Chapter Forty-Five: The Supreme Gourd

The gourds gleamed with vibrant colors, their spiritual energy pure and potent. At a mere glance, it was clear they were fully ripe—just a light touch would be enough to pick them.

“Green-yellow gourds?” Li Mie eyed the gourds with curiosity. “Brother Li, what are these?”

“Second-grade divine fruits, extremely precious. Let’s divide them between us,” Li Mu replied, his face alight with joy.

“Ah, excellent.” Hearing they were divine fruits, Li Mie grew excited as well. “Wait, one of the gourds seems to have matured differently?”

Indeed, one gourd was unlike the rest.

The others were jade-hued with streaks of gold—a trait that gave the green-yellow gourds their name. But one gourd bore not golden lines, but deep crimson ones, making it look rather strange.

Li Mu examined it closely with his spiritual sense and immediately noticed that the spiritual energy wafting from this crimson-lined gourd was far richer than that of the others.

A branch of green-yellow gourds bore seven divine fruits, and among them, there was always one superior specimen.

But this crimson gourd was far beyond just superior!

Pondering this, Li Mu summoned the Cloudstep, rose several meters into the air to stand by the gourd, and examined it once more.

Upon closer inspection, not only was the spiritual energy more refined, there was even a faint scent of blood. Glancing at the scorched corpse nearby, Li Mu wondered silently: could it be that the gourd, growing so close to the corpse, had absorbed the essence of its blood, leading to such an unusual transformation?

Without hesitation, Li Mu carefully plucked the crimson gourd and placed it straight into the Spiritual Tower.

“Enhance!”

“This material has already reached its highest level and cannot be enhanced further.”

It was indeed a top-grade specimen!

This crimson-veined green-yellow gourd, growing next to the corpse, must have absorbed countless life essences, transforming into a top-grade fruit at the moment of full ripeness.

Suppressing his excitement, Li Mu proceeded to harvest the remaining gourds—all of which were of medium quality, with no obstacles encountered. It became clear that only the one destined to be superior had absorbed the nearby energies and undergone such a change.

An opportunity to upgrade a material was exceedingly rare, yet the two of them had seized it. Such was their fortune—Wang Xiaoming had guarded Black Mountain for more than a decade, half of it spent for the sake of these green-yellow gourds. In the end, when they finally ripened, it was Li Mu and Li Mie who came upon them, and with Wang Xiaoming’s demise, the divine gourds became a parting gift to others.

“Brother Li, what are you doing?”

Li Mie noticed Li Mu arranging all the gourds and found it a bit odd.

“It’s nothing—come here.” Li Mu descended from the Cloudstep, smiling as he spoke to Li Mie. “There’s one top-grade gourd here—I’ll take that. You can have the other five. Is that alright?”

Though Li Mie was young, he was still a cultivator; even in dividing treasures, he insisted on fairness.

He nodded earnestly. “Whatever you think is useful, Brother Li, take it all if you wish. Now that I’m with the Jade Iron Sect, my cultivation is provided for, and I hear they’ll be issuing us treasure artifacts once we reach the Foundation Phase—I’ve nothing to worry about.”

“Haha, I’ve already gained plenty,” Li Mu chuckled, producing a storage device. He placed the five medium-grade gourds inside and handed it to Li Mie. “Here, take these. Use them well in the sect—even if you don’t wish to give them away, just letting your elders see them will be a grand thing.”

Li Mie nodded and carefully stowed the gourds away.

Li Mu also placed his gourd into the Spiritual Tower, his heart brimming with joy. At last, he might be able to forge a treasure artifact—truly something to look forward to.

As the flames gradually died down, the two of them set off on the road back.

Riding the Cloudstep, they returned to Little Creek Village.

Li Mie hung Wang Xiaoming’s head from a great tree, then knelt in solemn homage at the village entrance.

“Madam Zhao, I have avenged you.” His eyes were filled with tears, but he forced them back. Li Mu knelt beside him in respect. Though he felt little attachment to Little Creek Village, after traversing so many places, the deepest impression left on him was that of his little sister, Li Ying. Even so, he too was determined to see vengeance done—cultivation values sincerity greatly. Failing to resolve debts and enmities of the past might well bring harm in the future.

“Vengeance is done. What will you do now?”

Seeing Li Mie’s crimson eyes gradually return to normal, Li Mu turned to ask him.

Li Mie hesitated, unsure what to say. “I don’t know, Brother Li. Whatever you say we’ll do, I’ll follow.”

This was exactly the answer Li Mu had hoped for. “First, focus on cultivating well within the sect.”

“Understood.”

Li Mie rose and took one last look at Little Creek Village. “Brother Li, let’s leave. We need never return.”

Li Mu smiled, summoned the Cloudstep, and the two returned to Deyang City.

Mingyu Valley.

Lofty mountain ranges stretched endlessly, encircling a low-lying basin. The peaks faced each other, faintly pointing toward a forbidden formation deep within the mountains. A hundred-meter-long corridor cut through the mountains, leading directly inside. The entire passage was paved with first-grade cloudstone, as white as snow—an obvious display of extravagance. Cultivators could often be seen coming and going, making the place lively and bustling.

Within the mountains, several cultivators sat on a terrace halfway up, chatting idly.

“I heard that Mu Xin was killed—his soul lamp in the mountains has gone out.”

The speaker’s appearance was immaculate, a hint of a smile on his face, as if the life and death of a fellow disciple meant little to him.

Only true disciples of Mingyu Valley were allotted a soul lamp within the mountain. The soul lamp was linked to a jade token carried by the cultivator—if the token shattered, it meant the cultivator had perished, and the lamp would extinguish accordingly.

“Dead is dead. We’re all the same—who knows when our end will come? It’s not as if he was an inner or core disciple. Do you really expect the sect to avenge such a death?”

“I heard he went to Little Creek Village. Was it really the Black Mountain bandits who killed him? Unlikely—our sect pays no heed to Black Mountain. Those bandits only dare prey on the native villagers, never our own.”

The speaker seemed to know Mu Xin somewhat, a touch of doubt on his face.

Hearing the conversation, Ye Da’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. “Little Creek Village? Isn’t that the village I was sent to recruit spirit slaves from?”

He recalled seeing Li Mu in Deyang City and suddenly felt a chill settle in his heart. He remembered well how he had treated Li Mu and the villagers of Little Creek.

Moreover, he was well aware of the massacre at Little Creek Village by the Black Mountain bandits, but had never considered intervening—if anything, he had even felt a certain satisfaction.

There were indeed ties between the Black Mountain bandits and Mingyu Valley. The valley maintained old allegiances, yet saw no distinction between the native villagers—who were used as spirit slaves and routinely slaughtered—and anyone else. In the eyes of Mingyu Valley, the indigenous people of a newly opened world were not even considered human. It was said that some cultivators, when displeased with their “recruits,” would hint to Wang Xiaoming, letting the Black Mountain bandits vent their frustrations on their behalf.

“What if Li Mu comes seeking vengeance? That won’t do—I must go to Little Creek Village and see for myself,” he thought grimly.

“Senior brothers, you carry on. I have some matters to attend to and will take my leave,” Ye Da said politely to those nearby.

“Why bother? Are you hoping to be promoted to inner disciple?” they teased with laughter.

The others burst out laughing as well.