Cultivation begins with earning spirit stones

Chapter 10 Annual Spirit Ginseng

Shangqing Temple is not without the lineage of magical arts.

In the temple's scripture pavilion, there are several rudimentary handwritten copies of spells, such as fireball spells, wind manipulation spells, and breath concealment techniques, but these are not things that a disciple who has only been practicing for three months is qualified to learn.

When he first joined the sect, he spent all his gold, silver and valuables to obtain that copy of the "Shangqing Qi-Guiding Manual".

If you want to study law, you either need to accumulate three to five years of experience in the temple, or make sufficient contributions to the temple.

Zhang Lin didn't want to wait three to five years.

He took out the cloth bag from his bosom, poured out the remaining spirit stones, and counted them one by one.

After accounting for the energy consumed during the breakthrough cultivation period, only thirty remain.

Thirty low-grade spirit stones—not a lot, but not a little either.

Zhang Lin pondered for a moment and then made up his mind.

He put the spirit stones back into his cloth bag, keeping ten, and then took out an ordinary-looking spirit ginseng and held it in his palm.

This ginseng was picked by Zhao Yuanqing a few days ago when he went up the mountain to collect herbs, as a thank-you gift to Zhang Lin.

This ginseng is ten years old, with yellowish roots. It is believed to enhance physical strength and blood circulation, and is often used to break through physical limitations.

However, Zhang Lin's physique was already at the mid-stage, so he didn't need this.

Zhang Lin subtly activated the system light screen.

"Spirit Ginseng, Grade: Low, Age: 10 years. Can be enhanced, cost: 10 spirit stones, to obtain a 100-year-old spirit ginseng."

"strengthen."

The light screen flickered slightly.

The ginseng in his palm trembled violently, its roots unfurling on their own, and a clear, refreshing medicinal fragrance filled the air.

In just a few breaths, a top-quality, 100-year-old ginseng appeared in his palm.

Zhang Lin carefully put the ginseng into the wooden box, and then carefully put the remaining spirit stones on his body before getting up and pushing open the door.

The sky was just beginning to lighten, and the morning mist had not yet dissipated.

The courtyard was deserted, except for a few early-rising sparrows hopping on the locust tree branches, chirping merrily.

Zhang Lin took a deep breath of the crisp mountain air and strode deeper into the temple.

Shangqing Temple is not large in scale. It is built against the mountain. The front hall enshrines the Three Pure Ones, the rear hall is the abbot's retreat, and the left and right courtyards are used as the disciples' residences and the scripture library.

The Sutra Repository is located at the deepest part of the temple. It is a two-story building with blue bricks and gray tiles, upturned eaves, and a wooden plaque hanging under the eaves with the three characters "Sutra Repository" written on it. The characters are neat but lack style, which is quite incongruous with the atmosphere of this celestial place.

Zhang Lin walked to the door and was about to push it open when the door opened from the inside.

An elderly Taoist priest with graying hair and beard poked his head out, looked him up and down, and said indifferently, "New here?"

"Disciple Zhang Lin greets Martial Uncle." Zhang Lin cupped his hands in greeting.

He remembered that the old Taoist priest's surname was Chen, his Taoist name was Mingyuan, he was the abbot's junior brother, he had a mid-stage Qi Refining cultivation, he was stationed in the Sutra Repository year-round, and he rarely interacted with others.

Chen Mingyuan hummed in response, without returning the greeting, and stepped aside to make way for him: "Come in."

The library's first floor is small, with three rooms combined together. Several rows of wooden shelves stand against the wall, scattered with scrolls and bamboo slips, most of which are covered with a thin layer of dust, indicating that no one has touched them for a long time.

Chen Mingyuan walked behind the counter, sat down, picked up a yellowed Taoist book, and flipped through it. Without looking up, he asked, "What do you want?"

"This disciple wishes to learn a magical technique," Zhang Lin said.

"Spells?" Chen Mingyuan looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in his cloudy old eyes. "How long have you been in the temple?"

"More than three months."

"You want to study law after only three months?" Chen Mingyuan put down the Taoist book, looked him up and down with a scrutinizing gaze, and asked, "What level of cultivation have you reached?"

Zhang Lin didn't hide anything: "Mid-stage Qi Refining."

Chen Mingyuan's hand stopped.

