Chapter 1: Thunderstruck
Young disciple Wei Cabbage-Heart stood before Senior Sister Divine Thunder-Snail in the Hall of Ten Thousand Administrative Scrolls within the Soaring Phoenix-Dragon Sect. His right arm was in a sling, all of his hair was missing and a pattern of lightning scars traced itself across his entire body.
"I see that you've recovered from your failed attempt to perform the signature Needle of Heaven technique," Senior Sister Divine Thunder-Snail said, suppressing a smile as she recalled yesterday's spectacular mishap. The technique was supposed to summon a miniature lightning bolt, but Wei Cabbage-Heart had somehow managed to electrocute himself while simultaneously setting his own robes on fire and dying for about 42 seconds.
"Honorable Senior Sister," Wei Cabbage-Heart said formally, bowing as deeply as his injured arm allowed, "I wish to formally withdraw from the Soaring Phoenix-Dragon Sect and return to mortal life."
Divine Thunder-Snail's jade pendant clinked against her desk as she leaned forward in surprise. "You've filled out form Cloud-Pattern-881?" she asked, noting the perfectly brush-stroked document before her. Most disciples who quit simply fled in the night, leaving only a hastily scrawled note - if that.
"Yes, Senior Sister. And the form Mountain-Peak-236 regarding the return of sect resources, plus River-Flow-167 documenting my cultivation progress, or... lack thereof." He smiled self-deprecatingly.
"And your future plans?" she inquired.
"I've had some success growing Spirit-Touch Turnips and Moonlight Cabbage in the outer fields," he said. "I believe my talents lie more in nurturing things that grow in soil rather than attempting to harness heaven's fury."
"What sort of plants are you going to cultivate?" The Divine Thunder-Snail Sister asked. "You are aware that the specific spiritual herb, fruit and vegetable cultivation rights belong to our Sect and anyone growing such outside of our compound walls is to be fined first and lightning-executed if the crime persists, yes?"
"I will not be growing spiritual herbs," the disciple answered. "I wish to grow… people."
"I don't understand," Divine Thunder-Snail raised an elegant eyebrow. "You want to grow... people? What, you mean, become a teacher?"
"No, sister," Cabbage-Heart shook his head. "I plan to grow people. Literally."
Thunder-Snail squinted at Cabbage-Heart as if he'd grown a second head. "What?"
"Most cultivation techniques have been already discovered, documented and claimed by the cult Immortals as their divine right," Cabbage-Heart explained. "But this one hasn't."
"Probably because it's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Divine Thunder-Snail said, massaging her temples. "Growing people? Like... vegetables?"
"Precisely, Senior Sister! Through my experiments with Spirit-Touch Turnips, I discovered that certain spiritual energies can affect growth patterns in fascinating ways. I believe by combining these principles with the Ancient Jade-Bone Essence Formation and the Seven Stars Nurturing Method—"
"Enough!" Thunder-Snail raised her hand. "I don't want to know more."
"I just wanted to make sure that I'm not executed for this cultivation method," the disciple said.
"You won't be, because nobody is insane enough to grow… people," the woman said with an eye roll. "Just... just take these approved forms to Elder Thousand-Year Pine in the Treasury Hall. He'll process your severance payment."
She paused, then added, "Actually, given how thoroughly you've completed these forms - even using the correct Celestial Calligraphy style on Cloud-Pattern-881 - I'll authorize a full refund of your entry fee as well. That's an additional hundred spirit stones."
Wei Cabbage-Heart's eyes widened. "The Senior Sister is too kind!"
"Just promise me one thing," she said, affixing her Thunder Seal to the documents. "Whatever this 'people growing' technique becomes, don't name it after our sect."
"I shall call it the Humble Cabbage Cultivation Method," he declared proudly.
"Whatever," Divine Thunder-Snail muttered, already turning her attention to the stack of other administrative scrolls awaiting her review. "Just get out of my sight already."
Wei Cabbage-Heart bowed one final time and quietly left the hall, his footsteps echoing against the pink marble-inlaid floors. By mid-day he had collected his severance payment, packed his few belongings into a burlap sack, and slipped out through the sect's lesser-used Western-Gale Gate.
No lightning bolts marked his departure, no heavenly omens appeared in the sky - just a former disciple walking down a mountain path, a cloth bundle over his shoulder.
______________________________________
Massarim... the name of this world was Massarim. I wasn't in Kansas anymore.
I still couldn't believe how it happened. One moment I was drifting off during my lunch break, and the next I was inhabiting the body of Wei Cabbage-Heart, a failed cultivator who had apparently died from a lightning technique gone horribly wrong.
According to the other novices, the original Wei had been technically dead for nearly a minute before my consciousness slipped in - just long enough for his soul to depart but not so long that the body was unsalvageable.
It was a strange experience, having access to all his memories and knowledge. I could recall his childhood in the mortal realm, his excitement at being accepted into the Soaring Phoenix-Dragon and then his growing disillusionment and frustration as he struggled to master even the most basic cultivation techniques.
The original Wei had been, to put it kindly, a complete disaster. His attempts at the Needle of Heaven technique weren't even his worst failure - there was that time he tried to perform the Phoenix Wing Step and somehow ended up stuck upside down in a tree for three days. Or when he attempted the Dragon's Breath meditation and gave himself hiccups.
Looking through his memories, I could see why the original Wei had been so desperate to try the advanced Needle of Heaven technique despite being warned repeatedly not to. He'd been trying to prove himself after the "Immortal's Tea Ceremony Incident" where he'd accidentally set Immortal Instructor Marmokosh's prized thousand-year-old teapot on fire. Yes, somehow he'd managed to set liquid on fire. The Immortal's expression had been particularly memorable - a mix of rage, confusion, and genuine curiosity about how it was even possible.
I winced, rifling through more of Wei's original memories as I walked down the mountain path. What I found most interesting wasn't the failures themselves, but rather a conversation I discovered between two elder disciples who had been discussing Wei's case in the garden below one of the many white halls.
"His heart core is too big," Elder Sister Frost-Pine had said to her peer. "It disperses his spiritual energy focus before it can properly concentrate. Every time he tries to gather power, it leaks out like water through a broken vessel."
"Isn't that usually a good thing?" Second Brother Iron-Storm had asked. "The wider the meridians, the more potential for power?"
"Not in his case," Frost-Pine sighed. "His heart core is abnormally enlarged - like a spiritual cardiomegaly. When most cultivators gather energy, it naturally concentrates in their dantian. But his oversized heart core acts like a second dantian, pulling energy downward and dispersing it before it can properly settle."
"So there's no hope for him to advance?" Iron-Storm had asked.
"Not in any traditional path," Frost-Pine replied. "If the boy persists at it, he will likely encounter a catastrophe. Proper application of power requires focus and he is simply unable to focus his Qi."
Wei had taken the conversation to heart and took it as a challenge to attempt the Needle, instead of slowing down. That was his end and my beginning in his body.
In essence, from the soup of Cabbage-Heart's memories I slowly came to understand that Cultivation was bullshit magic that relied on the following essential ingredients to function:
First, there was Qi - the fundamental spiritual energy that permeated everything. Traditional cultivators gathered this energy through meditation, storing it in their dantian (a spiritual core located in the lower abdomen) before refining it into more potent forms.
Second was the meridian system - the spiritual pathways through which Qi flowed. Most cultivators had naturally narrow meridians that helped concentrate and direct energy. My inherited oversized heart core was like having a four-lane highway where there should have been a carefully controlled canal system.
Third was the empowerment methods - the various techniques cultivators used to strengthen their bodies and spirits. I knew from Wei's memories that these typically included consuming spiritual pills and elixirs, performing specific meditation techniques, absorbing energy from special formations, and practicing martial arts forms with Qi-infused weapons that helped circulate and refine Qi.
The standard path involved slowly building up one's foundation through careful meditation, gradually expanding one's meridians while maintaining perfect control. Cultivators would spend years just learning to sense Qi, then more years learning to draw it into their dantian. They'd consume carefully measured doses of spirit herbs and pills, each designed to enhance their progress in precise ways.
And finally, came the technique - the specific methods and formations used to manipulate Qi, listed in the thousands of shelves lining the Sect's walls. This was where the original Wei had catastrophically failed time and time again. Through his memories, I could see that the traditional techniques were designed for practitioners with normal spiritual anatomy. They assumed a cultivator could concentrate Qi into tight, focused streams - something my inherited body simply couldn't do.
