Chapter Six: Into the Mountains to Gather Herbs

Li Zhao spent three consecutive days wandering through the village, chatting warmly and closely with the locals, making sure everyone noticed his presence; thus, the first step of his plan was complete. Next came the second step: heading into the mountains to hunt and gather medicinal herbs.

After a period of recuperation, Li Zhao’s body had mostly recovered, but he remained terribly thin and weak, lacking strength—just walking a bit further would leave him breathless. To truly regain his health, exercise alone wouldn’t suffice; proper nutrition was essential. In plain terms, he needed to eat more meat.

But the family was desperately poor. Relying solely on Aunt Qing’s income from silkworm farming and weaving, the three of them barely had enough thin porridge to fill their bellies, let alone enjoy meat.

Fortunately, the Zhongnan Mountains were right nearby, stretching over eight hundred li from east to west, with lofty peaks and dense forests teeming with wildlife. For Li Zhao, once a mountain special forces soldier, this was nothing less than a vast natural storehouse—a place where getting some meat was the simplest matter.

…

“Master, please be careful—the mountain paths are treacherous!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep up!”

The next morning, Aunt Qing went out to collect mulberry leaves beyond the village, and Bai Mo was preparing to head into the mountains for firewood. Li Zhao joined him, claiming he needed some fresh air, carrying a small hoe and a bamboo basket.

There were no real roads in the mountains, only narrow trails trampled out by hunters and woodcutters, thick with weeds, strewn with rocks, and steep. Even those accustomed to mountain travel treaded carefully, and slips and falls were common.

At first, Bai Mo gripped Li Zhao’s hand tightly, guiding him slowly along the path for fear he might slip. But to Bai Mo’s surprise, although this was Li Zhao’s first time in the mountains, he moved with remarkable agility and climbed with practiced skill, no less capable than those who walked these paths daily. His endurance was lacking, so he needed frequent rests, panting for breath, but he never once complained of fatigue—once he’d caught his breath, he resumed climbing, his pace growing ever faster!

Along the way, Li Zhao would occasionally plunge into the underbrush to gather mushrooms, wood ear, and medicinal herbs, quickly filling his bamboo basket. There were blood-nourishing herbs, trident maples, star anise, evergreen, Paris polyphylla, and more—each specimen perfectly intact, matching the skills of a seasoned herbalist.

This was not surprising. Every mountain special forces soldier underwent rigorous wilderness survival training, which included not just traversing mountains, climbing trees, crossing rivers, and hunting game, but also the ability to improvise treatments when injured. Li Zhao knew precisely which herbs stopped bleeding, which reduced inflammation, which were poisonous, and which could be used for deadly traps.

Frankly, an excellent mountain commando was also a competent herbalist.

Of course, while gathering herbs, Li Zhao hadn’t forgotten about hunting. However, the mountain they were climbing was on the outskirts of the Zhongnan range, where large animals were rare. Instead, the area abounded with pheasants, rabbits, and other small creatures that darted fearlessly through the woods and grass.

Pheasants could fly, and rabbits could burrow. Both were exceedingly wary, fleeing at the slightest disturbance. Without tools like bows, snares, or nets, even veteran hunters would struggle to catch them.

But this posed no difficulty for Li Zhao. With a few dozen small sticks, a sturdy bramble, and some stones, he could craft perfect traps. Using fresh wild berries as bait, he simply waited for the pheasants and rabbits to walk right into them.

As they went, Li Zhao set more than a dozen traps; by the time they returned, they were sure to have a harvest.

…

Around midday, the two reached a mountain valley, a place where birds sang and flowers bloomed, the scenery enchanting. Several springs gushed from the rocky cliffs, pooling into variously sized ponds at the valley floor, then flowing toward Qianlong Ridge. On a nearby cliff face, three large characters were carved: Black Dragon Spring.

Legend had it that long ago, a black dragon once cultivated deep within these mountains, absorbing the essence of sun, moon, and earth for a thousand years, until it achieved completion and burst forth, soaring straight into the heavens. The place where the dragon broke through the earth became several springs, hence the name: Black Dragon Spring.

The tale of the dragon’s ascent was mere myth, but the spring water was truly first-rate: crisp and sweet as nectar. The pools teemed with fish, most notably the long-whiskered silver-backed carp, which swam about without a care, undisturbed even by the approach of humans.

