Chapter Eighteen: The Centennial Lingzhi and the Darkwood

He handed the passbook with more than ten thousand yuan to his grandfather, then told him he was going to a classmate’s house and might be away for ten days to half a month. His grandfather simply told him to be careful.

With his prepared tools and food, he set out. On the first day, he started from a nearby village, crossed over Yan Family Ridge, climbed mountains and crossed valleys, following the ridgeline toward Mashui Village. He trekked across hills, streams, and little gullies, but found nothing of real value—only managed to hunt a few pheasants, gather some tender bamboo shoots, and pick a handful of yellow-capped pine mushrooms. These wild delicacies would at least add flavor to their meals at home.

The next day, he continued exploring the mountains, passing through Xili Village and Da Dam, then climbing Huangsha Ridge. By a stream in a wooded hollow near Huangtan, he discovered a colossal root of notoginseng. Its seven leaves grew in three layers, the stem was as thick as a thumb, and its blossoms clustered in golden profusion—flowers and fruit so vivid they seemed to radiate an otherworldly aura.

He carefully unearthed the time-honored notoginseng, then gently wrapped it in newspaper and tucked it into his large cloth pouch before moving on.

Following the stream’s source upward, the mountain path became treacherous, with sheer cliffs and jagged rocks. Beyond lay the forest, and rising before him was a massive, towering stone formation shaped like a mosquito net, its summit soaring as high as a five-story building—truly majestic. Ordinary people could never climb it; even local villagers had never reached the top. Around the stone’s base stood sparse hardwoods and pines. By the middle of the rock face, trees vanished altogether, save for the occasional sapling clinging to cracks in the stone. At the summit, the scenery transformed—large trees grew, and the stone ridge did not reach the very top, where a small wooded knoll crowned the formation. Such oddities were nature’s handiwork: beyond the stone lay only that small ridge, and behind it, steep cliffs plunged downward.

He exerted all his strength to carve footholds into the rock, then used his martial arts skills to hurl a long rope upward, catching it on a tree at the summit and climbing up. As he reached the top, his heart pounded with lingering fear—what a close call!

Panting, he rested for a moment, then, not far away, spotted a massive lingzhi mushroom, its cap fading from gray to white. The fruiting body was as large as an egg, the cap more than thirty centimeters thick, and as he leaned in, a faint fragrance greeted him. Suddenly, a small white snake raised its head three paces away, poised atop a stone in a clump of weeds. Its body was pure white, with a bright red stripe running from head to tail, half a meter long, coiling in a half-circle on the rock.

Startled, he was thankful he hadn’t plucked the lingzhi yet—otherwise, his life might have been forfeit. He focused his energy, gripping his knife and slowly moving it in front of his chest, ready to strike.

The little white snake moved—fast, incredibly fast! In a flash, it darted toward his chest, aiming for his hand. Eyes brightening, he swung the knife with precision, severing the snake’s head. Blessed by the vision he had gained from centuries-old stalactites and his martial skills, his reactions and agility far surpassed ordinary people—without these, he would not have survived.

At last, he harvested the centenarian lingzhi and stored it safely. He also kept the white snake’s gall bladder, sealing it in a small nylon bag. Then, something strange occurred—the wooden figurine of the beautiful woman resonated again. Not far off, a trace of spiritual energy lingered. Approaching, he exclaimed under his breath: “Ah… it’s black-green wood!”

A sapling, two or three centimeters thick, with trunk and leaves all of a deep blue-green, exuding waves of fragrant energy that filled him with a sense of ease and tranquility. Even the grasses nearby were as thick as a finger—clearly, the land here was saturated with spiritual energy. He dug up the entire sapling, roots and all, soil intact. Fortunately, his large cloth bag could just fit the 70-centimeter length from root to trunk. He tied it securely with a short rope and slung it across his back for the descent.

This expedition had yielded a tremendous harvest. By the time he reached the foot of the mountain, dusk had faded into a hazy twilight and the sky was growing dark. He’d spent the whole day here—now he could only travel by night, following country roads through two villages before returning to Wuzhen.