Chapter Seventy-Eight: The Lazybones

At Feng Ke’er’s request, Feng Jiu chose a secluded place abundant with spirit beasts to enter seclusion.

The site was about two thousand li from Qingyun Sect—a deep, densely wooded canyon. Within the gorge, a broad waterfall, a hundred meters wide, poured down like a silver ribbon from the heavens. The torrent, torn asunder by the jagged brown rocks below, split into several streams before finally crashing, with a thunderous roar, into a vast emerald pool, sending up countless snowy sprays.

The pool spanned several thousand square meters, its water a murky green, opaque and mysterious. With a keen eye, Ke’er, perched atop her cotton cloud, quickly discerned the cause: countless green particles drifted in the water, much like the polluted rivers of the modern industrial age. How odd, she mused—this was an untouched, natural era, with human activity at a minimum. What could possibly have caused such contamination?

Feng Jiu pointed to the cliff above the waterfall. “See that mountainside? I’ll carve out a cave dwelling up there. You’d better select a spot nearby for your own abode. As for the pond beneath the waterfall, the water is icy cold, filthy, unfit for drinking. However, it is home to a spirit beast known as the Coin Carp—a water-type, second-tier beast, and there are quite a few of them.”

“Second tier?” Ke’er eyed the green pool, her curiosity piqued, though she couldn’t resist teasing, “Isn’t there a single first-tier fire-type beast around here?”

“Perhaps there are a few in the surrounding forest. You’ll have to search for them yourself.” With a flick of his sleeve, Feng Jiu dismissed the cotton cloud.

Suddenly, the ground vanished beneath Ke’er’s feet, and she dropped through the air in free fall. Luckily, she, too, was at the Foundation Establishment stage—this was hardly a challenge. She summoned the Wind Riding Technique, sleeves billowing, and quickly righted herself. “Featherbrain, you did that on purpose!”

What attitude was this! He’d all but begged her to come and act as his protector, and not only did he refuse to offer payment, he’d even accused her of owing him tens of thousands of spirit crystals! Well, fine, that was just an excuse anyway—she never planned to actually pay back such a made-up debt. But what was this? Not even a word of warning, just tossing someone from the sky—wasn’t that attempted murder?

Feng Jiu ignored her, pausing midair as his sleeves danced like fans. Instantly, the sound of “ding-ding, dang-dang” filled the air as stones flew from the cliff’s edge, chiseled away like so much rubble.

Did he take her for some tireless laborer? Even the stingiest boss at least provided room and board! Ke’er settled herself atop a pine tree at the summit, folding her arms and shouting irritably, “Hey, you want me to watch over you—you should at least provide a place to stay, even if you won’t feed me!”

This place was wild and uninhabited for a thousand li; building a simple shelter would hardly ensure her safety. As for digging her own cave… One glance at those hard cliffs, then at her own delicate, tender fingers—fairer than those of any hand model, soft as the tip of a freshly peeled bamboo shoot—she felt a pang of reluctance. Such beautiful hands deserved the finest creams, not the indignity of scraping against bare rock. That would be a terrible waste.

Feng Jiu stopped and cast her a strange look, up and down—was she truly a cultivator? Even the simple act of opening a cave dwelling, she expected someone else to handle? How shameless!

“What, did I say something wrong? I’ve never met such a miserly employer! You’re stingier than the tightest-fisted miser in history!” Ke’er shot him a glare.

Feng Jiu frowned. “The tightest-fisted miser? Who’s that, a man or a woman?”

She’d let something slip again. Ke’er coughed and made a fist to cover her mouth. “A famous figure from my homeland. You wouldn’t know even if I told you. I say, Featherbrain, since you asked me here, shouldn’t you at least help me make a cave dwelling? I can make do with a simple shelter, but opening a cave isn’t my specialty.” Of course, that was just an excuse—really, it was her innate laziness at work.

So she didn’t know how. Feng Jiu snorted and tossed her a jade slip. “Just follow the instructions. You really have the nerve to trouble a man with such a trivial task, hmph.”

Ke’er caught the jade slip, embarrassment written all over her face. She’d forgotten that the cultivation world at this time was still in a matriarchal, female-dominated era—female cultivators here were all strong and self-sufficient.

Indeed, self-reliance brings abundance.

She covered the jade slip with her spirit sense and found within a complete treatise on cave dwellings. From choosing a site, to excavating, to setting up protective arrays—everything was detailed, complete with diagrams and mnemonic chants. There was even a set of fist techniques called Flowing Cloud and Flying Sleeve.

So that was what Featherbrain had just used—Flowing Cloud and Flying Sleeve. She was in luck.

“Thanks,” Ke’er said, waving her hand, and cheerfully bounded down from the tree. With a few agile leaps, she vanished to find a quiet place to study the jade slip—sharpening the axe does not delay the cutting of firewood.

Watching her retreating back, Feng Jiu rolled his eyes. Was this really a female cultivator? So petty, so calculating, always angling for small advantages! Feng Jiu, oh Feng Jiu, what possessed you to pick up someone like her?

Ah, never mind, it was something to pass the time. With a shake of his head, he returned to his work.

Meanwhile, Ke’er had no idea she’d just been silently dismissed. Opposite the cliff lay a dense forest, separated by a raging river. It was the river’s swift current that plunged into the hundred-meter waterfall and formed the green pool below. On the far bank, a field of reeds was in bloom—a vast, snowy expanse, beautiful to behold. But in a world where every plant, every bird, every beast could become a spirit or a demon, the calmest surfaces often hid the deadliest traps. Ke’er considered for a moment and chose not to cross the river; instead, she followed the bank upstream and sat atop a bare boulder.

