After Lan Zhu disappeared down the village road, the group that had gathered around Auntie Wang did not disperse immediately. Auntie Wang herself was embarrassed and left as well.
The villagers quietly watched Lan Zhu's retreating figure. Only after he was out of earshot did someone finally speak.
"...Did anyone else notice?"
"Notice what?"
"Zhu Ger has changed a lot."
The villagers nodded one after another.
"You're right."
"The old Zhu Ger wouldn't even dare raise his head when someone scolded him."
"He used to be a coward who apologized at every turn.."
"But today… He actually dared to talk back."
"And he even made Auntie Wang so angry she nearly fainted."
Several villagers laughed at the memory. Although Auntie Wang deserved it, very few people in Longxu Village had ever dared confront her so directly. They were secretly happy, but still couldn't help being puzzled about Lan Zhu's sudden change.
An older auntie suddenly clapped her hands: "I know why."
Everyone looked toward her, urging her to speak up.
"It's because he's helping Jing Ger lately."
"What do you mean?"
"Haven't you all heard?" The auntie replied proudly: " Zhu Ger has been helping Jing Ger sell mushrooms in town for about a week now."
The crowd immediately became interested.
"Selling mushrooms?"
"I didn't think much of it. Is he really a mushroom master?"
"Who knows? He probably learned it from his family. Isn't he from the city? They might have been taught to identify edible mushrooms."
The surrounding mountains were filled with mushrooms every season, yet most villagers didn't dare pick them. One careless mistake could poison an entire family. Therefore, they can only imagine the invisible income if only they could sell them.
Another middle-aged man nodded: "Exactly. Those mushroom masters are difficult to find."
"I heard restaurants pay good money for properly identified mushrooms."
At that moment, one villager who had remained quiet finally spoke: "I secretly asked around in town yesterday."
Everyone immediately turned toward him excitedly.
"What did you find out?"
The man glanced around proudly before answering, "One basket of those mushrooms sold for more than four taels of silver."
"What?!"
"So much?"
"Over four tales? This… you for real?"
The entire group gasped. Many farming families struggled to earn even one tale of silver after months of hard work. Yet a single basket of mushrooms had earned more than four taels.
For a long while, no one spoke. Each person silently calculated the amount in their heart. Envy gradually appeared in many of their eyes.
"If only someone in my family could identify mushrooms..."
"We'd never have to worry about food again."
Another auntie suddenly whispered, "Maybe we should ask Jing Ger to teach us."
"Teach us?"
"If he teaches my eldest son, wouldn't our family also be able to earn silver?"
Another person immediately shook his head.
"Your son? My daughter should learn instead."
They all wanted to be mushroom sellers and ignored the core of the issue. Who would give out their method of survival for free? But they didn't realize they were asking too much. Or rather, they don't care.
A younger man narrowed his eyes thoughtfully: "Actually… Zhu Ger only helps transport the mushrooms. I don't think Jing Ger will give up his method of earning money so easily."
The crowd thought about it for a moment and nodded in understanding. But soon, another idea came in and someone said: "Well, if Jing Ger needs someone to sell his mushrooms… I'm free every afternoon."
Another quickly understood her meaning and asked knowingly: "You want to replace Lan Zhu?"
"I didn't say that. But I know the town much better than he does. I could probably sell them for an even better price."
The others fell into thought. Soon, more similar ideas began surfacing.
"My nephew also goes to town often."
"My eldest boy has an ox cart."
"My family has relatives in Liyu Town."
Each person loudly nurtured their own little scheme, not realizing how shameless they were being. Some hoped to learn mushroom identification. Others hoped their children could become Bai Jing's apprentices. While some simply wanted to replace Lan Zhu altogether and take over the profitable work.
No one noticed that the original topic, whether Bai Jing and Ye Cheng had fought, had long been forgotten. Money had captured their attention instead. Whenever they look towards Bai Jing's yard, their eyes would lit up with excitement as if they had seen a pile of silvers.
