Chapter 375: Wandering the Lands

South of Tōngxiān City, along the winding mountain path outside Shangtai City, a carriage rumbled slowly forward.

Inside sat thirteen-year-old Mo Hua.

Along with him were Mister Zhuang, Old Kui, and his Little Senior Brother Bai Zisheng and Little Senior Sister Bai Zixi.

Aunt Xue hadn’t been able to obtain Mister Zhuang’s permission, so she did not accompany them.

The carriage belonged to the Bai family.

On the outside, it looked ordinary, but it was extremely sturdy. The interior wasn’t luxurious, yet it was comfortable and quite spacious—enough to hold five or six people.

Since the three juniors were still small, they didn’t take up much space, leaving the carriage feeling even roomier.

However, it was still only suitable for sitting cross-legged, not lying down.

Old Kui drove the carriage up front; Mister Zhuang sipped tea inside, while the three youths leaned over a small desk, doing the assignments Mister Zhuang had given them.

Most of the work revolved around formations, though some touched on cultivation secrets as well.

Occasionally, when the journey stretched too long, they would stop to rest.

Mo Hua would then hop off the carriage and climb a nearby hill to pull up tufts of grass for the horse.

This horse, too, was of the Bai family’s stock—a gentle-natured spirit beast that wouldn’t panic even when faced with monsters.

According to Bai Zisheng, the horse looked plain, its coat not particularly bright, yet its bloodline was unusual. It even had a rather grand name—something like Cloud, Dragon, or Steed…

Mo Hua found the name far too cumbersome and renamed it “Big White.”

Bai Zisheng was displeased, feeling the new name lacked grandeur and dignity.

But the horse seemed to adore it. Whenever Mo Hua called “Big White,” it would affectionately nudge him with its head.

Mo Hua grew more and more fond of the horse. Whenever they stopped to rest, he’d think of feeding it—extending his Divine-Sense to search for fresh grass, which he’d then offer to Big White.

Big White wasn’t picky—it ate whatever Mo Hua gave it.

By noon that day, Old Kui stopped the carriage to rest.

Mo Hua fed Big White, then turned to gaze at the rolling mountains and distant skies. The road stretched far; they were already well beyond Tōngxiān City. A faint sigh escaped his lips.

It had been over half a month since their departure.

Mo Hua had gradually adapted to the wandering life.

It was quite different from what he had imagined. Wandering wasn’t about drifting with celestial grace and visiting scenic wonders—it was about eating wind, sleeping under the stars, and endless travel and toil.

Thankfully, they had Big White to pull the carriage. Without it, the journey would’ve been even harder.

Cultivators in the Qi-Refining stage couldn’t fly. To wander thousands of miles, they had to rely on their feet.

Mo Hua had yet to see a cultivator capable of flight.

Likely because the prefecture they were in was only a second-grade prefecture, where the highest cultivation stage was Foundation Establishment.

Flying, he guessed, was something only Golden Core cultivators—or perhaps those even higher—could do.

If such a high-ranked cultivator tried flying within a second-grade prefecture, the moment they took to the air, heaven’s thunder would instantly descend upon them. They’d be literally “ascending to heaven.”

Flying…

Mo Hua murmured the word silently, his heart filling with yearning.

Would there ever come a day when he formed his Golden Core and could soar through the skies?

But that day was still far away. He hadn’t even reached Foundation Establishment yet.

Mo Hua sighed, and as he thought further, his stomach began to growl.

Yet the thought of lunch didn’t excite him much.

Throughout the journey, their food had mostly consisted of Fasting Pills.

Convenient and filling, yes—but after eating them for days on end, they were monotonous and made one’s blood energy sluggish.

Still, this was a wandering life; comfort wasn’t a priority.

Mo Hua could endure such hardships easily enough.

In truth, he had other food as well.

Before he left, Liu Ruhua had prepared plenty of dried meat and packed it into his Storage Bag.

But Mo Hua couldn’t bear to eat them.

Only when he truly couldn’t stomach another Fasting Pill—or when he missed home—would he take a small piece.

It was food made by his mother’s own hands. Traveling so far from home, each bite was precious; when it was gone, it was gone forever.

Mo Hua sighed softly.

They were in the middle of nowhere—no village ahead, no inn behind.

So, once again, their lunch consisted solely of Fasting Pills.

Bai Zisheng looked utterly dejected.

Once accustomed to flavorful, spicy beef, returning to plain Fasting Pills was painful indeed.

Bai Zixi’s expression remained calm, but she clearly wasn’t enjoying it either.

Mister Zhuang frowned slightly before asking,

“Don’t you three ever think of… making something to eat yourselves?”

The three disciples froze, then instinctively turned toward Old Kui.

Mister Zhuang also looked his way.

Naturally, it seemed like Old Kui should be the one to cook.

Old Kui said evenly, “I don’t mind cooking—so long as you don’t mind eating it.”

Mo Hua, Bai Zisheng, and Bai Zixi exchanged puzzled glances.

They didn’t understand what there was to “mind.”

By the next day’s lunch, they found out.

Old Kui served up a pot of meat stew.

Just from its appearance, it was… questionable.

Out of politeness, they each took one bite—and immediately lost the will to continue.

