Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Millennium Snow Ginseng
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This time, I was certain I would obtain the Millennium Snow Ginseng. My martial arts had clearly advanced beyond the level they were at during my second death, I had money saved from three years as an Escort Warrior, and most importantly, I had come to Yellow Mountain without any entanglements or grudges. There was no one who might get in my way.
On top of that, while working as an Escort Warrior for the Sa Gong Escort Agency, I had gathered plenty of maps and geographical information about Yellow Mountain. The thought that failing this time would deliver a massive mental blow was reason enough—I had prepared meticulously over the past three years.
The reason I was obsessed, almost fanatically, with consuming the Millennium Snow Ginseng was simple: the moment I made it mine, I would no longer be lingering at the First-Class Expert level. I would truly be able to aim for Peak Expert.
Peak Experts were not common in this world. I had heard there were fewer than five hundred of them across the vast Central Plains, home to tens of millions of people. Their prowess could reshape the world’s power structure, and amassing wealth and fame came easily to them. People everywhere boasted of sightings, but most were mistaking First-Class warriors for the real deal. True Peak Experts were said to be rarer than century-old wild ginseng.
The moment power came to me, how would my life change?
The imagination was more thrilling than the wait itself.
To search for the Millennium Snow Ginseng on Yellow Mountain, I first prepared meticulously for the ascent and stocked up on provisions. Using the map of the inner peaks I had acquired, I firmly set my search direction.
Yellow Mountain had a total of seventy-two peaks, but I only needed to search thirty of them. The outer twenty-four peaks definitely had no Millennium Snow Ginseng, and the twelve near the Yellow Mountain Sect had to be excluded. The sect’s base covered six peaks, so excluding those left thirty peaks to comb through.
Of course, “thirty peaks” meant thirty treacherous mountains, each towering five or six hundred zhang high. Thoroughly searching one would take at least a month, so my journey would require at least three or four years. It might even take ten, with no guarantee.
‘Hmph. Even if it takes ten years, fine. That’s a bargain for the Millennium Snow Ginseng.’
I steeled my resolve. No matter what, I wouldn’t give up. I vowed it in my heart.
I began searching the first peak the day after arriving at the foot of Yellow Mountain. I left my bundle at a nearby inn and started climbing with my mountaineering gear. To survey the entire mountain, I had to venture into the wilds beyond the trails. Naturally, untouched areas far outnumbered the paths, so the first day demanded tremendous time and effort.
By the end of the day’s search, I returned to the inn utterly exhausted. I tried to sleep soundly, but sleep wouldn’t come. I had scoured the mountain all day with almost nothing to show for it.
‘Efficiency’s poor. Returning to the inn as a base shortens my routes too much.’
I wasn’t patrolling the outskirts; I needed the inner peaks. That meant at least thirty li a day, and round trips to the inn wasted time.
Better to build a shack or thatched hut in the mountains and live there.
Starting the next day, I began constructing a hut at the foot of the inner peaks. I had built one before, so it was straightforward. First, gather logs for the pillars, cut them to size, and lay the foundation. Then cover the roof with materials that repelled rain and dew.
Building a thatched hut or shack alone was normally grueling, but during my Escort Warrior days, I had befriended masons and learned from them. As long as the foundation was basic, strength and stamina could handle the rest.
I finished the hut about four days later. I had devoted the entire time to it. It wasn’t pretty—just enough to shield from rain and dew. I laid rice straw on the floor, and heating was out of the question. No separate kitchen either.
But it was good enough. I had endured plenty of hardship in life; I could use this as a base and improve it gradually. Finding the Millennium Snow Ginseng was what mattered—my living conditions were secondary.
With the hut ready, I began the full search. When I needed food, I bought provisions from the village or the inn. For washing, I used the nearby stream—or if I wanted to save money, I hunted small wild animals. The innkeeper initially thought I was mad and considered reporting me to the authorities, but he soon accepted that I was just a young man choosing to live in the mountains.
Two months into the search.
I had roughly surveyed four of Yellow Mountain’s thirty inner peaks. Thoroughly combing four mountains was exhausting, but I endured with my internal energy. Strangely, even with only about one shichen a day for cultivation, the daily toil and mountain trekking made my energy cling more firmly to my meridians.
By then, half the money I had saved over three years was gone. At this rate, I’d be broke in months, so I pondered my options. After much deliberation, I reached a conclusion.
“I’ll work.”
I couldn’t cut all ties with the world. I wasn’t a born hunter, and living off wild game had limits. Regardless of martial prowess, hunting was physically draining and miserable. I needed to earn money for food somehow.
Fortunately, a word from the innkeeper decided it.
“You’re living in the mountains, right? Chop wood and sell it to the lumberyard. They’ll buy it.”
He was right. Yellow Mountain’s timber was high-quality and versatile, so the village had a dedicated lumberyard. They processed it and supplied wherever needed. I contracted with the owner, got an axe, and started chopping sporadically the next day.
Chopping was easy, but hauling to the lumberyard was the chore, so two or three good trees sufficed. The owner was stunned just seeing me bring down such massive logs.
When I needed money, I chopped for the lumberyard; otherwise, I cultivated briefly or searched the mountain. Days blurred into a routine, and I gradually adapted to mountain life.
A year passed.
I was on my ninth peak, with no sign of the Millennium Snow Ginseng. Progress-wise, I was about thirty percent done. Matching my expected pace, it actually eased my mind.
The innkeeper would chat when he saw me.
“You seem like you were a warrior once. What circumstance drives a young man to live on Yellow Mountain?”
“Just don’t like people.”
“Heh, really...”
He clicked his tongue. I just smiled faintly.
