Chapter 121: Chapter 119: Special Materials

Jeming wasn’t simply wandering around; he was engaged in “Qi Collection.”

In the Cultivation Immortality System, there is a unique Dharma Gate that can harvest the “Aura of the Red Dust.”

Of course, that’s the terminology used in Cultivation Immortality. According to Jeming, it is essentially a method capable of gathering a special concept.

This aura originates from the joys and sorrows, births and deaths, seven emotions and six desires of the mortal world, the materialization of all the phenomena of the human world.

Although it cannot directly enhance cultivation and transform everything like Spiritual Power, it is quite an excellent “universal material.”

With normal use, it can temper the mental state of cultivators, making them resilient and able to break through Heart Demons. It can also sharpen Magical Artifacts, increasing their Spiritual essence and is indispensable as a raw material for setting up the majority of Illusion Arrays.

In certain special circumstances, it can be reversed with particular Dharma Gates, building a Golden Body, mending the Soul, and refining Magical Treasures or Elixirs.

While at Nolun Academy, Jeming could hardly collect any useful Aura of the Red Dust.

After all, the wizards there were all fanatics of research, each immersed in experiments and meditation, following a monotonous life path with faint mental fluctuations.

Even throughout the entire Nolun13th Plane, there was no suitable place to gather the Aura of the Red Dust. All the Nolun Planes had been transformed by the wizards into highly ordered “incubators,” losing the primitive and heterogeneous “characteristics” of the mortal world.

But upon arriving in Golden Harbor, Jeming was like a mouse falling into a barn of grain.

He walked through the bustling streets, feeling the joys and sorrows, love and hate of the ordinary people who brushed past him.

This intense and chaotic concept quietly flowed into his body, absorbed by the special Talisman in his Dantian and eventually refined into strands of seemingly splendid Aura of the Red Dust.

He didn’t even need to speak much with others; by merely feeling the pulse of their lives, he could absorb a vast amount of Power of Red Dust.

However, often Jeming’s attention was not on the refined Aura of the Red Dust but instead on the special Talisman within his Dantian that could refine it.

“So mysterious, just a not-so-complicated Talisman capable of autonomously receiving and creating conceptual magic out of thin air…” Jeming “watched” a newly refined strand of Aura of the Red Dust in his Dantian, couldn’t help but curiously touch his chin.

Though after years of study Jeming understood that techniques like this, which involve creating concepts from nothing, were beyond his current reach, he still couldn’t help being intrigued.

“Impossible to comprehend and can even function across completely different planes and worlds, does this mean these things inherently contain fixed rules akin to a Sixth Level Wizard? An exaggerated level of technical skill.”

His stepping motion subtly shifted; his body’s movement altered as he deftly avoided two arms attempting to pickpocket him.

Glancing at the two frightened, scrawny children, Jeming paused, then tossed them two copper coins.

Turning away, he continued pondering as he walked: “This suggests that the technical caliber of such special Dharma Gates in the Cultivation Immortality World is far higher than most offensive spells.”

“Fortunately, because most spells within the Cultivation Immortality System require manipulating Spiritual Power, they are ineffective in the Wizard World. I have primarily focused on such special Dharma Gates before, so I can now concentrate entirely on this.” Jeming silently calculated in his heart.

After all, in his current stage, his combat and survival capabilities were sufficient.

If he did encounter an unbeatable enemy, hoping to escape with a cultivator’s spells in a world where Spiritual Power cannot be mobilized was wishful thinking; it would be better to put more focus on these special Dharma Gates.

Looking up at the sky, Jeming turned and leisurely headed toward the Adventurer’s Guild.

In addition to collecting the Aura of the Red Dust, Jeming also planned to issue a task at the “Drunken Dolphin” tavern—collect Hundred Flowers Dew.

This was easy to gather, being simply dew that condenses on flower petals in the morning, with the only emphasis being on collecting as many different types of flowers as possible.

This dew, infused with the essence of multiple flowers, can be refined into “Hundred Flowers Dew” carrying relevant concepts through a specialized Dharma Gate.

It’s useful for assisting in alchemy and nurturing the soul, considered quite a good material.

In Nolun Academy, they grew nothing but Magic Potions; it wasn’t impossible to collect from them, but the “price” was absurdly high. Collecting small amounts for experiments was fine, but large-scale collection would be utterly foolish.

Yet collecting it personally was too laborious, but luckily now that he had a stable residence in Golden Harbor, he could finally collect it on a large scale.

The reward for Jeming’s task was extremely generous: Every small cup (about 200 milliliters) of Hundred Flowers Dew could earn one gold coin.

This was an astronomical amount for the generally impoverished adventurers, causing even the usually expressionless half-beastman bartender to respond.

“Jack, have you gone mad? A gold coin for a small cup of dew?!” The half-beastman bartender, hearing Jeming’s request, his thick eyebrows knitted tight with disbelief and greed, “Are you planning to strip all the flowering plants of Golden Harbor bare?!”

Jeming calmly tossed a gold coin for the deposit. The coin spun on the wooden table with a crisp sound.

“Just post the task. The rest is none of your concern.” His tone was calm, yet carried an undeniable authority.

