Starting Cultivation During a Trip

Chapter 22: Chapter 22: Hanging Rope Alchemy, Divine Evil Lineage

”You can see me?”

This kind of question sounded a bit strange.

Zhang Fan raised an eyebrow, involuntarily sizing up the beautiful woman before him with her gold-rimmed glasses again. Compared to the long queues at the other companies, this place was indeed eerily quiet.

”So your Primordial Spirit has awakened, no wonder.”

At that moment, the woman suddenly said, ”My name is Wen He, I’m in charge of the recruitment for Night is not bright.”

”Wen He...” Zhang Fan chewed on this name, but grew a little wary: ”How do you know...”

”Primordial Spirit Awakening?” Wen He asked.

”Mm.” Zhang Fan made a faint sound in response.

”See this thing?”

Suddenly, Wen He pointed at the clay jar on the table, the black soil inside was close enough to fill the air with a pungent stench.

”I see it, so what?”

”It’s called Human Soul Mud,” Wen He whispered softly.

”What is Human Soul Mud?” Zhang Fan was puzzled.

”You don’t even know this? Not from a proper sect, are you?” Wen He froze for a second.

”I studied at Zhenwu Mountain for two days,” Zhang Fan grinned.

Even though he went for sightseeing, at least he awakened his Primordial Spirit atop Zhenwu Mountain.

”So you’re a disciple of Zhenwu Mountain.” Wen He’s eyes lit up, she seemed to look at Zhang Fan with new respect.

”That makes sense. To work at our company, you need to be from a prestigious sect—double first-class. You qualify.”

”Double first-class? Sect?” Zhang Fan was taken aback.

He understood both terms, but put together, he wasn’t quite sure what they meant.

”Have you ever won any awards, or had any further training experiences?” Wen He asked again.

”Huh?”

”For example, an in-sect Talisman design contest, Spell Elite Challenge awards, or official honorary titles like Outstanding Daoist, Advanced Cultivator—certified. Or maybe course graduation certificates from local Daoist Alliance training programs...”

”All those work,” Wen He explained.

”...”

Zhang Fan fell silent. He hadn’t even heard of any of that stuff.

Though, does participating in Zhenwu Mountain’s Jade Scroll Transmission Conference count? Even if he wandered in by accident—in the end, he did get the Zhenwu Jade Scroll. That should be an honor, even though he stole Xia Weisheng’s thunder.

”No,” Zhang Fan thought to himself, but still shook his head.

”I see. Let me take a look at your resume,” Wen He said offhandedly.

Upon hearing this, Zhang Fan handed over his resume.

”Sister Wen, what exactly is this Human Soul Mud?” Zhang Fan glanced at the black soil in the clay jar, unable to resist asking.

”Your mouth is pretty sweet,” Wen He looked up at him, then replied,

”In the past, when people hanged themselves from beams, the soul would sink to the ground, compress into qi and form medicine. If you dig into the earth below, you can unearth soil like this—it’s a bit like charcoal, and smells foul.” Wen He explained softly.

”This mud can move. The longer the death, the deeper you have to dig. If you don’t dig it up, someone else will hang themselves here sooner or later.”

”You mean this stuff is...” Zhang Fan glanced over, instinctively edging away.

”You’re acting all disgusted—but do you know how much this stuff is worth by the tael?” Wen He said blandly.

”How much?”

”Thirty-seven thousand,” Wen He said without lifting her head.

”Thirty-seven thousand—just for this?” Zhang Fan was tongue-tied.

A tael is fifty grams—over seven hundred per gram, almost the price of gold.

”What can you do? Who lives in timber-frame houses with exposed beams these days? Besides, everyone’s got enough to eat—who hangs themselves for nothing now?” Wen He murmured.

”It’s so valuable, Sis, do you think anyone would find an old house, get some desperate folks to...”

Zhang Fan hadn’t finished speaking when Wen He suddenly looked up, staring straight at him.

”Brother, you’ve got a pretty crooked mind, huh? Really from Zhenwu Mountain?” Wen He asked suspiciously.

”Sis, I haven’t been cultivating long, just talking nonsense,” Zhang Fan said awkwardly, quickly changing the subject: ”So why is it so expensive, what can you do with it?”

”Lots of uses—Alchemy, medicine refining, artifact refining... If nothing else, sprinkle a layer of incense ash on top, that’s Blinding Technique, regular people won’t notice it,” Wen He spoke softly.

Ordinary people’s Primordial Spirit hasn’t awakened, they rely too much on their five senses to know the world—but the five senses are limited, especially susceptible to confusion.

If you sprinkle incense on Human Soul Mud, its aura lingers, and normal people can hardly notice anything wrong.

