Chapter Six: Purifying the Essence

Chen Zhi'an stared blankly at the cup of ginger tea before him. Beside the cup lay twelve neatly sliced pieces of ginger.

"This ginger, sourced from the Kunlun Marsh, has been sliced into thirteen pieces. I wonder if they are too thin or too thick."

Thinking this, Chen Zhi'an picked up the cup with anticipation. The tea had already turned a ginger-yellow hue. A single slice of ginger had been dropped inside, only to dissolve completely upon contact with the water—a truly miraculous sight.

He took a sip.

As the ginger tea entered his mouth, a wave of warmth spread over his tongue, trickled down his throat, and settled into his stomach. Soon after, Chen Zhi'an felt his entire body begin to heat up; within moments, he broke into a sweat. Without hesitation, he downed the rest of the tea.

His body grew increasingly feverish. He felt as though every pore on his skin had opened up, releasing a steady stream of perspiration. His gray robe was soaked through, and sweat began to drip onto the floor. Yet, Chen Zhi'an felt no discomfort; on the contrary, he felt light, as if a great burden had been lifted. He spread his hands and looked at the backs of them, discovering that his skin had become much finer and fairer. This whiteness was not the pallor of illness, but rather a warm, translucent glow, much like polished jade.

"This extraordinary ginger is truly effective—remarkably so."

Chen Zhi'an swallowed hard, looking down at the twelve remaining slices on the table. "It is a pity there are only twelve left... they won't last long."

As he pondered this, a sudden inspiration struck him. He began to visualize the "Painting of the Heavenly Jade Capital" in his mind. As the image unfolded, the Kunlun Marsh section expanded, turning into a swirling mist. Chen Zhi'an brushed his palm over the twelve ginger slices.

The leftmost slice vanished instantly.

"It works!" Chen Zhi'an’s eyes brightened. His consciousness clearly perceived the missing slice appearing within the Kunlun Marsh of the painting, veiled by its mysterious mist. He could even sense that the ginger slice, once planted in the Kunlun Marsh, was like a seed beginning to take root.

"The misty aura within the Kunlun Marsh acts like fertile soil. I can plant things inside it—like this 'Red-Core Ginger'!"

"Since that is the case, I will save one slice for tomorrow and plant the rest in the Jade Capital painting."

With this thought, he swept his palm across the table again. One by one, the ginger slices vanished, appearing in the Kunlun Marsh, much to his delight. However, after the fourth slice disappeared from the table and into the painting, Chen Zhi'an began to feel a growing sense of lethargy. His body grew weary, and his thoughts slowed, becoming heavy and sluggish.

At the same time, a flood of information surged from the painting. Chen Zhi'an realized that this sudden exhaustion did not stem from the tea, but from the painting itself.

"The Jade Capital painting and the Kunlun Marsh are directly linked to my physical stamina and mental acuity! Planting the Red-Core Ginger in the Kunlun Marsh is limited to three slices; beyond that, I become overwhelmed by exhaustion and cannot sustain it."

Realizing this, he lightly shifted his intent. The fourth ginger slice vanished from the Kunlun Marsh and reappeared in his palm. Moments later, he felt much lighter, and the fatigue and mental sluggishness faded away.

"This Heavenly Jade Capital painting is far too miraculous. Even the Kunlun Marsh, just one of the five cities, can cultivate such strange herbs. It is a pity there is a limit."

"However, if this limit is linked to my physical health and mental sharpness, does that mean... as I drink the ginger tea daily, cleansing my marrow and purifying my flesh, the capacity of the Kunlun Marsh will increase?" Chen Zhi'an analyzed.

***

By midnight, his body was burning, and the sweating had intensified. He simply stripped off his clothes and lay naked on the floor, drifting off into a dream.

In his hazy dream, a woman dressed in spotless white stood over him. She looked down with a kind smile, tears streaming from her eyes as she reached out to him. Her tears fell onto his face, and Chen Zhi'an felt a very real, piercing chill.

He awoke to that sensation of cold, only to be bothered by the blinding sunlight.

"What time is it?" Startled, he sat up and saw that the sun had already climbed over the high courtyard wall, casting bright rays into his room.

"It must be noon. Have I slept for so long?" Chen Zhi'an was astonished. Fortunately, his room was tucked against the wall, so no one could see him from the window. He quickly rose and changed into his clothes to wash up.

After a hurried cleaning, he saw Chen Shuijun walking through the gate, carrying two fish.

"Mother Wang caught two carp in the Clear Water River and insisted I take them when we ran into each other."

Chen Shuijun was also wearing white, which reminded Chen Zhi'an of the woman in his dream. Having lived with Chen Shuijun for two years, and with the remnants of the original soul's consciousness having merged with his own, Chen Zhi'an felt a deep connection. For two years, Chen Shuijun had cared for him with a silent, pragmatic devotion—ever since Chen Zhi'an had first fallen into the water and been bedridden. He was, in every sense, a good father.

