Journey to the West: The Immortal Clan Begins by Feeding Monkeys at Five Elements Mountain

Chapter 149 Selective Spiritual Nurturing, Letter from Luoyang

The days flowed by uneventfully, the light and shadow under the eaves shifting inch by inch, growing longer and shorter, and the grass in the yard sprouting in batches, turning green and then yellow.

Time flies, and more than a year has passed in the blink of an eye.

Jiang Qin and Jiang Jin, a pair of siblings, are both over six years old.

Under Jiang Xi's daily, half-coaxing and half-frightening "gentle persuasion," he finally couldn't escape his aunt's clutches and obediently joined the Ancient and Modern Gang.

They became the most eye-catching "benchmark" among this year's new disciples.

Today, Liangjie Village is no longer the small, sparsely populated place it once was.

The territory expanded outwards by more than one circle, with houses lined up one after another, streets and alleys newly built, and the population also increased accordingly.

This spring, the new children who joined the gang and entered the school stood in a dense row, more than double the number when Jiang Ming was still swaying his head in elementary school.

The place was bustling with people and filled with the sound of reading aloud; it truly resembled a lively new era.

The day was just right, neither too hot nor too cold, and even the wind was gentle, brushing past the eaves and only causing half of the bamboo curtain to flutter slightly.

Jiang Yi lay on the bamboo armchair in the courtyard as usual.

The chair surface has been worn smooth and shiny by the years, and when you lie down on it, you feel a sense of relaxed strength in every bone.

He held a scroll of "Dongxuan Weizhi" in his hands, his eyes half-closed, seemingly trying to understand the universe within the words, but in reality his mind was wandering around.

Now that I no longer have to watch over my two little ones practicing boxing and writing, I haven't had a moment of peace.

These eyes, of course, are not only for reading scriptures.

For example, this small courtyard has now become a bustling "mini drill ground".

The main characters are not young soldiers, nor are they armed with swords, spears, or halberds, but rather a group of clever chickens with different plumage colors.

The fourth generation of spirit chickens spontaneously split into three groups as soon as they hatched.

A wisp of crimson feathers, like fire, strides forward with head held high, displaying its most imposing presence;
A flock of golden feathers gleamed, and the figure stood upright, looking just like a rooster ceremonial guard.

There was another group of people with jade-like green feathers, who were the quietest in their movements, yet had the sharpest eyes.

The three groups of chickens each formed their own distinct groups, clearly separated, resembling the discipline of a military camp.

Leading the pack were naturally the three "chicken ancestors" who had long since gained sentience.

The Crimson Feather Ancestor was the tallest, with feathers as vibrant as the sunset. At this moment, he had one claw pinned to the top of a wooden stake, tilted his head back, and let out a clear, resonant cry that almost shook a few dust particles off the roof tiles.

Behind it, a flock of red-feathered chicks marched in formation around the stake, their rhythm distinct and their formation orderly, as if they had learned a chicken square formation from somewhere.

Old Ancestor Jin Yu sat steadily on the edge of the threshing platform, his neck motionless, but his chicken eyes kept darting around.

It is the most arrogant of animals, never getting involved itself, but only observing coldly from the sidelines.

If any of the younger ones lose focus, it flicks its tail feathers and its sharp beak pecks at them with lightning speed, leaving only a blur.

Ancestor Qingyu was the most serene, his temperament like that of an old cultivator in the mountains.

It led a group of young green-feathered creatures, forming a circle and pecking at each other.

Although they were pecking at each other, their movements were actually quite methodical, more like a rehearsal of some kind of offensive and defensive formation. For a moment, the chickens' shadows intertwined, their feathers fluttered, and they looked quite impressive.

At first glance, the whole yard full of chickens strutting around, twisting their necks and pecking their beaks, is really quite comical.

But upon closer inspection, those fourth-generation spirit chickens all stretched their necks, bulged their eyes, and focused their energy on their bellies, displaying all their skills without daring to slack off in the slightest.

