Chapter Twelve: Little Green Mountain (Please Follow Along)

"Little Green Mountain?" Song Changsheng was even more surprised.

Little Green Mountain was the name of a spiritual peak, considered an enclave of the family, lying a thousand miles away from Vast Peak, in a somewhat remote location. Yet the conditions there were not lacking; beneath the ground ran a second-grade spiritual vein, its aura abundant, more than sufficient for Qi Refining cultivators to train. The family’s enterprises there mainly involved raising spirit fish and some spirit beasts. These were kept in a free-range manner, requiring little supervision—a rare place of leisure. Other than being a little out of the way, it had hardly any drawbacks.

However, it was usually the older elders of the family who were assigned there. Why was it his turn this time?

Perhaps sensing his confusion, Song Xianming smiled helplessly and said, “You really gave your mother quite a fright this time. When she came back last, she specifically asked me to find you a safer task. Your mother has never asked anyone for anything in her life; by reason and sentiment, I must fulfill her wish. As it happens, your fifty-third great uncle is getting old, so you’ll go and replace him so he can return and enjoy his remaining years in peace.”

“Yes, sir.”

Song Changsheng hurriedly accepted the order. This assignment suited him perfectly—though a bit remote, it was free of worries and allowed him to cultivate in peace.

“Very well. Pack your things; in three days, your twelfth uncle will escort you there.” Song Xianming nodded, signaling that Song Changsheng was dismissed.

He hadn’t gone far when he heard a fit of violent coughing from behind. His mood turned somber at once.

Once outside the great hall, Song Changsheng sighed softly, “Grandfather paid too heavy a price back then. These years of seclusion haven’t brought much result—where can I find a treasure to replenish his vitality...”

He couldn’t help but worry—Song Xianming was already two hundred years old, and Foundation Establishment cultivators usually lived no more than two hundred and fifty years. Because he had forcibly halted a breakthrough, Song Xianming had damaged his life force, drastically shortening his lifespan. Without another breakthrough, he would soon reach the end of his days.

He was the family’s pillar, the jade column holding up the sky, the golden beam spanning the seas. If he were to pass away, it would be a devastating blow to the family.

“I have to grow stronger as soon as possible...”

Three days later, with everything packed, Song Changsheng stood at the edge of a cliff, waiting quietly.

Before long, a brilliant streak of light sped across the sky toward him.

Sword-riding flight was one of the hallmarks of a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

“Greetings, Twelfth Uncle. Thank you for taking the trouble,” Song Changsheng said respectfully to the figure before him.

Song Luhuai beamed, “There’s no trouble among family. Honestly, I think you should stay with the family to cultivate well. Achieve Foundation Establishment soon and help share our burdens.”

Song Changsheng replied seriously, “Everything should be fair. I’m no different from anyone else; how could I expect to enjoy benefits without contributing?”

“Good child, good child indeed.” Song Luhuai patted his shoulder with heartfelt emotion. If everyone thought this way, how could the family not thrive?

“It’s getting late. Let’s set out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Song Changsheng stepped onto the flying sword, feeling only a slight sway before the scenery around him quickly blurred, receding into the distance. In the blink of an eye, they were already among the clouds.

Flying on a sword was a completely different experience from riding a paper kite. Song Changsheng felt as if he had become a bird, soaring freely beneath the sky...

It was a novel sensation, but the sword was so fast that in less than half an hour, they had covered more than a thousand miles.

As they gradually descended, a modest spiritual mountain appeared before Song Changsheng—this was their destination: Little Green Mountain.

“So this is the Little Green Mountain that the Grand Elder once won by slaying a top-tier second-grade monster beast. I’ve heard for years that its scenery is unique, and it truly lives up to its name.”

Song Changsheng was well pleased with his future post. Though remote, it was an excellent place for quiet cultivation.

“Haha, let’s go down.” Song Luhuai guided the sword down, landing on a bluestone plaza halfway up the mountain.

Five people were already waiting there, all elders with white hair and heavy signs of age.

Song Luhuai put away his sword and, leading Song Changsheng, bowed to the group. “Uncles, this is Changsheng, here to relieve Uncle Fifty-Three.”

“Grandson greets the honored elders.” Song Changsheng quickly paid his respects. These elders, all of the “Xian” generation, had rendered great service to the family; even Foundation Establishment cultivators owed them deference.

“At last, a young man has come to this place of ours,” the leading, gaunt old man said cheerfully, stroking his beard.

“Uncle Fifty-Three, if you’re ready, let me escort you home. The Grand Elder has been thinking of you,” Song Luhuai said, always busy with affairs and unable to tarry.

“I’ll go, I’ll go. Little Changsheng, I’ll leave you my hut—it’s well supplied, so you won’t have to trouble yourself further,” the old man said kindly to Song Changsheng.

“Thank you, Grandfather, for your generosity.” Song Changsheng bowed again; this saved him a great deal of trouble.

“Changsheng, I’ll take my leave now. If you need anything, send word by sword transmission.”

“Farewell, Twelfth Uncle, Fifty-Third Grandfather.” Song Changsheng watched them depart before turning to the others. “Honored elders, might I ask what my duties are?”

The elders exchanged glances before one pointed to a large lake not far away. “That is Mirror Lake. Several schools of first-grade Silverthread Fish are raised there. Your task, apart from cultivation, is to feed them and make sure they’re not threatened by other monsters. Lately, a top-grade first-tier bird has come to Little Green Mountain; you need to be vigilant. Every year, the family sends people to harvest the spirit fish. You must turn in the required number—if you fall short, you’ll have to make up for it with spirit stones yourself. But as long as you do your job, that should almost never happen.”

“I understand,” Song Changsheng replied.

After exchanging a few courtesies, Song Changsheng took his leave and headed to Mirror Lake.

The lake was quite large, its clear surface reflecting the azure sky. On windless days, it truly resembled a mirror.

Fruit trees lined the shore—common varieties, not of any special grade. Only by long exposure to the spiritual energy from the vein had their vitality subtly changed.

But the change was slight; the fruit they bore contained only a trace of spiritual energy—enough to please the palate, but useless for a cultivator’s training.

Thus, the family paid these trees little mind, treating them as perks for the stationed cultivators.

In the lake’s center was a small island, with a thatched hut, a small plot of spiritual field, and several green plum trees—the residence left to him by the departing elder.

“How to get across?” Song Changsheng looked around and finally spotted a few small boats on the shore.

He boarded one, slowly rowing toward the island at the heart of the lake...