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

Chapter 92 Baoji Spirit Soup
Jiang Yi carefully put the wooden box away. Before his hand had even left the lid, he heard a commotion of chickens and dogs running around down the mountain.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly understanding what was going on.

That old hen that grew up eating the dregs of spiritual fruits and medicine is probably in the pot now.

His eyelids twitched, but he ultimately remained silent.

The eldest brother is steady and always acts with discretion. To be honest, he raised those chickens early on to nourish people.

Let him be.

Jiang Yi went back to his room. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so he first coaxed Liu Xiulian to rest.

He didn't light a lamp, but sat cross-legged in front of the bed, silently reciting the "Taishang Laojun Shuo Chang Qingjing Jing".

Without uttering a sound, his mind was clear, and his spirit slowly sank into his dantian.

The soul, like a thread, moves ceaselessly, visualizing the turning of the wheel, and nourishing the vital energy through sleep.

Once seated, I lost track of time.

Until a rooster crowed, its sound waking him from afar, like a dream, gently pulling him out of his reverie.

I opened my eyes, my breath cleared, and my body felt light and relaxed.

The sky outside was just before dawn, with a thin layer of light hanging on the horizon.

Jiang Yi got up and pushed open the door. Before he could even settle down, a wisp of hot fragrance wafted up from the foot of the mountain.

He squinted slightly, smelling an aroma that was unlike ordinary chicken soup.

The aroma of herbs mingled with the oily scent of bones, all stewed together, resulting in a dish that was both warm and robust.

Looking up, I saw wisps of smoke still hanging from the chimneys of the old houses down the mountain, as thin as mosquito whiskers, stretching straight up into the sky.

It was as if the fire had never been extinguished all night.

Jiang Yi felt a surge of hunger in his stomach, and his steps quickened unconsciously, and he swooped down in a few steps.

Pushing open the kitchen door, a wave of heat hit him, making his eyelids twitch.

The aroma of the medicine was sweet with a hint of meatiness; it wasn't overpowering, but rather enticing.

The mere smell of it is enough to make one's bones feel weak, one's heart fire rise, and one's blood and qi stir.

Looking up, I saw Jiang Ming still standing by the stove.

He didn't close his eyes all night, but his eyelids didn't twitch at all; it was as if he was getting more and more energetic the longer he stayed up.

His face was flushed from the smoke, and his eyes were bright and sparkling, as if his meridians had just been opened and his blood was surging.

Jiang Yi gave a soft hum, his steps didn't stop, but his gaze fell on the stove.

Two pots on the stove were bubbling away, with layers of steam rising from their rims.

The left broth is filled with the aroma of herbs and a rich meaty flavor, with chicken oil glistening on the surface.

On the right, however, the soup was crystal clear, with tiny, petal-like fragments of medicinal herbs floating in it. The aroma was delicate, like a cluster of wildflowers you might brush past while hiking through the mountains in the early morning.

Jiang Yi stood still, but he already understood a few things.

The one on the back mountain, though not yet a true vegetarian and Buddhist, does dislike oily and greasy food.

The eldest son cooked the soup in a separate pot, which was quite thoughtful.

However, Jiang Yi was now in a dilemma. He was afraid that the pot of Lingji Baoyao soup might be too nourishing.

His body is now honed to perfection, with all his meridians flowing smoothly. With his skill and energy alone, he can command a respectable reputation in the martial arts world.

But as soon as the aroma of the chicken soup hit my nose, it felt like my lower abdomen was on fire, with steam rising up.

Then look at Jiang Ming, that kid is more robust than him, and his face is also flushed red.

Even the father and son are like this.

Liu Xiulian and that little girl will probably have an even harder time.

Just then, Jiang Ming heard a noise behind him, turned around, and saw his father standing by the door. Without saying a word, he grabbed a few leftover dry cakes from the pot, quickly wrapped them up, and stuffed them into Jiang Yi's hand.
"Just have this to tide you over. Don't worry about breakfast; we'll have the main meal at noon."

