more than enough to quench their thirst. More and more people kept coming, yet the water pouch never ran dry.

“He truly is an immortal...”

“Immortal, please accept my humble bow!”

“May we know your honorable name?”

“I must build a shrine in your honor!”

“...” The Daoist only shook his head and gave no answer.

“I am just a wandering Daoist,” he said simply. “I know a few tricks of the trade.”

At the same time, he remained strict in his gift of water. Even those on the brink of death, unconscious from thirst, were given no more than ten sips.

Ten sips were enough. Some awoke immediately, overwhelmed with gratitude.

Those who did not wake right away had at least been pulled back from the edge of death. Given time, they would regain consciousness.

A few more bites of watermelon to restore their strength, and they would have just enough energy to make it back to Shazhou.

But there was only so much watermelon.

Many had collapsed outside the Medicinal Spring post station—weak, unconscious, or barely clinging to their last sliver of hope.

They had dragged themselves to this place, believing that the legendary Medicinal Spring of the Silk Road would be their salvation. This was the last of their strength.

Even if each person took only a single bite, it still wouldn’t be enough.

“

Sigh

...”

Song You could only let out a weary breath.

He picked up a single watermelon seed and buried it in the sand, then he poured the barest amount of water over it. The moisture vanished instantly, swallowed by the parched earth.

Then, he raised his hand and flicked his fingers. A faint shimmer of spiritual energy fell like a whisper onto the buried seed.

The dry, cracked sand shifted. A fragile green sprout pushed its way through.

The moment it touched the sunlight, it surged upward. It grew at an unnatural speed—its first tender shoots unfurling, stretching toward the wind, shaking and twisting like a living creature slithering across the earth.

In the blink of an eye, it spread into a long, creeping vine.

Its leaves stretched wide, turning from pale green to vibrant jade, deepening into a rich forest hue.

Then, golden blossoms bloomed.

But they lasted even shorter than a night-blooming flower.

The petals had barely unfurled before they withered, curling inward and falling away.

In their place, small, round fruits began to take form.

In the blink of an eye, before anyone had a chance to see it clearly, Little Bean had already shrunk into a tiny sphere, about the size of a quail egg. It was emerald green with intricate patterns, already resembling a miniature watermelon. Another blink, and it had grown to the size of a chicken egg. One more blink, and it was now larger than a fist.

And this was just one of them.

The vine bore a total of three.

In mere moments, three watermelons, each as large as a human head, had appeared on the vine. They were a vibrant, glossy green, their dark stripes clearly defined, making those who were parched and famished salivate at the sight.

At the same time, they were utterly astonished.

In just this brief moment, it felt as though they had witnessed the entire growth cycle of a watermelon—months of development condensed into a few heartbeats.

Song You stepped forward, bent down, and plucked one of the watermelons. He struck it open, revealing countless ruby-like red cherries and a cluster of golden crystals within. As before, he distributed them to those who had collapsed from dehydration and heatstroke.

At this point, even if they still had dry rations with them, they likely wouldn’t have been able to stomach them. A few bites of watermelon were perfect: replenishing both water and sugar, easy to swallow, and quick to digest.

Freshly ripened under the scorching sun, yet not yet baked by its heat, the watermelons carried a cooling refreshment.

Taking a bite instantly dispelled the lingering heat, and the moment it touched their teeth, it crackled like crushed ice.

The scene was soon filled with the sound of eager slurping.

The other merchants and travelers, their mouths parched, watched on with envy, yet none dared to step forward and snatch anything. Perhaps it was because those who journeyed these trade routes were not reckless fools. It wasn’t until someone shifted their gaze, cautiously plucked a leaf from the vine, and tried eating it that a chain reaction began.

Of course.

Even if they couldn’t have the watermelons, the vine itself was long, laden with an abundance of fresh green leaves. In the arid Northwest, where such tender greenery was a rare sight, these leaves were precious too.

At once, the crowd surged forward, eagerly plucking and consuming the leaves.

Only after taking a bite did they realize—

Whether it was because they hadn’t tasted fresh greens in too long, or because they were desperately thirsty, or perhaps because this watermelon, grown from divine hands, was truly extraordinary—even a single leaf carried an incredible cooling sensation. As it slid down their throats, it was smooth and refreshing, spreading an instant wave of coolness from their chest to their limbs.

It was like a gust of cool wind on the verge of heatstroke, like a sip of sweet spring water just before losing consciousness from thirst. The sensation was so comforting that even the most profit-driven merchants couldn’t help but feel, if only for a fleeting moment, that this was something beyond price—something even a thousand gold coins couldn’t replace.

Seeing how much they were enjoying the leaves, even more people rushed forward, scrambling to grab them.

Before long, every green leaf on the vine had been snatched clean. In the end, even the vine itself was torn apart and chewed on.

Yet, despite their satisfaction, they still craved more.

And no one knew what the actual watermelon tasted like. Their gazes all turned toward those who had eaten the fruit.

