Chapter Fourteen: Misty Tea and Fish

Watching the Ironclaw Eagle plummet, Song Changsheng took back his treasured gourd, drank a mouthful of wine, and after a brief recovery, steered his small boat in pursuit. The Ironclaw Eagle had truly infuriated him; only by roasting and eating it could he quell the hatred in his heart.

Its wings injured, the Ironclaw Eagle was now almost incapable of movement. When Song Changsheng arrived, it lay dying in a thicket. Seeing its pursuer closing in, despair flashed in its eyes, and it could only unleash a final flurry of wind blades in futile resistance.

To Song Changsheng, these posed no threat. With a flick of his finger, a burst of spiritual force pierced straight through the eagle’s skull.

“Spiritfish are fine, but they belong to someone; in your next life, be more clever,” Song Changsheng muttered, shaking his head. He was about to collect his spoils when he suddenly halted.

His nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled deeply, surprise flickering across his face. “What is this scent? It clears the mind, makes one feel refreshed—could there be some treasure nearby?”

Song Changsheng spread his spiritual sense, conducting a meticulous search inch by inch. Circling the area, he did indeed make a discovery: beneath a sloping patch of earth, a tea tree barely a foot tall swayed in the wind, releasing a peculiar and enchanting fragrance.

Greatly intrigued, Song Changsheng moved closer to examine it. He noticed wisps of white mist swirling around the tea tree, which had a forked trunk and a dozen or so deep green leaves on each branch, with new buds just emerging at the tips.

The leaves were oval, their edges serrated like sawteeth, and the veins upon them resembled drifting clouds—an extraordinary sight.

“Could this be the Mistveiled Tea Tree?” Song Changsheng exclaimed, delight in his voice.

He pinched off a leaf, placed it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. A surge of bitterness washed over his palate, soon followed by a strange sensation. Song Changsheng could clearly feel a unique power nourishing his very soul.

“It truly is Mistveiled Tea. I never expected such a stroke of fortune here,” he rejoiced, his eyes nearly glowing as he gazed upon the tea tree.

Mistveiled Tea was a rare spiritual tea. Brewing its leaves produced a drink that nourished the soul and refined spiritual power. For cultivators, the might of their spells was not only tied to their cultivation level; the purity of their spiritual energy was equally crucial.

Furthermore, purer spiritual energy meant a greater total volume in the dantian, allowing for longer use of large-scale spells. To Song Changsheng, this was nothing less than a dreamlike treasure.

“However, wherever spiritual plants grow, there are often fierce beasts guarding them. Why, then, is it so silent around this Mistveiled Tea?” Song Changsheng wondered, scanning his surroundings. In a nearby thicket, he made a discovery: parting the bushes, he found a huge bird’s nest, the residual aura unmistakably that of the Ironclaw Eagle.

In that moment, everything became clear to Song Changsheng. He had wondered why the Ironclaw Eagle lingered in the area, even returning after being wounded. Now he understood—it was waiting for the Mistveiled Tea Tree to bud. The leaves of this tea benefited not only human cultivators but were even more effective for spirit beasts.

If a spirit beast could consume the fresh buds, its soul would be greatly strengthened, accelerating its evolution of intelligence—intelligence being the key to advancing from the first to the second tier. Thus, even injured, the Ironclaw Eagle was unwilling to depart. On the very day the tea tree budded, it had tried to drive Song Changsheng away, only to be slain after his breakthrough, leaving the hard-won treasure to fall into Song Changsheng’s hands.

“Fortunately, Granduncle Fifty-three is advanced in age and not inclined to strenuous action. Otherwise, with his peak Qi Refining cultivation, had he pursued the Ironclaw Eagle, he would certainly have discovered this tea tree. Lucky for me indeed,” Song Changsheng thought, elated.

But now he faced a dilemma: how to transplant the tea tree. He was no spiritual gardener and lacked skill in handling such plants—a single misstep might damage its roots.

After some thought, Song Changsheng took a magic sword from his storage pouch and dug up a three-meter patch of soil surrounding the Mistveiled Tea Tree.

A large pit now yawned on the slope. Carefully carrying the block of earth back to his island in the center of the lake, he dug another large hole, set the soil and tea tree in place, and filled in the gaps. Thus, the Mistveiled Tea Tree was transplanted in a rather straightforward and rough manner.

To promote its growth, Song Changsheng buried several low-grade spirit stones around it.

At present, this tea tree was of high first-tier quality. With ample spiritual energy, it would soon advance further, enhancing the potency of its leaves.

“Let’s try these new buds,” Song Changsheng murmured, picking a few tender buds and storing them carefully in a jade vial.

He took out a porcelain cup, placed a bud inside, and poured in steaming spiritual spring water.

At once, a refreshing aroma wafted from the cup. As the tea steeped, the leaves gradually dissolved into the water, turning it a pale green, with wisps of mist curling above the rim.

“As expected of rare spiritual tea—even the scent alone brings joy to the soul,” Song Changsheng said, utterly enraptured.

Once the tea had fully infused, he drank it in one gulp, heedless of the heat. The fragrant liquid slid down his throat, and a surge of pure energy erupted from his middle dantian.

Song Changsheng immediately sat cross-legged, focused his mind, and began refining the energy with all his concentration.

As he refined it, the energy split in two—one part surged into his sea of consciousness, nourishing his soul.

The other flowed into his dantian, purifying the spiritual energy within...

After a full day and night, Song Changsheng slowly opened his eyes, his hands weaving incantations. “Water Dragon Vortex!”

On the surface of the lake, a waterspout several yards long formed, its power astonishing as it churned the once-tranquil Mirror Lake into chaos.

Fortunately, Song Changsheng remembered that this was family property and dispersed the spell after only a few breaths.

Watching the waterspout vanish, he said with delight, “The power of my spells has increased by at least thirty percent, and the consumption is lower as well. Mistveiled Tea truly deserves its reputation.”

This was a tangible boost to his abilities. If he’d possessed such power before, he would never have been so beleaguered by those devil cultivators—he might even have turned the tables and hunted them down.

“It's a pity that Mistveiled Tea is most effective only the first time it's drunk. Until it advances to the second tier, its effects for me will be negligible.”

Gazing at the few remaining buds in his jade vial, Song Changsheng considered how best to use them. According to clan rules, these were his personal property—he could easily trade them for cultivation resources.

But after some thought, he decided to keep them for now. After all, the tea tree only budded once every few years—these leaves were immensely precious. Keeping them at hand would be beneficial, whether for trade or as gifts.

Just as he was about to store the tea leaves in his pouch, a series of gurgling sounds from the shore caught his attention.

He followed the noise to the bank and found a slender, silver spiritual fish blowing bubbles incessantly, its bean-sized green eyes fixed intently on him.

To his amazement, it was the largest of the three peerless fish kings in the lake—a fish that had always deliberately avoided him. Why had it sought him out now?

Looking down at the jade vial in his hand, sudden understanding dawned. “You want these tea leaves?”

...