But as I walked down the mountain path from the white brick walls of the Soaring Phoenix-Dragon Citadel, I began to see possibilities the original Wei had missed. His - my - oversized heart core wasn't necessarily a weakness. It was just horrendously incompatible with the Soaring Phoenix-Dragon Sect's methods.
Their techniques were all about concentration and explosive power - lightning bolts, dragon flames, phoenix wings, punching holes through people's livers, etcetera. To succeed as the sword-flying, one-punch-man one had to force massive amounts of Qi through very narrow channels.
Another interesting point of note I discovered in Cabbage-Heart's head was that Qi resonated with artifacts in all sorts of curious ways. An artifact was basically any object infused with Qi, be it a shiny rock, a scroll, a magic sword or a beast core.
As I had quit the cult, I no longer had access to such bounties. However I had a bit of a cheeky plan to acquire the most potent sort of an artifact at no cost at all.
"Good day sir," I greeted the bored-looking cemetery keeper, an elderly man with wispy grey hair and a perpetually hunched posture who was lazily sweeping leaves near the graveyard entrance.
"Eh? What's that?" he squinted at me through rheumy eyes, leaning on his broom. His faded blue robes were patched in several places and had definitely seen better decades.
"I was wondering," I said carefully, "if you've had any particularly... disagreeable individuals pass away recently? You know, the type of person everyone in town really, really hated?"
The old man's bushy eyebrows shot up not expecting my inquiry. "Ya kno', normally people come here to pay respect to their loved ones," he said. "Not ask about the town assholes."
"Ah, but you see," I smiled disarmingly, "I'm starting a new... agricultural venture. And I'm particularly interested in using natural fertilizers."
"Natural fer- wait." The old man's eyes narrowed. "You want to dig up dead people for fertilizer?"
"Not all dead people!" I hastily clarified. "Just someone really awful. You know, wife-beaters, corrupt merchants, that sort of thing. The kind of people whose relatives probably wouldn't mind if their final resting place contributed to something productive. Like cabbages."
The old keeper stared at me for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Boy, I've been tending this graveyard for forty years, and that's the most creative grave-robbing excuse I've ever heard! Usually they just mumble something about lost jewelry or family heirlooms."
He wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "Let me guess - you're one of them failed cultivators from up the mountain citadel? The ones who come down here thinking they can harvest 'yin essence' or whatever nonsense?"
"Actually, I'm more interested in the mineral content," I replied earnestly. "You see, when a body decomposes the bones release calcium and phosphorus, which are excellent for plant growth," I continued cheerfully. "And if the deceased happened to be a cultivator, well, those minerals would be spiritually enriched! Just think - all that expensive spirit herb consumption and meditation, going to waste underground when it could be nurturing the next generation of produce!"
The old keeper was now doubled over with laughter. "Spirit... spirit-enhanced... COMPOST!" he wheezed. "By the Heavenly Dao, that's a new one!"
"Dead men tell the best tales," I grinned. "And I'm sure you know many dead. Here, this should brighten your evening."
I pulled out a massive bottle of wine from my bag procured from the compound's 'confiscated items' storage before my departure.
The old keeper's eyes widened at the sight of the wine bottle. "Is that... Crystal Moon Palace wine? The kind they serve to Immortals?"
"Indeed," I smiled. "Confiscated a century ago from some junior disciples who tried sneaking it into morning meditation. I figured it would be better appreciated by someone with real stories to tell."
The keeper grabbed the bottle with surprising speed for his age, examining the seal. "Well now... perhaps we could discuss some of our more... problematic former residents. Did you ever hear about Old Man Zhou, the loan shark? Nasty piece of work, that one. Charged 220% interest and took people's children as collateral. When he died, his own family refused to claim the body."
"Hmmm," I nodded. "Sounds lovely, but was he a powerful cultivator? I'm looking for someone who could do magical bullshit with an eye-blink."
"That sort of people don't usually die here," the cemetery keeper replied, vanishing the wine in his robe. "They generally get eaten by a spirit beast, get crushed by a leviathan, explode into burned meat chunks or rainbow sparkles up in their fancy mountain compounds or ascend to immortality or whatever. Though..." he scratched his chin thoughtfully, "we did get us a Jade Lady just two days ago…"
"A Jade?" I leaned closer.
"Zheniya the Chryzanthine Barracuda. Now there was a piece of nasty work. Magistrate's daughter, quite the talented cultivator too. Was quite the terror of town before someone finally had enough and slipped Sunset Widow spiderlings into her breakfast tea."
"Oh?" I perked up with interest.
"Oh yes," the keeper uncorked the wine bottle with a rusty knife, settling onto a nearby bench. "Zheniya was what we call a 'young mistress' type - talented, beautiful, and utterly ruthless. Had this signature move where she'd call down purple lightning to fry anyone who displeased her. Called it the 'Chrysanthemum's Judgment' or some such."
He took another drink. "Word was she'd been slowly poisoning her father with mercury, making it look like cultivation sickness. She was set to inherit his position as magistrate within the week. Would've been a disaster for the town - she already had plans drawn up to 'renovate' the poor quarter by burning it down and building some sort of spiritual formation array."
"The whole town knew what she was doing to her father, but nobody dared speak up. She had this nasty habit of making examples of people. There was this one street vendor who accidentally splashed some soup on her robes. She got so mad he exploded from a single tap of her pinkie. Took the street cleaners a week to scrub lightning streaks and blood stains outta the cobblestones," he chuckled darkly, taking another swig. "Though I'll tell you something funny - when they brought her body in, her perfectly manicured jade-like skin had turned this hilarious shade of angry purple. Matched her lightning technique perfectly! The mortician couldn't stop giggling while trying to make her presentable. Stuffed a bit of extra cotton in her cheeks till her face was all puffed up like an angry toad. Angry in life and even angrier in death, that one."
"How deep did they bury her?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
The keeper gave me a knowing look. "Standard six feet, northwest corner, plot 668 under the willow tree. Not that I'm suggesting anything, mind you," he added with an exaggerated wink. "Just making conversation about our local history. Though if someone were to, say, redistribute some of that spiritual enrichment to more productive purposes... Well, I'm getting old. My eyesight isn't what it used to be, especially at night. And my hearing's going too - wouldn't notice if someone was digging unless they started singing while doing it."
"Was she buried in her full cultivator regalia?" I asked curiously.
"Nay," the keeper shook his head. "The Rainbow Toad Town Council made this long-ass roll of all of her terrible crimes and stripped her of her worldly possessions as recompense. Not a single person came to her defense when she was buried, not a single soul said anything nice. Everyone hated her for she was the worst type of mistress, hostile to all below her, indifferent to the needs of her town. They say she once spent three hours lecturing everyone about the proper way to appreciate spirit tea while simultaneously electrocuting her servant for 'breathing too loudly' during the ceremony."
The keeper took another long pull from the wine bottle. "They buried her in a plain hemp robe - though they did leave her that gaudy purple jade pendant she always wore. Said it was 'spiritually bonded' to her. Personally, I think they were just scared it might curse whoever tried to remove it." He chuckled. "Served her right - being buried in peasant's clothes after all her preening and posturing about being 'cultivation nobility.'"
"She sounds perfect," I said thoughtfully. "I mean, perfectly horrible. I'll go over and pay her some respects now then."
As I approached the willow tree in the northwest corner, I encountered a peasant relieving himself on what was clearly Zheniya's grave, judging by the headstone featuring her name and passing date.
"Oh, pardon me," the beardly, balding, slightly drunk man said, hastily readjusting his trousers. "Just paying my daily respects to the Young Mistress." He spat on the grave for good measure. "She had my brother executed for 'disrupting spiritual harmony' when his cart wheel squeaked too loudly."
"No need to apologize," I replied cheerfully. "I'm sure she appreciates the... irrigation. Say, would you happen to own a shovel?"
The peasant blinked at me, then broke into a wide, gap-toothed grin. "A shovel? Why, sure I've got three in me shed! Why?"
"Well," I smiled innocently, "I was thinking of starting a garden. And I hear purple jade makes excellent fertilizer."
The peasant leaned in conspiratorially, breath heavy with rice wine. "You know, funny thing about that jade pendant of hers - word is it's worth enough spirit stones to feed a family for a year. Not that I've been thinking about it or anything," he added hastily. "Just something I heard while definitely not planning any grave robbery."
