It was the first time Liu Xiaolou had ever seen that black cat in the SunRain Hibiscus Garden. If Tigerhead Dragon hadn’t pointed it out, he wouldn’t even have noticed the cat crouched under the eaves of Yiling Hall.
He looked up and locked eyes with it. The black cat backed up a few steps, let out a sharp “meow,” and in the blink of an eye it was gone without a trace.
“What the hell?” Liu Xiaolou muttered, a little taken aback. He tried recalling everything that had happened back on Black Cat Mountain, but for the moment he couldn’t make sense of it.
Tigerhead Dragon, on the other hand, seemed to know something. Nodding, he said, “So it came from Black Cat Mountain. No wonder. I’d only ever heard the stories, that the mountain breeds a special kind of black cat. I’d never seen one myself, but now that I have, it really is as black as they say.”
They lingered in conversation for quite a while, but when Su Wan never returned, Tigerhead Dragon grew more and more restless. By the time the grand feast at Gualu Hall was over, he left with clear disappointment.
From that day on, the SunRain Hibiscus Garden suddenly fell into silence. Before, it was only the Su family members who stayed away and the stewards who ignored it, but now even the household servants and maidservants couldn’t be bothered to enter. Not even the bare minimum of two meals a day could be counted on anymore, as if everyone had simply forgotten there was still someone living inside the garden.
Liu Xiaolou couldn’t be bothered to argue anymore. With Big White around, he wasn’t about to starve, so he simply settled down and devoted himself to cultivation.
He had plenty of spirit stones in hand, more than enough to last him a whole year of cultivation and still have some left over.
The sweltering summer quickly passed. A cool mountain wind swept through, brushing his skin with a faint chill.
One morning, he woke to find the ground covered in fallen leaves. As he stepped across them, listening to the crunch under his feet, a sudden pang of longing crept into his chest.
It had been a long time since he’d tasted dragon-whisker carp or ao shrimp. Even the dozen or so silver dragon-whisker carp that Su Xi had raised in the Dripping Water Pond had long since been polished off by him and Big White.
Sometimes he even suspected that the black cat, the one that always watched him from the eaves with those unblinking eyes, might have stolen a few itself. Otherwise, why would the goose spread its wings and crane its long neck into a fighting stance every time the cat showed up?
After circling the garden twice and soaking in the heavy air of autumn, Liu Xiaolou returned to the front of Yiling Hall, hoping to catch another glimpse of that black cat. He was certain the creature had some spark of spirit. Otherwise, how could it have held its ground against the ever more battle-hardened goose for so long? If it were any less, it would have ended up as the goose’s dinner ages ago.
So then, how could he find a way to catch that black cat and take it in?
Liu Xiaolou leapt onto the eaves, but saw no sign of it. He jumped back down to the pondside and said to Big White, “Don’t fight with that cat anymore. I think it’s come to join us. From now on, we’ll give it a name. Let’s call it Little Black. You’re Big White, it’s Little Black. You’re bigger than it, so give it a little leeway. That way our Sanxuan Sect will have gained a new member, and it’ll feel like we’re thriving, won’t it?”
But wait. After just one night, there were suddenly six or seven more dragon-whisker carp swimming in the pond.
Pointing at the fish, Liu Xiaolou asked, “Well then, how did these get here?”
Big White caught one of the carp in its beak and strolled leisurely up from the water. Right at the pond’s edge, it began gutting the fish on the spot. The carp, more than two feet long, thrashed desperately in his grasp, the two long whiskers by its mouth whipping about and kicking up gusts of wind, but it had no chance of escape. A few sharp jabs from the goose’s flat beak tore open its side, and blood seeped out at once.
The goose plunged its beak into the fish’s belly, pulled out the guts and bladder, and with a flick tossed them aside. In that instant, a black shadow swooped down from the roof, snatched up the offal, and vanished without a trace.
The goose gave two contemptuous honks in the direction of the shadow, then carried the cleaned carp straight to the small kitchen of the SunRain Hibiscus Garden.
A few sharp knocks followed, and then with a sudden whoosh, the sound of fire flaring to life came from the kitchen.
Liu Xiaolou had long since grown used to this routine. What puzzled him today was the relationship between Big White goose and the black cat.
Standing outside the little kitchen, he let the goose busy itself inside while he leaned against the doorframe and asked, “Big White, when you tossed that aside, were you feeding Little Black?”
“Honkkk!”
Before long, the goose came out with a roasted dragon-whisker carp clamped in its beak and tossed it to Liu Xiaolou. The truth was, its cooking left a lot to be desired. The skin of the fish was burnt black; but who could really complain about a goose that knew how to roast fish at all?
Liu Xiaolou split the dragon-whisker carp in half, sharing it evenly with the goose. Once they had finished eating, he reminded it, “Big White, I’m going back to my room to cultivate. You should be careful too, and mind the rules. This is Shenwu Mountain, not our Wulong Mountain. The fish from the back mountain aren’t completely off-limits, but you have to be cautious. Don’t take too many, or it’ll be trouble if someone finds out. If you have the chance, bring back a few ao shrimp instead.”
He took a few steps away, then turned back. “And don’t forget to clean up the fish bones.”
“Honk!”
“Why not?”
A black shadow suddenly streaked past and disappeared in the blink of an eye. Liu Xiaolou nearly jumped out of his skin. “What! That’s how you make your entrance?” Looking again, he saw that the fish bones and scraps on the ground were already gone.
“Still not giving in? You lost, but you’re not convinced? You want to keep fighting?”
“Honk!”
“Not fighting anymore?”
“Honkkk!”
So, it neither dared to fight nor wanted to admit defeat, and yet the goose still fed it? Fine. Their relationship would just need more time to untangle itself.
Back in his room, Liu Xiaolou shut the door and resumed cultivation. On the Hand Lesser Yang Meridian he had already opened eight acupoints—Guanchong, Yemen, Zhongzhu, Yangchi, Waiguan, Zhigou, Huizong, and Sanyangluo—and was now pushing toward the Sidao acupoint.
The acupoints of the Hand Lesser Yang Meridian were relatively easier to break through. One and a half to two spirit stones were usually enough for each, but with so many points in total, the time it consumed was still measured in years.
It was never just a matter of spiritual energy. Each meridian brought its own hurdles: moments of comprehension when a channel opened, certain acupoints that demanded rare spiritual materials. These were barriers, one after another. The path of Qi Refinement was long, and countless cultivators were worn down by them, their resolve fading little by little, until they spent a lifetime wandering in circles along their meridians.
The past two years had gone fairly well for Liu Xiaolou. From the second to the fourth level of Qi Refinement, he had broken through two full layers, a speed that was nothing to scoff at. That pace both encouraged and pressed him forward, leaving no room for the slightest slackening.
By the time Shenwu Mountain saw its third snowfall of winter, the spirit stone in his palm had crumbled into powder, and his progress had reached the fifteenth point—Jianliao. After six months of seclusion and fourteen stones consumed, he was finally halfway through the fourth layer of Qi Refinement.
Jianliao was a major acupoint, with a reservoir of true qi pooled within. Liu Xiaolou estimated it would take at least two and a half, maybe even three stones, to break it open.
Counting the days, he realized he had been a son-in-law at Shenwu Mountain for exactly one year. It was time to get some air. And besides, the Su family still owed him seven spirit stones. He wasn’t short on stones for now, but a debt was never something he could let stand.
Liu Xiaolou pushed open the gates of the SunRain Hibiscus Garden, closed for half a year, and headed toward the great storehouse of the manor.