32: The Storyteller's Cultivation Method (Please read and vote)

Chen Yuan staggered.

He arrived at the spot where the items had fallen.

The miraculously recovered Green Lamp, and a smooth, polished bone.

Chen Yuan raised an eyebrow, beckoning from the bushes.

He held it in his hand and examined it with his Minds Eye, his brows furrowing.

Inside was a mass of black Demonic Qi.

It seemed to have been refined by someone.

With a thought, he circulated his True Qi and tested it.

The wisp of black Demonic Qi instantly scattered like a boiling oil pot.

Then, like ink painting, a miniature ink wash painting slowly formed in the center of the bone.

Among the mountains, there was a valley, where the Demonic Qi finally condensed, flickering like a flame.

Chen Yuan's eyes narrowed.

Though he didn't know where this place was,

this object had a ferocious aura.

If his guess was correct, a powerful demon might be lurking there.

What was the connection between the Demon Monk holding this object and appearing in this vicinity?

Chen Yuan looked at the vast, dark mountains.

In the depths of Langdang Mountain, spanning eight hundred li, who knew how many demons were hidden?

In the past six months, his Cultivation had been low, and he had not yet set foot in many places.

After thinking this.

Chen Yuan put away the bone slip and the Green Lamp into his sleeve.

After doing all this, he opened his robe and glanced at his embrace.

Little Squirrel Xiaohua, limp and curled up, had lost all her previous vitality.

Her eyelids drooped.

Chen Yuan quickly descended the mountain.

Not long after, he returned to Qingshan County, to the small courtyard in Jiazi Ward.

Meanwhile, in an inn in Qingshan County.

The Storyteller had checked into this inn today.

In the guest room, an oil lamp burned.

The old man with the goatee was bent over a table.

He held a brush and ink, with books spread out on the table.

He wrote line after line of small characters.

“Jiazi day, Shu Land, Qingshan County. The people here also struggle. I am telling stories here. I heard that there is a demonic disaster in the neighboring Yunlu County. The Patrolling Mountain Commandant here patrols the mountains and slays demons, earning the praise of the common people. His Realm is unknown, but it can be spoken of and spread.”

The old man with the goatee paused after writing this.

Then he thought for a moment and tore off the page.

The Patrolling Mountain Commandant of this place, his name unknown, his Realm unknown—such people and events were too common in the Jianghu.

As a story, it didn't seem to have much to tell. The human world was a sea of suffering, all striving to cross.

He was a Storyteller, traveling everywhere, exploring stories wherever he went.

Then he would write these passionate, sorrowful, or spirited Jianghu tales, speaking for these Jianghu children, spreading them far and wide, and gaining the Luck of heaven and earth.

This was the Cultivation method of their lineage!

Shaking his head, there was nothing worth writing about in Qingshan County for now.

He would rest his feet first!

...

The next day, the sky was bright.

Chen Yuan woke up and first checked Little Squirrel's injuries.

He then transferred a mouthful of True Qi to her.

The little fellow was nestled weakly in the small nest Chen Yuan had prepared for her, lacking spirit.

The white fox was pacing back and forth beside her, whimpering.

She seemed very anxious.

“It's nothing, she'll be fine after a few days of rest.”

He examined the little fellow's injuries, a thoughtful look flashing across his eyes as he spoke.

Yesterday, this little fellow was severely injured by the Body Profound Demon Monk. He had transferred a mouthful of True Qi to sustain her life, and today, upon re-examination, he found her injuries much improved.

He guessed that the little fellow must have had some fortuitous encounter.

Perhaps it was related to that Green Lamp!

He reassured Little White, instructing her to guard the house.

Then he went out the door.

Not long after, he arrived at a certain forest east of the city gate.

He let out a whistle.

After a few minutes,

there was a chirping sound.

Soon, a pale green Small Green Bird flew from the forest.

It landed on a branch in front of Chen Yuan.

The Small Green Bird was palm-sized, with a yellow circular patch below its eyes and a small tuft of messy feathers on its head.

“Chirp, chirp.”

The Small Green Bird chirped twice, its eyes blood-red like two rubies, looking at Chen Yuan.

Chen Yuan took out the white bone slip and brought forth the mass of Demonic Qi.

He manifested the landscape painting.

“Find this valley for me.”

He gave the command.

The Small Green Bird hopped back and forth on the branch.

A pea-sized ball of True Qi overflowed from Chen Yuan's finger.

The Small Green Bird flew over, pecked with its beak, and swallowed the True Qi.

Then, it flapped its wings and flew away.

Chen Yuan watched the Small Green Bird fly away, his gaze thoughtful.

Last night's Demon Monk would surely return, and the bone plaque that fell from him, along with the appearance of this demonic valley...

He wouldn't feel at ease if he didn't investigate.

He liked to plan before acting and didn't like being ambushed at his door.

As he pondered, he still felt uneasy, so he used the Banshan Tiger Talisman to issue commands to the nearby Contracted Demons.

If they encountered a bald monk, they were to issue a warning.

Only then did Chen Yuan feel a little more at ease.

After doing all this, Chen Yuan, as usual, went to Old Wu's wine stall in a certain alley corner.

Old Wu always smiled jovially.

Chen Yuan drank a cup of wine and exchanged information with Old Wu.

He casually brought up the matter of the Storyteller.

“Old Wu, do you know that a Storyteller has arrived at our Qingshan County city gate?”

“Replying to Your Excellency, this old man knows about it. He arrived here early yesterday morning. Does Your Excellency think this person is problematic?” Old Wu's voice lowered as he spoke the latter part.

Chen Yuan shook his head and spoke of what he had seen and heard when he met the Storyteller.

The other party's Cultivation method was quite peculiar; they would give back to themselves through storytelling.

“Do you know what this is about?”

Upon hearing this, Old Wu's expression became thoughtful, and soon, his face changed slightly, then he whispered:

“According to what this old man knows, this should be a relatively obscure branch among the Hundred Schools of Thought. When this old man was young, I heard of such things, it seems to belong to some novelist, but this old man can't remember the specifics.”

“These people travel far and wide, recording the deeds of those exceptionally talented individuals along the way, and spreading them far and wide. The protagonists of stories spread by these people gain fame in the Jianghu, and naturally, Luck will be added to them, and these people then borrow Luck from them to nourish themselves.”

“This Cultivation method is indeed very strange; it's possible for a Storyteller to ascend to heaven with just one person!”

Chen Yuan, hearing Old Wu's explanation, was momentarily amazed.

...

Time quickly came to evening.

Night fell, enveloping the entire Qingshan County.

In the night, a green Small Green Bird flew into Qingshan County.

It let out chirping sounds.

Not long after, a dark figure landed on the city gate tower.

It was Chen Yuan, on his usual night patrol.

Chen Yuan raised his hand.

The green Small Green Bird landed in his hand.

“Found it?” Chen Yuan asked.

“Chirp, chirp.”

The Small Green Bird nodded like a chick.

“Take me there!”

As Chen Yuan finished speaking, the Small Green Bird flapped its wings and flew towards the west side of the city gate.

Chen Yuan's eyes shone brightly in the night.

The western Langdang Mountain was a full six hundred li away, a place he rarely set foot in.

Thinking this, he leaped down, traversing the forest by stepping on treetops, and sped away.

Soon, he disappeared into the night!

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