Chapter 160: Nectar from the Heavens

So long as war ceased, the grass and trees would reclaim the land. Given enough time, it would seem as though nothing had ever happened here.

Within the auxiliary town of Woling Pass, house after house was riddled with scars from war. Whole blocks had been reduced to ashes.

As the Coordinating Army marched through, silence hung heavy. He Yue’s chest tightened at the sights around him. He had never set foot in Panlong Ancient City before, so this was his first true glimpse of war’s cruelty and how little human life was worth.

Once they got past the auxiliary town, they came upon a newly carved stone stele standing in a valley.

This stele marked the burial place of the soldiers who had fallen in the Battle of Woling Pass. He Chunhua ordered offerings to be set out and personally lit an incense stick.

The air grew solemn.

Glancing about, He Lingchuan realized that someone was missing. A thought struck him, and he slipped quietly away.

After walking slightly over half a kilometer and asking around, he finally found Wu Shaoyi beneath a large tree.

He saw Wu Shaoyi sitting cross-legged, both hands formed into a seal, eyes closed, and completely still.

Overhead, the plane tree’s[1] canopy shivered in the autumn wind, scattering yellow leaves like falling coins.

He Lingchuan’s gaze shifted to the ground before Wu Shaoyi. A wide swath of soil was newly turned, the color distinct from its surroundings. Though freshly dug, it already sprouted grass, and this grass was thicker and greener than elsewhere, seemingly scarcely touched by the season’s chill.

Why did Wu Shaoyi sneak over here? Wait, could it be?

He Lingchuan sat down beside him, eyes on a lone, vivid balsam flower blooming against the earth. He sighed softly before asking, “How many lie buried here?”

“At least twenty thousand,” Wu Shaoyi murmured, slowly opening his eyes. “And yet, not a single gravestone to mark them.”

Those who had perished at Woling Pass at least had a stele. But here, there was nothing at all.

All who rested beneath here were rebels. In other words, they were Wu Shaoyi’s former comrades-in-arms.

He Lingchuan drew a wineskin from his chest and offered it, then brought out two cups.

Wu Shaoyi did not refuse. He filled one, then slowly poured it onto the earth in libation.

He Lingchuan caught the brief flash of loneliness and weariness in his eyes.

Those who had once shared his cause were either scattered or interred beneath this mound. As for himself, his fundamental roots had been damaged by the secret spell he had used to keep his life. Even though he might be able to live on for a few more years, the days of charging on horseback with a blade in hand were over.

Wu Shaoyi, seated on this land of sorrow, looked about in dazed uncertainty. He was lost as to what road remained ahead.

He Lingchuan filled both cups. “Come, let me drink with you, and with them.”

Them?

Wu Shaoyi sat in silence for a long while. Then he raised his cup to clink against He Lingchuan’s, and downed it in one gulp.

He drank three in succession before exhaling the fiery burn. It was the first wine he had touched since his injury.

“Young Master, are you not afraid Lord He will scold you for coming here?” he asked hoarsely.

Drinking with a so-called traitor, offering respects to dead rebels. Such boldness, from the eldest son of the He Family.

He Lingchuan chuckled. “When has my father ever not scolded me? That’s nothing new. But this place is too heavy with yin qi. You shouldn’t linger here for long.”

The soldiers who handled the aftermath at Woling Pass had, of course, buried their own comrades on the sunny side of the mountain, while the enemy’s corpses were cast here in the shade.

“I only came to see them. After today, we will part forever.” Wu Shaoyi nodded. “Human lives are as cheap as weeds. Months, years from now, who will even remember them?”

He Lingchuan gave a wry laugh. “In a hundred years, no one will remember us either.”

Wu Shaoyi rose unsteadily, face flushed, steps faltering. He Lingchuan had to steady him with a hand.

The secret spell had crippled most of his cultivation.

He Lingchuan understood then that this was likely why Wu Shaoyi had chosen to surrender. Without his former ferocity, reputation alone could not command the rebel ranks. And in his failing health, life on the run would end him within two years. In truth, yielding to He Chunhua was his best choice.

The two walked back and rejoined the rest of the group at the riverside.

The river water flowed clear, and on its bank stood a small wooden hut. Broken nets hung at the front and back, and the door was shut tight.

He Yue cleared his throat before saying, “The ground out front is swept clean. There’s probably someone who visits this place often. Otherwise, it would be littered with leaves and weeds.”

They pressed on, but soon a soldier came hurrying up to report to He Chunhua, “In that riverside hut just now, there’s a memorial tablet set up for the Auspicious Origin Divine Master. There were also offerings laid on the table!”

The two brothers exchanged a glance.

Hong Xiangqian’s full title was none other than “Auspicious Origin Divine Master.”

In such a desolate mountain area, who would have thought that anyone actually worshiped him?

He Chunhua halted mid-step. “What are the offerings?”

“A steamed bun and three sour fruits. There are also several sticks of incense that have burned all the way down into the brazier.”

He Chunhua waved a hand. “Leave it then.”

Since he had ordered them to ignore it, the Coordinating Army naturally would not bother with it further.

Zeng Feixiong whispered, “My lord, shouldn’t we remove the memorial tablet?”

“Look at this wilderness. Who would really come here to pay respects?”

Zeng Feixiong glanced about instinctively. “Some rustic villagers?”

“If so, then it’s merely some country folk seeking a bit of solace. It’s nothing of consequence, so just let it be.”

Wu Shaoyi, who had kept his head bowed, lifted it at these words. To his surprise, he found He Chunhua watching him. Startled, he lowered his gaze again.

He had only now finally realized that Lord He was simply sparing him embarrassment. Although Wu Shaoyi had already defected, He Chunhua clearly did not wish to trample on his former loyalties before his face.

