Chapter 83: The Steed Grows Fat on Night Grass

Ye Mo had once been nothing more than an ordinary martial artist in the Nine Provinces Continent, lacking any remarkable insight. He could not discern the mysteries hidden within the ancient painting before him. But now things were different; he had arrived at Donglai Spirit Island and witnessed all manner of wondrous spirit beings in Donglai Immortal Village.

“These few lonely stalks of grain in the field—how familiar they look!”

Ye Mo studied the tiny stalks in the painted field closely. Though minuscule, his vision, now greatly enhanced, allowed him to see them clearly, and he could not help but reveal a shocked expression.

“These are not ordinary grains, but spirit grains identical to those grown in the fields of Donglai Spirit Island!”

“So this ancient scroll of the Immortal Village—could it have been painted by a cultivator? How else could it so closely resemble the real Immortal Village?”

“Perhaps it’s even a magical artifact used by a cultivator?”

“Yes, it must be so! Only a cultivator’s artifact could be impervious to blades and fire. Such a simple truth—how did I not realize it until now?”

Ye Mo gripped the ancient scroll, his mind racing, his expression suddenly filled with excitement.

This painting had been with him since childhood, so familiar that he had never considered it might be anything more than it appeared. Only now, upon seeing the spirit wood fence and the stalks of spirit grain, did he begin to suspect that this ancient painting was likely a magical artifact.

Since it was an artifact, infusing it with spiritual power should have an effect.

With this thought, Ye Mo immediately channeled his spiritual energy into the painting.

Quickly, the ancient scroll absorbed a large amount of spiritual power, shedding its old, rustic appearance and beginning to shine with a spiritual luster.

“It truly is a magical artifact!”

Ye Mo was overjoyed.

For more than a decade, he had tried countless methods, yet found no other use for the ancient scroll beyond its immunity to blades and fire. The painting was so mysterious that, though he knew it was no ordinary object, it was like possessing a treasure without knowing how to use it.

Now, he could finally begin to experiment.

Ye Mo poured his spiritual power into it, but was soon shocked to discover that it flowed out endlessly, as if the scroll were a bottomless pit that could never be filled.

“Is my spiritual power too weak to control it?”

Ye Mo was astonished.

When wielding the Golden Spirit Sword, only a small amount of spiritual power was needed to make the sword emit its deadly blade light. Compared to the painting, the sword required but a drop in the vast ocean.

Suddenly, a flash of light—the large chunk of black iron ore beside the scroll vanished.

“Huh!”

Ye Mo’s expression became one of wonder.

Behind the thatched hut depicted in the painting, there was a patch of empty ground, and now a tiny pebble appeared there. Without careful observation, it would have gone unnoticed.

Ye Mo had studied this painting countless times, memorizing every detail of its grasses and trees. He was certain that the ground had never had a pebble.

“The black iron stone entered the painting?”

Ye Mo was stunned. He picked up a third-grade black iron ore and tossed it onto the scroll. This time, he saw clearly: as the ore came within a few inches of the painting, a ripple seemed to form, a flash of light, and the ore disappeared.

Then, another tiny stone appeared behind the hut.

“Black iron ore can be stored inside the painting! There’s no mistake!”

Ye Mo’s face broke into a wild grin.

“Could this ancient scroll be used to store items? Even black iron ore can go inside!”

“A cultivator’s artifact is truly wondrous. If this scroll can store objects, it’s not surprising. But if things can go in, how do I get them out?”

“It’s said that cultivators use spiritual sense to move items in and out of storage bags. Let me try!”

Ye Mo extended his spiritual sense, sweeping over the painting, and quickly felt the two pebbles distinctly.

“Come out!”

With a thought, a piece of ore appeared in his hand. Simultaneously, one less pebble remained in the painting.

“It’s just as I thought! This scroll can store items like a storage bag!”

Ye Mo’s eyes shone brightly, restraining his excitement.

“Collect—all of them, collect them inside!”

Ye Mo immediately stored the fourth-grade black iron ore and all the third-grade ore into the scroll. Only some first-grade ore remained in his basket; he had to keep a few to show the overseer, as proof of his mining.

“Haha, fortune at last! Apologies, Lord Zou, but you own the entire Immortal Village—you won’t miss a mere thousand pounds of ore. A horse grows fat only by grazing at night; I’ll happily accept this!”

Ye Mo laughed heartily, tied the scroll back around his waist, and kept it close.

He had spent seven or eight hours mining, already pushing his physical limits, but managed to persevere. After the intense excitement, Ye Mo felt drowsy.

“This abandoned tunnel shouldn’t be disturbed by other miners. I'll sleep for a bit—rest well, then continue mining.”

Ye Mo leaned against the stone wall, set his basket of ore beside him, and gradually drifted into sleep. Within a few breaths, his breathing became deep and steady.