Whether it was a longing for the fatherly love he had missed in his previous life, a sense of gratitude, or the lingering instincts of this body, Chen Zhi'an spoke the word easily.

"Father, I suppose these two fish are the tuition fee Mother Wang is paying this month."

As he spoke, Chen Zhi'an expertly drew a bucket of water from the well. He performed the task with unusual ease; his arm did not tremble, and not a drop of water splashed out. He paused, momentarily distracted, before remembering the ginger tea from the night before.

"So much strength gained in just one night? This Red-Core Ginger is truly wondrous."

While marveling at the changes in his body, he busied himself with the cooking, fetching the knife, pot, and salt from the kitchen. Chen Shuijun began to scale and gut the fish in the courtyard with practiced skill.

"Huh?" Chen Zhi'an let out a soft exclamation. From a short distance away, he could clearly perceive a flow of energy within the carp—the same energy he had sensed in the Red-Core Ginger.

"These fish... are strange," Chen Zhi'an thought suspiciously. "Did Mother Wang really give these to him?"

"Don't just stand there, chop the garlic and onions," Chen Shuijun called out.

Chen Zhi'an shook off his thoughts and began to chop. "It is a shame these fish are already dead. If they were alive, I wonder if I could plant them in the Kunlun Marsh."

He let the matter go. As his father cooked and he assisted, the father and son spent many such leisurely days. But today, remembering his dream, he cleaned the scales off the ground and asked casually, "Father, why have you never mentioned my mother to me?"

Chen Shuijun was chopping the fish. His white clothes remained spotless, and his movements were steady and precise. Yet, upon hearing the question, his hand slipped, and the cleaver landed on the fish's head.

***

The fish head was severed, and an eye popped out, landing in the dust and staring up at the sun. Chen Shuijun remained silent, offering no answer. Chen Zhi'an was accustomed to his father's reticence; he suspected there were complexities behind it, but he did not press further.

Chen Shuijun prepared the famous Clear Water Carp of Sunan Prefecture. The fish, caught in the Clear Water River and simmered in clear water with only a pinch of salt, highlighted the natural essence of the meat.

The two sat in the courtyard to eat. The spring sun was gentle, warming them.

"Did you not go to the Yellow Gate today?"

"I finished drawing many portraits of wanted criminals for the imperial court yesterday; the master allowed me a day of rest."

"That is good. You should take a proper rest."

"Father, why have you never let me study?" Chen Zhi'an suddenly asked again.

Chen Shuijun’s chopsticks paused mid-air. This time, he did not remain silent. He placed a large piece of fish into Chen Zhi'an's bowl and said, "When have I ever forbidden you from studying? Didn't I find all those books in your room for you?"

"I mean, why not let me sit for the imperial examinations?"

"Because I do not like them," Chen Shuijun replied directly, his voice surprisingly firm. "The imperial court is infested with demons and monsters—the base fawning over the powerful, the weak clinging to the strong. The aristocratic clans control the government, intermarrying to exclude scholars from humble backgrounds and common officials. They prevent the dissemination of cultivation methods. Those who genuinely wish to do good are pushed aside and forced to leave in disgrace."

"Not to mention whether you would pass—even if you did become an official, you would be picked clean by those clans. It is better to do what you love."

Chen Shuijun paused for a moment before adding, "If you are determined to take the exams, I will not stop you. Life is precious for self-reliance and for following one's own desires; you need not pay them any mind."

Chen Zhi'an shook his head, took a large bite of fish, and smiled. "I have no interest in being an official. Life is good as it is. In a few days, I will find a wife, and we will both take care of you."

As he spoke, he keenly sensed a strange energy circulating in his body—clearly the effect of the fish.

"I will be going on a long journey in a few days," Chen Shuijun said suddenly. "I may not return for a year or more."

Chen Zhi'an frowned, about to ask for details. Just then, the courtyard gate was pushed open.

They turned to look. The alleyway, usually bustling with people, was now completely empty. Standing outside were many figures dressed in black, with long blades hanging at their waists. Two men stood further back, watching the humble courtyard.

Chen Zhi'an looked closely. One man wore purple robes; his long hair fell over his shoulders, and his expression was stern and majestic. Standing there, he gave off the overwhelming presence of a towering mountain. He stood with his hands behind his back, his sharp, falcon-like gaze sweeping over them, making Chen Zhi'an feel as though he had nowhere to hide. Beside him stood a youth in silver robes and a jade belt, looking incredibly refined. He stood behind the purple-robed man, a hint of a smile on his lips as he stared directly at Chen Shuijun.

Chen Zhi'an opened his mouth, about to stand up, but Chen Shuijun said softly, "Pay them no mind. Keep eating."

Chen Shuijun’s voice was as calm as ever. Chen Zhi'an glanced at the door, then back at his father.

"Who exactly is this 'father' of mine?"