Only when Woling Pass finally disappeared from sight did Madame Ying let out a long breath. “What a horrific slaughter. When you reclaimed Heishui City back then, it was nowhere near this tragic. By the way, where are we spending the night?”

“Woling Pass has already been abandoned. All traffic now lodges at Shuanghe Town. The commoners have already moved there. I’ve heard that they plan to build a new city.”

Shuanghe Town was less than eight kilometers east of Woling Pass, with Fengling Port right between the two. But since the hour was late, the Coordinating Army decided to stay the night in Shuanghe Town first before boarding ships in the morning.

The town had once been home to barely four hundred people, yet now it had to absorb the population and duties of Woling Pass. When the Coordinating Army marched in, they found construction taking place everywhere, and the streets were clamorous with voices.

Woling Pass had always been a key trade route. Merchant guilds and caravans from the south all had to change boats at Fengling Port. With Woling Pass abandoned, everyone now converged on Shuanghe Town instead.

The Coordinating Army had swelled to six or seven hundred strong. There was no way the town could house them all, so they had to make do with threshing yards and farmsteads east of the town. The He Family also chose to stay in a farmhouse. After pocketing two taels of silver, the owner simply moved out for the night, leaving four rooms and a broad, empty yard. The harvest was already in, so the threshing floor stood bare.

Supplies in town were scarce, and buying from the surrounding villages was difficult, so the army dined on its own rations that night. Still, Zeng Feixiong had a craving for meat. He pulled He Lingchuan along to hunt in the mountains.

They tried to coax He Yue into joining, but Madame Ying forbade it. So the young man could only watch enviously as two or three dozen men disappeared into the forest.

He Lingchuan’s luck was good. Within an hour, he had bagged two roe deer and four rabbits. On the way back, they even ran into a massive black boar that weighed nearly two hundred and forty kilograms.

They set a trap, then Mao Tao baited the beast until it went into a frenzy. The boar then charged blindly after him and fell straight into the pit, where it broke its leg.

The rest was simple.

That night, the Coordinating Army feasted on meat. Only the cooks had no rest.

Alcohol was forbidden on the march, but with meat and broth in their bellies, the men laughed, played drinking games, and shouted until the moon was high overhead.

Back in his room, He Lingchuan stripped off his outer robe and collapsed onto the bed.

Having sneaked a few drinks, he slept more deeply than most.

In the dark, it seemed as if someone was whispering in his ear.

He ignored it, wanting only to sink further into sleep.

And then—

Someone seized him and shook him hard. He was shaken so hard that it felt like the other party meant to rattle his head clean off his shoulders.

“Wake up!” A voice bellowed in his ear, and it sounded like it was He Yue who was waking him up. “...Get up, quick!”

He Lingchuan did not catch every word, but the urgency was unmistakable. He jolted awake, hand already reaching for his blade. “What? Brigands again?”

He Yue almost never lost his composure like this. Instinctively, Lingchuan braced for the worst.

“No!” He Yue hauled at his arm, voice breaking with excitement, “It’s imperial nectar! Imperial nectar is pouring from the heavens!”

Imperial nectar!

At the sound of those two words, He Lingchuan froze, hardly daring to believe his ears. However, his body reacted faster than his mind, and two bounding leaps took him clear out the door, leaving He Yue behind.

The body’s former owner might have been ignorant of many things, but the knowledge of “imperial nectar” was burned deep into memory, allowing him to know at once what it meant.

The mention of imperial nectar meant only that heaven and earth spirit qi was erupting in such abundance that it condensed into liquid and descended to earth!

For every living being, it was a treasure beyond price.

The Coordinating Army was in an uproar. Everyone had scrambled outside with whatever vessels they could find—jars, bowls, basins, anything. They held them up to the sky, catching the rain while also gulping greedily with their mouths or stripping off their coats to soak up more of it.

Lingchuan stepped outside and tilted his head back. A full moon blazed overhead, casting silver radiance like flowing water. At the same time, a mist of fine drizzle caressed his face. His nose filled with an indescribable fragrance. The fragrance was sweet as ripe fruit, rich as late-summer osmanthus, tender as a smile beneath the morning sun, and fresh as a forest washed by rain.

It sank straight into his heart, sweeping all worries away.

Yet within him surged an overwhelming hunger.

It was like a starving man, gaunt from seven days without food, suddenly confronted with a banquet; like a desert wanderer, dying of thirst, crawling at last into the shade of an oasis.

A cry rose from the depths of his being, pure and unrestrained, “I want it!”

He Lingchuan dared not waste a heartbeat. Like the others, he tore two broad banana leaves from a grove and spread them neatly across the rooftop, then drew out a wine jar from his storage ring. He poured the wine onto the ground, keeping only the jar to catch the imperial dew.

He remembered clearly that imperial nectar was like rootless water. The instant it touched soil, it seeped away into the earth, sinking deep until the veins of the land eventually crystallized it into profound crystals. That process was a mystery beyond mortal reach. The only chance any living thing had was to seize it as it fell.

The last time imperial nectar had appeared was decades ago.

The liquid was incredibly precious, with ancient texts claiming that a single drop could equal ten days of cultivation.

Beyond boosting one’s cultivation, it was also said to be able to replenish one’s very foundation, allowing a living being to shed the old and practically be reborn.

Of course, talking about effects without considering dosage was just playing tricks. He Lingchuan had no way to know or verify how many milliliters made up a supposed drop, nor could he be sure whether the quality of imperial nectar might vary from batch to batch.

1. A common American plane tree would be the American sycamore, the author is probably referring to an oriental plane tree here, though. ☜