Chapter Twenty-Five: In the World of Cultivation, Those Who Dream This Dream Have Long Since Perished

“To have encountered a Frostfire Twin-headed Wolf…” Zhou Changwang lowered his head, falling into silence.

He knew well that in the world of cultivation, beasts of the same rank were often stronger than cultivators. And this Frostfire Twin-headed Wolf, though categorized as a mid-tier beast, was among the most formidable of its kind. Even powerful cultivators at the seventh level of Qi Refinement would find it troublesome to face. If this wolf had indeed chased after his father, the outcome was all too predictable.

“Old Xiu, those snow rabbits of yours look quite fine—how much are you selling them for?”

“Oh, it’s Old Lin. Aren’t you raising Tusked Boars? What, thinking of switching to snow rabbits?”

“Hahaha, my boars were just sent to market, and the piglets don’t need much attention. I thought I’d buy some snow rabbits to fill the gap.”

“Looks like you’ve made a tidy profit, brother. Since you want them, I’ll give you a deal—two apiece…”

The rest of their conversation was muffled by a soundproofing spell.

Jolted by the noise, Zhou Changwang glanced at Old Xiu’s stall.

Two young Unicorn Bulls were tied to a wooden stake, three mottled piglets lay inside a wooden crate—not tusked boars, but fragrant meat pigs, renowned for their rich spiritual energy and flavor, a favorite among gourmets. There was also a nest of more than a dozen snow rabbits, five young Bloodhoof Lambs, and a litter of half-moon-old Burrowing Hounds…

Once, he would not have spared these spirit beasts a second glance. After all, money was a man’s backbone; without it, one could only walk with head bowed.

But things were different now. With over a hundred spirit stones, he could count himself a middle-class cultivator of the lower ranks. His spiritual fields were about to yield a harvest, and since it wasn’t suitable to plant spirit grain again so soon, he needed other ways to make a living. As luck would have it, he’d just acquired the Beast Taming spell of Soothing, perfectly suited for raising spirit beasts…

He examined each one. The Unicorn Bull grew slowly, taking three years to mature. Fragrant meat pigs were delicate, with a low survival rate. Snow rabbits bred fast, but required Bloodleaf Grass for feed—an aquatic spiritual herb that had to be foraged in the wild, a risky endeavor. Bloodhoof Lambs were strong, equivalent to a cultivator at the third level of Qi Refinement when grown; a kick from one could be fatal...

“Cultivation is truly difficult. Even earning a living isn’t easy.” Zhou Changwang sighed. Clearly, farming suited him best.

He was about to leave when his gaze landed on the last crate of Burrowing Hounds. Though called spirit beasts, even fully grown they were only the size of a calf, not much meat on them. Unlike Unicorn Bulls or Tusked Boars, which grew large and could be raised on a large scale for significant profit when slaughtered and sold.

Burrowing Hounds were typically kept as household guards. For instance, the brothers Zhao Jie and Zhao Qiang in the spirit fields kept a spirit hound to guard their fields and medicinal plots.

If one knew some beast-taming techniques, the hounds could be trained as hunting dogs to assist cultivators in tracking wild beasts in the mountains, but the cost of keeping them was even higher.

Thus, raising spirit hounds was usually a losing proposition—most wandering cultivators could not afford it.

“Still, having a spirit hound is no small matter. Their sense of smell is keen, their vigilance high; they often sense danger before it arrives and respond instantly. If I’d had a spirit hound before, I wouldn’t have only noticed those two martial artists attacking when they were already upon me. A spirit hound would have warned me in advance.”

The attempted robbery by the two innate martial artists still left Zhou Changwang shaken. He knew all too well that those two were not the only robbers lurking on the outskirts of the marketplace. This time, he’d escaped by luck alone—what about next time?

With his spirit fields about to yield, and his father missing, he was a solitary itinerant farmer—exactly the sort of target such bandits preferred. Old Xu had told him that every year after the harvest, several wandering spirit farmers would mysteriously vanish without a trace…

“At the very least, I could use a spirit hound to deal with the mice in my fields and keep my spirit rice safe from spirit rats.”

As harvest time approached, spirit farmers grew ever more vigilant, and rodent infestations were among their gravest worries—sometimes even worse than insect plagues. Spirit rats not only stole food but hoarded spirit rice in their burrows—a single rat could stash ten or twenty pounds. If they swarmed, it was a disaster.

Catching them was no easy feat either. Spirit rats were fast and expert diggers; their tunnels crisscrossed the fields, making their granaries almost impossible to find. Searching for them could damage the fields and drain their spiritual energy.

After some thought, Zhou Changwang made his decision.

He would buy one.

Just then, Old Xiu finished bargaining with Old Lin, who took five pairs of snow rabbits and paid fifteen low-grade spirit stones, then wandered off.

Old Xiu quickly pocketed the stones and, noticing Zhou Changwang still lingering, said, “You should head back. As for your father, you have my sympathy, but in the cultivation world, such things are all too common. Your father was only a martial artist—what of it? Even the two Foundation Establishment elders in the market can’t guarantee they’ll die of old age. Cultivation is called the path to immortality, but who truly lives forever? Most just walk a little further along that endless road.”

“I understand,” Zhou Changwang replied, nodding.

He was well aware of how grueling cultivation could be. Immortality? Ascension? Those who still dreamed of such things had long since died out. Only in the first days after his transmigration had he dared to fantasize; now, he walked on eggshells, terrified of misstep.

Self-preservation was what mattered most.

He was a bit surprised that Old Xiu would offer him words of comfort.

“So, you still have something to ask?” Old Xiu paused, then broke into a wider smile, becoming much more amiable.

“I’d like to make a deal with you, Old Xiu,” Zhou Changwang said with a smile, pointing at the crate of Burrowing Hounds. “How much for one of your hounds?”

“How many do you want?” Old Xiu squinted, his eyes shrinking even smaller.

“Just one,” Zhou Changwang said.

The familiar soundproofing spell descended, blocking out the surrounding noise. Then he heard only Old Xiu’s voice: “Ten low-grade spirit stones. For just ten low-grade spirit stones, you can take a Burrowing Hound home. Don’t underestimate them—they have noble blood, descended from the Black Marsh breed. With proper care and a stroke of luck, they might even regress to their ancestral form and evolve—now that would be something…”

“I’ll give you two spirit stones,” Zhou Changwang interrupted.

“Impossible! These hounds are exceptionally intelligent, bred from hunting stock. It cost me spirit stones just to pair them in the first place—less than nine low-grade spirit stones, and I won’t sell,” Old Xiu protested loudly.