Chapter 351: Supreme Delicacy, Jian Fu

“Lu Xiao Langjun actually made so much Braised Pork?” The Lady of the Wei Family stared at the deep red, glistening, oily meat blocks with genuine surprise.

“The Lady of the Wei Family, you’re saying this is Braised Pork?” Wei Xinghe asked. “It doesn’t quite match what we have at home.”

“Lu Xiao Langjun’s dishes are always different from others,” The Lady of the Wei Family admitted with a hint of regret. “Our household chefs simply can’t replicate that rich, glossy red hue.”

Two years ago, she had been rescued from the mountains by Lu Qing and brought to Jiu Li Village. Her first meal there had included Braised Pork—and she’d never forgotten its taste. Later, she’d even asked Lu Qing for the recipe, but no matter how hard the cooks tried, they couldn’t achieve the same color, nor match the depth of flavor.

“It must be the seasonings,” Old Doctor chuckled. “A Qing’s always tinkering with strange ingredients. That’s why the taste is so different.”

“Probably,” The Lady of the Wei Family added. “The recipe Lu Xiao Langjun gave includes something called ‘soy sauce,’ but our chefs have never quite figured it out.”

“I remember A Qing made quite a bit of it before. The Lady of the Wei Family could always ask him for some when needed.”

As they chatted, more dishes kept arriving—steamed fish, poached chicken, stir-fried beef, mutton soup—each one beautifully plated and generously portioned. A feast of varied flavors, all prepared with care and precision.

When the last dish was set on the table, two villagers carried in a large steamer. Steam billowed from it, carrying with it a delicate, intoxicating fragrance that cleared the mind and refreshed the spirit.

“That scent…” Wei Xinghe and Wei Shanhai exchanged astonished glances. Even they, as Xian Tian Jing Qiang Zhe, felt a sudden lightness in their bodies. Their Zhen Qi surged slightly faster, as if invigorated by the mere aroma.

What could possibly be inside this steamer, that its scent alone could enhance their cultivation?

No one needed to ask. The villagers who carried it opened the lid, revealing a steaming basket of rice—crystal-clear, perfectly separated grains, cooked to absolute perfection. Even more astonishing was the faint golden shimmer woven through the snow-white grains, like threads of sunlight.

“This is the Ling Mi A Qing cultivated recently,” Old Doctor grinned. “He harvested the Ling Gu yesterday and wanted everyone to taste it.”

He’d seen the Ling Mi before when Lu Qing had husked the grain the day before, so he wasn’t surprised.

“This is the Ling Mi Lu Xiao Langjun has been cultivating all this time?” Wei Xinghe stared, wide-eyed, at the steamer.

He’d been staying in the Bie Yuan for months and knew about Lu Qing’s Ling Gu project. But he hadn’t expected the inner grain to look like this.

“Chen Ye, have you tried this Ling Mi?” Wei Shanhai asked.

“No,” Old Doctor shook his head. “Sharing is better than hoarding. I think it’s far more meaningful to enjoy it with others.”

“Then I must try it myself,” Wei Shanhai said with growing anticipation. The others nodded. This was no longer just a meal—it was an experience.

When all the dishes were served, Lu Qing stepped forward, a cup of wine in hand, and raised his voice.

“Dear neighbors,” he said, standing tall and composed. “After my parents passed, Xiao Yan and I were barely able to survive thanks to your kindness and protection. For a long time, we’ve wanted to return the favor and host you properly—but never found the right moment. Yesterday, my Ling Gu finally yielded a good harvest. So today, I invite you all here to share a simple meal. Don’t hold back—eat freely. Wine is on us. Food is more than enough!”

The villagers watched him—his calm demeanor, his dignified presence—and felt deep emotion. Especially Zhang Da Ye and the elders, whose eyes welled up. The frail, struggling boy they once knew had become a man of great promise.

“Alright, no need to be formal. Let’s eat!” Lu Qing downed his wine in one gulp.

The others followed suit, lifting their chopsticks. But even as they began, the younger ones waited politely for the elders to start first.

The first thing everyone reached for was the Braised Pork. How could they resist? The deep red, glossy, glistening meat was simply irresistible.

A villager scooped up a piece of pork—fatty and lean in perfect balance—and took a bite. His eyes flew open.

The lean meat was tender, not dry at all. The fat melted on the tongue—soft, sweet, rich. The flavor was deep, complex, utterly unforgettable.

“I’ve never tasted anything like this in my life,” he whispered.

“How is this possible? Pork can taste this good?” another marveled. “It’s better than beef or mutton!”

Others who’d tried it echoed the same awe.

“This Braised Pork is truly unlike anything we have at home,” Wei Xinghe murmured.

“Lu Xiao Langjun’s cooking has only grown more refined,” Wei Shanhai said, chewing thoughtfully. He’d dined at the Half Mountain Small Courtyard many times, but this version was better than any before.

As for Hu Lao San and his daughter Hu Ze Zhi, they were even more amazed—this was their first taste of such a uniquely flavored dish.

“During our trip to Zhong Zhou, A Qing collected some special seasonings,” Old Doctor explained. “That’s probably why it tastes so different. Even though we were pressed for time, he’d sometimes wander around towns we stayed in, looking for hidden treasures.”

After finishing the Braised Pork, they sampled the other dishes—each one equally exquisite, every bite a revelation.

But when they finally turned their attention to the steaming basket of Ling Mi rice, they knew this was the true highlight of the feast.

“Chen Ye,” Wei Shanhai asked, “is there any special way to eat this Ling Mi?”

“Not that I know of,” Old Doctor replied. “A Qing didn’t mention any special method. Just eat it like regular rice.”

