Chapter 50: The Little Stone Pool

[Heart rate 95, blood oxygen 98%, etc…] The System Cat watched the data scrolling by. Chen Ji had just finished his business, so the elevated readings were normal. It came to a conclusion: [Your body’s doing much better.]

Chen Ji lay on his side against the headboard, a thin cigarette dangling from his lips. He raked a hand through his messy hair. [Yeah, it does feel a bit better than before.]

In truth, it had been a long time since Chen Ji had experienced anything like this. Down in the village, he had nightmares every night, his health deteriorating day by day, his spirits so low there was no energy left for such things. Who would’ve thought that returning to the mountain—despite the constant pursuits, major injuries to his vital energy, and who knows what else—would mysteriously improve his condition.

[The Yellow Weasel’s Ginseng and huangjing weren’t for nothing,] the System Cat continued. [According to my analysis, ginseng is yang in nature, huangjing is neutral, and the other ingredients follow suit. Your body had severe yin deficiency, and these are all tonics perfectly suited to replenish you… That time you were tricked into leaving and got injured—well, as the saying goes, destruction paves the way for renewal…]

Chen Ji exhaled a plume of smoke and gave a lazy smile, speaking offhandedly. [Since when did you start studying this stuff?]

The System Cat, perched at the door to Chen Ji’s room, flicked its tail. [Isn’t this just me worrying about you? Sure, impotence promotes a clear mind and pure desires, extends lifespan, and keeps a bunch of cancers at bay. But you humans seem awfully hung up on it, don’t you?]

The System Cat grew animated. [How about it? Want to give it a shot? I can whip up a jolt of electricity for you—guaranteed to fix that problem for good.]

[Get lost,] Chen Ji chuckled lightly, drawing the last puff from his cigarette before reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp and turn in for the night.

Having already gotten his exercise today, Chen Ji slipped into slumber almost immediately, without any preamble.

A night breeze wafted gently into the main hall, lifting one corner of the bright yellow silk covering the statue. A sliver of the idol’s mottled colors peeked through. A figure approached the hall’s exterior, tilting his head up to gaze at it. The silk-draped statue exuded an indescribable eeriness.

The wind picked up fiercely then, the silk fluttering like butterflies. Yet it always stayed in place, blocking most of the view.

The figure stared at the scene fixedly for a long while before finally closing the doors to the main hall.

Chen Ji awoke feeling refreshed and invigorated. He rose and headed to the bathroom, handling his morning routine while glancing at his reflection in the mirror.

He held the hem of his sleepshirt in his teeth. What caught his eye first was the massive paw print—a deep bruise from the kick Grandpa White Tiger had landed on him. That blow to his side waist had stretched all the way to his abdomen, the faint purple-blue marks stark against his pale skin, evoking an oddly indescribable allure.

The traces of the Fire Dragon Waist Entwine had vanished completely. Thinking back to how they’d gotten there, Chen Ji couldn’t help but scoff.

Chen Ji had an instinctive feeling that the culprit behind that “Fire Dragon Waist Entwine” was linked to the dream—maybe even one and the same.

He stripped off the sleepshirt entirely and tossed it into the washing machine. The System Cat reared up on its hind legs and pawed the start button. As the machine hummed to life, Chen Ji took a quick combat shower and headed out to make breakfast.

Breakfast was the usual fare—nothing fancy. Chen Ji’s mouth watered at the thought; once the contractor arrived, he’d take Second Master Huang and the others into the woods for some fresh foraging. If nothing else turned up, he could always grab some wild greens to blanch and toss in a cold salad.

The contractor showed up shortly after the meal. After syncing up on details with Chen Ji, he slung a bamboo basket over his shoulder and set off. At the door, he spotted White Tiger sitting outside the temple gate. Surprised, he said, “Grandpa White Tiger, what brings you out here?”

White Tiger usually slept at this hour.

More precisely, it slept for twenty out of every twenty-four hours.

White Tiger yawned, then rose and padded over to Chen Ji’s side. Its sleek fur brushed against his leg just like the first time they’d met. It looked up at him, and Chen Ji asked, puzzled, “You want to come with me up the mountain?”

White Tiger glanced back at him, neither nodding nor shaking its head, before taking the lead and walking ahead. Chen Ji paused for a second, then grinned. Heading to the mountain with Grandpa White Tiger? He’d be unstoppable.

He glanced around but didn’t see Second Master Huang. About to ask, he heard a childish voice piping up from the bushes: [Brother Chen~]

Chen Ji turned toward the sound. With Grandpa White Tiger there—and right at the temple gate, no less—he wouldn’t dare turn too quickly. The bushes rustled, and Little Translator poked his head out, craning his neck up at him. [Second Grandpa’s tied up with something today and can’t make it. He sent me specially to say hi to Brother Chen.]

Chen Ji subconsciously wondered: Could it be because he trimmed Second Master Huang’s nails yesterday, and the weasel was sulking?

He didn’t dwell on it. Bending down, he ruffled Little Translator’s head. “Then wait here a bit. I’ll have Xiao Ba get you something to eat.”

