Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

The "Old Crow's Hollow" he mentioned was a secluded ravine behind the village, said to be inhabited by crows, and the village children dared not go there. As for the mountain god's dream, that was naturally an excuse. Although he couldn't use his divine sense to search a wide area, with his extraordinary spiritual perception and mysterious sensitivity to the vitality of plants, he could vaguely sense a few faint wisps of herbal scents with blood-activating and stasis-removing effects coming from that direction, as well as a plant vitality containing pure sugar.

Fu Tieshan and Yang were both stunned. A mountain god appearing in a dream? This idea was quite popular in their remote mountain village.

"Pingwa, are you telling the truth?" Madam Yang asked, still somewhat doubtful.

Fu Tieshan frowned slightly. He didn't really believe in these things, but seeing his son's unusually serious eyes and thinking about his family's current predicament, he had a desperate urge to try anything. Laoya'ao wasn't a deep mountain and wasn't very dangerous.

“I’ll go take a look tomorrow,” Fu Tieshan said in a deep voice.

“Dad, you can’t move your legs, I’ll go!” Fu Shaoping said immediately, his tone resolute.

“No! You’re too young, that place…” Madam Yang immediately objected.

“Mother, I know the way. I won’t go deep into the mountains. It’s right at the entrance of the valley. The mountain god told me what it looks like in my dream!” Fu Shaoping insisted, his eyes clear and firm. “Father’s leg is the most important thing.”

Ultimately, under Fu Shaoping's insistence and his story of "the mountain god appearing in a dream," Fu Tieshan and Yang reluctantly agreed, but on the condition that he could only move around near the pass and that Gouwa, a slightly older child from the neighboring family, accompany him.

The next morning, Fu Shaoping drank a small bowl of thin porridge so thin you could see your reflection in it, and then, together with the anxious Gouwa, they took a small, tattered basket and headed towards Laoya'ao in the back of the mountain.

Gouwa was two years older than him and was an honest and kind boy. He kept reminding Fu Shaoping to be careful along the way.

Upon reaching the mouth of Laoya'ao, just as Fu Shaoping had sensed, he found several plants of "Purple Pearl Grass" with serrated leaves and pale purple flowers, hidden in the shade of some large rocks. These were common medicinal herbs used to treat bruises and sprains. To his even greater surprise, under a clump of bushes nearby, he discovered several plants laden with bright red berries the size of a little finger—"Raspberries," which tasted sweet and sour and contained a significant amount of sugar and vitamins.

Fu Shaoping carefully collected enough purple pearl grass and wild raspberries, and to Gouwa's astonishment, the two returned home laden with their spoils.

When Yang saw that her son had indeed brought back medicinal herbs and rare wild fruits, she was so excited she almost cried. She quickly followed the method Fu Shaoping had been told by the mountain god in his dream, crushing the purple pearl grass and applying it to Fu Tieshan's wound. After applying the medicine, Fu Tieshan indeed felt a significant reduction in the swelling and pain of his injured leg. The basket of wild berries, in particular, brought tears to the eyes of the couple, who hadn't tasted sweetness in a long time.

“Pingwa…did you really encounter the mountain god?” Madam Yang stroked her son’s head, her voice choked with emotion.

Fu Shaoping simply smiled and didn't answer. He picked up a bright red wild strawberry and put it in his mouth; the sweet and sour juice burst on his taste buds. This insignificant harvest was, for this family on the verge of despair, a glimmer of light illuminating the darkness.

He looked out the window at the rolling mountains, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

His spiritual journey in this life begins with changing the fate of his family. Surely, hidden within these mountains are many more glimmers of hope that can allow his family to survive, or even make their lives a little better. And he will gather these glimmers of hope together, little by little.

The road ahead is still long. But he has already taken a solid first step.

Since returning from searching for medicine at Laoya'ao, the Fu family seemed to have encountered a glimmer of hope. Although the purple pearl grass that Fu Shaoping brought back wasn't a miraculous medicine, its blood-activating and stasis-removing effects significantly reduced the pain and swelling in Fu Tieshan's leg injury. This made Fu Tieshan and Yang Shi, who had previously been skeptical of the "mountain god's dream," more convinced of its power. The basket of rare wild strawberries further brought a touch of freshness to their home, which hadn't tasted sweetness in a long time.

Fu Shaoping was not satisfied with this. He knew that this gain was just a drop in the ocean. Winter was approaching, the family's food supplies were running low, and his father's leg injury required more time to recuperate and better nutrition. Relying solely on the chance of the "mountain god's dream" was far from enough.

He began to observe the house, the village, and the surrounding environment more closely.

