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

"Pingwa, what are you doing digging up these hard lumps? They produce too much smoke even when you burn them as firewood." Fu Tieshan asked, looking at the few dark roots his son was holding in his little hands, which were red from the cold.

Fu Shaoping looked up, still using the same old rhetoric, but with an unusually serious look in his eyes: "Dad, I dreamt of the Mountain God again last night. He said that the heavy snow had blocked the mountains and food was hard to find, but the roots of this Vajra Vine, if processed using the method he taught, could be turned into edible powder. Although it doesn't taste very good, it can stave off hunger."

Before, Fu Tieshan might have dismissed it as childish rambling. But after experiencing the purple pearl grass and wild strawberries, and the faint, "mysterious" sweetness in his food lately, he was already seven or eight parts convinced. Besides, now that he was at his wit's end, any hope was worth trying.

"Mountain God...do you really say that?" Fu Tieshan's voice was hoarse with anticipation.

“Yes!” Fu Shaoping nodded vigorously. “Grandpa Mountain God said that we need to clean this thing, smash it with a stone, wash it repeatedly in water, let the white slurry settle down, and then dry the settled powder in the sun or bake it. It’s just… a bit of a hassle.”

Listening from the side, Yang also found it unbelievable, but seeing the faint hope burning in her son and husband's eyes, she rolled up her sleeves and said, "What's the trouble? As long as we can eat, it's better than starving to death! Tieshan, you have trouble walking, so you can stay inside and break stones. Pingwa and I will go wash them!"

Just do it.

Fu Tieshan sat on a straw mat against the wall, laboriously pounding the hard vine roots with a relatively flat stone. Yang and Fu Shaoping put the crushed root fragments into a broken wooden basin, added icy snow water, and repeatedly rubbed and filtered them. The biting cold water quickly turned Yang's hands red and purple, but she gritted her teeth and remained silent. Fu Shaoping's small hands were also red, but he persisted.

This process was extremely tedious and arduous. The starch slurry that settled after the first sedimentation was murky and had a strong earthy and astringent taste. Fu Shaoping knew that it would require repeated rinsing and sedimentation to remove impurities and odors.

For several days in a row, the Fu family's house was filled with a pungent, grassy smell. When the neighbors saw the family messing around with the unwanted roots of the golden vine, most of them shook their heads and sighed, thinking that Fu Tieshan had damaged his brain with his leg injury and was just having wild ideas.

Fu Tieshan and Yang had wavered at times, but whenever they saw their son's calm and persistent eyes, they regained the strength to continue.

Finally, after seven or eight rounds of repeated pounding, washing, and settling, a layer of slightly rough but much whiter wet starch accumulated at the bottom of the basin.

Yang carefully scraped out the wet starch, spread it on a pottery shard, and gently baked it near the embers of the stove. As the tiny white powder dried and emitted a faint, primal aroma of starch, Yang's hands trembled.

She took a small pinch, mixed it into boiling water to make a paste, and tasted it.

The taste was still somewhat bland, with a lingering grassy smell, but... it was definitely not poisonous, and you could really feel the fullness of grain! It was far better than eating those dry wild vegetable roots and Smilax glabra powder!

"Dad! It's done! It's really done!" Madam Yang's voice trembled with excitement, and tears welled up in her eyes.

Fu Tieshan took the earthenware bowl, took a sip of the porridge, and his cloudy eyes lit up. He looked at his son, who was standing quietly to the side, his lips trembling, and finally only managed a long, choked sigh: "Good...good boy!"

Although the amount of starch extracted from the roots of the golden vine is very small, it is the first real "hope" that this family created in dire straits by relying on their own hands (and Fu Shaoping's "knowledge" that was ahead of its time).

Looking at the long-lost, heartfelt smiles on his parents' faces, Fu Shaoping felt a sense of peace. He knew that this little bit of starch couldn't change the overall situation, but it proved that even on the most barren land, as long as you don't give up, you can always find a glimmer of hope.

This winter was still cold and long. But in the Fu family's little house, thanks to the homemade "vine root powder," the small amount of "sweet wine" that Fu Shaoping continued to provide, and the spirit that the family had forged together in the face of fate, it was as if a faint light had been lit, stubbornly resisting the wind and snow outside the door.

Fu Shaoping's centuries of cultivation quietly accumulated in this most ordinary struggle for survival. His understanding of "life" and his cultivation of "hope" are far more profound and subtle than any supernatural power or magic.