This spot was more than a li from the cliff, so she wouldn’t risk being struck by falling rocks from Feng Jiu’s excavations. More importantly, the boulder rose five meters above the water. In front lay the surging river, behind was a wide, stony riverbank, then a grassy slope, and finally the forest. The sun was a bit harsh here, but the view was open; with her current reflexes, even if a spirit beast emerged from the woods, it would be hard to catch her off guard.

The boulder’s flat surface spanned seven or eight square meters, warmed to a toasty heat by the sun—like sitting on a heated kang in summer. The river breeze was pleasant, the sun beat down, and one could practically bake a pancake on the rock.

But this was no obstacle for Ke’er. She plucked a leafy branch, attached a transformation charm, and turned it into a giant parasol, which she stuck into the boulder to shade the entire rock.

Next, she bent her finger and picked up a small pebble from the riverbank, affixing another transformation charm. The stone obediently morphed into a comfortable chaise lounge sofa, suitable for meditation or reclining.

Now, the boulder was shaded, cool underfoot, and a gentle breeze blew from the river—a veritable paradise.

That’s how spells should be used—to maximize comfort! Ke’er lounged in her chaise, thoroughly satisfied, and began to study the contents of the jade slip.

Feng Jiu, watching from midair, shivered. He doubted once again: Oh, Great Pangu, is this girl really a cultivator?

If she could lie down, she’d never sit; if she could sit, she’d never stand—she was laziness incarnate. In all his hundreds of thousands of years, Feng Jiu had never seen a female cultivator lazier or more attached to comfort.

And what were those things she conjured? The parasol above—red, green, yellow, blue, purple—like a tree, but not a tree, translucent yet sunproof. That thing on the ground—sofa-like, but not quite a couch—looked incredibly comfortable, and Ke’er lay half-reclined on it, perfectly content.

Suddenly moved, Feng Jiu sent out a wisp of spirit sense, circling the sofa.

It was perfectly soft and firm, more comfortable than any meditation cushion. Feng Jiu licked his lips enviously. Once his cave was finished, he’d make one just like it—though he mustn’t let the girl find out.

His sleeves flew faster. In a few moments, his new cave dwelling was complete. Feng Jiu used a small stone to copy her transformation spell and conjured his own chaise lounge.

But when he pressed down on the sofa, disappointment set in—it only looked the part; it lacked the comfort of hers.

Transformation magic was a curious thing. The closer you wanted the result to the original, the more intimately you had to know the object. Feng Jiu had never actually sat on a real sofa—how could he hope to replicate the comfort perfectly?

Thus, to achieve the same level of comfort, it wasn’t enough to copy with spirit sense alone—he’d have to let his own immortal self experience the real thing!

Understanding this, Feng Jiu stopped wasting energy on the transformation. How could he get rid of that wretched girl without arousing suspicion, so he could claim the sofa for himself? He went through several plans but none seemed foolproof—Ke’er was simply too cunning to deceive.

Still, he couldn’t bear to give up that inviting bench.

Just then, Ke’er finished studying the jade slip. She rose, flew nonchalantly to the cliff face, and began selecting a site for her first cave dwelling.

Feng Jiu was overjoyed. With a sweep of his sleeve, he gathered up both parasol and sofa in a flash. Then he dove into his new cave and promptly activated the protective array—this was the advantage of transformation charms over spells: as long as the charm remained, the magic endured. Why go to all the trouble of making your own when you could just take one ready-made? In truth, he was as much a connoisseur of comfort as she.

Safely stowing away the parasol, he placed the sofa in the innermost room. Lifting his robe, he sprawled out in Ke’er’s favorite pose, head resting on one arm, and sighed contentedly, “How comfortable!” For a moment, he regretted teaching her Flowing Cloud and Flying Sleeve—but now, he deemed it worthwhile. Spells—what were they for, if not to make life more pleasant?

Outside, Ke’er, fully absorbed in her new skill, noticed nothing amiss.

Flowing Cloud and Flying Sleeve was a unique martial art of the Phoenix Clan, never to be taught to outsiders. If the upper realm ever learned that Feng Jiu was using such a technique to dig stone caves, jaws would drop for miles around. And if they discovered he’d handed it over to a Foundation-Establishment girl of mysterious origin, even the Phoenix Lord himself might be left speechless.

By now, Ke’er’s ability to self-learn new skills had far surpassed her former self. After seven or eight attempts, she could wield Flowing Cloud and Flying Sleeve with considerable ease. What a marvelous technique—one sweep of the sleeve cleaved the rock more deftly than an axe, leaving no tool marks behind!

She lived alone—no need for extravagance. This was her first attempt, after all. She decided to carve out a modest one-bedroom cave halfway up the cliff, about thirty square meters in total. Using Flowing Cloud and Flying Sleeve, she finished in less than twenty strokes.

Ke’er flew into her new abode, running her fingers along the smooth, clean walls with a deep sense of accomplishment.

“No need for a stone bed—just put in the chaise lounge.” Suddenly recalling her sofa was still outside, she hurried out of the cave. Waste was shameful—those two items had cost her two transformation charms!

But the parasol and the chair were nowhere to be found.

Could spirit beasts also appreciate comfort? Ke’er stamped her foot in frustration—had she known, she would have marked them with her spirit sense. At least then she’d know who the despicable thief was.

As for Feng Jiu, Ke’er never suspected him at all. After all, he was a venerable figure from the Upper Realm—what hadn’t he seen? Would he covet a couple of ordinary trinkets?

[Author’s note: Thank you for the pink tickets, Mo Shui Dong Qu! Today is National Day. Happy holidays to all, and may our nation prosper and grow strong. The Diaoyu Islands belong to China; the little devils should just stay out of the way. (To be continued)

Tongtian Codex, Chapter 78: Lazybones—complete!]