He noticed that his mother, Yang, often pricked her fingers in the dim light while mending clothes in the kitchen, and her eyesight was deteriorating. He noticed that the meager amount of salt in the house was dark in color, full of impurities, and tasted bitter. He also noticed that although his father was bedridden, his eyes often gazed at the hunting bow and wood-chopping knife in the corner, filled with resentment and loneliness.

"Knowledge" and "method" are the only weapons he can currently use.

On this fine day, Fu Shaoping helped his mother hang out the few clothes they had in front of the house. His gaze fell on the strings of wild fruits that had long since dried up and turned black, and a few pieces of dried, unidentified plant roots hanging under the eaves. These were the "stockpiles" that the villagers routinely collected in the autumn; most of them tasted sour and astringent and were barely enough to fill their stomachs.

He walked over, stood on tiptoe, picked a shriveled wild hawthorn, put it in his mouth, and an extreme sourness instantly spread through him, making him frown involuntarily.

"Pingwa, that stuff is sour, you can't eat too much of it," Yang said quickly upon seeing this.

Fu Shaoping seemed to be deep in thought. He pointed to the withered wild fruits and roots and asked in a child's innocent tone, "Mother, these things are so sour, why do people still keep them? I wish they could be sweeter."

Madam Yang said with a wry smile, "Silly child, the wild animals in the mountains are good enough to fill our stomachs, how can we expect them to be sweet? They are all gifts from God, we have to accept whatever they taste like."

"Oh." Fu Shaoping nodded, not asking any further questions, but he had already made up his mind. Improving food was the most direct way to enhance the quality of life.

In the evening, his neighbor Gouwa came to play. Gouwa's family was a little better off, and they could occasionally afford a little bit of sugar water made from coarse sugar (a type of sugar block containing impurities and dark brown in color), which was a rare treat in the village. Gouwa smacked his lips, savoring the sweetness, and said to Fu Shaoping, "Pingwa, if only Grandpa Mountain God could tell you where to find honey, that would be truly sweet!"

What was said in jest was taken seriously. Honey is rare and harvesting it is dangerous. But what Fu Shaoping was thinking of was another, safer, and easier-to-achieve source of "sweetness"—fermentation. In his previous life, he had read extensively and learned a wide range of subjects, including some basic principles of fermentation. For example, certain plant roots and stems rich in starch or sugar, after being crushed, saccharified, and fermented, can produce a liquid with a sweet or alcoholic taste. Although it's impossible to brew any fine wine with current conditions, perhaps it's possible to create something similar to sweet rice wine, something that can replenish energy and improve the taste.

The target was the tuber of "Smilax glabra," one of the most common wild plants in the village. This plant is high in starch, but it tastes terrible when eaten directly—it's tough and astringent. It's usually ground into powder and mixed into grains, or simply used to feed pigs.

A few days later, Fu Shaoping once again begged Gouwa to accompany him up the mountain. This time, his goal was to find more Smilax glabra and several kinds of wild herbs with special fragrances that the mountain god in his "dream" had told him about (in reality, these were plants that he sensed through his spiritual perception that might help with fermentation or remove fishy smells and enhance fragrance).

Upon returning home, he avoided his parents and secretly found a broken earthenware jar behind the house. He mixed the crushed Smilax glabra tubers with the leaves of wild herbs he had collected, added a small amount of water, sealed the jar with clean leaves, and hid it behind a woodpile. Unable to precisely control the temperature and the inoculum, he could only rely on experience and luck, hoping that natural fermentation would bring a surprise.

At the same time, he also began to try to improve the lighting in his home. He remembered an old man named Wang the Cripple who lived alone in the village. In his youth, he had worked as a courier and knew how to mix a white "kaolin clay" with some kind of herb juice and paste it on the windows, which was said to be more translucent than hemp cloth. He took a few of the raspberries he had saved and went to find Wang the Cripple, asking him about the method with the curiosity of a child.

Having tasted the benefits and seeing how clever the child was, Wang the Cripple happily told him. Fu Shaoping followed his method, and sure enough, the windows in the house became much brighter, and Yang no longer had to struggle so much when mending them. This small change delighted Yang, who exclaimed, "My Pingwa is so smart!"

As time passed, Fu Tieshan's leg gradually improved with the help of the purple pearl grass and limited rest. Although he was still far from fully recovered, he was already able to move around a little indoors with the aid of crutches. The atmosphere at home was no longer so lifeless.

About ten days later, Fu Shaoping quietly went to check on the earthenware jar he had hidden. Lifting the leaves, a faint aroma, slightly sweet and carrying the scent of fermented wine, wafted out! The mixture inside had become soft and mushy, oozing some cloudy liquid. He carefully tasted a little; although the flavor was strange, a mixture of earthy and grassy notes, it did indeed have a distinct sweetness, different from eating raw Smilax glabra, and even a faint, invigorating warmth (possibly due to the production of trace amounts of alcohol).

