Chapter 017: A Taste Before All Others

“Don’t even think about those crooked paths. After all, you were both raised by the family.” Old Zhao put down his chopsticks, speaking earnestly.

“I was raised on Grandfather’s inheritance,” said Qingzhen.

“I was raised on Mother’s dowry,” added Qinghu.

The two mischievous children spoke in unison.

Old Zhao drew in a sharp breath. In the past twenty years, the Shen clan had indeed fallen on hard times; only one Golden Core ancestor remained, and now even the younger generation had lost their unity. If that last ancestor were to pass, the clan might completely collapse and scatter.

“The road of the solitary cultivator isn’t easy. You two should listen to your father and stay as family cultivators—it’s more comfortable that way,” Old Zhao advised with genuine concern.

“Uncle Zhao, don’t worry about all that. What can we do about the clan? Let’s just eat first,” Qinghu said, grabbing another shrimp from the large wooden platter, ready to devour it.

“That’s right, let’s eat first,” Qingzhen chimed in, speeding up. With such delicious shrimp, why discuss matters that spoil the appetite?

Old Zhao was speechless. He decided he might as well eat first too.

Out on the great lake at night, countless dark shapes flitted through the water. Where once they had swum leisurely, now they darted about in haste. On the tails of the larger shadows, clusters of smaller black dots gathered and scattered, pursuing them relentlessly.

Because of these fierce little black dots, all the flying beasts and wild animals nearby had begun to move their nests. Though these little creatures were still in the water, their aura was overwhelming—a whiff of something truly fearsome.

Sensitive as they were, the beasts sensed danger.

Nighttime, for those young ones obsessed with cultivation—already entering deep meditation—was a race against time.

After all, cultivation is no child’s play.

Hadn’t Deng Xiaolai already succeeded in rising to serve at Young Master’s side? Perhaps one of them could be the next Deng Xiaolai.

After gaining a sense of spiritual energy, Deng Xiaolai was given a small bowl of shrimp at dinner that evening. After eating, he clearly felt a gentle warmth flowing through him, following the path he guided.

After a night of cultivation, not only Deng Xiaolai, but another boy also gained a sense of spiritual energy.

Those boys who had become enamored of cultivation were all given a bowl of shrimp soup the previous night—rich, delicious, and beneficial to their training.

But now, another boy had gained spiritual sense—so quickly it was shocking!

Qingquan hadn’t expected that a bowl of shrimp soup could have such an effect, helping a mortal boy shorten his training by nearly a month and gain spiritual sense on only the second day of practice.

“What’s happening here?” Qingquan immediately reported his astonishing discovery to his young master.

Qingzhen, too, was amazed.

“You’re saying a bowl of shrimp soup has such a powerful effect? If we let the boys have more beast meat soup, will they all gain spiritual sense in the coming days?”

“Other meat broths won’t do,” said Uncle Zhao from where he was fiddling with a new formation. “That boy gained spiritual sense so quickly because of the giant white shrimp. Qingquan, go ask if he was lucky enough to get a piece of shrimp meat in his soup.”

Qingquan asked in surprise, “Is there something special about the giant white shrimp?”

“The giant white shrimp can help mortals quickly sense spiritual energy,” Uncle Zhao explained. “Otherwise, why would it sell for so much? One costs a hundred red gold coins—the monthly food budget for an ordinary family of eight wanderer-cultivators.”

“A family of eight, a month, only a hundred red gold coins? Are solitary cultivators really so poor? Poorer than us?” Qingzhen’s focus was not on the giant shrimp, but on the poverty of solitary cultivators.

Uncle Zhao was exasperated.

“That’s why you shouldn’t dream of independence. Family cultivators have better prospects. You could even be recommended by the family to join the Dao Court as an official.”

“Fourth Brother, you should replace Grandpa as clan leader. Then your sister can live in luxury,” Qinghu said carelessly.

“Me? Why not Eldest Brother? I’m destined to become an immortal!” Qingzhen retorted irritably.

“Eldest Brother wants to join the Dao Court as an official. So the clan can only rely on you,” Qinghu replied.

“Nonsense, I can join the Dao Court too. If he can, so can I,” Qingzhen grumbled.

Uncle Zhao wanted to say, “Keep dreaming! Do you really think it’s so easy to become an official? With your declining little clan, you don’t even have half the recommendation needed.”

“Hey, both of you need to be practical. First, manage your territory well, then improve your cultivation. Only after that can you become officials.”

“Aren’t we managing the territory well? The houses are built, the vegetable plots are ready for planting, we have spiritual treasures, and all provisions are in place. What else is there?” Qingzhen looked at Old Zhao in confusion. Weren’t they doing a good job?

Old Zhao took a big bite of shrimp. “What if a fierce beast attacks us? Can we defend this territory?”

“Who? When?” Qingzhen asked, at a loss.

Old Zhao was speechless—he didn’t know either.

“In any case, never let your guard down. Focus on improving your cultivation.”

“All right,” Qingzhen agreed, though his mind was already drifting elsewhere. Perhaps tomorrow he should lead another hunting party.

But the next morning, everyone was awakened by cries and wails.

A young boy had gone to the latrine at dawn, but before he reached the door, he was snatched by a savage bird that swooped down from the sky. In less than a breath, the great bird had carried him away, leaving no time for rescue.

His family was inconsolable, but the boy was certainly lost for good. By now, nearly half an hour had passed—he was probably already torn into bits to feed the savage bird’s chicks.

“In the Eastern Wilds, danger is ever-present,” Old Zhao warned Qingzhen and Qinghu sternly. “Never go anywhere alone. Always keep a cultivator by your side—never let yourself out of your guardians’ sight. If you don’t want to die a meaningless death, remember my words.”

This time, both Qingzhen and Qinghu nodded solemnly. Only now did the Eastern Wilds truly bare its fangs before their eyes.

Even little Qinghu would be doomed if caught by a seventh- or eighth-rank savage bird—and so would Qingzhen!

“Be careful from now on. If I’m not around, watch your surroundings. Always keep Little White and your guards with you,” Qingzhen reminded her, especially cautious.

“I understand,” little Qinghu nodded. “You be careful too, brother.”

“Of course! I haven’t even tasted the Blue-striped Giant White Shrimp yet. How could I die now?” Qingzhen said, eyes wide with pride.

Old Zhao thought: Little gluttons—truly hopeless. I’d best persuade Old Shen to put his hopes in his eldest son.