It wasn’t wrong. Until I found the Millennium Snow Ginseng, I wanted to avoid fame or unwanted attention. Living quietly and striving until that day was best.
Three months later.
A massive rainstorm destroyed my hut. I rebuilt it larger than before, anticipating a long haul and the biting cold from rain and wind. This time, I even built a wall to block the gusts.
Another three months passed.
A cold snap ruined the village crops. Tenants wailed in despair, landlords were flustered, and the mood turned grim. As people struggled, the lumberyard stopped buying—farming affected their business too, and an outsider like me earning money drew side-eyes. For a month, I survived on hunted snakes, boars, and deer.
Around then, I crafted a bow and got comfortable with it. I could hunt with sword or spear thanks to my arts, but the bow’s convenience won out. A simple wooden bow with stone arrowheads had ample lethality, so I used it often.
And then—exactly two years after entering Yellow Mountain.
I had searched sixteen peaks. Slower than expected, but over half done. I bought liquor in the village for the first time this life and gulped it down in the hut.
“Ugh... Damn it...”
My first drink ever. Frustration demanded oblivion. Still sober enough, I grumbled.
“[A place where white and black lotuses bloom together?] Where the hell is that!!”
I hadn’t asked anyone about this sole clue. Didn’t want to spark interest. But searching on that alone had hit a mental wall.
My body was fully adult now, beard grown thick. Years more might pass; patience was fraying. Drunken rambling into sleep felt pathetic.
‘No. Time to ask around. If I search all thirty peaks with nothing... my will won’t hold.’
No more stubborn foolishness.
After this much searching, even if someone took interest, my pace led. I’d risk suspicion and ask around the village and nearby.
If it failed, I’d die trying.
First, the innkeeper.
“Huh? Seen a black lotus?”
He tilted his head, then nodded as if recalling.
“I think I heard some monk grows them!”
“Which monk?”
“Dunno. Just vaguely heard.”
Next, the lumberyard owner—closest to me besides the innkeeper.
“Black lotus... grown by a monk... Rings a bell.”
He pondered, then said,
“Probably White Ring Temple. Their abbot grew them; it was a brief buzz, people flocked to see. But the black lotus was just dark-colored, nothing special, so they left disappointed.”
“I see.”
“White Ring Temple’s on White Ring Peak.”
The name fit the location.
I felt deflated realizing I could’ve asked sooner. But on second thought—two years in, casual inquiry raised no flags. Asking early would’ve drawn eyes immediately.
Indeed, neither the innkeeper nor lumberyard owner batted an eye after answering. No reason to suspect.
I learned White Ring Temple’s spot and headed to White Ring Peak—one of the fourteen unchecked peaks. Over forty li away, but grit carried me there.
Now, search White Ring Peak.
‘Meet the abbot first?’
Seeing the black lotus he grew sounded good. I climbed the temple steps and soon met him. No martial artist—just an ordinary old monk.
He looked ready for the coffin, shoulders and hands trembling from age. A bit later, and he’d have passed.
“La... layman... you wish to see... the black lotus...?”
“Yes. Heard it’s quite unique...”
The abbot smiled faintly.
“Unique... it is... Brought from a snowy valley...”
Snowy valley!
‘No way?!’
“Ten years ago... walking a path... slipped into a gorge... snow so deep... fell unharmed... There was a pond... with lotuses... pitch black... heh heh...”
“So you brought it?”
He seemed excited recounting.
“Brought some seeds... heh heh...”
“Where’s that snowy valley?”
“Don’t... know well... misty...”
Misty?
“Layman, please leave now. The abbot isn’t well...”
“Got it.”
A temple monk dragged me out. Asking about the black lotus, they led me behind the temple. Sure enough, black lotuses bloomed there. I gazed silently, then said,
“Only black lotuses here.”
“Lotuses are usually white, so it’s odd. But the roots and leaves are good for the body—we eat them often.”
“I see. Didn’t you seek the abbot’s valley?”
“No reason to. Strange terrain, but Yellow Mountain’s vast. No need to hunt every spot.”
Their expressions rang true. Just monks meditating in seclusion. No shadowy plots—disappointing, but fewer complications. I schemed.
‘Searching from White Ring Peak will uncover that snowy valley. Snowy valley and Millennium Snow Ginseng—must be linked!’
The search resumed.
This time, fierce determination to find the Millennium Snow Ginseng within a year!
That alone had sustained my harsh life. Years of mountain suffering ground my teeth.
Find it.
Find it.
I will... eat the Millennium Snow Ginseng!!
“Uwaa... Aaaah...!!”
I let out a triumphant roar.
Three years and two months since entering Yellow Mountain. Over a year since basing at White Ring Peak. Mid-slope of Long South Peak—far from White Ring—I spotted a twisted cliff formation, hacked through vines and branches, and pressed on.
And now.
A vast white snowy expanse lay before me. The bizarre gorge behind condensed yin energy year-round, chilling the air eternally wintery. Snow never melted.
The abbot’s pond was there too.
Exactly as described: [a place where white and black lotuses bloom together].
‘Not yet... a bit more...!!’
Gritting teeth against the cold, I plowed through snow around the pond. Then, I found a cave with no snow buildup. Big enough for two or three people, I entered calmly.
Deep inside, another snowy field. Sunlight reflected down, illuminating the center: something massive.
Thick as a man’s arm—wild ginseng.
Ginseng with white willow-like patterns on the skin, just like I’d heard.
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!!! ”
I screamed like a madman.
Then knelt and wept.
“I knew itaaaaaah!!!!”
Three years, two months.
Precisely six years since reincarnation—
I had found my goal: the Millennium Snow Ginseng.