Back in the day, Daoists who retreated to deep mountains would use this method around cave entrances and along paths to avoid being disturbed. Even if people came close, they wouldn’t see a thing.

”Sis, so what does our company actually do?”

”We sell stuff—Heavenly treasures, exotic wonders, Spirit Talismans, elixirs... Anything a cultivator wants, as long as they pay, we sell it,” Wen He replied softly.

”To put it simply: let no cultivator in the world go without a rare treasure to buy.”

”Man, I was really naive.” Zhang Fan couldn’t help sighing.

After a visit to Zhenwu Mountain, he felt the world wasn’t at all what he’d thought it was.

”Brother, your Eight Characters are interesting—you’re short on family fates, never had a mom, right?”

Wen He looked down at Zhang Fan’s resume and suddenly spoke.

”Huh? How can you tell?” Zhang Fan looked surprised.

His mother perished in a car accident ten years ago.

These years, it’s been Zhang Lingzong raising him.

”All mortals are born with Eight Characters—everyone’s life carries Divine Evil!” Wen He spoke softly, ”You can pick out a lot from the mystical fates in everyone’s chart.”

Divine Evil—it’s a truly mysterious facet of fate and metaphysics.

Everyone’s fate, based on their birthplace, time, the season, is aligned with auspicious stars and ominous spirits in the heavens.

All auspicious and ominous stars corresponding to one’s chart are collectively called Divine Evil.

They pervade and influence one’s destiny through life.

Different Eight Characters mean different Divine Evil in the fate.

For instance, if someone is lucky in love and romance never ends, most likely they’re born with the Peach Blossom Divine Evil.

Likewise, if someone tends to cheat—especially after marriage—their fate likely carries the Hongyan Divine Evil.

If their grades are great and they ace civil service or graduate exams, most likely it’s the Wenchang Divine Evil at work.

If a person holds a high position with power in hand, usually they have the National Seal Divine Evil in their chart.

If someone often gets help from the opposite sex—like inheriting a fortune after attending their girlfriend’s 70th birthday—they probably have the Golden Carriage Divine Evil.

Someone carrying Golden Carriage Divine Evil is generally born to freeload off others, likely to avoid the tragedy of ”not knowing the joys of mooching when young, eating gruel and chaff when old.”

Take also Gu Chen and Widow Star, the two most dreaded Divine Evil for men and women.

As the saying goes: a man carrying Gu Chen loses his wife early, a woman with Widow Star loses her husband. If you have both in your fate, most likely your marriage is doomed and you’ll live half your life alone.

”Sis, that’s pretty spot on. What else can you tell?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

With that, Wen He slapped his resume on the table and rolled her eyes, with a grin: ”Bro, you think I’m a fortune-teller or something?”

”Looking for a job, looking for a job...” Zhang Fan chuckled awkwardly.

”Your resume really doesn’t say much,” Wen He shook her head.

”You didn’t show enough.”

”Then how should I show it?” Zhang Fan couldn’t help asking.

”Realm and Strength.”

Vmm...

As soon as she finished, Wen He’s delicate hand shot out like a Spirit Snake, suddenly appearing before Zhang Fan’s face.

In a flash, Wen He’s move looked to Zhang Fan as if it was slowed down. His arm snapped out, right hand like a tiger, grabbing for Wen He’s wrist.

Bam...

Wen He twisted her wrist slightly, easily evading Zhang Fan’s grab.

As they crossed, the tendons in Zhang Fan’s palm suddenly tightened, veins snapping up like taut bows, his strength surging through muscle and skin, stirring up gusts of energy.

Wen He’s eyes suddenly sharpened. The bead string on her wrist abruptly snapped, beads scattering across the tabletop with crisp pops.

”Impressive reflexes. Just that alone puts you top-tier in the Qi Cultivation realm,” Wen He withdrew her hand and couldn’t help but praise.

Zhang Fan was stunned. Everything just now was pure instinct, no conscious thought. It was as if the actions were etched into his muscle memory, becoming second nature.

He didn’t know why his reflexes felt so natural, but since leaving Zhenwu Mountain and training hard, he’d improved a lot. His physical abilities far outpaced ordinary professional athletes just based on strength and stamina alone.

”Brother, since that’s the case, I should get serious,”

Suddenly, Wen He’s voice pulled Zhang Fan out of his thoughts. She slowly took off her glasses, and the smile on her delicate face vanished—she looked like a whole different person.

”There are countless Dharma Lineages under the Daoist Sect. What I cultivate is the Divine Evil Lineage.”

Her icy voice rang in Zhang Fan’s ear, sharp as clashing blades.