Chapter Thirty-Five: A Taste Called Home

Xiao Cheng couldn’t tell if the jade mentioned by the old man was truly the Jade Scroll of Three Lives, but he wasn’t all that worried. The Jade Scroll was useless to anyone else; no one could access its knowledge unless they died once, as he had by accident, earning the jade’s recognition. Few would ever dare to attempt such a thing, and with the jade in his possession, it was virtually impossible for anyone to steal it from him.

Before leaving, the old man gave a harsh warning: “You might dodge the first, but you can’t dodge the fifteenth.” He instructed Wang Qiyi to bring a thermal imaging device next time. Xiao Cheng had to admit, a thermal imager was a formidable weapon against cultivators. No matter how one suppressed their aura, it was impossible to hide body heat; as long as a body generated warmth, it radiated energy.

Still, if there was a next time, Xiao Cheng could simply stay far away. A thermal imager only displayed heat signatures of bodies and objects—everyone looked essentially the same through it, nothing like spiritual sense. Spiritual sense not only created images but also showed the colors of a person’s energy, differentiating their strength.

Once the old man and Wang Qiyi departed, Xiao Cheng summoned his true energy and gave a powerful jolt. The wall he was hidden in cracked instantly, and he stepped out, a little breathless. The Earth-Burrowing technique had this flaw: one could burrow in but couldn’t burrow out. It made sense—once lodged in a wall, movement was impossible, and chanting incantations was out of the question. How could he activate the technique again?

Since Xiao Cheng hadn’t burrowed deep, the wall wasn’t completely penetrated—only a thin layer of plaster had fallen off, but inside was a man-shaped pit. Xiao Cheng planned to fill it up someday, lest it be discovered.

This time, Xiao Fusheng had come to arrest him, but Xiao Cheng wasn’t particularly angry. He knew the old man’s temperament well—proud to a fault. This outcome was entirely within his expectations, though he hadn’t anticipated the suspicion about him and Sister Yu’er.

The root cause of all this was Xiao Cheng’s lack of strength. If he were stronger than the old man, none of this would happen; he could live as he pleased.

Strength is everything. No matter where you are, this truth never changes. Xiao Cheng had intended to reach the Condensation Realm within half a year, but now he realized he must accelerate his plans. Otherwise, trouble might come not in three years but within this very year.

Since his rebirth, many things had changed, and events could no longer unfold exactly as he remembered. For instance, the old man’s belief that he had gotten intimate with Yu’er had never occurred in his previous life, yet now it was a reality.

Therefore, he couldn’t completely trust his memories of the “future.”

Now, Xiao Cheng desperately needed more power. For five straight days, he roamed the lush places of Shanghai, leaving behind withered vegetation and chaos wherever he went. Shanghai lay in the south, where seasons blurred and greenery flourished year-round. Such devastation was unusual and quickly drew the attention of the authorities.

This incident even caused mild panic among Shanghai’s citizens, with rumors circulating privately about the end of the world.

The culprit, however, felt little guilt. He had merely absorbed the spirits of some plants; it was hardly anything, and he hadn’t been ruthless—those trees wouldn’t die, only needing a period of recovery. As for the flowers and grass? Too fragile for him to help. Xiao Cheng mused about visiting Shanghai Chinese University next for a bit of absorption.

The university’s plants were different; there the grass was known as “school grass,” and the flowers as “school flowers.”

Over these days, Xiao Cheng had absorbed tremendous spiritual energy, solidifying his sixth-level cultivation and faintly sensing a breakthrough to the seventh. Once past the sixth level, advancement became much easier—just accumulate enough spiritual energy until reaching the peak of Foundation Building, where another barrier awaited.

If he kept this up, Xiao Cheng would soon become a plant-killer. Even now, he required vast amounts of spiritual energy, and in the future, he might have to drain entire forests to advance. This immortal scripture was truly extraordinary.

At nine in the evening, Fang Yu Jia returned home and cooked two dishes and a soup. Her culinary skills had only developed in the past two years and were merely average, far from matching her beauty.

In Xiao Cheng’s memory, the best cook was Zhu Qinglian, whose Sichuan cuisine made one long to swallow their tongue. Few were fortunate enough to taste her cooking, and Xiao Cheng was among them.

Yet Fang Yu Jia’s cooking had one unmatched quality: it was completely natural, free of any chemical additives. It tasted of home, and Xiao Cheng liked that.

He ate dinner while watching television. The news was playing.

“Dear viewers, this is the eighth incident of tree withering. Behind me stands a century-old tree, its leaves fallen overnight, surrounded by dead flowers and grass. The first occurrence happened at the Tangchen Golf Course. Authorities are investigating, and we will keep you updated.”

Xiao Cheng frowned, surprised the matter had made the news and that they’d traced it to the golf course. But he wasn’t worried; people’s thinking was limited—they would never suspect a person was behind it. He switched channels, only to find another program discussing the same issue, a documentary this time.

Fang Yu Jia, hearing the news, paused with her chopsticks, set them down, and rose from the table. Xiao Cheng watched his sister-in-law curiously, unsure what she was doing. He saw her go to the balcony, bring in a flowerpot, and place it in the corner of the living room—inside grew several stunted green onions.

Xiao Cheng couldn’t help but laugh. “Sister-in-law, I’m really not interested in your little onions; no need to worry.”

Once she finished, Fang Yu Jia returned to the table and resumed eating. She ate beautifully, every bite deliberate and focused, as if fulfilling a solemn task.

Xiao Cheng glanced at her and had to admit she was stunning, every movement filled with grace—even eating a simple meal, she made the food seem more delicious.

Fang Yu Jia noticed Xiao Cheng watching her. She turned to him, her brow frosted with a perennial chill.

Their eyes met, and both paused. Fang Yu Jia suddenly realized her brother-in-law was different; his entire aura had changed dramatically. He used to be rough and careless, but now he radiated steadiness.

Fang Yu Jia was no mere ornament. She had been a top student at Hua Qing University, earning a master’s in finance and an actuary’s title by twenty. She was far more than she appeared—her resilience was matched by her insight into the essence of things. She had always believed firmly in Newton’s First Law.

Every object remains in uniform motion or at rest unless acted upon by a force that changes its state. This principle wasn’t just for physical movement—it guided people and events, too.

So, why had her wayward brother-in-law suddenly changed so much? Clearly, he had been influenced by something. The greater the influence, the greater the change. Xiao Cheng had changed immensely; there must be a powerful force at work.

But what could cause such a transformation? That was the puzzle she couldn’t solve.

Xiao Cheng had no idea what she was thinking; if he did, he’d praise her. Fang Yu Jia’s reasoning, though vague, was close to the truth.

“Sister Yu’er, how’s the company doing lately?” Xiao Cheng asked.

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Note 1: Any object above absolute zero (minus 273.15 Celsius) radiates energy as electromagnetic waves—including humans. This radiation is broad, not just the kind associated with phones or TVs; sunlight itself is radiation. We humans live surrounded by all kinds of radiation.