Even Mister Zhuang sighed and muttered,

“So this… was what I used to eat all those years?”

Old Kui shot him a glare.

“Your palate’s gone soft. Has nothing to do with me. It tastes the same as always—eat it or don’t.”

Mister Zhuang, naturally, didn’t eat it. After a moment of thought, he turned to Mo Hua.

Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi’s eyes brightened, both looking expectantly at him.

Even Old Kui was watching.

Mo Hua blinked.

“I… don’t really know how to cook…”

Mister Zhuang stroked his chin and said,

“By reason, culinary skill should be somewhat hereditary. Your mother’s cooking was excellent—surely you can’t be too far off.”

Encouraged by that, and faced with everyone’s hopeful gazes, Mo Hua could only nod reluctantly.

Recalling his mother’s cooking techniques, he tried making a pot of meat broth.

Mister Zhuang took a sip and nodded slightly.

Bai Zixi also tasted it and nodded quietly.

Bai Zisheng wolfed down his portion, then shook his head.

“Still not as good as Aunt Liu’s.”

“Then why’d you finish it so fast?” Mo Hua asked dryly.

Bai Zisheng answered honestly, “Because I was hungry…”

Though it wasn’t particularly delicious, among their group it was clearly the best food available. And so, by silent consensus, Mo Hua became the camp’s official cook.

Perhaps he truly inherited Liu Ruhua’s talent—Mo Hua learned quickly.

After only a few days, his cooking was quite decent.

But everyone’s tastes differed, leading to constant challenges.

Mister Zhuang’s blood energy was weak; he preferred light food.

Old Kui wanted something crunchy.

Bai Zisheng liked spicy dishes—preferably meat.

Bai Zixi liked sweet things, preferably pastries.

Mo Hua scratched his head in distress.

Finally, he came up with an idea: build a multi-formation stove.

He designed four arrays, each controlling one cooking method—

one for steaming, one for stir-frying, one for boiling, and one for baking pastries.

After drawing up the schematics, he waited until they passed through a small cultivation city, then stayed there for a few days. Spending a few extra spirit stones, he hired a refiner to forge the stove.

When the refiner finished, he looked puzzled.

“Little brother, I can make the stove, but as for these formation diagrams… no one can carve those for you.”

Mo Hua replied casually,

“It’s fine. I’ll do it myself.”

And right before the refiner’s eyes, he drew the formation patterns.

The man was completely stunned.

Even after Mo Hua paid and left with the stove, the refiner was still standing there, dumbfounded.

The formations were Mo Hua’s work, but the spirit stones had been fronted by him—Bai Zisheng promised to reimburse later.

When the stove was ready, Mo Hua began experimenting with the four cooking methods.

He made a dish of steamed fish, using spirit-beast fish to withstand the heat.

He fried a pot of pine nuts—for Old Kui, who loved the sound of cracking them more than eating meals.

He stewed a pot of spicy beef, using monster meat—cheap but tough, requiring long simmering and many spices.

And he steamed a batch of pastries—soft, sticky, and sweet.

Not only Bai Zisheng and Bai Zixi, even Mister Zhuang and Old Kui were dumbfounded.

Mister Zhuang couldn’t help but wonder if teaching Mo Hua formations had actually stunted his natural culinary genius.

Bai Zisheng, of course, still ate everything clean, then sighed regretfully.

“Still not as good as Aunt Liu’s.”

Mo Hua snorted.

“Then you cook next time.”

Bai Zisheng puffed out his chest.

“Fine! I’ll do it!”

He thought, I’ve eaten so much meat, I’ve seen him cook dozens of times—how hard can it be?

So Bai Zisheng tried cooking his own stew.

The result: the meat was dry, tough, flavorless, and reeked of gaminess.

He took one bite and his entire face scrunched up.

Bai Zixi, curious, tried kneading dough for pastries—but undercooked it. The result looked like a lump of white mud.

The two could only turn pitiful eyes toward Mo Hua again.

Mo Hua sighed and took over the cooking once more.

After another round of work, Bai Zisheng devoured Mo Hua’s meal with tears in his eyes, touched beyond words—especially compared to his own disaster.

Bai Zixi ate quietly, her eyes sparkling as she nibbled the pastry.

And so, the carriage rolled on, swaying gently as the days passed—half a month gone in a blink.

By day, they traveled, studying formations under Mister Zhuang.

At mealtime, Mo Hua cooked.

At night, if they didn’t encounter a cultivation city, a town, or a small mountain temple, they would camp in the wild.

The carriage was, of course, left for Mister Zhuang—he was their teacher, and respect for one’s master was paramount.

Besides, though his complexion had improved since leaving Tōngxiān City, his aura remained faint and weak.

Mo Hua hoped he could rest well.

The three juniors slept outside.

Before sleeping, Mo Hua always placed stone markers and set up a warning formation to guard against monsters or bandits.

Then he, Bai Zisheng, and Bai Zixi each wrapped themselves in a blanket and lay down on the ground.

The blankets were from the Bai family but had been re-inscribed by Mo Hua.

They could warm or ventilate as needed—soft and cozy, never stuffy.

As night fell, the mountain moon hung cold and clear.

The three lay beneath it, each bundled up like a little caterpillar, wrapped in moonlight, sleeping peacefully.

(End of Chapter)