Chapter 958
Crops in Jujube Blossom Valley
Chu Yang mentally compared the advantages and disadvantages of the two approaches.
Wind Path - Allows for partial invisibility, suitable for use while moving. It offers strong control over spiritual energy, but the distribution is not uniform enough, requiring a large number of thought anchors to ensure complete coverage.
Waterway – Only allows full-body invisibility, suitable for use in a static state. The spiritual energy is evenly distributed but poorly controllable, and it puts a heavy burden on the Tanzhong acupoint.
Pigsy was right—if you can combine the two approaches and use their strengths to compensate for their weaknesses, the effect will far exceed that of using either one alone.
But that's a matter for later.
He hasn't even mastered the basics of either of the two approaches yet.
Chu Yang withdrew his spiritual energy and began absorbing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth to replenish his dantian.
"Monkey King, Pigsy, I plan to spend the rest of today practicing my invisibility technique. You two..."
Sun Wukong had already jumped back onto the branch of the ginkgo tree, found a comfortable position to lean against the trunk, and put his hands behind his head.
"You keep practicing, I'm going to take a nap. Call me if you need anything."
Pigsy was even more straightforward; he simply lay down on the grass and closed his eyes.
"I'll take a break too... Anyway, I've finished teaching the incantations... If you don't understand anything, ask me when I wake up..."
In less than ten breaths, snoring began.
Chu Yang looked at the sleeping postures of the monkey and the pig and shook his head helplessly.
Then he closed his eyes and focused all his attention on his body.
He spent the entire morning and half the afternoon repeatedly practicing the two methods of the invisibility technique.
First practice the Wind Path—starting with the right hand, expanding to both hands, then both arms, and finally the chest and abdomen. After each round, stop to recover your spiritual energy, and only start the next round when you have recovered to more than 70%.
Next, practice the water path—starting with 10% spiritual energy, gradually increasing to 20% and then 30%. With each increase of 10%, carefully feel the load on the Tanzhong acupoint to ensure it does not exceed the safe range.
By around 3 PM, he had already practiced seven rounds of wind-based techniques and five rounds of water-based techniques.
His best use of the Wind-Path Disappearance technique resulted in complete coverage of his upper body—from head to waist. The uniformity of the halo was significantly improved compared to the morning, and three of the gaps in his back had been filled in. The effect was a step beyond "blurry," reaching a level of "semi-transparent"—not invisible, but easily missed if one didn't look closely.
His best attempt at waterborne escape used thirty percent of his spiritual energy. Ripples of spiritual energy covered his entire body, and the refraction effect was significantly enhanced compared to when he used only ten percent of his spiritual energy. When he stood on the grass, his body silhouette almost blended into the grass and ginkgo trees behind him—like a human-shaped glass sculpture, completely transparent, with only a very faint halo around the edge giving away his location.
However, this state only lasted for about four breaths before it couldn't be maintained—the spiritual energy was exhausted, and the stealth function was automatically dispelled.
Four breaths.
It was slightly longer than the "two or three breaths" estimated by Sun Wukong.
It may be because the waterway is more efficient at utilizing spiritual energy than the windway—with the same amount of spiritual energy, the waterway provides more even coverage and less waste.
Chu Yang kept this discovery in mind.
He finally stopped practicing as the sun began to set.
My whole body felt sore and weak, as if my bones had been removed. My dantian felt empty, my head felt heavy, and occasionally some white lights would flash before my eyes—this was mental fatigue caused by excessive consumption of spiritual energy.
He lay down on the grass and looked up at the sky.
The sky was a deep blue, almost purple. A few thin clouds, like cotton wool torn apart by the wind, hung lazily on the edge of the sky. The branches and leaves of the ginkgo trees intertwined overhead, forming a golden-green dome. Sunlight, like scattered gold, filtered through the gaps in the leaves, falling on his face, warm but not dazzling.
Sun Wukong had woken up sometime earlier and was squatting next to him, a blade of grass dangling from his mouth.
"Finished practicing?"
"I'm done practicing. My spiritual energy is depleted."
How are you feeling?
Chu Yang thought for a moment.
"It's like suddenly having two extra hands. Before, my spiritual energy could only flow within my meridians, but now it can emerge from my skin. Although it's just a thin membrane, this breakthrough itself signifies that my control over spiritual energy has entered a new level."
Sun Wukong hummed in agreement.
"Indeed. The flow of spiritual energy from within the body to its release outside is a crucial leap from the Qi Refining stage to the Foundation Establishment stage. Many cultivators spend their entire lives trying to overcome this hurdle. You've touched the threshold in just one day—though you've only touched it and haven't crossed it yet—but that's already quite remarkable."