“I’ll help serve,” Xiao Yan said sweetly, stepping forward. In moments, bowls of radiant, steaming Ling Mi were placed before each guest.

The steam curled upward, carrying a fragrance so pure and delicate that it made even the scent of the other dishes seem dull by comparison.

“Chen Ye, then I won’t be rude,” Wei Shanhai said, lifting his bowl. He took a bite.

The moment the rice touched his tongue, he felt it—something extraordinary. The grains were soft yet firm, sweet without being cloying. With every chew, a natural, refreshing essence danced across his palate.

It was bliss.

They ate in silence for a while, unable to stop. One bite after another, until the bowl was empty.

“This Ling Mi… it’s beyond description,” Wei Shanhai murmured, eyes wide with wonder. “The finest rice I’ve ever eaten in my life.”

But beyond the taste, he sensed something deeper—gentle, warm life energy woven into the grain, as pure and potent as the finest herbs.

“And I feel… lighter,” The Lady of the Wei Family added, astonished. “Like my body has been refreshed.”

“A Qing said this Ling Mi contains Ling Yun—spiritual essence that nourishes the body and strengthens vitality,” Old Doctor explained. “The Lady of the Wei Family isn’t imagining it. This rice truly is a gentle, life-enhancing elixir.”

“Such a miraculous gift, and he shares it freely,” Hu Lao San breathed, awestruck. A Bone-Breaking Realm cultivator, he’d long since reached the limits of his potential. But after one bowl of Ling Mi, he felt a subtle yet unmistakable surge in his Qi and Blood Power.

One bowl of rice could do this. If he could eat it daily… could he finally break through to Nei Fu Jing?

He realized, then, just how precious this rice truly was. Even someone like him—past his prime—could feel the difference.

What would it do for a young genius with immense talent? If they ate this rice regularly, their cultivation could skyrocket—unimaginably fast.

“Wei Lao Qian Bei, Wei Family Head, you’re late. Forgive me,” Lu Qing said, stepping into the room after greeting the villagers outside.

“Lu Xiao Langjun, don’t be silly,” Wei Shanhai smiled. “Tasting such a feast is our fortune. By the way, did you harvest a lot of this Ling Mi this time?”

Lu Qing paused, then chuckled. “Wei Lao Qian Bei, are you tempted? This Ling Mi is just a small effort of mine. But if you’d like, I can spare a few hundred jin for you.”

Thanks to his careful cultivation, this year’s Ling Gu had flourished. The stalks were thick, the ears heavy. From two mu of Spirit Fields, he’d harvested over three thousand jin of Ling Gu—more than two thousand jin even after removing the husks.

Sharing a few hundred jin with Wei Shanhai wouldn’t even dent his surplus. He and Master, along with Xiao Yan, couldn’t eat that much anyway. And in a few months, he’d harvest another batch.

“Still,” Lu Qing added, “Ling Mi is valuable, but for Xian Tian Jing Qiang Zhe, it’s only a minor enhancement. True breakthroughs come from hard cultivation, not just food.”

“I see,” Wei Shanhai said with a smile. “You think I want this for myself? No. I’m asking for Zi An and Zihao. Especially Zihao—he didn’t have Zi An’s opportunities. His cultivation may have fallen behind. With this rice, he might catch up.”

“You found Zihao?” Lu Qing asked, startled.

He’d heard about the massacre at Qingyun Jian Ge in Ji Zhou. He knew Wei Zihao, a Hou Tian Jing disciple, had vanished in the disaster. Given that even the sect’s strongest had perished, Lu Qing had assumed the worst.

But now Wei Shanhai was saying Zihao might still be alive?

“Lu Xiao Langjun,” Wei Xinghe said, “two days ago, our spy in Zhou Fu spotted Zihao. He was hiding with a few other survivors from Qingyun Jian Ge.”

“Zihao’s in Zhou Fu?” Lu Qing frowned. “Then why hasn’t he contacted you? Your family has holdings there, doesn’t it?”

“That’s what we’re puzzled about,” Wei Xinghe replied. “Our spy reported seeing Zihao in a hurry, as if he was fleeing something. I suspect he’s avoiding contact—there must be a reason.”

“Fleeing from something…” Lu Qing mused. “You think he’s in danger, and is deliberately staying silent to protect your family?”

“That’s our suspicion,” Wei Xinghe said. “If he’s risking his life to stay hidden, the threat must be terrifying—something even the Wei Family couldn’t face. Could it be… the same force that destroyed Qingyun Jian Ge?”

Wei Shanhai sighed. “We fear the same. But knowing Zihao is in danger… it keeps us awake at night.”

The Lady of the Wei Family looked down, her face pale with worry.

“So you’re thinking…” Lu Qing understood. No parent could remain indifferent when their child was in peril.

“I’m going to Zhou Fu,” Wei Xinghe said firmly. “I’ll find him.”

“That might be unwise,” Lu Qing cautioned. “If he’s not contacting you, there must be a reason. A sudden visit could alarm him, disrupt his plans.”

“I know,” Wei Xinghe said. “But if I don’t go… and he dies… I’ll never forgive myself. I know this journey is dangerous. But I know you’re skilled in Tui Suan Zhi Shu. I’d like to ask—what are the odds of success?”

Lu Qing stared blankly.

He didn’t know anything about Tui Suan Zhi Shu. He’d made up that excuse to cover his real abilities.

But seeing the unwavering resolve in Wei Xinghe’s eyes, he knew persuasion was futile. No father could stand by while his son faced danger.

So after a long silence, he reached into his robe and pulled out a jade talisman shaped like a sword.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end