Chapter 57
Chapter 57
It was too late.
Roundy pecked at the Golden-Thread Netherbloom like a machine gun.
Rat-a-tat-tat!
Its fluffy head moved so fast it blurred. Before I reached it, the bowl-sized flower had vanished, leaving only the green-and-gold stalk.
“You wretched fat bird!”
I nearly fainted from rage. This was a Golden-Thread Netherbloom, a rare treasure according to Master. Even if we did not use it against an arcane tribulation or eat it to increase cultivation, its sap could someday treat my aging parents or elders.
Wait. Roundy had only eaten the flower. Perhaps the remaining roots could survive.
Just as I found comfort in that thought, the bastard bird took flight, seized the stalk in its talons, and beat its wings upward.
Pop!
Soil sprayed as Roundy ripped out the plant and flew to a roof beam. I missed it again.
Perched overhead, it cooed happily and ate the entire stalk before my eyes.
“You bastard! Did you come here just to make me furious?”
Roundy’s coos conveyed a clear answer: since we had formed a contract, feeding my household familiar was only proper. It lent me power, so I should stop being stingy.
“But that was a Golden-Thread Netherbloom! Couldn’t you eat something else? Wait…”
This was a dream. Perhaps none of it was real.
Since Master had entered my dream to meet Roundy, she had taught me the basics of dream arts. At first, I never knew I was dreaming while with my familiar and remembered everything only after waking. Months of instruction now let me distinguish dreams from reality.
I knew this was a dream. I had wandered forests and rivers with Roundy without physically leaving home. Perhaps Roundy merely desired the flower and our bond created this vision.
Yes. It was false. The Golden-Thread Netherbloom would still be beside my bed in the morning.
Feeling better, I looked up. “You… good Roundy, come down. Sit on my shoulder and let’s play outside.”
The proud bird turned its head away and eyed me sideways. Its coos meant: I’m not coming. Do you think I’m stupid?
“I promise I won’t hit you. If I’m lying, I’m a dog.”
Roundy peered down, cooed twice, and flew toward my shoulder.
I snatched it from the air, laughing as I squeezed its belly and vigorously rubbed its head.
“Got you, fat bird!”
Roundy cried out in alarm, accusing me of being a liar.
I smugly kneaded its belly. “Woof, woof!”
I was shameless enough to be a dog for once.
Roundy and I romped through the dream all night.
I woke at dawn refreshed and brimming with strength. A full night of sleep cultivation greatly nourished body and mind.
Old Cao had said that even someone who learned no spell or martial art could, after years of sleep cultivation, strike with hundreds of pounds of force and keep several strong men at bay.
I stretched in bed. “Roundy tried to eat my Golden-Thread Netherbloom last night. What a nightmare. Good thing it was only a dream and the flower is still–what the hell? Where is it?”
The instant I turned, I leaped from bed like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
The flower was gone. Only an empty pot and churned soil remained beside my bed.
A white feather lay nearby–plainly Roundy’s.
Where was my Golden-Thread Netherbloom? My enormous potted treasure had stood there last night.
“Good heavens! That wasn’t just a dream. Roundy really ate it!”
I clutched my hair and wailed. My parents rushed in from the next room, demanding to know why I was screaming at dawn.
Choked with grief, I pointed at the empty pot. “My… my flower is gone.”
Mother sighed in relief and patted her chest. “It’s only a flower. Why howl like a ghost? Your father can dig up a prettier one from the hills.”
“Exactly. Just a flower.” Father clapped my shoulder, then regarded the pot more gravely. “But the doors were locked. Could an evil entity have taken it? Ask the Immortal Lady.”
Mother immediately grew nervous too.
I waved away their concern, laughing ruefully. It was not an evil entity; my household familiar had probably eaten it.
That made the matter trivial to them. Mother cooked breakfast while Father read the newspaper, leaving me alone with my grief.
I carried breakfast to Master’s house. We observed the rule against speaking while eating, so after the meal and the Hand-Sealing Method, I blurted out the entire story.
Even Master looked surprised.
“Do you know why it happened?”
She shook her head. “Not exactly. Your familiar is unusual, Ah-Zhong. It ate the Snake Immortal meant to contract with you and voluntarily took its place. A Jade-Talon Gyrfalcon is an exceptionally rare and ferocious raptor, yet Roundy looks plump, harmless, and absurdly tame while possessing great strength.
“If it meant harm, I could forcibly restrain it and search its soul. But it bears you no ill will and is your household familiar. We can only communicate. I suspect it’s simply willful, and the Golden-Thread Netherbloom benefited it, so it ate it.”
