Chapter Sixteen: It Is Mother After All

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Jiang Haohai believed that her second sister, despite her carefree and rough exterior, had a subtle attentiveness beneath it all, making her capable of thriving wherever she went—and living well. She couldn't help but grin, and Jiang Yunyun, seeing her sister’s silly smile, also chuckled softly.

Then, half her body fell into her little sister’s basket, her face pressed gently against her sister’s, taking in deep breaths of the milky fragrance. Jiang Haohai wore an expression of mock displeasure, but inside she was delighted.

Her second sister must adore her so much; without her, this family would surely fall apart!

When she woke again, their mother had returned. Though Jiang Haohai knew her mother must have thoroughly cleaned herself, her body—altered by the gourd’s transformation—still carried a strong metallic scent of blood.

Moreover, due to the fairy elixir her mother had taken, Jiang Haohai could sense that her mother’s cultivation had broken through to the Golden Core stage.

She felt a twinge of worry. Since their mother and eldest brother had taken the elixir, their changes had been profound. Would they suspect something?

Mother might appear simple-minded, but her mind was sharp; eldest brother might seem dull-witted, but he was cunning; and their illustrious father needed no introduction—the pinnacle of intelligence in the family.

Oh, and the second sister—aside from being a bit crafty when it came to food—seemed the most absent-minded of all.

Whether or not they harbored suspicions, Jiang Haohai, as the youngest and the innocent little darling who knew nothing, was definitely not a subject of their scrutiny.

Even if they did, she would only babble nonsensically; after all, adults don’t hold grudges against children.

Just as Song Liyao returned, she took out the black dragon meat intending to place it in the kitchen. Jiang Lin, seeing this, instinctively stepped forward to help.

“No need, you’re still hurt. Rest well,” Song Liyao said.

The black dragon, nearly ten zhang in length, must weigh over a hundred jin. The several baskets of meat were heavy and burdensome. Jiang Lin’s body was still recovering; perhaps it was not suitable for heavy labor.

But Jiang Lin held onto the basket firmly. He could genuinely feel his body growing stronger than before.

Song Liyao also gripped the basket, refusing to let go. The two forces clashed in the air, filled with shock, confusion, and disbelief.

As the eldest brother finally relented, the tense atmosphere dissipated.

Jiang Haohai watched this scene and felt it strangely reminiscent of a clash between senior cultivators in the Foundation Establishment stage.

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As the sunset vanished completely, the little courtyard of the Jiang family finally came alive with fire and cooking.

Mother skillfully chopped the meat in the kitchen with powerful, rhythmic strokes. Second sister was tasked with continuing to decoct the spiritual herbs bought yesterday, while eldest brother still needed medicinal tonics to recuperate.

Though eldest brother insisted on helping with chores, mother sent him off to pick vegetables.

Mother steadily carried the somewhat stunned Jiang Haohai on her back, wielding a large cleaver designed for butchering.

Jiang Haohai thought, if mother were to take on the task of slaughtering a pig, she would surely excel at it!

But she refrained from praising her mother just yet, because a shiver ran down her spine—as the head of the black dragon, long since cut into eight pieces, still stood intact in the basket. Its dark golden vertical pupil stared coldly at her.

Jiang Haohai imagined that if this black dragon were still alive, it could probably swallow her small frame with one bite.

But honestly, even dead, it was terrifying!

Mother had clearly changed after drinking the elixir; who else would hunt and bring back a potentially thousand-year-old great dragon?

To momentarily suppress her fear, Jiang Haohai retreated into her mind’s sea to cultivate—after all, if not now, then when?

In the dim kitchen, a sturdy woman stirred the evening meal with care, carrying a sleeping chubby little bundle on her back. Her long sleeves were tightly rolled up to facilitate her work.

She listened to the child’s gentle snores and moved the spatula in rhythm, carefully stirring the food. The chubby child’s rosy face was pressed closely against the broad back, sleeping soundly.

For this woman, this ordinary day, this quiet moment, would be deeply etched into the worn years of her life. She was both the most ruthless hunter and the most comforting mother.

...

Meanwhile, at dusk elsewhere, save for the patrol officers still on duty, clerks at the county office were preparing to finish work and head home.

The world was in chaos: unstable government, bandits in power, sects vying for dominance, rivaling the imperial court. The situation was turbulent, and the populace suffered greatly.

The rich owned vast fields stretching endlessly; the poor barely had enough to eat.

In a dim room, a man sat meditating. Rows of neat ledgers lined the shelves, meticulously categorized by region. The small space was arranged to feel spacious.

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The man opened his eyes, sensing it was time to end his cultivation session. He rose and sat by the only window, the faint lamp light illuminating his pale hand as he picked up today’s ledger.

His hands were distinctly boned, slender and clean, like translucent white jade—though slightly flawed, with a thin layer of calluses.

With one hand flipping pages and the other swiftly working an abacus, he completed the final reconciliation for the day’s work.

After over a hundred years of bitter cultivation, he was betrayed within his clan, his Heavenly Spirit Root extracted. Though he struggled to catch up, he remained trapped in the Qi Refining stage without breakthrough.

He sought an official post through scholarly means, but was driven from home by his own mother, branded unfilial and cut off from the imperial exams.

As a child, his younger brother often said he was born noble, blessed with enviable fortune—a belief he once shared.

But after being cast out, even his brother doubted him. The servants who once treated him with respect now scorned and insulted him.

Later, he became an ordinary farmer, toiling in his spiritual fields, endlessly coaxing clouds and summoning rain. The future seemed forever confined to this spiritual farmland, and even his children showed no promise.

So he let go of his pride and knelt—for his children.

He had not knelt when he lost his Heavenly Spirit Root, nor when he was expelled, but he knelt for his children.

He did not want them to suffer as he had: exploited, mocked, and trapped among the masses. As a responsible father, he could not accept that fate.

Parental love runs deep and far-sighted.

Yet he did not expect that kneeling would only earn him more arrogant and oppressive treatment. The once elegant and upright Jiang Xu slowly bowed his head to life and fate, his spirit bent.

He did not know what end would justify this lifetime of hardship and wandering.

Eventually, he fought to reach the county office. Though small and dim, this room saw him through his most helpless years.

He still cultivated when he had time, still sought solace in books to mend his fragile soul.

He was neither a good father nor a good husband; he struggled to provide even basic sustenance for his spouse and children. He felt ashamed to have studied the sages.