Chapter Fifteen: The Ichthyodragon Herb

The paper figure did not die immediately; instead, it struck back with a blade. Clang! The blade landed directly on the neck of the Thunderous Horse, white bone clashing with steel, sending sparks flying. Aside from a slight crack in the bone, the Thunderous Horse suffered no harm whatsoever. Enraged, its eyes flickered with ghostly fire. Those iron claws lashed out repeatedly. The sound of torn cloth echoed. The paper figure was instantly shredded, its magic dispelled, dissipating into a wisp of blue smoke.

Whoosh! Two feathered arrows shot forth from the branches, aimed straight at the Thunderous Horse’s skull. Lu Qian finally discerned the creature’s weakness: the ghostly fire within its skull. Damage to other parts meant nothing to it. The white arrows streaked across the night like shooting stars. Bang! The Thunderous Horse transformed into a shadow; the arrows pierced deep into the tree trunk, three inches in. Immediately, the shadow rushed toward the archer paper figure, its form flickering, instantly arriving before it. The Thunderous Horse’s reflexes surpassed any ordinary beast. Even nature’s top predators, in awareness and cunning, could not compare. Yet it could not fathom the tricks of mankind. Just as it reached the paper figure, a ghastly green light blazed from the figure, and a ball of poisonous green flame engulfed the monster.

Boom! Fire erupted from the paper figure’s center. The green flames blasted outward, splitting several massive trees, their leaves reduced to green ash. Smoke billowed, and a faint scent of sulfur lingered. Lu Qian crouched behind a waist-high stone, unmoving and highly cautious. From the start, he never intended for the paper figure to slay the Thunderous Horse. The figure’s power exceeded that of common folk, but it was still lacking against monsters impervious to blades and arrows. Its frail body was always inferior in close combat.

His purpose was to lure the monster into the open. He had affixed ten white talisman papers to the paper figure; once the Thunderous Horse fell into the trap, ten green fireballs would detonate. The power was formidable, with a lethal range of thirty feet. For a Daoist novice in the prenatal breathing stage, this was already an impressive feat. Lu Qian’s face was pale; it was clear that triggering so many talismans had drained him greatly. He had no choice—his strength at this stage was limited, even at its peak, it remained taxing.

Moreover, he lacked the ability to learn many advanced spells, which required at least the cultivation level of Qi refinement. This was why the prenatal breathing stage marked the novice, and Qi refinement the Daoist proper. At this moment, movement stirred in the clearing. As the smoke cleared, the Thunderous Horse slowly emerged. Its forelimbs had been blown away, its head hung limp, nearly falling off. Clearly, it had discovered Lu Qian’s whereabouts; its ghostly eyes burned with fury.

A low rumble of thunder sounded. Jet-black energy exploded outward in a horn-shaped wave, its center aimed directly at Lu Qian. After unleashing this attack, the ghost fire dimmed, and the Thunderous Horse’s bones collapsed, leaving only its lonely skull ablaze. A sense of extreme danger swept over him. Lu Qian’s hair stood on end; he wanted to dodge, but his body was stiff and powerless, as if bound by some unseen force. His mind grew hazy, as though struck by a heavy blow, unable to distinguish direction.

“Open!” Lu Qian shouted, his face tinged with black, his robes billowing, the last of his true energy surging into his right hand. At last, his right hand broke free from the restraint. He quickly retrieved a thumb-thick green bamboo tube from his belt, uncorked it, and poured a pink liquid into his mouth. An intense, bitter taste exploded across his lips and tongue. The potent flavor seemed to burst open the crown of his head, jolting his spirit awake.

This medicine was called the Peach Blossom Spirit Suppressant, renowned for its restorative effects. Instantly, Lu Qian shook off the Thunderous Horse’s mental assault. Boom! The attack was swift, striking him almost the instant he swallowed the potion. Crash! In the fan-shaped area behind Lu Qian, countless birds tumbled from the trees. “Hmph!” Lu Qian grunted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth; his body wavered, nearly falling. The attack was spiritual in nature, but the medicine’s power fortified his mind, sparing him from its effects. Had his reaction been slower, he might have been reduced to a fool.

Lu Qian wiped the blood from his mouth, smoothed his disheveled hair, and strode to the Thunderous Horse. “You little beast, I nearly fell for your trick,” he sneered, drawing the Azure Water Sword and piercing the monster’s skull. He collected its horn and bones, knowing these would fetch a handsome reward in Daoist merit. Just as he was about to depart, he caught a scent with his nose.

“Hm?” Lu Qian smelled a strong fishy odor, tinged with a faint, elusive fragrance. Following the scent, he found its source behind a great banyan tree.

The tree’s hanging roots and withered bark resembled an ancient elder. Beneath, on the dark soil, clusters of three-leafed grass grew thickly, thriving in the shade of the roots. “Fishgrass!” Lu Qian thought; there were at least thirty or forty patches here. Banyan trees were inherently yin, and fishgrass flourished unnoticed beneath them, possibly having grown for many years. Lu Qian did not rush to harvest, instead glancing around, waiting for something.

Suddenly, the soil to the side bulged; something stirred underground. Almost simultaneously, Lu Qian lifted his right hand, and a green-scaled serpent shot from his sleeve. Stretching several meters, its head plunged into the earth, emerging with something clasped in its jaws.

It was an oddly shaped herb. At the tip was fishgrass, its roots formed a spindle-shaped object resembling a fish—large eyes, elongated snout, sharp teeth, and a tail fin extending from its tail to its head, creating a “fish.”

Lu Qian seized the three-leafed crown; the thumb-sized fish writhed fiercely, yet could not escape his grasp. “Luckily my nose is keen, or else you would have slipped away,” he smiled, a ripple of joy disturbing his tranquil heart.

Fishgrass was so named not for its fishy scent—that was another herb known as Fishy Grass—but because it could evolve, much like a carp leaping the dragon gate, undergoing transformation. Most grass withered within a year, but some exceptional fishgrass survived up to nine years. Upon reaching ten years, its form changed, earning the name Dragon Fishgrass. This herb carried a subtle, refreshing fragrance, which was how Lu Qian found it. Its value was dozens or even hundreds of times greater than ordinary fishgrass. Dragon Fishgrass ranked sixty-ninth among the seventy-two Earthly Precious Plants. Because of its transformative properties, it was often used to break through cultivation barriers. It even aided Qi refinement in advancing to spirit nourishment, attesting to its rarity.

“Once I collect enough Daoist merit and exchange for a cultivation method, I can begin to breakthrough,” thought Lu Qian, carefully storing the precious herb in a jade box to preserve its potency. Of course, he would not neglect the smaller ones; he picked up a jade hoe and dug cautiously, avoiding damage to the roots.

Two hours later.

The forest was dim, the time unknown. Lu Qian finally finished digging up all the Dragon Fishgrass, bundling them together and setting them aside. As he stepped out from the banyan’s tangled roots, he unexpectedly encountered three people head-on.