"Oh, I don't care about the pendant," I said truthfully, knowing that the pendant was likely cursed to explode and set to cultivate some stupidly specific technique which I could not use due to my wide-as-hell meridians or whatever. "I'm more interested in her... other assets. The spiritually enriched ribs. For agricultural purposes."
The peasant squinted at me. "You want to... farm with her... bones?"
"Indeed! Think about it - all that spiritual energy she used to torment people with could be redirected to grow the biggest, juiciest cabbages this town has ever seen. Wouldn't that be a fitting legacy? The woman who exploded people over soup stains, transformed into affordable produce for the common folk?"
The peasant stared at me for a long moment, then burst into wheezing laughter. "By the Luminar Emperor's perfectly groomed beard, that's the most beautiful thing I've ever heard! She always went on and on about her 'noble spiritual legacy' - bet she never thought it'd be feeding the same peasants she looked down on!"
He wiped tears from his eyes. "Tell you what - I'll help you dig her up, but on one condition."
"Oh?"
"I want the first pick of whatever cabbages you grow from her bones. We coud serve them at the town's autumn festival, tell everyone they're 'Chrysanthemum's Last Judgment' cabbages!" He cackled. "Maybe make a nice kimchi. She always did hate 'commoner food' - said it disturbed her refined spiritual palate."
"Sure," I grinned. "Though we should probably wait until nightfall..."
"Won't be too long," the peasant looked up at the setting sun. "Let's walk to my farm and get the shovels."
. . .
Under the silver shimmer of the shattered moon above us, Hoe-lin Gourd and I split ways. He with the cursed jade bracelet, me with a violet corpse in my bag. Hoe-lin was so exceptionally glad to have robbed the wicked-Jade-witch's grave that he'd insisted on giving me his lucky shovel as well to jumpstart my farming career.
The crystal lanterns of Rainbow Toad Town swayed gently in the night breeze, casting shifting shadows across the cobblestone streets as I made my way through the empty marketplace. Above, the imposing silhouette of the Soaring Phoenix-Dragon Sect's mountain citadel loomed against the starlit sky, its white walls gleaming with protective formations that pulsed with soft spiritual light.
In hindsight, acquiring a proper farm before engaging in midnight corpse procurement might have been the more logical approach. But given the town's barely concealed hatred for the deceased Young Mistress, I suspected her remains wouldn't have stayed buried much longer anyway. Some drunk farmer would have eventually dug her up just to dump her in a ravine out of spite for the spirit beasts to devour her whole.
At least this way her spiritual essence would serve a productive purpose. The original Wei Cabbage-Heart's memories indicated that cultivation resources were absurdly expensive - a single low-grade spirit herb could cost as much as a common farmer's yearly income. And here I had an entire cultivator's worth of spiritually-enriched remains, obtained for nothing more than a bottle of stolen wine and the promise of revenge-flavored cabbages.
Things were looking up. The Chryzanthine Barracuda was silent in my burlap sack, thrice-bundled and buried in several pounds of rotting spring-apples and lilac sniff-grass to hide the smell.
Now I just needed to find somewhere to actually grow my theoretical people-cabbages. Ideally, somewhere remote enough that nobody would question why my vegetables occasionally screamed during harvest season. Or walked around.
I wasn't really sure what sort of a cursed abomination was going to grow in my garden, but it would certainly be very magical and harvestable either good for tea to empower idiots or poison to put them down forever.
The problem was that most available farmland near Rainbow Toad Town was already claimed by established families. And while I had enough spirit stones from my sect severance payment to potentially lease a small plot, I suspected that "growing people from dead cultivator bones" might violate some obscure agricultural zoning laws or just generally freak people out.
As I pondered my real estate options, looking at the closed real estate temple, a weathered wooden board caught my eye amongst a hundred other land plots listed for sale: "BANSHEE VALLEY FARM - CHEAP! (Previous owners died horribly but property taxes are low!)"
Well. That seemed promising.
Cultivators relied on meditation in Qi-rich places, specifically, their white walled Citadel Compound, which basically trapped Qi in a single place using a bunch of walls. From what I could recall, a banshee was a type of a noisy, dread-type spirit beast inhabiting cursed land. Cursed land meant there was a lot of Qi in the place.
Death-aligned Qi that most cultivators considered impure.
I wasn't most people.
I adjusted my sack of former Young Mistress and headed toward the tiny mountain village address listed on the sign. Sometimes the heavens did provide - even if their gifts came wrapped in supernatural tragedy.
Chapter 2: Banshee Valley
The real estate agent, a rotund man named Prosperity Chu, seemed almost desperately eager to show me the property, despite the early hour. He practically bounced with excessively fake excitement as he led me down the overgrown path toward Banshee Valley, his crystal lantern casting dancing shadows through the mist.
"Such a wonderful opportunity!" he exclaimed, mopping his brow with a silk handkerchief. "Perfect for a young entrepreneur such as yourself! The soil is exceptionally fertile - why, the previous owners grew the most remarkable produce before they, ah..." he coughed delicately, "...met their unfortunate end."
"Unfortunate end?" I raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, nothing too concerning!" Prosperity Chu waved his hands dismissively. "Just a small matter of the peasant militia discovering their desiccated corpses arranged in a perfect spiral pattern in the main field. But I'm sure that was just a coincidence! Probably bandits. Very geometry-obsessed bandits."
He paused to catch his breath as we crested a small hill. Below us stretched a mist-shrouded valley, bordered by steep cliffs on three sides. A very dilapidated farmhouse stood near the center, its windows dark and empty. Several outbuildings in various states of decay dotted the property, and the remains of old crop rows could still be seen through the overgrown weeds.
"As you can see, the previous owners left everything intact!" Prosperity Chu gestured expansively. "Tools, furniture, even their prized collection of protective talismans - though those seem to have spontaneously combusted for some reason. But the infrastructure is all here!" the man bobbed enthusiastically. "Twenty acres of prime farmland, natural spring water from the waterfalls, and those cliff walls provide excellent protection from the elements and wildlife. The spiritual energy convergence is quite remarkable too from what I was told!"
He glanced nervously at the gloomy sky. "Of course, there are some... minor maintenance issues. The occasional unexplained cold spots, mysterious whispers in the walls, that sort of thing. But nothing a hardy young farmer couldn't handle! And at this price..." He named a figure that was suspiciously low for the amount of land involved.
"What's the catch?" I asked bluntly, adjusting my heavy sack of ex-Young Mistress as we approached the farmhouse. "Besides the mysterious deaths and probable haunting?"
"The screaming," the man sighed. "It usually starts an hour after nightfall - terrible wailing from the cliffs. Drives most people up the wall. The last three potential buyers barely made it through a single night before abandoning the property." He wrung his hands nervously. "But I'm sure a former cultivator such as yourself wouldn't be bothered by such minor inconveniences!"
"Does anyone else want this property?"
"Heavens no!" Prosperity Chu exclaimed. "The village council's been trying to sell it for years. They'll practically give it away at this point - they just want someone, anyone, to take responsibility for the land."
"Any guesses as to what the screaming might be?" I asked.
"A night banshee has a nest up in the cliffs as per the valley's name," the man shrugged. "A bit of a hassle to climb up there and slay the annoying beast. Didn't bother the previous owners much. They were quite deaf. Some Immortal clapped a bit too hard near them."
"I'll take it," I said immediately.
Prosperity Chu blinked in surprise. "You... you will? Without even seeing the inside of..."
"It's fine," I shrugged. "I'm buying the land, not the dilapidated-ass buildings that I'll have to tear down."
The man nodded excitedly.
"It's perfect actually," I continued, eyeing the steep cliffs and pretty waterfalls thoughtfully. "Remote location, natural spiritual energy convergence, and built-in security system via the screaming."
Prosperity Chu looked like he might cry from joy. "Wonderful! Simply wonderful! I have the deed right here..." He practically threw a stack of papers at me on a wooden board, along with a writing brush. "Just sign where indicated and it's all yours!"
I quickly reviewed the documents, thank heavens for Wei's memory of administrative procedures, and signed where indicated. The price was indeed absurdly low - barely a quarter of my sect severance payment.
"Excellent!" Prosperity Chu gathered up the signed papers and my spirit stones with trembling hands. "I'll file these first thing in the morning. The property is officially yours!" He shook my hand with a sweaty palm and backed away quickly, almost tripping over his robes in his haste to flee the cursed land.
. . .