He stared at Zhang Lin for a full five breaths, the scrutiny in his eyes gradually turning into surprise and suspicion.

"Mid-stage Qi Refining?" He stood up, walked to Zhang Lin, raised his hand to his wrist, and sent a wisp of true Qi into his body.

A moment later, Chen Mingyuan released his grip, took a step back, and looked at Zhang Lin with a different gaze.

"Three months, from a mere mortal to the mid-stage of Qi Refining..." he murmured to himself, as if speaking to Zhang Lin, yet also as if speaking to himself, "Even the inner disciples of the Xuan Tian Sect are no more than this."

Zhang Lin lowered his eyes and remained silent.

He knew his progress was indeed dazzlingly fast, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Spiritual practice is like rowing against the current; if you don't advance, you fall behind.

He faces the threat of the Black Wind Society behind him and possesses the enormous secret of the system. Every bit of strength he gains increases his chances of self-preservation.

As for attracting attention... as long as the existence of the system is not exposed, others will only think that he has extraordinary talent and may not think otherwise.

Chen Mingyuan remained silent for a long while before finally speaking slowly: "What kind of magic do you want to learn?"

"I'm willing to take a look at anything in the Sutra Repository," Zhang Lin said.

Chen Mingyuan shook his head: "Young man, don't bite off more than you can chew. It's not about having many techniques, but about mastering them. As a beginner, choose one that suits you best and practice it until you're proficient. That's much better than learning ten half-baked techniques."

Zhang Lin thought about it and realized that what he said made sense.

What does he lack most right now?

It's a means of saving one's life.

The Black Wind Society has its eyes on him and may make a move at any time.

He needs a technique that allows him to both attack and retreat.

Offensively, he possesses an iron sword, a low-grade magic weapon, combined with his mid-stage Qi Refining True Qi, making him fearless in close combat against opponents of the same level.

He lacks a movement technique when he retreats.

"Uncle-Master, does the temple have any movement-related techniques?" Zhang Lin asked.

Chen Mingyuan stroked his beard: "Movement techniques... I have them. Wind Control Technique, a first-tier technique that can be learned at the mid-stage of Qi Refining. After using it, one's body is as light as a swallow and one's steps are as fast as flying, which is useful for traveling and escaping."

"First-order?" Zhang Lin grasped this key word.

Chen Mingyuan glanced at him, seemingly surprised that he didn't know this common knowledge, but still patiently explained: "The Qi Refining stage can be divided into three ranks and three levels of academic techniques."

"Each higher rank brings an additional variation; the same technique can have vastly different power and effects depending on its rank."

He paused, then took a thin booklet from under the counter and tossed it onto the table.

"Wind Control Technique, a first-tier spell, can only make one as light as a swallow, which is fine for traveling, but useless for combat."

Chen Mingyuan shook his head slightly at this point: "As for the third tier, don't even think about it. My Shangqing Temple has been passed down for more than sixty years, and we only have one second-tier technique, which only the sect leader can cultivate."

Zhang Lin picked up the booklet and flipped through a few pages.

The handwriting is messy and the illustrations are simple; it's clearly a handwritten copy.

However, the content is quite ingenious, explaining how to use true qi to control the wind and reduce one's own weight, thereby increasing speed and agility.

"How many contribution points does this technique require?" Zhang Lin closed the booklet and looked up to ask.

Chen Mingyuan held up three fingers: "Three hundred contribution points."

Zhang Lin's heart sank.

Three hundred contribution points.

He didn't know much about the contribution system of Shangqing Temple, but he knew that an ordinary disciple could only accumulate about a hundred contribution points by working in the mountains for a whole year.

Three hundred points is enough for one disciple to work for three years.

After a moment of contemplation, Zhang Lin finally gritted his teeth, took out a wooden box from his bosom, opened the lid, and presented the spiritual ginseng to Chen Mingyuan.

"This disciple has no contribution points, but I have a hundred-year-old spiritual ginseng. I wonder if it can be used as payment?"

Chen Mingyuan looked down and his cloudy old eyes immediately lit up.

He reached out and took the ginseng, brought it to his nose and sniffed it, then examined it several times over. His indifference gradually gave way to surprise.

"A hundred-year-old ginseng, of superior quality, brimming with spiritual energy..." He raised his head, his gaze towards Zhang Lin deepening. "Where did you find it?"

"The back mountain." Zhang Lin said without changing his expression.