Bearing the blue sky

Chapter 268 Dongba Scroll

The morning sunlight streamed through the carved wooden windows of the inn, casting dappled shadows on the floor.

Zhu Ge opened his eyes, feeling refreshed after a night of cultivation.

The four forces within the body—literary energy, blood energy, witchcraft energy, and spiritual energy—each follow their own path without interfering with each other.

He got up and opened the window. The morning air of Lijiang City rushed into his view. There were already quite a few pedestrians on the bluestone streets: peddlers carrying loads, merchants on their way, peasant women carrying bamboo baskets, and a few elderly people dressed in Naxi costumes sunbathing by the roadside.

"Master! Master! Come down quickly!" Liu Jianjian's voice came from downstairs, filled with undisguised excitement: "It's market day! So many fun things!"

Zhu Ge wanted to refuse, but then the True Lord of Obliteration spoke up.

"Zhuge, all things are a form of cultivation!" A sleepy voice came from the room of the True Lord of Oblivion.

"That's right, no rush. It's good to learn more about Confucianism and Taoism." Zhu Ge smiled, finished washing up, and went downstairs.

In the lobby of the inn, Liu Jianjian had already finished three baskets of steamed buns and two bowls of porridge, and was waiting for him eagerly.

Zhu Sisi leaned on her shoulder, chewing on a mulberry leaf, her expression indifferent.

The True Lord of Oblivion was still lying in bed and refused to get up, while Ma Zhu went out to play.

Zhu Ge then led Liu Jianjian and Zhu Sisi out of the inn.

The streets of Lijiang are more ancient than those of Jianshui in Honghe Prefecture. The bluestone slabs are smooth as mirrors from the wear of time, and there are wooden buildings on both sides with red lanterns and wind chimes hanging under the eaves.

A morning breeze blows, and the wind chimes make a crisp sound.

The streets were already filled with stalls selling medicinal herbs, fabrics, silverware, calligraphy and paintings—a dazzling array of goods.

"Master, look at this!" Liu Jianjian squatted in front of a stall, holding a silver bracelet with several small bells hanging on it, which made a pleasant sound when it was shaken.

"Buy it if you like it." Zhu Ge took a few copper coins from the grass bowl and handed them to the stall owner.

Liu Jian happily put the bracelet on her wrist, shook it, and the bell jingled.

Her eyes lit up, and she ran to another stall.

Zhu Ge followed behind her at a leisurely pace, his gaze sweeping over the stalls.

He wasn't there to buy souvenirs, but rather to see if this small border town had any spiritual items or cultivation techniques worth acquiring.

Although there are many good things in Hongmi Daxian's world, most of them are specialties of Honghe Prefecture.

Lijiang City is located at the northern end of Yunnan Province, close to Sichuan Province, so its products should be different.

After walking past several stalls, Zhu Ge stopped in front of a stall selling medicinal herbs.

There were several dried herbs on the stall, their spiritual energy was weak and their grade was not high, but one of them, a purple Ganoderma lucidum, caught his attention.

The Ganoderma lucidum is small, only about the size of a palm, and is entirely purple with a slightly glowing edge.

"Boss, how much is this Ganoderma lucidum?" Zhu Ge asked.

The stall owner, an elderly man with a wrinkled face, looked up at him and held up three fingers: "Three coins."

"Too expensive." Zhu Ge shook his head: "A low-grade spirit-level Ganoderma lucidum is worth at most one coin."

The old man grinned, revealing a few yellow teeth: "Young master has a good eye, but—"

"Although this Ganoderma lucidum is not of the Spirit level, it grew on Jade Dragon Snow Mountain and has absorbed a trace of the mountain's spiritual energy."

"When used in medicine, it is 30% more effective than ordinary Ganoderma lucidum. Three coins' worth, not expensive."

"Hmm—" Zhu Ge pondered for a moment, then took out two coins and handed them to the old man: "Two coins. If you don't want to sell, then forget it."

The old man hesitated for a moment, then took the money, wrapped up the Ganoderma lucidum, and handed it to Zhu Ge: "Young master, you know your stuff."

Zhu Ge took the Ganoderma lucidum and put it into his sleeve.

Although this item is not of high grade, it is rare.

Once we arrive in Shengjing, we'll find a master alchemist to refine some pills for Liu Jianjian or Zhu Sisi to take, which will improve their cultivation.

Just then, a commotion arose ahead.

"How much is this painting?"

"Fifty silver coins."

"Fifty silver coins? You're robbing me!"

"This is a genuine Dongba painting, the only one of its kind in Lijiang! Take it or leave it!"

Zhu Ge looked in the direction of the sound and saw a crowd gathered in front of a stall selling calligraphy and paintings.

The stall owner was a tall, thin man in his thirties with a goatee, wearing a blue long gown, and looked like a down-on-his-luck scholar.

His stall displayed several paintings and calligraphic works, including landscapes, figures, and runes written in Dongba script.

One of the paintings is the most eye-catching, depicting a white tiger standing atop a snow-capped mountain, roaring towards the sky.

The bold brushstrokes and the varying shades of ink perfectly capture the tiger's ferocity and the snow-capped mountain's starkness.

"I'll take this painting."

A young voice rang out from the crowd, its tone leaving no room for argument.

Zhu Ge looked over and saw that the speaker was a young man in his early twenties, wearing a brocade robe, with a white jade pendant hanging at his waist, and two attendants behind him.

The young man had a fair complexion and an air of arrogance between his brows, clearly indicating that he came from a wealthy family.

The stall owner's eyes lit up, and he quickly took the painting down, handing it to the young man with both hands: "Young master, you have a good eye! This painting, 'Tiger Roaring in the Snowy Mountains,'..."

It took me three months to complete this painting, using the ancient Dongba method, and the ink was mixed with water from a sacred spring in the snow-capped mountains.

"Alright, enough nonsense." The young man interrupted him impatiently, took a coin from his sleeve and tossed it to the stall owner: "Keep the change."

The stall owner accepted the money, beaming with joy, and bowed repeatedly. "Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Just as the young man was about to take the painting, an old voice suddenly came from the side.

"Wait a minute."

Everyone looked in the direction of the voice and saw an elderly man with white hair walk out from the crowd.

The old man wore a gray robe, held a bamboo cane, had a thin face, and piercing eyes.

There was no spiritual energy fluctuation on his body, but his imposing aura made people around him involuntarily make way for him.

"This painting was one I took a liking to first," the old man said as he walked to the stall and looked at the painting "Roaring Tiger in the Snowy Mountains." "I just went back to get some money, and when I came back, you bought it."

The young man frowned and sized up the old man: "You? Can you afford fifty silver coins?"

The old man took a coin from his sleeve and placed it on the stall: "I can afford it."

The young man's face darkened: "I've already paid the money, the painting is mine."

"I saw it first," the old man said, neither humble nor arrogant.

The two argued and couldn't reach an agreement, attracting more and more onlookers.

The stall owner was caught in the middle, torn between two options, unsure of who to give the painting to.

Zhu Ge stood in the crowd, looking at the painting, and a slight thought stirred in her heart.

The white tiger in the painting bears a striking resemblance to the powerful rice paddy he saw in his own world—not just in form, but in spirit.

That feeling of "momentum," though very faint, is definitely there.

"This painting is no ordinary painting," Zhu Ge thought to herself. "The person who painted this must have at least touched the threshold of power."

He glanced at the goatee vendor and made up his mind.

"Gentlemen," Zhu Ge stepped out from the crowd, clasped his hands in a fist and said, "I have a suggestion, but I'm not sure if I should say it."

The young man and the old man looked at him at the same time.