Chu Yang smiled wryly, "The threshold and what's inside the door are two different things. My current ability to hide is just a facade; it might not be effective in a real fight."
“Take your time.” Sun Wukong patted his shoulder—this time his uninjured left shoulder—“You’ve only been on the path of cultivation for less than three months, and you’ve already done very well. Don’t rush, don’t be greedy. Let’s stop here for today.”
Chu Yang nodded, closed his eyes, and began to slowly restore his spiritual energy by circulating the Taiyi Nourishing Qi Technique.
I stayed at Baolin Temple for two days.
On the morning of the second day, Tang Sanzang finished reading all the scriptures he wanted in the Sutra Pavilion and spent most of the day exchanging Buddhist insights with Abbot Huiyuan. Although Huiyuan was not very learned, he was sincere and had no airs when talking to Tang Sanzang. He asked questions when he didn't understand and took notes, writing crookedly on scrap paper with a worn-out pen, as earnest as a child in a private school.
Tang Sanzang was moved by his attitude and made an exception to stay for half a day, compiling his insights on several classics into a concise commentary, which he then presented to Huiyuan.
Huiyuan held those few pages of annotations, tears streaming down his face. He insisted on kowtowing to Tang Sanzang, but Tang Sanzang stopped him three times before he finally gave up.
When Huiyuan left Baolin Temple, he and all the monks of the temple—a total of five, including two young novices—stood at the mountain gate to see him off.
"Take care on your journey, Venerable Master! The gates of this small temple will always be open for you!"
Tang Sanzang turned around on horseback, put his palms together, and nodded slightly.
"Abbot, please take care. The Dharma resides in your heart, not in distance. Diligent practice without ceasing will eventually lead to enlightenment."
After descending the mountain and passing Tongji Town, we resumed our journey westward on the official road.
The difference this time is that everyone in the team is in significantly better condition.
Tang Sanzang straightened his back on the horse again, holding the paper fan Chu Yang had given him. He would occasionally open it and fan himself, the ink-wash orchids on the fan swaying in the sunlight. He no longer traveled with a bitter and resentful face like he had for the previous nine days. Although it wasn't easy, at least the tension between his brows had eased a bit.
Pigsy's energy and spirit had recovered the most completely. Two days of good food, good sleep, and good strolling were enough to make this pig fully recovered. He carried his rake in the middle of the group, humming that off-key tune again, and occasionally spinning around with the rake to show off. He wasn't bothered by Sun Wukong's disapproving remarks, just chuckled and continued showing off.
The white horse's hooves were replaced with new ones at the blacksmith's shop in Tongji Town. Its four hooves clattered on the official road, its steps light and powerful.
Chu Yang walked at the back of the group, his left hand habitually resting on the black dagger at his waist. As he walked, he silently circulated the spiritual energy circuit of the Invisibility Technique within his body—not actually becoming invisible, but simply letting his spiritual energy travel along the wind path through his meridians a few times, like a martial artist silently rehearsing moves while walking. This "empty run" that didn't consume spiritual energy helped him familiarize himself with the spiritual energy circuit, etching the movements into his muscle memory.
He had developed this habit yesterday afternoon. Sun Wukong nodded when he saw it, but said nothing.
It took another four days to travel after we left Baolin Temple.
The terrain gradually transitioned from plains to low hills, and then from hills to rolling mountains. The mountains were not high, the highest being only about a hundred feet high, but they stood one after another, like frozen waves on the sea, stretching endlessly forward.
The official road winds its way through the valleys, its surface changing from bluestone slabs to rammed earth, and then to a mountain path of gravel and mud. The vegetation along the road is also changing—the neat farmland and villages of the plains are gone, replaced by a mountainside covered with miscellaneous trees and shrubs.
On the afternoon of the fourth day, they entered a valley that looked very different.
The valley entrance was very narrow, with the mountain walls on both sides almost vertical, leaving only a gap about two or three zhang wide. After passing through the gap, the view suddenly opened up - inside the valley was a long and narrow basin, about seven or eight li long from north to south and about three or four li wide from east to west, surrounded by low hills on all sides.
The basin contains fields, water, and villages.
But something felt off about everything.
There were fields, but the crops were sparse and withered, the seedlings short and yellow, like malnourished children, swaying precariously in the wind. This should be the peak season for crops to grow and head, so their current state was truly abnormal.
There is water—a small river flows from north to south in the center of the basin. It's not wide, but the water volume is adequate. The problem is the color of the water. It's not the normal clear or yellowish color, but a hazy, turbid white, as if someone had poured a large amount of lime water into it.