The successful extraction of starch from the roots of the *Gynostemma pentaphyllum* was like striking a match in the Fu family's desperate, cold night. Though the light was faint, it truly illuminated the path ahead and dispelled some of the gloom that lingered in their hearts.

Fu Tieshan and Yang's enthusiasm was fully ignited. They no longer placed all their hopes on the ethereal "mountain god," but began to believe that as long as they were willing to put in the effort and use their brains, they could always find some sustenance to survive in this seemingly barren mountain.

Fu Shaoping followed the trend and stopped using the "mountain god" as a pretext for everything. He began to guide his parents to discover and utilize the resources around them more through "observation" and "questioning".

"Dad, I saw something growing under the trees on the sunny slope behind the mountain, in the place where the snow melts quickly. It looks like something with thick leaves, dark and ear-like. Is it edible?" Fu Shaoping asked casually during a meal. He was describing black fungus, which grows on damp, cold, rotten wood. It's highly nutritious and easy to store after drying, but most villagers don't recognize it or find it "ugly" and dare not eat it.

Upon hearing this, Fu Tieshan thought for a moment and his hunter's instinct gave him a basic understanding of all things in the mountains and forests: "You mean 'tree ears'? That thing... the older generation said it's not poisonous, but it doesn't taste like anything either. It tastes like chewing tree bark, so nobody wants to bother to get it."

“But Grandpa Mountain God said that if you dry them, soak them, and cook them with wild vegetables, you can eat them as a dish, and maybe you can even barter for something?” Fu Shaoping blinked, continuing to guide him. Barter? Fu Tieshan’s heart skipped a beat. Right now, the family had nothing of value to exchange for salt or other necessities. If these unwanted “tree ears” could really be eaten as a dish, even if they didn’t taste very good, perhaps they could be bartered in the village?
With a try-it-and-see attitude, Fu Tieshan, leaning on his cane and supported by Yang, went for a walk on the sunny slope of the back mountain and indeed picked some plump black fungus from a few rotten trees.

Following the method Fu Shaoping had "heard," they washed the wood ear mushrooms and spread them out on the roof to dry in the weak winter sun. A few days later, the originally soft and limp wood ear mushrooms became dry, hard, and thin, shrinking into a small handful.

Yang soaked a little bit in water, and it swelled up and returned to a soft, translucent state. She then cooked it with the winter mallow she had dug up. It had a smooth and tender texture, and although it had a light flavor, it absorbed the broth very well. It was definitely much better than chewing wild vegetables dry, and more importantly, it gave her a real sense of "vegetables".

This time, they didn't rely on the "mountain god's dream"; they found a new food source on their own! The confident light in Fu Tieshan and Yang's eyes returned a little.

Fu Shaoping then turned his gaze to the two dying hens. With the cold weather and lack of food, it was inevitable that they wouldn't lay eggs. He remembered that some families in the village would feed their chickens crushed bone meal or snail shell powder in winter to supplement calcium, so he guided his mother to break some frozen ice on the riverbank, collect some small snails, dry them, crush them, and mix them into the chicken feed. At the same time, he also "discovered" some dried wild mugwort near the house and suggested that his mother occasionally throw some into the chicken coop, as it was said to repel insects.

These subtle changes were not noticeable at first, but after a while, the two hens' condition actually improved. Although they were still thin, at least they were no longer listless.

Fu Shaoping also continued to improve the "traditional sweet brewing method." He experimented with fermenting different plant roots (such as wild kudzu root), adjusting the mixing ratio and fermentation time. He even tried mixing a small amount of the fermented residue, which had an alcoholic taste, into the chicken feed to see if it would stimulate their appetite. Most of these experiments ended in failure, but there were occasional surprises. For example, he discovered that the residue from the fermentation of a certain wild berry had a fruity aroma, and the chickens seemed more willing to eat it.

Life flowed slowly through this cycle of trying, failing, and trying again. The Fu family remained poor; meat was rarely seen on their table, and their reflections were so clear in their porridge bowls that they could see their own images. But compared to the other families in the village who could only endure the harsh winter and resign themselves to fate, the Fu family's little house possessed a rare vitality.

Although Fu Tieshan had difficulty walking, he always had something to do—pounding vine roots, drying wood ear mushrooms, and repairing tools. His spirits were no longer low; his eyes regained the sharpness of a hunter, only now directed towards finding ways to thrive in this small space. Yang was also busy, but her face showed less of its former sorrow and more focus and hope. Her hands, from prolonged contact with icy water and labor, had worsened frostbite, but her eyes shone brightly.

