The three of them entered the kitchen together. Jiaoqiu activated the illusion device in the corner, and at once, all sound and image within the room were sealed off. From the outside, only a pre-recorded holographic projection that he had prepared earlier could be seen.
Feixiao could only look on helplessly at his fussing. To put stealth equipment in a kitchen—that was so like him.
Still, this was his personal domain. Not a single shift or shadow escaped his notice. Anyone trying to sneak in a listening or recording device wouldn't stand a chance.
And to be fair, it did fit perfectly with the military principle of "feign weakness when strong, and conceal use when ready." After all, who would ever expect a classified discussion to take place beside carrots and cabbages? Truly a move of surprise.
All things considered, Feixiao let him be.
"General, how should this blade be used?" Jiaoqiu asked, barely able to contain himself.
"Simple." Feixiao looked around the kitchen. "Do you have any ingredients here that are about to rot?"
"Ingredients?" Jiaoqiu blinked. Why use ingredients to test a gold-tier Curio? And ones that are already spoiling?
Though puzzled, his trust in the general was absolute. After thinking a moment, he reluctantly walked over to a cupboard, opened it, and pulled out a limp bunch of green vegetables with visible distaste.
"A few days ago, one of the servants bought this cilantro by mistake. It has no medicinal properties and smells awful, so I left it there ever since."
As he spoke, he turned his head away from the scent as though tortured, his once-alert fox ears drooping pathetically.
That's so like you, Feixiao thought with mild amusement.
Jingliu's crimson eyes, no longer tainted by Mara, now shone with the soft hue of spring cherry blossoms.
Even so, she looked on in wordless exasperation.
She sniffed lightly—it didn't smell that bad. Were foxians' senses of smell really that sensitive?
But Feixiao wasn't reacting at all—in fact, she looked rather pleased.
Feixiao studied the bunch of cilantros with satisfaction.
The once-upright stems now drooped; the leaves were partly green, partly black; dirt still clung to the roots, and the faint pink of freshness had long faded, leaving only a withered yellow tint—frankly, it looked even worse than Jiaoqiu's expression.
Perfect.
"Cut it into small pieces," Feixiao instructed.
"...Huh?"
Use this knife for that? That was an insult to a gold Curio!
Jiaoqiu wanted to protest on the blade's behalf—but the general's order was never to be defied.
Oh, precious blade, forgive me, he prayed silently. If you possess a spirit of your own, please don't be sad. I'll wash away that vile green filth with the purest mountain spring water. I won't let your brilliance be buried.
Just this once!
Hardening his resolve, he shut his eyes. Clang, clang, clang! A few swift chops, and the cilantro was neatly cut into sections.
"What—?!"
Before Jiaoqiu could speak, Jingliu gasped.
Before her very eyes, the pieces of cilantro straightened, their color deepened, and their leaves unfurled—in the blink of an eye, they had reverted to perfect freshness.
"It reverses decay… and restores vitality to what has withered?"
Though the demonstration used nothing more than a common herb, Jingliu's sharp mind immediately grasped the blade's extraordinary nature.
Her hatred for the Abundance surpassed even Feixiao's, and in her efforts to combat Yaoshi's followers, she had studied that Path more deeply than anyone present.
She knew well that even the power of Abundance could not so precisely reverse the aging process. Those who first received the Aeon's blessing had their forms frozen in permanence—the old could not grow young again, and infants never aged.
Only their descendants grew normally, yet even they stopped at some arbitrary age, many forever trapped in childhood.
But this knife… could precisely undo aging itself, restoring matter to its most vibrant state.
If only…
Jingliu sighed softly. If only this were a scalpel. Then countless mortal wounds could be healed with a single cut.
Hearing her murmur, Jiaoqiu opened his eyes and looked down—and was struck dumb.
Then came the exhilaration. Like Jingliu, he imagined the blade's potential in saving lives—yet to him, its true value lay in culinary alchemy.
This—this is divine providence!
For preparing medicinal dishes, this blade's usefulness was beyond imagining.
It could become a sacred relic of the Alchemy Commission, worthy of inclusion in the lineage records!
With this, he would never again waste even a trace of potency from rare herbs.
Even a ten-thousand-year elixir could now be sliced boldly—though…
Wait. What if it turns a ten-thousand-year herb back into a one-year sprout?
That thought made him dizzy.
Ah, what nonsense!
He shook his head, forcing away the confusion—and the cilantro's lingering stench.
"The Curio Trash Can Shop truly lives up to its name! The General has done the Alchemy Commission a boundless favor. Not only I, but every physician of our commission, shall remember this grace for generations!"
Jiaoqiu bowed deeply to Feixiao.
And it wasn't exaggeration. If his reclusive master ever saw this blade, the old man would likely summon every disciple for an emergency meeting to declare the knife the sect's sacred heirloom, reserved only for the sect leader's line—and then conduct a grand ceremony with offerings and ancestral portraits, commanding all to bow nine times before it.
Feixiao nodded with satisfaction. "As long as you like it. The knife's called the [Eternal Spirit Blade]. It restores any ingredient to its most perfect state. Oh, and this—"
She pulled a memory bubble from her sleeve and tossed it to him. "A chef's memory bubble—a fried-chicken specialist, admittedly a bit limited, but a master nonetheless. Could be useful for reference."
"Many thanks, General." Jiaoqiu accepted the bubble happily, though his attention remained fixed on the blade.
As Feixiao had said, the bubble was merely reference—this knife was the true treasure.
Yes, he thought, I'll buy the finest silk, hire the best tailor, and craft a case worthy of it. From now on, this knife never leaves my side!
"Alright," Feixiao continued, "that's your gift taken care of. Now for the gold Curio."
With that, she reached into her inner pocket for the [Resurrection Elixir]. The pill was of utmost importance, and she had kept it in the safest place possible.
Jingliu's crimson eyes brightened with anticipation. She recalled her own [Samsara Elixir]—not only had it cured her Mara-Struck state and restored her to her peak, but it had multiplied her strength tenfold, enough to crush any Emanator.
If Feixiao, already an Emanator herself, had acquired a gold Curio… what unimaginable power would it bring? The thought sent a thrill through her veins.
Only Jiaoqiu blinked in confusion. Gold Curio?
Wait—wasn't that what I'm holding?
Hmm. On second thought, this [Eternal Spirit Blade] might indeed rank a bit lower.
He realized that this knife, though a marvel in his eyes—much like the Trash Can is to a Trailblazer—might not be so highly regarded by others.
Tch. Damn cilantro—it clogged my brain.
And then it hit him: If I'd really proclaimed this blade as the gold Curio just now, groveling with gratitude before the General and the Sword Champion…
A cold sweat broke across his back.
I might as well retire to the countryside and farm herbs with my master forever.
"Eh? Jiaoqiu, why do you look so pale?" Feixiao asked, noticing his shifting expression.
Jiaoqiu hastily composed himself. "I—I was merely worrying about the General's Moon Rage. Whether this new item can truly cure it… ha ha, yes, that's all."
"...?"
Feixiao tilted her head but let it go—seeing him recover his usual sly smile, she didn't press further.
Then, brimming with confidence, she held up the elixir. "Heh! You guessed right, Jiaoqiu. This Curio doesn't just cure Moon Rage—it can bring back the dead!"