The half-beastman bartender immediately composed himself, pocketing the coin while giddily posting the task.

As soon as the news spread, the entire adventurer community of Golden Harbor was in an uproar.

Several days later, it was time for Jeming’s first inspection of the Hundred Flowers Dew.

The tavern’s entrance was lined with a long queue of adventurers, commoners, and even some folks who appeared to be farmers from the city outskirts, all holding containers big and small, each believing they had collected “Hundred Flowers Dew.”

Jeming sat by the second-floor window, with the half-beastman bartender managing crowd control.

The first in line was a lean thief, smiling obsequiously as he handed over a sealed bottle.

Jeming accepted the bottle, his gaze remained calm.

In his hand, a necklace appeared quietly, the gemstone embedded in it emitted a barely noticeable shimmer, akin to a sophisticated magic detection tool.

In fact, this was just a cover. The real effect came from the Dharma Gate run by Jeming.

He merely gave it a light shake, and the liquid in the bottle instantly turned murky, emitting a faint earthy smell.

“Was this dug out from a mud pit?” Jeming’s voice was devoid of any emotion.

The smile on the thief’s face froze, his eyes flickering, just as he was about to argue, Jeming had already casually tossed the bottle back to him.

“Next.”

The ones that followed were much the same, various diluted mixtures, some mixed with plain water, and even some directly faked with river water.

Jeming just used his “Magic Items” to give them a light shake, instantly distinguishing them.

“Hmph! What are you pretending for?” A few burly farmer-like men, their expressions became unfriendly.

They had worked hard to collect a large jar of “Dew,” but were seen through by this young man at a glance, naturally feeling indignant.

One of the farmers, with bulging muscles and a face full of rough features, stepped forward, his voice sounding like a muffled drum: “Kid, don’t think that just because you’re playing tricks, you don’t have to pay! We’ve worked so hard…”

As he spoke, a large hand had already silently reached for Jeming’s collar, attempting to use force to cheat.

Jeming looked at him expressionlessly, standing still, only when the other person’s hand was about to touch him, did he swiftly kick out with lightning speed, accurately hitting the farmer’s shinbone.

Crack!

With a bone-chilling crack, the farmer’s massive body instantly went rigid, followed by a heart-wrenching scream, clutching his thigh, rolling on the ground, his face covered with cold sweat from the pain.

The faces of the remaining farmers turned pale, their previously arrogant demeanor disappearing instantly, each of them shrinking back, not daring to even take a deep breath, much less speak loudly.

The tavern fell into a dead silence once more, everyone witnessed Jeming’s ruthless strike.

Only a few adventurers who had previously seen “Jack” being ruthless remained calm and collected, even feeling a sense of pride as if they were worldview-wise and looking down on others.

Jeming initially thought that this time he might not receive any useful materials, but surprisingly, the subsequent inspection gave him an unexpected surprise.

“Sir, this is the Hundred Flowers Dew collected from my family’s garden.”

A servant dressed in washed-out but still clean and tidy clothes respectfully handed over a small wooden bottle, containing crystal-clear dew.

Compared to the large jars and small jars of others, the quantity of this small bottle of dew was indeed not much.

Jeming took it, and as the necklace flashed, his eyes lit up.

He found that the quality of this dew was extremely high, containing multiple floral scents, proving its purity.

“Three gold coins.” Jeming directly gave him three gold coins, calmly saying.

The servant’s face showed an expression of joy and surprise, thanking repeatedly.

Soon after, a few similarly dressed servants came forward.

The Hundred Flowers Dew they brought, though varying in quantity, without exception, all met Jeming’s requirements.

Jeming squinted his eyes, understanding that they were likely the servants of small nobles, originally wealthy, but their income had significantly decreased due to urgent wartime demands.

To maintain the dignity of the main family, the nobles were willing to take on such high-paying tasks.

Moreover, they had their own gardens, making the collection easier, combined with the noble “sense of pride,” making them more honest than the greedy farmers.

Finally, a raggedly dressed, seemingly seven or eight-year-old orphan timidly squeezed to the front of the line, holding a dirt-stained, broken clay bottle.

Inside the bottle was only a thin layer, but extremely clear Hundred Flowers Dew.

The orphan’s eyes were nervous, as if afraid that Jeming would treat his “dew” like the others and throw it away.

Jeming took the bottle, and under the glow of the necklace, the Hundred Flowers Dew emitted the same pure radiance.

He gave the orphan a silver coin, and additionally a few copper coins: “Well done.”

The orphan stared blankly at the silver coin in his hand, tears swiftly welled up in his eyes, and then he, as if waking up from a dream, clutched the coins and ran away.

Watching all this, Jeming couldn’t help but sigh.

In the education he received, “unassuming” and “farmer” were almost synonymous.

He originally thought those impoverished people would bring him surprises, as they needed money more.

But unexpectedly, they were extraordinarily cunning, trying their best to adulterate.

On the contrary, those with some dignity appeared more pure.

“Moral level and origin, occupation, have nothing to do with people themselves…”

Understanding this layer, Jeming felt his soul seemed slightly clearer.

This variety of society, for him, was undoubtedly a different kind of tempering.

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