I watched Prosperity Chu practically sprint back up the path before turning to examine my new property more carefully. The farmhouse was clearly a lost cause - the walls were covered in moss, the roof had collapsed and there was a tree growing from what might have been the kitchen once.
Only the half-buried small stone storage shed near the cliff wall looked promising - its walls were thick stone and the heavy iron-bound door still swung smoothly on its hinges after a small application of oil.
Inside, the shed was cluttered with dusty jars of preserved... something that I decided not to look too closely at, rusty tools and random junk. After shoveling most of the debris outside, I unrolled my bedroll in a relatively clean corner. I hung a few Qi-powered crystal lanterns across the ceiling, installed a large beam across the door to secure my new residence and then pulled out a small packet of dream-hex grass - a mild hallucinogenic herb commonly used by cultivators for deep-sleep-style meditation.
I measured out exactly 22 grams of dream-hex grass, thank you Wei's memory for herb measuring skills, rolled it into a crude smoking bundle, and lit it with a spark of Qi between my fingers. The sharp, sweet smoke filled the shed as I settled onto my bedroll, my lovely ex-Young Mistress sack propped carefully in the corner.
The dream-hex took hold quickly, wrapping my consciousness in layers of pleasant fog, sending me straight to sleep as expected.
. . .
I woke to the golden-orange light of sunset streaming through the cracks in the door. My head was quite clear as my inherited cultivator's body with wide-as-highway meridians processed the grass without any issues.
Emerging out onto the overgrown field with my trusty lucky shovel, I got to work, gradually pushing Qi into the shovel and into my eyes as the sun sunk behind the mountains. The advantage of being a cultivator was that darkness wasn't really a problem, especially in Qi-rich, definitely cursed locations such as this one.
Soon, the world became painted with the inner light of Qi, like a million silver and jade sparks dancing across every blade of grass.
There was a certain, tragic beauty to this place.
Streams of emerald-tinted Qi flowed down the cliff faces along the luminous waterfalls, pooling in the valley. Some god-level spirit beast or perhaps even a leviathan had likely perished in the glaciers where these waters originated, struck down by an Immortal cultivator long ago.
The entire valley sang the song of death, vengeance and despair. Most would consider such energies ominous, disrupting or corrupting, but I only saw potential. After all, I wasn't trying to grow normal crops here.
I selected a promising spot near the center of the field, where several cursed Qi streams converged, and began to dig. The soil was indeed remarkably rich - dark and loamy, practically sparkling with spiritual energy under the shovel. Perfect for my purposes.
Once I had a decent-sized hole, I carefully unpacked my special "fertilizer." The Young Mistress's corpse was surprisingly well-preserved, likely due to her high level of cultivation. Her skin still held that amusing purple tinge the cemetery keeper had mentioned. If it wasn't for how cold and clammy her body felt, one could assume she had just fallen asleep.
"Well, Young Mistress," I muttered as I lowered her in the hole, "time for your spiritual essence to nurture something other than your ego."
I was just about to start covering her with soil when an unearthly shriek split the night air. The sound echoed off the cliff walls, a terrible wailing that seemed to pierce straight through to my bones.
Ah, yes. The banshee. Right on schedule. I looked up at the curtain of violet stars overhead, sensing the flow of time and considering that my newly acquired banshee would make a pretty good alarm clock.
"EXCUSE ME," I pushed Qi into my mouth and shouted up at the cliff. "I'M TRYING TO WORK HERE!"
The screaming cut off abruptly, then the clicking started, circling the western rock formation atop the waterfall.
I picked up a rock and pushed Qi into my arm, focusing as I wound up my muscles with a basic reinforcement technique.
I hurled the Qi-enhanced rock toward the approximate source of the clicking noise. There was a satisfying thunk followed by an indignant "OW!" from somewhere up in the cliffs.
"LOOK," I shouted upward again, "I JUST BOUGHT THIS PLACE. IF YOU'RE GOING TO SCREAM ALL NIGHT, AT LEAST HELP ME DIG!"
There was a long pause, then a confused "...what?" echoed down from the darkness.
"I SAID, IF YOU'RE GOING TO HANG AROUND ANYWAY, YOU MIGHT AS WELL MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL AND HELP ME BURY THIS CORPSE!" I gestured at the pile of dirt beside the hole. "I'VE GOT MORE SHOVELS IN THE SHED!"
Another pause. Then a rustling sound, followed by the flutter of wings that radiated a sense of pure despair.
The banshee was quite the spirit beast, a Jingwei to be precise. She landed next to me, circling me hungry-predator style. I held my shovel at the ready just in case, pouring Qi into my muscles.
She was unnaturally tall, lanky and wrapped in a shawl of silver and green Qi-lit feathers engulfing her entire body like a trailing shawl.
"You're... burying a body?" she asked, her voice unnaturally vibrating through the air, head tilted curiously as she peered into the hole. "In my valley?"
"Our valley now," I corrected. "I just bought the place. And yes - she's fertilizer for my new agricultural venture."
"Hrm. She was a cultivator," she observed, clicking her beak. "I can smell the spiritual energy still lingering in her bones. What exactly are you planning to grow with such... unusual nutrients, peasant?"
"People," I replied cheerfully.
The Jingwei stared at me for a long moment with burning silver-green eyes, an entire ocean of sparkling feathers rustling in the night breeze. "You want to grow... people? From dead cultivator bones? What sort of an insane peasant are you?"
"I'm a corpse farmer," I said jovially. "And this is going to be my first crop! Though I suppose I should introduce myself properly - I'm Wei Cabbage-Heart, failed cultivator turned agricultural innovator. And you are...?"
The banshee's feathers fluttered as she considered me. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't take you apart into a magic circle and eat you right now."
I swung the shovel with all of my strength into her face.
The shovel connected with a satisfying BONK, sending the Jingwei tumbling backward in a flurry of startled feathers. She landed in an undignified heap, rubbing her beak with sparkling feathered hands.
"OW! What - how did you - that freaking HURT!" she wailed indignantly.
"Of course it hurt," I replied cheerfully, advancing with my shovel at the ready. "It's a magic shovel! Well, technically it's just a normal shovel with an ungodly amount of Qi channeled through it to reinforce it, but 'magic shovel' sounds better. Would you like another demonstration?" I wiggled the shovel menacingly.
"Wait! Wait!" she scrambled backward, feathers puffed up in alarm as I advanced towards her, lifting the shovel. "You can't just go around hitting ancient spirit beasts with gardening tools!"
"Ancient spirit beast?" I looked her up and down skeptically. "Judging by how much Qi you're radiating, you're what, three, four hundred years old at most? A teenage Jingwei throwing tantrums and making spooky noises at night? I've got socks older than you."
"You..." she hissed, retreating.
I waggled the shovel again. "Now, would you prefer another boop to the snoot or are you going to be a good farm employee?"
"I am NOT going to be your farm employee!" she squawked indignantly. "I am fear incarnate! I have terrorized and devoured all who tried to inhabit this valley for four centuries! I am Sorrow-Nightingale-She-Who-Devours-Human-Flesh-Forevermo..."
"Too many words," I slammed her face with the shovel again. "I'm going to call you... Sowwy."
"Ouuuuuuwwwww!" She cried, silver-green blood spilling across her forehead. "Stop that!"
"Look," I said, "you're clearly bored out of your mind up here. When was the last time you actually got to properly terrorize anyone? This place has been empty for decades since you murdered the previous owners."
She rubbed her beak sullenly. "The real estate agent comes by sometimes... I eat tons of mountain trekkers, be it spirit beast or men! Wait, why am I even explaining myself to you?! You're just a..."
The shovel descended with another satisfying BONK.
"STOP HITTING ME WITH THAT BLOODY SHOVEL!" Sowwy shrieked, her voice hitting notes that probably shattered glass in the next province.
"I will when you start being reasonable," I replied calmly. "Now, as I was saying - you're clearly bored. I'm offering you steady employment as my alarm clock, entertainment, and first dibs on any failed crop experiments. Whatever doesn't work out, you can eat. Think about it - spirit-enhanced human-vegetables! Much more interesting than random hikers, right?"
Sowwy rubbed her beak with her shimmering talons, looking up at me with concern.
"You can't be serious," she hissed. "You can't just... grow people!"
"Why not?" I asked. "Are you perhaps a people-farming expert?"