After speaking, he turned back to continue watching the fire, his expression remaining very calm.

Jiang Yi took the pancake, said nothing, casually stuffed it into his sleeve, and left without looking back.

The sacred land next to the new house still awaits his care.

Turning the soil, watering the plants, checking the seedlings – it's all work that comes one after another, and you can't be idle if you don't know the time.

Before noon was approaching, preparations had already been made at the Jiang family's house.

The bowls and chopsticks were lined up on the table, and the three people sat upright, each with a solemn expression, as if they were welcoming some deity.

Especially that little girl Jiang Xi, her face was so shiny it looked like she'd been oiled, her eyes were fixed on the doorway, she didn't even blink.

She had been longing for the old hen that had been fed with spiritual fruits and medicines since she was a child, and after years of yearning, she had finally made it to this day.

This time, we're going to eat it all out clearly.

Jiang Yi, however, remained calm. Seeing her expression, he reached out and pressed her back into her chair, his tone gentle yet measured:

"Take your time later. Tonics are not like ordinary food. It's better to eat a few bites less and process them slowly than to choke yourself."

Upon hearing this, Liu Xiulian responded gently, her face serene.

Jiang Xi pursed her lips and mumbled "I know," but her eyes were still darting around down the mountain, clearly not having heard a word.

Just then, with a creak, the door of the old house at the foot of the mountain opened.

Jiang Ming appeared, carrying a heavy casserole in his hands. He stood very steadily, and the aroma wafted straight to our noses.

The pot lid was tightly closed, but the aroma couldn't be contained; it seemed to have a spirit of its own, wafting out from the cracks in the pot.

"The chicken soup is here, be careful it's hot."

He had a smile on his lips, his voice was relaxed, but his steps were not fast at all, as steady as if he could carry himself on a mountain path.

As soon as he entered, he placed the casserole on the table, and just as he let go of it, he raised his hand again to stop it:
"You guys eat first, I have something to do, I'll drink when I get back."

Before he finished speaking, he had already stepped out the door, his steps were swift, and he turned and headed down the mountain in the blink of an eye, as if afraid that the little bit of oil on the edge of the pot would catch up with him.

Jiang Yi glanced at the wisp of steam remaining on the edge of the pot, and before starting to eat, he leaned down and took a sniff.

The aroma of herbs is still faint, sweet with a hint of meatiness, like chicken cooked in mountain spring water, fragrant but not greasy.

However, compared to the strong aroma in the kitchen, it seemed a bit weaker.

Little Jiang Xi, however, paid no attention to these formalities and couldn't sit still in her chair any longer.

Seeing that her father didn't stop her, she said, "I'll do it! I'll do it!" and reached out to lift the pot lid.

With a "whoosh," the pot lid was lifted, and everyone peered out.

The soup in the pot was as clear as a mirror, with no trace of medicinal residue and only specks of oil, as bland as tea brewed with mountain spring water.

Jiang Yi raised an eyebrow, reached out and stirred the spoon twice.

The broth was so clean that only a few scraps of bone and bits of meat could be scooped out, and not even a whole piece of chicken skin could be found.

Just as I was wondering what was so magical about this pot of "miracle soup", a figure suddenly flashed by outside the courtyard.

Jiang Yi looked up and saw that Jiang Ming had already emerged from the side of the house, carrying two shiny food boxes in his hands and a rough porcelain jar tucked under his arm.

With a light step and a swift movement, he went straight into the dense forest behind the mountain without even turning his head.

I tried to take a closer look, but the figures had already disappeared into the mountain wind and tree shadows, leaving only the fluttering of grass and the soft rustling of branches.

The three people in the room looked at each other, all somewhat bewildered.

Finally, Liu Xiulian regained her composure, stood up with a smile, and joked as she ladled soup:
"All the nutrients are in this soup; I'm afraid he stewed it until it turned to mush in the middle of the night."

(End of this chapter)