Fu Shaoping, on the other hand, was like a seed quietly absorbing nutrients, growing silently in this barren soil. His body was still thin, but the agility and composure in his eyes were incongruous with his age. He rarely spoke, mostly observing and listening, and then, at crucial moments, he would use his youthful voice to raise a seemingly unintentional "idea" or "question" that always hit the nail on the head.

The villagers gradually noticed that Pingwa, the boy from the Fu family who had almost died of illness, seemed different after recovering. They couldn't quite put their finger on it, only that the boy's eyes were too still, unusually quiet for a child. Some whispered that the Fu boy might have been possessed by an evil spirit or a mountain spirit. But others, like the neighbor Gouwa's family, because Gouwa often followed Fu Shaoping to find delicious wild fruits, believed that Pingwa had been enlightened by the mountain god and was blessed.

Fu Shaoping ignored the rumors and gossip. His heart was as clear as a mirror, reflecting the myriad aspects of this world. Poverty, suspicion, resilience, mutual assistance... these are all the flavors of life, the tastes he would experience throughout countless lifetimes.

As winter fades and spring arrives, the snow melts, and the sound of babbling water begins to echo from the mountain streams.

When the first warm spring breeze blew into Wangshan Village, behind the Fu family's house, the two hens that had been carefully cared for miraculously started laying eggs again! Although they only laid one egg every few days, and the eggshells were thin, it was undoubtedly an encouraging sign!

Fu Tieshan looked at the still-warm egg, then at his son who was intently scratching something on the ground with a twig in front of the house, and felt an indescribable warmth and strength welling up in his heart.

This family did not collapse in the cold winter. Instead, like a resilient grass bent by ice and snow but stubbornly rebounding, it showed even more vigorous vitality when spring arrived.

And the source of all these changes seems to be his son, who is only six years old.

Fu Shaoping felt his father's gaze, raised his head, and, facing the warm spring sun, revealed a pure, childlike smile.

He knew that winter was over and all things were reviving. His "spiritual practice" was also entering a new phase. It was time to turn his gaze further afield and explore a more sustainable path for his family.

The spark has been ignited, and it is hoped that it will spread like wildfire.

Spring breezes swept through Wangshan Village, thawing the frozen earth, causing streams to murmur merrily, and bare branches to sprout tender green buds. The entire village seemed to awaken from its long winter slumber, the air filled with the earthy scent and the restless energy of life.

For the Fu family, this spring was of extraordinary significance. Fu Tieshan's leg injury had greatly improved thanks to continued application of purple pearl grass and limited activity. Although he couldn't yet climb mountains like before, he could walk normally and perform some light farm work without much difficulty. This meant that the pillar of the family had stood up again!
With the warm spring sunshine and a slightly improved diet, the two hens laid eggs more frequently, from one every few days to one every two or three days. This small change brought many smiles to Yang's face, and occasionally she could even save one or two eggs to exchange with the villagers for a small pinch of precious salt.

However, Fu Shaoping knew very well that relying solely on gathering mountain produce and two hens would not be enough to escape the quagmire of poverty. With spring planting imminent, every household in the village was preparing their farming tools for sowing. The Fu family also had a few acres of barren land, cultivated by Fu Tieshan's father's generation. Located at the foot of the mountain, the soil was infertile, and yields had always been low, barely enough to pay taxes and provide for basic needs in previous years. Now, the family had no surplus grain for planting, let alone money to buy better seeds or fertilizer.

"Dad, are we still planting corn and beans on our few acres of land this year?" Fu Shaoping asked as Fu Tieshan wiped his rusty hoe.

Fu Tieshan sighed, his brows furrowing deeply. "What else can we plant? This little bit of land isn't fertile enough; nothing else will grow well. Sigh, last year's harvest was terrible. After paying rent, the rest was gone before the New Year. This year's seeds… we'll have to find a way to borrow from the clan chief, and we'll have to pay back 30% more in the fall…" Borrowing seeds at exorbitant interest rates was practically an annual cycle for the village's poorest households. Fu Shaoping was silent for a moment. Although he hadn't farmed in his previous life, his level of understanding allowed him to sense the growth of all things and the flow of energy in the earth. He could sense that the Fu family's few acres of land weren't without potential; they just lacked proper guidance and nourishment. (End of Chapter)