The Jiang family has now established new rules for raising chickens.

To put it more elegantly, it's about "selecting the best to nurture."

To put it bluntly, it's a bottom-ranking elimination system. This happens on every birthday of a member of the Jiang family, or during holidays.

Of the three groups of chickens, the one that is the most undisciplined and least capable will have one quietly "removed" from this yard.

These spirit chickens, though they had not yet comprehended the profound mysteries of "life and death."

Yet, they also knew, in their simple way, that such a silent disappearance was by no means a good omen.

Moreover, the gazes of those three ancestors were far more ruthless than the bamboo branch in Jiang Yi's hand.

Therefore, when it came to training, everyone was full of fighting spirit and their eyes were bright, as if one wrong step would plunge them into a pot of boiling water and cause them to die in sorrow.

Jiang Yi lazily raised his eyes and glanced around the courtyard from the top of the book.

Chickens fluttered about, raising dust in all directions.

He couldn't help but think to himself, "The effect is quite remarkable."

These little creatures were practically bloodthirsty, desperate to avoid being "removed from the list," to show off in front of their ancestors, and to get a larger share of the concentrated feed mixed with medicinal dregs.

Even the red-feathered chickens, which are usually most afraid of water, jumped into the water basin this morning and splashed around for a long time, just to make their feathers look more vibrant, so as not to be chosen at first glance and become the "last one".

The way of the chicken also has its own way of survival.

Jiang Yi was engrossed in watching when he suddenly caught a glimpse of the Golden Feather Ancestor out of the corner of his eye. He didn't know when the creature had quietly strolled to the side of his recliner.

The hairy beast tilted its head, its big, beady eyes darting around, staring intently at the Taoist scripture in his hand, its expression revealing a hint of... curiosity.
Jiang Yi's eyelids twitched, and a thought flickered in his mind.

Without saying a word, it simply handed the book to it.

The golden rooster didn't flinch; instead, it stood firmly, stretched its neck, and gently pecked at a corner of the page with its sharp beak.

The force was extremely light, as if exploring the path, or as if "asking for advice".

Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow, a smile appearing on his lips, a sense of leisure welling up in his heart.

It seems there's more to discover about raising chickens.

In the future, not only will they train their muscles and bones and temper their temperament, but they might even be able to arrange the path of "enlightenment and wisdom" for them as well.

He slowly turned the page, memorizing the peck, then lay back in his chair, his gaze drifting leisurely towards the courtyard.

Under the sunlight, the red, yellow, and blue chicken feathers fluttered and shimmered, dust flew up, and life was in full swing.

Beneath this vibrant landscape, however, lies a silent rule, flowing like a hidden vein, spurring these spirit birds on day after day, daring not to rest or slacken.

Even chickens have to fight for their pride, so people certainly shouldn't live in vain.

Just as I was thinking this, a small figure swept in like a gust of wind from the courtyard gate.

Jiang Qin ran incredibly fast, her steps as light as if she had wheels, holding a letter high in her hand. Her voice preceded her arrival:
"Grandpa! It's a letter! It's from Luoyang!"

Before he could finish speaking, the letter was shoved into Jiang Yi's hand with a "snap".

The little figure turned around, completing the task perfectly, and with a light tap of its toes, darted back into the house.

Before long, he tucked a few crisp fruits he had picked from his own tree into his pocket, and without looking back, he dashed off toward the training ground.

Over there, a group of friends were enthusiastically practicing their moves, waiting for him to show off his newly learned martial arts skills.

Jiang Yi watched the small figure hopping and skipping away outside the courtyard gate. The light in his eyes, which seemed to be cloudy and heavy, seemed to be blown away by the wind. His smile was faint, but it disappeared in an instant.

He slowly sat up straight and held the letter in front of him.

The characters "Luoyang" are written with elegance, but separated by thousands of mountains and rivers, a hint of politeness and distance can be detected.

(End of this chapter)