"No, but..." Sowwy gesticulated wildly with her feathered arms, "because it's INSANE! You can't just... plant a corpse like seed in the ground to... grow more people... Seriously, that's not how anything works!"
"Consider it an experiment," I said. "If nothing grows out of this dead Jade Princess, in a month or two, you can eat her."
Sowwy's eye twitched.
"Did... did you just offer me a cultivator corpse as a backup snack?"
"Yep!" I beamed. "She's quite well-marinated in spiritual energy too. Though she might taste a bit purple and poisoned."
"Purple?" Sowwy peered into the hole again. "Oh, is that the Chrysanthemum Bitch? The one who kept threatening to build a 'grand spiritual formation' in Rainbow Toad?"
"You knew her?" I asked.
"Heard the village crier declare her achievements and plans all the way up my mountain," she huffed. "Bloody woke me up during the day. Flew down at night to sniff about. Failed to murder her. Far too many anti-spirit-beast wards on the Governor's mansion."
"Yeah, that's her!" I grinned. "Young Mistress Zheniya the Chryzanthine Barracuda herself. Got taken out by breakfast spiders. Want to help me plant her? Come on, you gotta hate her for disrupting your precious nap, riiiight?"
Sowwy clicked her beak thoughtfully. "She did once declare she was going to 'cleanse this cursed valley of its primitive spiritual contamination' and build some sort of pretentious cultivation resort."
"See? We're already bonding over our mutual dislike of stuck-up cultivators!" I said.
"We're not freaking bonding!" the Jingwei fluttered. "And stop looking at me like that! I am NOT going to help you with your insane people-farming scheme! I'm a night spirit beast! I eat people, I don't help plant them!"
"Being awfully uncooperative right now," I said, pouring more Qi into the shovel making it ignite with a brilliant orange corona. "You know, I could always dig up another hole over there, see what grows out of a Jingwei-banshee."
"You wouldn't dare," Sowwy hissed, backing away from my glowing shovel. "I'm a powerful spirit beast! I've eaten countless..."
The shovel flew landing with a…
BONK!
"Oweeeiiiiiii!"
"Consider this," I said, "I've got a reinforced shovel and you've got a very bonkable head. I can keep going all night long. I slept all day. This will be a very slow and painful death for you. Demise by ten thousand bonks. Do note that I can throw rocks pretty hard and pretty far too, so don't think you can just fly away."
"Fine!" Sowwy shrieked, rubbing her bonked head. "FINE! I'll help with your stupid corpse garden! Just stop hitting me with that demonic shovel already! Abyss eternal!"
"Excellent!" I beamed. "Go to the shed and grab a spare shovel and help me cover her up."
Grumbling and muttering what were probably ancient spirit beast curses under her breath, Sowwy lumped towards the shed.
I waited for her to return.
She emerged with a rusty shovel, still grumbling. "This is beneath my dignity as an ancient spirit beast."
"Wa, wa, wa," I taunted her. "I'm an ancient spirit beast and I'm too good to do honest farm work! I just want to sit on my cursed cliffside and make spooky noises all night like a discount haunted house attraction!"
"What?! I'll have you know my haunting techniques are highly sophisticated fear-magic that…"
"Oh yes, very sophisticated," I nodded sagely. "WOOOOO! LEAVE THIS VALLEY OR FACE MY WRATH! WOOOOOO!" I waggled my fingers at her in mock spookiness. "Really terrifying stuff there. Top-tier spirit beast material. Couldn't even scare away a man with a shovel. Less whining, more burying."
"That's not - I don't - UGH!" Sowwy kicked dirt into the hole with her clawed feet. "I swear I will..."
"Murder me in my sleep when the moon shards align just right? Make a cursed circle with my innards to feast on my essence?" I grinned. "Yeah, good luck with that. I've already adjusted my schedule to function at night."
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're bloody infuriating?" Sowwy muttered, angrily kicking more dirt onto the ex-Young Mistress.
"Says the angry night birb who's been living alone on a cliff screaming at people for centuries," I replied. "At least I have a business plan. Also, use the shovel, that's what it's for."
We worked in silence for a while, the only sounds being our shovels and the occasional grumble from Sowwy. Once we had the corpse properly buried, I began carefully inscribing cultivation formation marks in the soil around the grave using the tip of my shovel.
"What are those supposed to be?" Sowwy asked, peering over my shoulder.
"Growth enhancement formations," I explained, keeping her at a claws distance in case she tried to nibble on me. "Modified standard spirit cabbage cultivation arrays. See how this line channels spiritual energy downward while this spiral pattern promotes growth?"
"You can't just hodge-podge different cultivation formations together like that!" Sowwy protested. "They'll interfere with each other and explode! Why are these so wide?"
"Normally, yes," I agreed, continuing to draw lines in the dirt. "They're extra wide 'cus my meridians are weird and wide - like spiritual rivers instead of little streams. Traditional formations don't work for me anyway, so I might as well experiment. Worst case scenario, it does explode horrifically and you get pre-cooked cultivator meat."
"Ughhh," the banshee retreated away from the formation. "Right. I'm just going to be over here then. Far, far over here. Where it's safe from whatever disaster this is."
"Suit yourself," I shrugged, completing the last few lines.
"You are a genuinely disturbed human," Sowwy declared from her perch on a distant boulder. "Did you fall from a cliff as a child and hit your head on a rock or something?"
"Nah," I said, putting my hands onto my formations and beginning to pour a torrent of Qi into the ground. "Died for forty two seconds. Got better though!"
Sowwy clicked her beak nervously from her safe distance. "I'm going to be very annoyed if you explode my valley."
"This isn't an explosion rune," I said. "It's a cabbage-growing rune. There's literally nothing to explode. No lightning, no fire, no wind, no compression - literally just slow growth and nurturing formations. The worst that could happen is we get some really aggressive, cursed cabbages."
"We?" She hissed. "Don't tie me into your insane plans, human. Besides, everyone knows there are at least seventeen different ways spiritual formations can catastrophically explode even without direct elemental manipulation!"
"Oh?" I looked up with interest. "Do tell."
Sowwy preened her feathers smugly, clearly pleased to show off her supernatural knowledge as she glared at me with glowing eyes. "Right then, there's:
Qi Resonance Cascade - when overlapping formation patterns create harmonic frequencies that amplify until they shatter.
Yin-Yang Polarity Inversion - spiritual energy suddenly reversing direction and violently dispersing.
Formation Core Crystallization - energy condensing too rapidly into unstable spiritual crystals.
Meridian Pattern Collapse - when formation lines crack and release stored energy.
Essence Feedback Loop - spiritual energy cycling back on itself until it overloads.
Foundation Seal Rupture - base stabilization formations failing catastrophically..."
She ranted on, listing all sorts of quirky ways things could explode.
"Huh," I said. "The more you know. Say, where'd you even learn all of this? I don't see a library up that mountain. Did you go to banshee spirit school or something? How'd you learn how to take people apart into a cursed formation?"
"I ate a lot of cultivators over the centuries," Sowwy said matter-of-factly. "You absorb some knowledge when you devour their essence. Their memories kind of... stick around for a while. Most cultivators know at least the basics of formation theory, if only to avoid accidentally killing themselves with poorly drawn arrays."
"Neat," I said, continuing to pour Qi into my experimental formation. "So you're basically a supernatural library of stolen cultivator knowledge? That's actually really useful! You can be my technical advisor!"
"I am NOT going to be your..." Sowwy began, then trailed off as the formation lines began to glow with a soft purple light. "That does not look good! STOP!!!"
"This is probably fine," I said cheerfully, even as the purple glow intensified. "Just the Young Mistress's residual spiritual energy being recycled into the growth matrix. Though you might want to back up a bit more just in case."
"Just in case of WHAT?" Sowwy shrieked, launching herself into the air as electrical arcs danced across the ground, reaching out in all directions like spindly fingers.
Pure terror, an unnatural fear of lightning gripped my soul as the fight or flight response kicked in.
This was exactly how the original Cabbage died.
Qi rushed into my legs as I sprinted for the half-underground stone shed, practically diving through the doorway as purple lightning began crackling more intensely across my experimental formation. Slamming the heavy iron-bound door shut, I quickly dropped the large beam across it and began pouring Qi into the wood and metal to reinforce it.
The formation exploded in a blast of deafening release of spiritual energy, the magic shockwave slamming through the reinforced door and sending me flying across the shed. My head cracked against the stone wall and everything went dark.
. . .