After half a day’s climb, Li Zhao’s stomach was already growling. Though they hadn’t caught any pheasants or rabbits yet, a few fish would do nicely.

The problem was that they hadn’t brought rods or nets for fishing. How could he catch fish now?

No matter. For Li Zhao, this was a trivial problem. Finding some wild bamboo, he used his hatchet to carve a bamboo spear, intending to skewer a carp from the water—but Bai Mo stopped him at once.

“Master, these are carp—you mustn’t catch them! If the authorities find out, we’ll be punished.”

“Just fishing—why would I be punished?”

“Have you forgotten? It’s an iron law set by the court: no one may eat carp.”

“No eating carp?”

Li Zhao patted his forehead as the memory returned.

The founders of the Tang Dynasty bore the surname Li, and ‘carp’ was a homophone for their name. Thus, the Tang court established a bizarre law: no one was permitted to catch or eat carp. If caught inadvertently, the fish had to be released immediately. Selling carp was punished with sixty lashes; eating one was a capital crime.

Under such severe penalties, the people of the Tang naturally dared not eat carp. Over time, carp lost all fear of humans—even fighting for bait—since anyone who caught them had to let them go. They lived a more pampered life than the richest lords.

Unfortunately for them, today they encountered a fearless, law-defying glutton who was also ravenous.

With a flick, Li Zhao tossed a fist-sized stone into the water, sending ripples and startling the fish into chaos. Seizing the moment, he shot his bamboo spear like lightning, skewering a three- or four-pound carp and flinging it ashore.

With another twist of his wrist, he caught another big carp.

…

Does it sound easy to spear fish? In truth, it’s not. Fish are extremely wary and fast-moving; hitting them with a bamboo spear requires sharp eyes, strong arms, and perfect judgment.

Back in his soldiering days, Li Zhao had practiced for months before mastering this skill. Now, though he still retained the technique, his body was much weaker. Before crossing over, he could spear four fish in a row; now, only one at a time.

After catching seven or eight, he finally stopped. He scraped the scales, gutted and cleaned the fish, then went into the woods to gather wild onions, garlic, and dandelion for seasoning. Gathering some firewood, he soon had a roaring campfire, on which he skewered the fat carp and began to grill them.

Meanwhile, Bai Mo was nearly in tears. “Master, you mustn’t eat carp! We can’t!”

“What’s there to fear? The mountains are high, the emperor far away—this is an uninhabited valley, beyond the reach of the law. Besides, my surname is Li; I am a scion of the imperial clan. If I dare eat carp, what are you afraid of? If the sky falls, I’ll hold it up!” Li Zhao was unconcerned. Food was the greatest matter under heaven—no law would force him to go hungry.

He resolved that if ever he gained power, he would abolish these ridiculous rules and let the people live as they pleased. How could a nation of true food lovers be restricted in their eating?

…

The fat fish were soon cooked. Li Zhao grabbed one and tore into it ravenously, juice dripping from his lips—after almost a month in this world, he was finally eating meat again.

Bai Mo, trembling with terror and swallowing hard, couldn’t resist. He hadn’t tasted meat in ages, and his cravings were overwhelming. After glancing around and seeing no one, he finally steeled himself, grabbed a roasted fish, and bit in—delicious!

Within half an hour, both were completely stuffed, their bellies tight, yet several large carp still remained. What to do?

Throwing them away would be a terrible waste. Taking them home would be risky—being caught with carp was a capital offense. Making salted fish was impossible—they had no salt.

…

While pondering, Li Zhao suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, every hair standing on end. Danger!

All well-trained soldiers possess keen instincts—if something dangerous approaches, their bodies react before their minds, even waking them from deep sleep.

Danger was near, but panic would be fatal. Li Zhao nudged Bai Mo, signaling him with his eyes. Grabbing his bamboo spear, he carefully surveyed the surroundings. No human in sight—could it be a wild beast?

Most beasts lived deep in the mountains but would sometimes come to the edges, especially where water was plentiful. What kind of beast was it?

His gaze swept the area and soon found it: four or five zhang away, crouched in the undergrowth, was a canine creature of considerable size. Could it be a wolf?