As the sun climbed higher into the sky, the villagers gradually dispersed toward their own fields, each carrying different thoughts in their hearts.
...
Meanwhile, inside the small thatched house, complete silence filled the room. The fever medicine had done its job.
Bai Jing remained asleep the entire afternoon. By the time his eyelids slowly opened again, the sky outside had already turned orange. The setting sun cast long shadows across the floor through the bamboo window.
"...Evening already… The physician who made this medicine needs to be checked."
He wasn't sure whether the medicine worked, or his body just healed on its own after hours of rest.
His fever had lessened considerably. Although his body still felt weak, the burning sensation had mostly disappeared.
Bai Jing slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. He instinctively looked toward the bedroom.
Ye Cheng...still hadn't returned.
A trace of disappointment flashed across Bai Jing's face before he quietly lowered his head.
He got up, lit the fire and cooked a small pot of soup. He only drank empty soup, leaving the meat for Ye Cheng.
....
At night, Bai Jing sat in the wooden chair, holding the ruined manual.
He called out to the system again, hoping there would be another way. He doesn't have 20 tales of silver to pay for the complete manual.
"System, can you… fix this ine?"
The soft chime echoed in his mind.
[Scanning object…]
[Result: Refining Technique – Incomplete copy. Status: Misleading and corruptive. If practiced over time, it will distort meridians and corrupt the user's refining path. This is not a real technique, the system can't fix it.]
The system said before that Long-term practice would cripple the user's potential.
The thought sent cold dread through him. Ye Cheng, already struggling with blocked meridians, had clung to this like a lifeline. If he lost even that hope… his life would be over.
Bai Jing's fists tightened. No. I can't let that happen.
"System," he whispered hoarsely, "is there… a proper copy?"
All the copies the system showed were expensive.
Bai Jing's breath caught. The cheapest one was Ten silver. There was also a rental section, causing 1 silver per hour.
Bai Jing immediately paid for four hours. Four silvers, that was nearly everything he had earned so far. His hard-fought savings, gone in an instant.
He looked at his small pouch of coins, lips trembling. But then he remembered Ye Cheng's rare compliment at dinner, the faint light in his eyes when he said, The taste is good.
If Ye Cheng could smile like that again, wasn't it worth it?
"Rent it," Bai Jing said firmly.
The countdown will only start after he takes the book out.
...
The next morning, Bai Jing got up early and collected a small basket of mushrooms. Then he ate a roasted potato and waited for Lan Zhu.
When Lan Zhu came by, Bai Jing met him at the gate:"Lan Zhu, can you do me a favor?"
"Of course," Lan Zhu said brightly. "What is it?"
"I need ink and paper. Good quality, as much as possible. Could you buy them for me after selling the mushrooms?"
Lan Zhu tilted his head curiously: "Ink and paper? Are you planning to write something?"
Bai Jing forced a smile. "Just… notes. It's nothing important."
"Alright. Leave it to me." Lan Zhu didn't pry. He took the mushrooms and left. He was happy that Bai Jing is in good spirits compared to yesterday.
...
That evening, once he had the supplies, Bai Jing locked himself in the small living room. He opened the system's new manual, its faint blue glow shimmering in front of him. Line by line, character by character, he began to copy it onto paper.
But the system's warning was clear: [Spiritual energy required to transcribe. Without it, the manual will be ordinary text.]
So Bai Jing bit his lip and pressed his palm to the brush, channeling the faint, weak threads of spiritual energy he had.
Before now, he knew nothing about how to channel spiritual energy, luckily, the system taught him.
Each stroke drained him, sweat soaked his forehead. His hand was shaking, but he refused to stop.
Hours passed. His vision blurred. The candle guttered low.
By the time the last character was written, his whole body was trembling. He slumped over the desk, cheek pressing against the still-warm ink, and drifted into unconsciousness.