The village was even stranger. In the distance, at the southern end of the basin, one could see a settlement, about a few dozen households, with gray tiles and earthen walls. There was some smoke rising from the chimneys—but only three or four wisps, scattered here and there. Given the size of this settlement, there should normally be at least a dozen wisps of smoke at this hour.
What Chu Yang cared about most was the air.
From the moment I stepped into the valley, the smell of the air changed. It wasn't a specific stench or odor, but rather an indescribable "heaviness"—the air seemed thicker and stickier, harder to inhale than outside, as if an invisible veil was covering my mouth and nose.
Poor breathing.
Chu Yang frowned.
Sun Wukong's fiery eyes had long been restless. He stood on a high rock at the mouth of the valley, and two golden beams shot out from his eyes, sweeping across the entire basin.
“There’s an evil aura.” He jumped down, his voice slightly lower. “Not strong, but it covers a wide area. A faint layer of evil aura permeates the entire valley, spreading out like mist.”
"What level?" Chu Yang asked.
"It's hard to say. The evil energy itself isn't strong, but it's abundant and widespread. Evil energy that can envelop the entire valley must originate from either a powerful evil entity or some kind of self-spreading evil array or curse."
Tang Sanzang also sensed something amiss while on horseback. Although his Buddhist cultivation was not high, he was naturally sensitive to evil spirits—the Buddhist light on his cassock flickered slightly after entering the valley, as if it were an instinctive defensive reaction.
"Wukong, over here..."
"Master, don't worry, with me here, no evil spirit can harm you. However, this valley is indeed problematic. Let's hurry and get through as soon as possible."
Chu Yang remained silent.
He was observing.
The official road stretched along the western foot of the mountains in the basin, and it took about seven or eight miles to traverse the entire valley. After walking about a mile, they came upon the first farmland beside the road.
An old farmer was squatting on the edge of the field.
The old farmer wore a patched-up gray cloth jacket, a black towel wrapped around his head, and held a hoe in his hand, but wasn't working. He squatted on the edge of the field, staring blankly at the half-dead rice seedlings, a pipe dangling from his mouth, the smoke long since extinguished, yet he didn't seem to notice.
Chu Yang walked over.
"Uncle."
The old farmer raised his head, his cloudy eyes sweeping over Chu Yang's face before settling on Tang Sanzang, Sun Wukong, and Zhu Bajie behind him.
He didn't show any fear—not even Pigsy's pig face elicited any reaction from him—he just gave a faint "hmm."
"From outside?"
"Yes. We come from the Great Tang Dynasty in the East and are heading west. We're passing through your land and would like to ask—what is the name of this valley?"
The old farmer took the pipe out of his mouth and tapped it on the sole of his shoe.
"Jujube Blossom Valley."
"Why are the crops in Zao Hua Valley growing like this? They don't look like they're lacking water or fertilizer."
The old farmer remained silent for a long time.
“It’s not a lack of water or fertilizer,” his voice was dry and low, like two pieces of sand rubbing together, “it’s the soil that’s failing.”
"The land is no good? What do you mean?"
"The soil has lost its vitality." The old farmer leaned forward slightly as he squatted, a hint of weariness flashing in his cloudy eyes. "In previous years, the land was loose and soft with every shovel stroke, the turned-up soil was black and oily, teeming with earthworms that you couldn't possibly trample them all down. This year's land—"
He poked the edge of the field at his feet with his hoe.
The hoe only went in an inch before stopping with a dull thud, like it had struck a piece of semi-solid clay.
“Hard. Utterly hard. Something’s been wrong since last winter. The soil has become harder and harder, more and more compacted. Seeds won’t sprout, and even if they do, they don’t grow very big. Look at those rice seedlings—” He gestured with his chin toward the field, “they’re like paper; one rainstorm could knock them down.”
Chu Yang squatted down and placed his left hand on the soil of the paddy field ridge.
He infused a wisp of spiritual energy into the ground and sensed it for a few moments.
Then he withdrew his hand, stood up, and his expression became somewhat serious.
"Brother Monkey."
Sun Wukong came closer.
Chu Yang lowered his voice: "There's a chilling aura seeping from the soil. It's not natural—it's like something is infusing the soil with cold air, slowly draining away its life force."
Sun Wukong's brows furrowed even more.
"It matches the situation with that river. The whitish color of the river water is a sign that cold air has invaded the water veins. The simultaneous pollution of both the river water and the soil indicates that the source of pollution is underground, and its location should be upstream—at the northern end of the basin." (End of Chapter)