I came to with a splitting headache and the taste of copper in my mouth. Moonlight filtered through the cracks in the shed's sturdy door. Leaning on my trusty shovel, I slowly limped outside, rubbing the back of my head and pouring Qi into my eyes to assess the damage.
Where there had been overgrown grass, bushes and weeds, now there was only blackened earth radiating outward from the burial site in a perfect circle. The dilapidated farmhouse was simply gone, blown clean by the blastwave, only the stone foundations and some wall nubs remaining. Even the cliff faces showed scorch marks from the blast.
In the center of it all, Young Mistress Zheniya's corpse lay exposed in her shallow grave, eyes wide open and staring sightlessly at the shattered moon above. The purple tinge to her skin seemed even more pronounced now, lightning sparks dancing across it.
Weeping sounds emanate from below the cliffside.
"Ey, Sowwy?" I called out, peering through the darkness. "You still alive out there?"
A muffled sob came from somewhere beneath the western waterfall.
Following the sound of distress, I limped through the blast-scorched field toward the base of the cliff. The waterfall's mist caught the moonlight, creating ethereal rainbows in the darkness. Below the curtain of water, I found Sowwy crumpled against the cliff, her feathers shredded and burnt. Silver-green blood pooled beneath her twisted form.
I didn't feel too bad for the weeping banshee, after all - she ate people for breakfast.
"You know," I said conversationally, crouching next to the injured spirit beast, "this wouldn't have happened if you'd shared those seventeen ways formations can explode BEFORE I started experimenting."
Sob. "I hate you so much right now," Sowwy whimpered, trying to rise but failing to do so. "Everything hurts... my beautiful feathers... my dignity…" Sniff. "I should have eaten you when I had the chance..."
"There, there," I said consolingly. "Look on the bright side - at least we cleared all the weeds! And demolished that old farmhouse. Really opened up the space."
"Again with the WE? There's no WE! Not an explosion formation, huh?" she hissed up at me. "Nothing to explode, you said? Just some nice, safe…. grrrrowth formations?"
"I blame the Jade Mistress," I said. "She's clearly got an explosive temper."
Sowwy wailed, her singed feathers puffing up pathetically. "H-hhh-how am I s-supposed to strike fear into the hearts of mortals looking like a plucked chicken?!"
"Your wings will grow back," I shrugged. "Probably. As long as your core is intact, you should heal. Isn't that how magic beasts work?"
"How about you go and die in a hole?" She snarled. "Blasted clueless cultivator idiot can't even use dampening runes."
"What was that?" I asked. "Did you just mention something about dampening runes?"
The spirit-beast hissed and swore at me.
"Yes, you absolute disaster of a human snack, dampening runes! Basic formation safety! Every seventh-year disciple knows to add dampening runes when working with unstable, incompatible spiritual energy!" Sob. "But nooooo, you just had to go and channel raw Qi into an experimental formation without any safety measures!" Hiccup."And now look at me! I can't even fly now! I'm a disgrace to spirit beasts everywhere!"
"You'll be fine," I said. "It's just a little explosive lightning. I survived worse."
The smoking spirit beast made sobbing noises and tried to claw at me, but I stepped back out of reach.
"Just a little lightning?" Sowwy shrieked, her voice cracking. "Half of my feathers are GONE! I got thunder-blasted right out of the sky! It's all your fault with your imbecilic, people-farming scheme!"
"Not exactly a formation expert," I shrugged. "Dropped out of cultivation school in third year to become a farmer."
"Ughhhh," the banshee groaned, slumping back against the wet rocks and burying her face with her claws. "Just... just kill me now. Put me out of my misery with that cursed shovel of yours. Everything hurts so bad."
"Maybe it's just karma for murdering so many people. Say, do you ever feel bad about eating people?" I wondered, leaning on my shovel. "Surely there's enough people-ness in you to feel something?"
"No!" Sowwy snapped. "I'm a spirit beast! It's what we do! We eat humans and absorb their essence and... and..." she trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "Well, okay, sometimes the memories are a bit... much. Especially when they had families and children and... ugh, why am I even telling you this? Just leave me here to die in peace."
"Nope," I said cheerfully. "You're my spirit beast advisor now. Can't have you dying on me before we figure out proper dampening runes for the next experiment."
"Next experiment?!" Sowwy's head shot up in alarm. "You seriously want to try that again?!"
"Of course! Science is all about learning from your mistakes. Now we know we need dampening runes. And probably some kind of containment barrier. And whatever else you can think of, my wise murder-birb."
"You can't be serious!" She hissed. "Another explosion like that and my core would absolutely shatter!"
"So help me not make another explosion," I said.
"I am NOT helping you with your insane experiments!" Sowwy declared, then winced as the movement clearly caused her pain. "Just... just leave me alone to regenerate in peace."
"That was a pretty loud noise and you're bleeding a lot," I pointed out. "And your wings are busted. Sure there's like no hungry wolves in this valley or something?"
Sowwy's eyes widened slightly. "The... the Silver-Claw Fang pack does sometimes hunt here during the new moon... but they… They know to stay away from my valley!"
"Yeah, but you're not screeching warningly now," I noted. "And bleeding all over and can't move much at all. Would be a shame if something decided to make a snack out of you while you're all helpless and crispy."
The Jingwei swallowed nervously.
"You... you wouldn't just leave me here as wolf bait, would you?" She let out.
"Of course not!" I said cheerfully. "I'll help you back to my lovely fortified shed. Where you can give me a proper lecture on formation safety while you heal. Deal?"
Sowwy glared at me with shimmering silver-green eyes filled with hatred, misery and pain, then slumped in defeat. "Fffiiiiiine."
Chapter 3: Corpse Farming 101
I carefully dragged the injured spirit beast back to my stone shed, setting up a makeshift nest of dirt and dry moss in one corner for her.
Then, I quickly reburied the Young Mistress in case wolves or some other wildlife showed up and ate my precious, rare corpse and returned into the shed, facing the glowing eyes of the angry night predator.
Despite her protests and threats of future murder, Sowwy proved to be a surprisingly knowledgeable teacher once I got her talking about formation theory.
For hours, Sowwy lectured through gritted beak about the fundamentals of formation safety - proper dampening runes, energy containment barriers, stabilization anchors, and the critical importance of balanced Yin-Yang flows. Her anger gradually shifted from murderous rage to academic frustration as she realized just how little I actually knew about such things.
The night passed quickly as she covered years worth of foundation knowledge. By sunrise, her voice had grown hoarse and her remaining feathers were drooping with exhaustion. She finally dozed off mid-rant about "proper spiritual resonance harmonization," her head tucked under one singed wing.
I carefully covered the shed's small window with some moss to block the morning light from burning my resident night terror, then settled down to process everything I'd learned.
The original Wei had never paid much attention to formation theory classes, considering them "boring squiggles." But through Sowwy's reluctant tutoring, I was starting to see the elegant mathematical patterns underlying cultivation formations. They weren't just random symbols - they were more like complex spiritual circuit diagrams, fractals that channelled and transformed Qi in precise ways.
My first attempt had essentially been like trying to build a nuclear reactor without any containment or control systems. No wonder it exploded. The Young Mistress's residual spiritual energy had fed back into itself with no dampening or regulation, creating a catastrophic release.
A soft, alien-sounding, slightly musical and somewhat offputting snore from the corner reminded me that I had somehow acquired a spirit beast roommate. She looked very different in the minute sprinkle of daylight breaking through the uneven door.
The Jingwei's form was a curious blend of bird and human features. Her basic shape was humanoid - two arms, two legs, an upright posture - but covered in iridescent, green metallic feathers that shifted and rippled with her breathing. The colors reminded me of a jewel beetle shell. Her face was mostly human in structure but with a sharp, deadly beak where a nose and mouth should be.
Her entire body resembled a jewel beetle shell texture-wise. It was as if someone combined an Emerald Starling with a million sword blades with a human girl and put it all into a blender.
Her hands were human-ish and tipped with razor-sharp dark talons instead of fingernails, and her feet were distinctly bird-like with three forward-facing toes and one backward-facing toe, all equipped with wicked curved claws. A crown of longer, more ornate feathers adorned her head like hair, though most were now singed and broken from the explosion.
Her wings suffered the worst damage and were badly mangled from the explosion, with many feathers missing or burned away, revealing the delicate, metallic bone and bewildering metallic, fractal flesh cellular structures beneath. Violet, iridescent, glowing blood dripped from the multitude of holes and cuts.
