Chapter 48: Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada

After sending Jing Wushuang home, Mu Feng declined her invitation to stay and returned to Mu Manor at the foot of the mountain overnight. When he gently pushed the door open and entered, he found a small note left on the table.

“Man is iron, food is steel; the corn porridge is kept warm in the kitchen!”

His mother’s handwriting was neat and graceful, and between the lines, there was a strong sense of familial love.

“Mother, I will not let you down!”

Mu Feng’s expression was resolute. He rubbed his hands together, and the small note turned into ashes. After hastily drinking a few mouthfuls of porridge, he went back to his room. Instead of starting his cultivation right away, he first took out the red pill given to him by Ghost Mother.

“Unrequested kindness often has an ulterior motive!”

Based on his understanding of Ghost Mother, that old witch was definitely not so kind as to give him a priceless pill. Inside the Medicine King Cauldron atop the mountain, if not for the incredible power of the Blood Refining Art, he might have already turned into a puddle of blood. When that old witch took action, she never hesitated.

Squeak, squeak…

A little mouse, sneaky and cautious, poked half its head out from the dark roof beam, searching around. It was late at night, and the mouse had begun to look for food. At first, it was very careful. Gradually, seeing Mu Feng sitting cross-legged on the floor without moving, it started to climb up and down openly and without restraint. Suddenly, a gust of wind came from behind, and the mouse was caught by a large hand.

“Little guy, you’re in luck!”

Mu Feng gently pinched the little mouse’s neck, forcing it to open its mouth. He quickly took the chance to stuff the blood-red pill inside.

Squeak, squeak…

The little mouse struggled desperately. Sensing Mu Feng’s hand slowly loosening, it pushed hard with its front paws, leaped from his palm to the floor, then jumped onto the desk and fled for its life. In the blink of an eye, it hid on the high roof beam. It moved nimbly, its limbs strong and powerful, showing no signs of being affected.

“Huh? Could it be that the old witch really didn’t tamper with it? Or has the drug’s effect not yet taken hold?”

Mu Feng leaped up and caught the little mouse again. He observed it carefully before releasing it, only to catch it once more just as it was about to run out of the room. He repeated this process over and over. After more than half an hour, the mouse’s movements gradually became heavy, but it was clearly due to exhaustion, without any signs of poisoning. Eventually, it was nearly worn out and lay motionless on the ground.

Hah…

With a loud shout, Mu Feng reached out and grabbed, and a bright red Blood Pearl appeared on his palm. The little mouse on the ground had shriveled up, looking like a mouse that had been dried for a hundred years.

First stage of the Blood Refining Art—Blood Coagulation!

Mu Feng used the Blood Refining Art to condense all the blood from the little mouse into a small Blood Pearl. He held it up to his eyes to examine it closely.

Any living creature, if poisoned, would surely have traces of poison in its blood. While nothing could be observed from the mouse’s external appearance, perhaps a clue could be found in its blood! Mu Feng focused intently, even closing his eyes to sense the mystery of the Blood Pearl with his fingertips and his heart. Unfortunately, no matter how he examined it, he found nothing suspicious.

“Hmm, alcohol?”

Recalling every word and action of Ghost Mother, Mu Feng suddenly had an idea. He pulled out half a bottle of sorghum wine that his mother had brewed from under the bed.

He gently dropped a few droplets onto the Blood Pearl, and sure enough, it rapidly underwent a startling change. First, a red glow shimmered, then tiny bubbles the size of pinpricks appeared on the surface, releasing wispy smoke. When he blew on it, the smoke evaporated even faster. Soon, a fierce little creature appeared before his eyes.

It was entirely green, only the size of a grain of rice. It waved its claws and bared its teeth, its small claws and teeth sharper than razors. It looked somewhat similar to the Six-Winged Golden Cicada he had accidentally swallowed before, but it had twelve small wings. Its eyes were tightly shut, but its mouth kept opening and closing, greedily devouring the bright red blood.

Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada!

Looking at the tiny insect the size of a grain of rice, Mu Feng suddenly felt his limbs turn cold and the hairs on his body stand on end.

What would happen if such a Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada were accidentally swallowed into the body?

Without a doubt, the blood inside, and even the internal organs, would be eaten bit by bit. Unknowingly, one would become its host. Likely, even when on the verge of death, the cause of the illness would remain unknown. The day the Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada burst out of the body would be the day one breathed their last.

What a sinister and malicious plan!

Mu Feng felt a lingering fear. Fortunately, he had not recklessly swallowed the pill from Ghost Mother, or the consequences would have been unthinkable. No wonder the ruthless Ghost Mother had been so generous this time—she indeed had a hidden agenda. On the surface, she claimed it was for Jing Wushuang’s sake, but in reality, it was all to steal his cultivation techniques and secrets.

He was certain that Ghost Mother definitely had a way to control this Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada. Not only would it devour his body, using his flesh and blood to nurture this fearsome poison, but it would also use this little creature to consume his memories and steal the Blood Refining Art and the memories of the Ancient Great Witches!

So sinister and malicious—no wonder she was neither human nor ghost!

Mu Feng suddenly stood up. Just as he was about to crush the newly born Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada under his foot, he had a sudden thought. He found a small bottle, placed the insect inside, and kept it close to his body.

Ghost Mother’s intentions were malicious; she sought to use this Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada to plot against his cultivation techniques and secrets. On the other hand, he could also use this little creature to extract her cultivation techniques. He would pretend to know nothing, using her Medicine King Cauldron to strengthen his meridians. Every night, he would climb Stone Mountain to seek her guidance and cultivate the techniques of the Eighteen Yin Wind Command Banners.

Furthermore, no one knew if Ghost Mother had any mysterious connection with this newly born Twelve-Winged Golden Cicada. If crushing the little creature alerted the old witch, that would be trouble. By keeping it on his person, he could also dull her senses—killing two birds with one stone!

“A righteous heart remains impervious to all evils!”

Mu Feng exhaled a turbid breath, sat down at his desk, and picked up a thread-bound copy of the “Analects” to read, his heart calm and peaceful.

According to the teachings of the ancient sages, a righteous heart not only meant being upright but also objectively understanding the essence of every person and every situation, studying things to gain knowledge, and thus handling matters with composure. In this way, no matter what schemes the enemy used, they would naturally fail. Why did some people repeatedly fall for scams? It wasn’t that they were unlucky enough to encounter so many swindlers. Rather, it was because they themselves were not upright, their greed too strong, making them targets for fraudsters.

It was like walking on the road and suddenly finding a few copper coins fallen by the roadside. A person with a righteous heart would either ignore them or pick them up and return them to the owner. A person with ill intentions, due to excessive greed, would pocket them and leave. This naturally gave the waiting fraudster an opportunity to take advantage.

“Tomorrow is the Metropolitan Examination!”

Mu Feng glanced up at the faint light on the horizon, then continued to bury himself in his book, preparing for the upcoming Metropolitan Examination.

For a scholar, tomorrow was of utmost importance. Whether he could go further on the path of studying literature depended on tomorrow!