[Thanks, Brother Chen! You’re the best—I like you the most!] Little Translator replied, spouting words he’d picked up somewhere. He nuzzled into Chen Ji’s palm repeatedly. Suddenly, his lithe body went rigid. Chen Ji instinctively looked back to see Grandpa White Tiger staring coldly in their direction. Glancing at Little Translator again, he saw the little guy had already scampered to the temple steps and sat obediently.

Chen Ji figured he’d kept Grandpa White Tiger waiting too long and irritated him. He called out to the System Cat, then hurried to White Tiger’s side. “Grandpa White Tiger, let’s go.”

Only then did White Tiger lead him into the woods. Chen Ji had assumed they’d head to the back mountain—fewer people there meant better foraging odds. Instead, White Tiger veered toward the direction of Shangyang Village. Following along, Chen Ji smiled and asked, “Grandpa White Tiger, where are we headed?”

White Tiger gave him a flat look, and Chen Ji somehow understood: Don’t ask—just follow.

With no choice, Chen Ji trailed after it. After about twenty minutes, White Tiger abruptly turned into the roadside woods, forcing Chen Ji to keep up.

As the old saying goes, there are no roads in this world until enough people walk one and make it so. The main path up and down the mountain was well-trodden by villagers—Chen Ji had walked it plenty as a kid, enough for motorcycles to handle it now. But the route White Tiger took was pure wilderness, growing denser with trees the farther they went. Sunlight vanished entirely, leaving a dim, eerie gloom utterly divorced from the outside world.

Chen Ji naturally felt uneasy in such surroundings. White Tiger seemed to sense it, slowing its pace and pressing one flank against him. The sudden warmth of its dry, fluffy fur against his chilled skin made Chen Ji instinctively rest a hand on it.

He could feel the rhythm of its heartbeat pulsing through flesh and fur into him. Matching White Tiger’s steps, Chen Ji’s own pulse gradually synced, slowing until it beat in unison.

Abruptly, White Tiger halted. Before Chen Ji could see why, it turned and nipped the fabric of his shirt in its jaws. The next instant, he lost his footing and was flung onto White Tiger’s back. Gripping tight, he felt the tiger leap effortlessly into the air. The world rushed past—trees sinking and retreating—branches thick overhead. Chen Ji flattened himself low, sensing leaves whip across his back.

In the next breath, they’d landed steady. Chen Ji looked up to find an open vista ahead, misty spray from a small but fierce waterfall rushing toward him. Below lay a deep emerald pool nestled in stone.

Clear water runs shallow; green water runs deep. This little stone pool was deeper than it looked.

White Tiger shifted, and Chen Ji slid off involuntarily. Paying it no mind, he glanced back—the spot they’d emerged from was a broken gap in the underbrush, empty beyond. Closer inspection revealed a five-meter drop, a mini-cliff.

Chen Ji’s heart skipped. No wonder he’d never been here. Without gear, how could anyone scale a five-meter cliff? The waterfall inside marked another drop—villagers might get lost, but they’d never stumble here. Plunging to death? That was more likely.

Turning back, he saw White Tiger sprawled at the pool’s edge, lapping at the water. Chen Ji half-raised a hand, then let it drop. Fine—demons probably wouldn’t die from blood flukes anyway.

With White Tiger settled there, Chen Ji took it as a sign the area was safe. He approached the pool for a closer look. It almost seemed artificially carved—the basin rose nearly a meter and a half above ground level, overflow spilling smoothly over edges worn glassy by constant flow. No handholds anywhere.

He tried climbing up, but his shoes slipped on the wet stone, and he failed.

As he geared up for another go, a ring-patterned tail appeared before him. Chen Ji looked up to find White Tiger gazing down. Realizing, he raised an arm. The thick tail hooked it deftly, yanking him airborne to perch on the pool’s edge.

Great—now his clothes were soaked.

Chen Ji grumbled inwardly, but before he could say anything, a layer of azure blue flame flickered into existence over him. This time, he saw it clearly: a tiny, silken veil of fire gliding softly across his skin, drying him instantly.

He blinked in astonishment. “That’s amazing! So that’s how it works.”

White Tiger padded elegantly past, brushing his arm, to the pool’s far side. Chen Ji wondered what next—then White Tiger slammed a paw into the water. A spray erupted. As it withdrew its claws, a black-headed fat fish floated to the surface.

Chen Ji eyed the fish, then White Tiger, suddenly realizing Grandpa White Tiger lived pretty well regardless. With or without him, meals looked tasty.

Wild-caught fish! Down in the city, that’d fetch at least a hundred a pop—and not always truly wild. You’d have to haggle with the seller and know your stuff to score the real deal.

Who knew it was this easy here!

Chen Ji took off his shoes to avoid soaking them a second time. He waded through the water, rummaged in the bamboo basket, and pulled out a telescopic net bag before heading off to scoop up the fish. The plump fish appeared only stunned rather than dead, its tail still swishing lazily. Chen Ji cradled the fish in his arms, grinning so broadly that his eyes narrowed to slits. “Grandpa White Tiger, how about we have grilled fish for lunch?”

White Tiger sprawled on a dry rock, flicking his tail back and forth with deliberate slowness.