Success! Although this "homemade sweet wine" is crude and unrefined, it is undoubtedly a huge step forward in this mountain village where sugar is a luxury!

That evening, Fu Shaoping mixed a small amount of the filtered liquid into the wild vegetable soup he was giving his parents. Fu Tieshan and Yang were both stunned after drinking it.

"My dear wife, the soup today... seems a little sweet?" Fu Tieshan asked, puzzled.

Ms. Yang also savored it carefully: "It is a bit... and a bit warm, unlike the usual feeling of coldness in my stomach after drinking it."

Fu Shaoping felt slightly relieved, but pretended to be clueless: "Maybe the wild vegetables we picked today were different."

He didn't immediately reveal the truth about the "traditional sweet wine brewing," as it was too shocking. He needed to find a more suitable opportunity, or to present it as a "continuous blessing from the mountain god," to gradually change the family's diet.

Winter deepened, and the cold wind howled. But in the Fu family's small house, thanks to Fu Shaoping's seemingly insignificant yet effective efforts, a sliver of warmth began to gather to combat the harsh cold. The hope that had been worn down by poverty to the point of near numbness was like a spark buried under ashes, gradually being ignited, emitting a faint yet tenacious light.

Fu Shaoping knew this was just the beginning. He still needed to find a way to solve the food problem, find more stable food sources, and perhaps... guide his father to use his rich experience in the mountains and forests to shift towards some lower-risk, more stable-return gathering or simple processing methods.

The "way" of this life unfolds quietly in the daily necessities and the efforts to improve survival in every little way. His legend is no longer dazzling, but like a clear spring seeping from the mountains, it silently and steadfastly nourishes this barren land.

The first snow fell silently, turning Wangshan Village into a pristine white. The biting wind, like a knife, easily pierced through the cracks in the thatched huts, and breath inside turned to frost. For the Fu family, this winter was exceptionally difficult.

Fu Tieshan's leg injury was healing slowly, preventing him from going into the mountains, and the family's hunting income was completely cut off. The little food they had left, thanks to Yang's careful budgeting, was mixed with wild vegetable roots and dried Smilax glabra powder, boiled into a thin porridge, barely enough to keep the three of them from starving. The two hens had also stopped laying eggs due to the cold weather and lack of food.

The jar of "homemade sweet wine" that Fu Shaoping had hidden away became the family's only solace and a small source of energy during the cold winter. Every few days, he would secretly take out a little of the filtered liquid and mix it into his parents' food. That faint sweetness and warmth seemed especially precious in the cold food, and it made Fu Tieshan and Yang Shi look better than other families in the village who were also struggling to make ends meet. They still attributed it to the "blessing of the mountain god" and the good fortune brought by their son, and they loved Fu Shaoping even more.

However, Fu Shaoping knew that this little bit of "sweet wine" couldn't solve the fundamental problem. He watched his parents shivering in the cold winter, saw his mother's fingers covered in chilblains from long-term malnutrition and overwork, and saw the deep sense of helplessness in his father's eyes as he looked out the window at the snow-covered mountains. The tranquility that belonged to the Daoist master in his heart was touched once again.

In this life, he experienced the most basic "suffering of life".

He had to do something; he couldn't just rely on that uncertain "dream from the mountain god."

The heavy snow temporarily stopped that day. Fu Shaoping wrapped his tattered cotton-padded coat tighter around himself, barely keeping out the cold, and wandered around his house, his feet sinking into the ankle-deep snow. His gaze swept over the snow-covered woodpile, the frozen ground, and the distant mountains and forests adorned with ice and snow.

Suddenly, he stopped on a sheltered slope behind the house. The snow there seemed thinner than elsewhere, and he could vaguely see several clumps of withered, thorny vines stubbornly sticking out.

It is "Golden Vine", a tough vine commonly found in the mountains. It is usually used to tie things up. Because its wood is hard, even villagers find it difficult to cut and process, and it is rarely used as firewood.

Fu Shaoping crouched down, using a small stick to clear away the snow, carefully examining the roots and stems of the vines. He remembered reading in a miscellaneous book in his previous life that certain resilient vines had roots rich in starch, which would settle in winter, resulting in a much better taste than in other seasons. However, processing it was extremely troublesome, requiring repeated pounding, soaking, and settling to remove the bitterness and impurities, which was time-consuming and laborious, and therefore not valued by the villagers.

"Perhaps... we can give it a try," Fu Shaoping thought to himself. The family was short of food, and they couldn't let any possible rations slip by. Moreover, processing the roots of the Vajra vine required strength and patience, which would give his father, who had difficulty moving around, something to do and distract him from the anxiety caused by his injuries.

He painstakingly dug up several roots of the golden vine and brought them back into the house. (End of Chapter)