I collected some in a jar.
Then I took out my trusted dream-hex grass, measured out exactly 22 grams again, rolled it into a smoking bundle, and lit it with a spark of Qi. As the sweet smoke filled the shed, I settled onto my bedroll, carefully positioning myself away from Sowwy and the door in case she woke up feeling peckish, which was highly unlikely, since she was a night killer who didn't function during daylight.
I woke to the sound of soft snoring from Sowwy's corner as late afternoon sunlight filtered through the door slit. The spirit beast was still fast asleep, her remaining feathers gently rising and falling with each breath.
I hung a bunch of moldy fabrics around her to block any sunlight from hitting her and then opened the door.
Stepping quietly outside and closing the door behind me, I took some time to properly survey my new domain. The explosion had done me a favor by clearing much of the overgrowth, revealing the old cultivation field patterns beneath. Stone-lined paths divided the valley into neat sections, with remnants of irrigation channels running between them.
The cliff walls rose majestically on three sides, creating a natural amphitheater that seemed to collect and concentrate spiritual energy. Waterfalls cascaded down at several points, their mist creating rainbow halos in the golden afternoon light.
Near the easternmost cliff, I discovered the remains of what appeared to be a herb-drying shed - its wooden walls still standing though the roof had long since rotted through. The interior was littered with broken pottery and the faded remnants of preservation formations. Perfect for storing more supplies once repaired.
Picking through the broken pottery in the herb-drying shed, I found a few intact preservation jars still containing dried herbs - mostly common varieties like Spirit-Touch Ginger and Moon-Dew Grass. Nothing spectacular, but enough to flavor a meal.
I gathered some fallen branches and stones to build a small fire pit near the stone shed's entrance. As I arranged the stones in a circle, I couldn't help but chuckle at how mundane this felt compared to my earlier attempts at grand cultivation experiments.
As I finished arranging the stones in a circle, I pulled out the small sack of potatoes and vegetables I'd bought from Rainbow Toad Town's market before coming here. Simple fare, but after the excitement of the explosion and subsequent spirit beast wrangling and a night of learning formations I was famished.
I diced the potatoes and vegetables, seasoning them with some of the Spirit-Touch Ginger I'd found in the old herb shed. The spicy-sweet aroma of cooking food soon filled the air, mingling with woodsmoke.
I spent the remaining daylight hours gathering materials - stones for formation arrays, salvageable bits from the destroyed farmhouse, and various herbs growing wild among the ruins.
As the sun began to set, I snacked on some dry meat and started clearing a small plot near the stone shed, using my Qi-enhanced shovel to break up the blast-hardened earth. The physical labor was oddly satisfying after years of rigid sect meditation practices. There was something deeply peaceful about simply working the soil without worrying about achieving immortality or impressing elders.
As night fell, I focused on the basics. Using salvaged materials from the destroyed farmhouse and fresh-cut timber from the valley's edge, I began constructing a simple one-room house beside the stone shed. My inherited cultivation strength made the work quick - I could easily carry heavy beams that would normally require several men.
Sowwy watched me with glowing eyes from her berm shed residence, occasionally offering sarcastic commentary.
"Your roof is crooked," she noted as I positioned the final beam. "And those wall joints will leak when it rains."
"Feel free to help instead of criticizing," I called back.
"I'm supervising," she sniffed. "Besides, I'm still recovering from YOUR damned explosion."
"Which wouldn't have happened if you were more inclined to share cultivator secrets," I pointed out again.
Sowwy exhaled and then suddenly her head snapped up, feathers bristling as distant howls resonated across the valley.
I looked at her concerned expression.
"Wolves," she hissed. "Silver Fang pack. All twenty seven of them."
I quickly retreated to the stone shed, securing the heavy iron-bound door just as the howls grew louder through the valley.
Glowing silver eyes peered through the cracks in the door as the wolves circled the buried shed, their howls echoing off the cliff walls. Sowwy huddled in her corner, feathers puffed up defensively despite her injuries.
"Yep. They can smell your blood," I told her. "And they know you're wounded."
"Thank you for that brilliant observation," she hissed sarcastically. "Any other obvious insights you'd like to share?"
"Can you make a scary noise to make them go away?" I asked.
"No," she shook her head. "Lungs are too busted up for that, can barely breathe."
The wolves scratched and pawed at the door throughout the night, their howls gradually growing more frustrated as they failed to breach our shelter. By dawn, they had retreated back into the forest, leaving deep claw marks in the door.
Over the next day, I worked methodically to secure the valley against the wolf pack. Using materials salvaged from the ruins, I constructed a series of basic lethal traps - pitfalls lined with sharpened stakes and bendy trees with rope triggers.
By nightfall, the valley's perimeter featured several traps.
The wolves returned as expected, their howls cutting across the gloom. But this time, their hunting cries became interrupted by yelps of pain and death screams as they encountered my dastardly handywork.
Come morning, four dead wolves greeted me, their silver-streaked fur matted with blue blood. I dragged the carcasses out of the traps and then attempted to skin one, cooking some of the meat. It turned out to be tough and bitter.
Come night, I offered the wolves to my shed-monster.
The Jingwei devoured the wolf carcasses with surprising enthusiasm, her beak making quick work of flesh and bone alike. As she ate, her injuries seemed to improve ever so slightly - the metallic feathers beginning to regrow and her wings slowly mending.
Over the next few weeks, a routine developed.
During the day, I worked on rebuilding basic infrastructure - repairing the irrigation system, clearing the fields, and fortifying our defenses against both mundane and spiritual threats. At night, Sowwy would lecture me about cultivation theory between snacking on whatever wildlife wandered into my dastardly traps, drawing out formations on the ground for me to replicate.
I learned that sprinkling Jingwei's blood around my traps acted as powerful bait, drawing in all sorts of creatures from miles around. Anything that smelled a wounded spirit beast apparently couldn't resist investigating. Within weeks, we'd accumulated quite a collection of spiritual beast cores and materials from the various creatures that met their end in my increasingly elaborate traps. Jingwei handled the skinning quite effectively with her knife-like talons.
The wolf pack never returned after losing a bunch of their members, but other things came - mountain cats with crystalline fangs, long-faced deer with metallic antlers, even a small earth dragon that I managed to take down with a particularly clever pitfall trap. Sowwy was delighted with the variety in her diet, and her injuries healed further with each spiritual beast she consumed.
Meanwhile, I focused on my original goal - corpse farming.
Armed with arcane birb-dispensed wisdom, I properly prepared the field this time, laying down multiple layers of containment and dampening formations carved into large rocks before attempting to grow anything.
The Young Mistress's corpse remained my primary "seed," but I had once again dug up her body to 'safety' it up as much as possible.
With Sowwy's guidance, I inscribed precise formation patterns across the Young Mistress's unrotting corpse using potent earth-dragon-beast blood that burned into her violet-tinted skin as green ink. The formations would hopefully contain and direct her residual spiritual energy rather than letting it explode again.
Then I covered her in wooden boards inscribed with even more dampening formations and reburied her once again.
Over the following days, progress was slow but steady. The first visible changes appeared after about three weeks - tiny purple sprouts emerging from the soil around the burial site. They looked like normal plant shoots at first, but their color and the way they pulsed with spiritual cursed energy was decidedly unnatural.
Sowwy, now fully recovered and back to her terrifying night predator glory, took great interest in the sus-looking sprouts despite her constant protests about the obvious insanity of my project. She'd often perch on a giant jagged boulder near the field at night, offering commentary and criticism about my formation adjustments.
As spring deepened into summer, the purple sprouts grew into what could only be described as "people-cabbages" - vegetables with disturbingly flesh-like qualities. Their leaves were an unsettling violet color and seemed to pulse with an inner heartbeat. Some even developed what appeared to be rudimentary facial features.
"This is truly the most cursed thing I've seen," Sowwy remarked one night, poking at one of the purple cabbages with a talon. "How can a cabbage even grow from dead manflesh without seeds?"
"It's the base formation runework," I said. "Essentially, it forces 'cabbage growth' to occur. With enough Qi poured into it, anything it's targeting becomes a cabbage seed. It's sort of like anything catches fire when a cultivator creates fire using QI, even a metal sword. I set my Immortal Master's tea on fire once accidentally by using too much Qi."
"I see," she said simply. "Why cabbages specifically, why not a more magical, more sturdy plant?"