She was right. Months of nightly dreams had shown me how proud and capricious the fat bird was.
“I’ll ask tonight.”
“Good. It is your familiar, so build a proper bond. Once your cultivation lets it accompany you in waking life, you’ll be partners through life and death.”
Master then began the day’s training, teaching more foundational talisman arts and answering my questions about feng shui and other methods.
That night, I entered the dream prepared to demand an explanation.
“Roundy, you gluttonous bastard! Get out here!”
I stood in the dense forest where we most often met–probably Roundy’s real home, somewhere within a hundred miles of Wujia Village.
Cooing and beating wings sounded above. A white shape descended toward a branch overhead.
“Roundy… what the hell? Why are you so much bigger?”
Once the size of a fat hen, it had grown two or three times larger, nearly as big as a white goose.
Roundy cooed smugly, telling me the flower had allowed it to “recover” somewhat.
Recover was an odd word, but I was too intent on accusing it of stealing my treasure to consider it.
Before I spoke, Roundy landed on its usual branch.
Crack!
It snapped instantly. A round white ball of feathers plummeted onto me.
“Ow!”
“Coo?!”
We cried out together, struck the ground, and rolled several times.
My backside hit a rock. Luckily, I missed its sharp edge, or the injury would have been in a most unfortunate place.
Roundy landed in my arms and escaped almost entirely unharmed.
I rubbed my dizzy head and glared. “Don’t you know you’re fatter and heavier now? How could that twig hold you?”
Roundy lifted its head with brazen indifference.
When I demanded to know why it had eaten my Golden-Thread Netherbloom, its answer was that the flower was simply too tempting. It had practically invited Roundy to make a mistake, so the blame belonged to the delicious flower.
Years later, similar excuses became common online. Roundy was the founding ancestor of every scoundrel’s excuse.
Angry though I was, what could I do? This was the household familiar I had summoned. I could hardly exchange it.
At least Roundy had some conscience. The flower had greatly increased its power, and in danger it could lend me at least fifty percent more strength than before.
“That’s more like it.”
My resentment faded. Seeing that I would not punish it, Roundy waddled off on short, thick legs, round belly thrust forward, and led me to catch fish and shrimp by the river.
The weekend passed in a blink.
When I returned to town, Old Cao immediately pulled me aside and demanded the identity of the tricolored flower. He must have spent two restless nights wondering.
I repeated everything Master had told me about the Golden-Thread Netherbloom. Old Cao listened with satisfaction, nodding constantly.
I understood. Anyone who reached a high level in their field hungered for knowledge.
His expression then darkened. “Arcane tribulation… Even I haven’t reached the level where I must face one. Whoever altered an entire grave hill to nurture that plant follows an arcane lineage no weaker than that of a coffin bearer. Their cultivation clearly surpasses mine. We must be careful. Stay away from that grave hill for now.”
I nodded. Master had warned me too, and we would tell Yuan Fei when he next visited.
Just then, a strong, honest voice called from outside. “Coffin-Bearer Cao, there’s a coffin to carry on River Street in northern town. Are you available?”
Big Bull had arrived with his companions.
I ran out, grinning, and clasped my hands. “Big Bull, Ergou, Flat-Top, Mangdun–long time no see.”
“Young Brother Wu!”
All four smiled and returned the greeting. We had survived danger together, and as Old Cao’s regular partners they were on good terms with us.
Old Cao emerged. “Of course. A coffin bearer is either carrying a coffin or traveling to one. What’s the situation?”
After the vicious corpse at the Duan family, Big Bull no longer boasted that a job looked simple. “A cobbler’s son supposedly owed gambling debts and hanged himself last night. His family found him this morning and brought him home wailing. Since it was suicide and they’re poor, they skipped elaborate rites and a long wake. They bought a coffin and want him buried tonight. You’ll need to inspect everything yourself.”
Something sounded wrong. Even a determined suicide victim would struggle reflexively and make considerable noise. How could he hang himself at night and remain undiscovered until morning? Was the cobbler such a deep sleeper?
Big Bull gave me a thumbs-up. “Sharp as ever, Young Brother Wu. He didn’t die at home. He hanged himself from a tree at the fork between River Street and Liangfeng Street.”
That explained it.
Old Cao’s expression changed. “The fork between River Street and Liangfeng Street… Could it be that tree?”
His sudden gravity startled us.
“Is something wrong with the tree?” I asked.