But these were merchants, quick-witted and sharp-minded. Realizing what they had just done, a sudden jolt of unease struck them. Had they acted improperly? Had they disrupted a divine act or interfered with an immortal’s magic? Would they face divine punishment?

One after another, they cautiously looked toward the Daoist.

Yet, the Daoist remained calm, so calm he was almost serene. His tranquility carried a warmth that, in its quiet depth, made him seem more divine than the awe-inspiring, grand statues of gods in the temples. With just a simple wave of his hand, he said, “If you have no water, return to Shadu, or head east. Any further ahead, and you’ll find only death. Gold and silver are precious, but life is worth more.”

Shadu had water. But it was scarce and worth its weight in gold and silver.

“Many thanks, Immortal...”

“May I ask which Immortal you are...?”

“Immortal, please leave us your name!”

“Many thanks, Immortal...”

“I am no Immortal,” Song You replied. “I’m just an ordinary Daoist of this world.”

He did not linger to hear their gratitude, nor did he accept their kneeling gestures. Without another word, he simply stepped forward and walked away.

The jujube-red horse moved with a slow sway, its bells jingling softly.

The calico cat turned back to glance at the merchants and travelers, then at the vine on the ground, and finally at the Daoist before quickly trotting after him.

All that remained for the others was the sight of their departing backs.

Still, more merchants were arriving from the east. And more traders were coming from the Western Regions.

A sigh escaped the Daoist’s lips.

Soon, he reached the edge of Crescent Spring.

Two guards wielding halberds still stood watch, but there was an air of unrest about them.

If Shadu was the pearl of the northwestern border of Great Yan, then this Medicinal Spring was its very lifeblood. Long before the city of Shadu had been established, merchants, locals, desert beasts, demons, monsters and even spirits had all come here to drink.

As Shadu grew into a bustling hub, the significance of the Medicinal Spring shifted as well. It was no longer just a crucial water source for passing traders; it had become a famous landmark—a place that scholars, warriors, and foreigners alike would visit when traveling between the Western Regions and the Central Plains.

It was now one of the defining symbols of Shadu.

𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

Later, rumors began to spread that the spring possessed a spiritual resonance. They said that drinking from it could cure ailments, that the nearby aquatic plants had become treasured medicinal herbs, and that the fish in its waters could grant longevity if eaten.

Thus, it became known as the Medicinal Spring.

The two guards stationed there were tasked with protecting it, as both the regional prefect and the local populace believed that this desert spring was no ordinary water source. It could not be allowed to dry up. If it did, they feared it might never return.

Yet just moments ago, inexplicably, the water level had dropped a noticeable amount.

With what little remained, nearly a third of it had suddenly vanished.

The two guards grew increasingly anxious.

Upon investigating, they heard word of a Daoist on the road ahead, using a small water pouch to give life-saving water to the dying merchants and travelers. But no matter how much he poured, the water never ran out.

It sounded like some trick from a wandering charlatan.

The elite soldiers of the Western Regions were no weaker than those of the northern frontier. Under normal circumstances, they would have long since drawn their halberds and blades, charging in to deal with the so-called master of the martial world or some fraud using illusionary tricks. After all, if one swing of the sword could kill him, then it was no magic worth fearing.

But they recognized this man. They had seen him just days ago.

And after returning to camp, they had even heard their officers discussing affairs in the northern frontier, including stories of this very figure.

They dared not interfere.

Instead, unease gnawed at them. One moment, they reassured themselves that since the water had been taken by him, their superiors wouldn’t blame them. The next moment, they feared that if the spring dried up for good and never recovered, the authorities would find no one else to punish but them.

Now that the Daoist had arrived, their unease remained.

But to their surprise, the Daoist was calm, courteous, and respectful as he addressed them. “Today, as I traveled this road, I saw many on the verge of death from thirst, and I could not bear to ignore their suffering. So, I drew some water from the spring. Please inform your officers and the general that it was Song You of Hidden Dragon Temple who took it.

“Within a hundred days, I will return it to the Medicinal Spring tenfold or a hundredfold, so that neither of you need bear any blame. I will also report this to the station officer.”

“Understood...”

“If any blame still falls upon you, then come find me.” As he spoke, Song You turned and pointed to a nearby sand dune. “For many days to come, I will be on that mountain.”

The two guards’ gaze followed his gesture. It was the tallest dune in the area, towering above the surroundings.

Beneath the sunlight, it resembled a colossal golden pyramid.

The Daoist gave them a polite bow and then headed toward the station. There, he requested that officials and station guards along the road to warn incoming merchants and travelers that the Medicinal Spring could no longer be drawn from. If left uninformed, desperate travelers might see it as their last hope, only to collapse here, their final strength spent in vain.

Then, he borrowed a table to set up an altar.

Without further delay, he strode toward the sand mountain.

If the Great Immortal Hu Mu could not gather water vapor here, then he would gather it himself. If the spiritual resonance of this land was insufficient, then he would supplement it himself.

He refused to believe that this rain could not fall.