"My last name's Cabbage-Heart," I said. "Name strengthens outcome. It's how Qi works, I think - correlational causality. Also, I remember how to do the cabbage-formation rune the best."
"Pretty sure that it doesn't work like that, but you do you, human," she huffed.
"So, what do you think? Are they alive?" I asked her.
The spirit beast studied the pulsing purple cabbages thoughtfully, her metallic feathers gleaming in the moonlight. "They do have spiritual energy, but it's... different. Horribly wrong somehow. Not quite alive in the normal sense, but not truly dead either. They're more like... echoes. Fragments of the Young Mistress's essence manifesting in vegetable form."
"Yes, but can they think?" I asked, examining one of the more developed specimens that had what appeared to be a tiny face forming in the center of its leaves.
"Hard to say," she replied. "They might have some rudimentary awareness, like how spirit herbs can respond to spiritual fluctuations. But I doubt they're truly conscious. More like... spiritual recordings playing on repeat through biological matter."
Months passed as I carefully tended the cursed cabbage patch, feeding them my Qi and adjusting the formations based on their development. Most of the sprouts sadly perished due to my incompetence and rune formation inconsistency, but twelve cabbages survived and gradually grew increasingly humanoid, developing distinct head-like shapes and limb-like protrusions. Their violet coloring deepened, and the pulse of spiritual energy within them grew stronger.
As summer ended and autumn began, the cabbages continued their disturbing evolution, developing more pronounced human features as the weather grew cold. Their faces, bodies and limbs became more defined, tougher, featuring fibrous muscles.
The autumn sun beat down mercilessly as I climbed the steep mountain path, following the flow of cursed emerald-colored Qi that tainted the valley's waterfalls. The corrupted spiritual energy originated from somewhere high in the glaciers above, likely from some ancient battle.
My trusty shovel was strapped to my back, reinforced with fresh formation carvings I'd learned from Sowwy's lectures. The spirit beast herself was back at the farm, sleeping through the daylight hours in her cozy shed corner. She'd refused to accompany me on my "foolish expedition to poke at things better left unpoked."
"Only an idiot goes looking for the source of a curse," she'd muttered before dozing off. "The smart ones run away from such things."
But I wanted to understand what was affecting my valley, wanted to confirm the nature of curses.
After hours of climbing, I finally reached a massive glacier nestled between jagged peaks. The emerald-tinted spiritual energy was much stronger here, seeming to pulse from deep within the ice.
Climbing to the top, I peered into its depths across layers of azure cracks and bubbles.
There was indeed something deep beneath the glacier, a gargantuan dark shape. Bones. A skeleton of a long dead god, as big as a mountain.
I channeled Qi into my eyes, gazing deeper into the glacial ice.
The bones glowed with that same cursed emerald sparks that flowed down into my valley.
The creature's skull alone was larger than a house, with eye sockets that could have fit a wagon. Row upon row of sword-length teeth lined its jaws. Its ribcage formed vast archways of bone, and its spine stretched back into the depths of the glacier.
As I looked, the leviathan's skeleton took on new clarity, and I could now make out more anatomical details. Massive wing bones stretched out across the glacier. The skull's structure was distinctly avian despite its enormous size.
It was some kind of primordial bird. An ancestor, a divine level beast, the kind of a thing that leveled entire cities with the beat of its wings pulling supercell storms into existence.
The leviathan's death had clearly released an enormous amount of spiritual energy, which had gradually seeped into the glacier over centuries. The melting ice carried that energy down the mountain in the form of cursed water, explaining the unique properties of my valley.
The emerald curse energy seemed to pool most densely around its chest cavity, where the massive sternum would have supported flight muscles capable of generating hurricane-force winds.
As I studied the ancient remains, something caught my eye - another shape beneath the beast's bones, perfectly preserved in the vast layers of ice, nearly a kilometer deep in.
Focusing even more Qi into my vision, until my eyes started to throb I finally made out a humanoid figure, frozen in time.
It was a cultivator, their body mummified and ossified by the curse energy, untouched by decay, reshaped into crystal that glowed like a nuclear reactor.
They wore ancient-style armor, now fused to their body by the curse. Their hands still gripped a massive spear that pierced upward through the leviathan's chest, likely the killing blow that brought down this titanic creature.
The cultivator's body was saturated with the same emerald energy that flowed through the beast's bones, as if the curse had preserved them both in this eternal tableau of mutual destruction. Their flesh had a crystalline quality to it, more like jade than human tissue.
I studied the frozen scene more carefully, channeling Qi into my eyes to examine the entire view, until distinctive spiritual flows became visible like rivers of light. The curse energy wasn't just pooling randomly - it was cycling between the leviathan and its slayer in an endless loop.
From the cultivator's crystallized form, emerald energy spiraled upward through the green, metal spear, feeding into the beast's massive chest wound. It then flowed through the creature's skeletal structure before cascading back down to the cultivator, completing the circuit. The cycle had likely repeated for millennia, each revolution further crystallizing the remains of both beings.
It was a perfect, horrible harmony - slayer and slain locked in an eternal dance of cursed energy. The cultivator's killing blow had pierced, shattered the leviathan's core, but in that same moment, the beast's death curse had caught them both.
"Now that's interesting," I muttered, sketching the energy flow patterns in my simple leather notebook. The curse's circular nature was remarkably similar to some of the formation patterns Sowwy had taught me, but on a massive scale. It was like looking at the world's most horrific cultivation battery - storing and cycling cursed spiritual energy through an endless feedback loop of death.
This explained why the valley's cursed water never ran dry despite centuries of flow. The glacier wasn't just preserving a leviathan corpse - it was housing an perpetual engine of cursed essence, powered by the perfect balance between two killers.
An equation of hatred, despair and pain.
"Thank you for the inspiration," I bowed slowly to the dead leviathan and cultivator. "Your eternal cursed dance will help grow some really interesting cabbages."
Walking across the glacier, I spotted what appeared to be a tunnel in the ice and rock.
I examined the ancient tunnel attempt more closely, noting how the ice had partially refilled it over centuries. The excavation had been methodical, with clear tool marks still visible in the glacial walls. Whoever had tried to reach the cursed core had known what they were doing.
There were strange marks carved into tunnel walls - old formation patterns, barely visible after millennia of glacial movement. Someone had tried to fight the curse off, tried to reach into the heart of it all and failed. I sketched the ancient formations in my notebook for later study.
The tunnel stopped abruptly about thirty feet in. Beyond that point, the emerald energy grew exponentially more intense. Even standing near the tunnel entrance, I could feel the cursed power trying to seep into my meridians, attempting to crystallize my Qi pathways just like it had done to that ancient Immortal cultivator.
"Smart of them to give up," I muttered, backing away from the tunnel. The deeper curse energy felt like spiritual radiation - the kind that would slowly turn a cultivator's body to crystalline jade from the inside out. No wonder they'd abandoned the attempt. Getting too close to that eternal death loop would probably trap you in it, adding another layer to the cursed battery.
I gathered a few ice samples and sketches, taking care not to linger too long near the exposed remains. The curse's influence was subtle but persistent - like a spiritual poison that accumulated in small doses. Even my brief examination had left my meridians feeling slightly stiff and crystalline.
As I descended the mountain, I couldn't help but wonder about that ancient tunneling attempt. Had they been trying to break the curse? Or were they after the immense spiritual energy stored in that eternal feedback loop? Either way, they'd been wise to retreat. Some power sources weren't meant to be tapped, could not be stopped by the hands of men, as even an Immortal would succumb to rapid crystallization in that ice furnace.
The sun was setting by the time I reached the valley floor. My trusty shovel felt heavier than usual, and my Qi circulation was sluggish from exposure to the curse.
I'd need to meditate carefully tonight to cleanse my meridians of any lingering crystallization effects.
But the expedition had been worth it. Understanding the source of my valley's curse was pivotal to my work, pivotal to everything I was doing.
If this loop could be created with death, then perhaps something similar could be created with life.
A single cabbage wouldn't do it... but maybe hundreds of them, functioning all at once, pulling at Qi in just the right way...
A hundred thousand formations, entwined into one.
How long would such a thing take to make alone? A lifetime? It definitely wasn't a job for a single cultivator, it would require a legion of dedicated, neurotically obsessed employees who would do nothing but create exact formation after formation around themselves.
A cultivator factory mass producing formations.
I daydreamed about a field of violet cabbages as I climbed down the mountain back to my green valley.