As a cultivator, his senses and spiritual awareness were exceedingly sharp. Even in such slumber, if any miner approached or made the slightest noise, he would sense it instantly and awaken. He need not worry much about safety.

Of course, if a high-level cultivator who escaped his senses wanted to harm him, even if he were awake, he would be hard-pressed to resist—such worries were unnecessary.

He slept deeply for three hours.

It was true, restorative sleep; upon waking, his fatigued body was fully recovered, and his spiritual sense replenished.

Ye Mo hurriedly checked the scroll again, saw the ore safely stored within, and breathed out in relief—it had not been a dream.

To suddenly discover his ancient painting was a magical artifact, capable of storing things, such a treasure would leave anyone’s heart racing.

It took Ye Mo a full day to finally calm himself. To achieve such composure in such a short time was remarkable.

He continued mining in the tunnel.

Originally, Ye Mo had planned to spend several months, perhaps half a year, in the mine, earning dozens of spirit stones before leaving to buy Qi Condensing Pills and rune talismans, then hunt sea beasts to earn more spirit stones.

But now, with the painting able to store ore, there was no need to stay so long. Spending half a year mining for a handful of spirit stones, unable to cultivate, was a waste of time.

He decided to store all third-grade and above black iron ore, and a portion of first-grade ore, inside the painting, only submitting a third of his total to the overseers.

A third was the typical yield for an ordinary cultivator, so it would not arouse suspicion.

Ye Mo planned to spend about half a month in the mine, gather enough ore, then depart with the treasures stored in his painting.

…

After nearly half a month, Ye Mo had exhausted his supply of food and water, venturing out occasionally for meals but spending most of his time mining.

He had over three thousand pounds of first-grade black iron ore, enough to exchange for a spirit stone with the overseer.

The remaining five to six thousand pounds of second and third-grade ore were all safely stored within the Immortal Village scroll.

Ye Mo transported the three thousand pounds of ore in his basket out of the mine in three trips. With his current strength, carrying such weight was not too strenuous.

Outside the mine, at noon, the sun blazed fiercely.

“Clearly it’s over thirty pounds of ore—why does your scale only show twenty-eight?”

Ye Mo had just exited the mine when he overheard a miner angrily questioning the overseer weighing his ore.

“Our scale has been used for decades without error, so there’s no problem! If it weighs twenty-eight pounds, that’s what it is! You’re new here—what do you know?” the overseer replied lazily.

Recently, many new faces had appeared among the miners. This one was clearly a newcomer.

“You despicable lot! I demand an explanation from the supervisor!” the miner shouted, pointing angrily at the overseer. But it was only bluster; unless a riot broke out, miners dared not challenge the overseers.

Ye Mo queued behind the miner for his turn at the scale.

“What’s all this shouting in the heat?” called the young cultivator who had once recorded Ye Mo’s name, striding over from a distant stone chamber with a cold voice.

“Supervisor!” the new miner shrank back in fear, but mustered his courage and said indignantly, “Just days ago, you promised in person that there’d be no shortchanging. Why does my thirty-plus pounds of ore weigh only twenty-eight?”

“Heh! Thirty pounds? That’s your own estimate. How could the big scale be so precise? All the scales used on Donglai Spirit Island are issued by the City Lord’s mansion. You dare question the City Lord’s authority?”

“As for my promise, I assured you your yield would be accurately recorded and exchanged for meat cakes as agreed, without alteration. Once weighed and logged, it will not change. On that point, I stake the reputation of the Four Seas Trading Guild!”

“I have a good temper, and treat you miners reasonably. If Chief Wang were here, he’d whip you half to death first,” the young cultivator sneered calmly, betraying no anger.

“You…” The miner was so incensed he could not speak.

Even a fool could see the young cultivator was mocking him. As a miner, his word was worthless; the overseer alone decided the weight of the ore.

Dismissing the miner with a wave, the young cultivator turned to Ye Mo.

“Ye Mo, you’re out as well? Have you mined enough for the three thousand pounds? Only three thousand pounds earns a spirit stone—any less won't do. Would you like to weigh it now, or mine a bit more first?” he asked politely, smiling.

“Let’s weigh it now,” said Ye Mo.

Several overseers quickly prepared the weights and began weighing the ore Ye Mo had brought out.

“Ye Mo, your harvest is impressive—there are even some second-grade ores!” the young cultivator remarked with surprise, as he casually examined the ore in Ye Mo’s basket.

“Just a few, the rest are first-grade,” Ye Mo replied.

Indeed, only a few pieces atop the basket were second-grade. He thought that having none might look suspicious, so he left a few visible. As for third-grade ore, there was no need to show it; it was rare for early stage cultivators to mine any.

“That’s quite impressive. Most ore from this mine is first-grade; second-grade is hard to dig. You must have worked hard for these,” the young cultivator said, squinting and smiling.

Ye Mo exchanged polite words with him, watching as the overseers, panting from exertion, hoisted his heavy basket onto the large scale.