After They Changed My Spiritual Root, I Decided to Go Mad - Chapter 2

4.

In the end, not a single peak master would take me.

They all put it very politely.

An unusual spiritual root need not prevent someone from attaining the Dao. Unfortunately, their particular cultivation methods were unsuitable, and they feared holding back a disciple with such prospects.

Five peak masters took turns holding me back. The sect leader’s expression grew darker by the minute.

Just then, someone coughed outside.

Elder Wu of Hundred Uses Peak, behind the mountain, came in carrying a hoe over his shoulder.

“Nobody wants her?”

The sect leader said nothing.

“Then I’ll take her.”

The hall master frowned. “Old Wu, your place handles waste and tends the spirit fields. She does have a supreme-grade root, after all.”

Elder Wu set his hoe on the ground.

“Exactly. Supreme-grade. You don’t want her. I do. What’s the problem?”

Before taking me away, he glanced back at Pei Qiao.

“And cleansing talismans are for cleaning dirty things. Don’t stand next to a girl burning them one after another.”

The hand hidden in Pei Qiao’s sleeve went still.

I followed Elder Wu outside, suddenly close to tears.

But he asked, “Can you eat?”

I said I could.

“How many meals a day?”

“Three.”

He let out a long breath. “That’s all right, then. Picked up a body cultivator last year who eats eight. Nearly ate the spirit fields out of existence.”

5.

There were only three people at Hundred Uses Peak.

My master, Wu Buqi; my senior brother, Ding Yan; and my senior sister, Qiao Sui.

With me, that made four.

Senior Brother was the body cultivator who ate eight meals a day. When he stood to welcome me, the entire room darkened.

“Junior Sister, if anyone bullies you, come to me.”

“After he’s eaten,” Senior Sister added immediately. “He has no strength before meals.”

She handed me a fresh set of clothes. She had also saved a plate of stir-fried bamboo shoots for me.

I wasn’t used to this. “Don’t you mind…”

“Mind what?”

“My spiritual root.”

Qiao Sui looked at me for a while, then pointed outside.

“See that septic tank? My senior brother dug it. See the spirit grain we just harvested? I grew it. Everyone in the sect eats the food we grow, then turns around and calls us dirty. Where’s the sense in that?”

Senior Brother nodded. “Besides, I use the latrine too.”

He thought for a moment and added, “Fasting pills cost too much. Not worth it.”

I lowered my head and ate a bamboo shoot.

It was crisp, and a little sweet.

6

I told Master about Su Miaomiao’s ability to alter characters.

I left out the transmigration and rebirth. I only said that during the test, I had seen her fingertip move, and another component had appeared over the character for water.

Master did not call me ridiculous. Nor did he immediately believe me.

He borrowed the recording stone and watched it dozens of times.

After working at it until midnight, he reached a conclusion: my spiritual root had indeed undergone an abnormal change, but there was no concrete evidence. My word alone could not establish anyone’s guilt.

I nodded.

In my previous life, I had hated being denied a chance to prove myself.

Being reborn did not mean I could now expect everyone else to know the truth out of thin air.

“Still going to cultivate?” Master asked.

“Yes.”

“Disgusted by it?”

I thought of Su Miaomiao’s face, scrubbed red from washing.

“No.”

Satisfied, Master tapped the table.

“Then tomorrow, you start cleaning the tank.”

My smile vanished.

“Yours is supreme-grade,” he said consolingly.

That was beginning to sound less like a compliment.

7.

My spiritual root was not some evil art that could conjure filth whenever and wherever I pleased.

It could only control the corresponding liquid within range of my spiritual sense, after that liquid had left the body.

The farther away it was, the more spiritual energy it took. The more impurities it contained, the harder it was to control.

But the advantage of supreme-grade aptitude was precision.

Through the tank wall, I could separate the residual water, salts, and traces of spiritual substances excreted by spirit beasts.

On the first day, I separated only half a bucket.

On the second, a full bucket.

By the seventh, I had finally learned to extract only what we needed and send the clear liquid through pipes into a sealed fermentation tank. No more hauling buckets all over the mountain.

Senior Brother stood on the bank, moved to tears.

“Junior Sister, you’ve saved my back.”

“Aren’t you a body cultivator?”

“A body cultivator’s back is still a back.”

Qiao Sui tested different concentrations of liquid fertilizer with a record book in hand.

Which patch had yellowing leaves, which grew faster—she drew it all on paper.

Master said that, used properly, it nourished the spirit fields. Used improperly, it was still a disaster that could spread disease.

Pipes had to be sealed. Water sources had to be kept separate. Nothing could leave the tank until treatment passed inspection.

A strange satisfaction came over me.

A gift that had once done nothing but disgust people had finally accomplished something someone needed.