At midnight, the medicinal garden was so quiet that one could almost hear insect eggs hatching beneath the soil.
Jiang Muchen stood on the edge of the field ridge, the night wind tugging at his thin robe.
Before him stood three wooden vats taller than a man, filled with dark green Corrosive Bone Flower paste. Under the moonlight, the liquid glistened with a viscous, unsettling sheen.
Nearby, twelve hollow bamboo tubes were stacked neatly. Each had been carefully polished, holes drilled at the joints in patterns resembling a star chart.
Behind him, Wang Duobao rubbed his hands together and blew warm air into them, white mist blooming in the cold night.
"Brother Jiang… we're really doing this?" he whispered.
"Three mu of land. Sixty jin of Corrosive Bone Flower paste. Fifteen jin each of sulfur and realgar. Just the materials alone are worth nearly twenty spirit fragments. And we're only charging ten—this is bleeding money!"
"We're not losing anything," Jiang Muchen replied calmly.
He bent down, scooped up a ladle of paste, and flicked his wrist. The dark green liquid arced through the air and splashed evenly along the outer ridges of the field.
"The temporary access token Senior Sister Lin gave us lets us use Grade-C materials from the medicinal storehouse for free," he continued.
"These flowers, sulfur, realgar—it all goes on the public ledger."
Wang Duobao's eyes lit up.
"Oh! So that means we actually—"
"Only paid with labor," Jiang Muchen cut in.
He ran his fingers lightly over the holes in the bamboo tubes.
"One improved incense stick covers half a mu. Six sticks for three mu. Burn them through the night. All we have to do is keep the fire alive."
Zheng Xiaoqi suddenly tilted his head.
"Someone's coming."
Jiang Muchen straightened. His spiritual sense spread silently outward like a spider's web.
Not Lin Yueyao.
Not the garden steward.
Two shadows slipped in along the wall—one tall, one short—moving like lizards clinging to stone. The moonlight was too dim to make out faces, but their hunched, furtive posture marked them clearly as men from the menial quarters.
"Hide," Jiang Muchen murmured.
The three of them melted into the shrubs beside the ridge.
The two shadows crept to the edge of the field and stopped.
The taller one crouched, dipped a finger into the freshly spread paste, sniffed it—and cursed under his breath.
"Damn it. Corrosive Bone Flower. That kid Jiang Muchen really is using this stuff to kill bugs?"
The shorter one had a sharp, rat-like voice.
"Brother Zhao said to keep an eye on him. See what he's really up to."
Brother Zhao.
Zhao Xiaoliu.
Jiang Muchen's gaze turned ice-cold.
"What's there to watch?" the tall one scoffed.
"Isn't it just the Seven-Star Beetle trick? We saw it in daylight."
"Brother Zhao says something's off," the short one whispered.
"Earlier, Jiang Muchen used only one incense stick and drew in beetles. Tonight he prepared six. Brother Zhao thinks he's trying to summon the Seven-Star Beetle King."
"The King?!" The tall one's voice cracked.
"That thing's a peak First-Rank spirit insect! If it goes berserk, it could strip the entire garden bare!"
"That's why we're here," the short one said grimly.
"If it really shows up, we retreat—and then report him to the Enforcement Hall. Say he maliciously destroyed spiritual crops. That'll peel his skin clean off."
They fell silent, shrinking back into another patch of shrubs, eyes fixed like hooks toward Jiang Muchen's position.
Behind the bushes, Wang Duobao ground his teeth, silently mouthing curses.
Jiang Muchen pressed a hand to his shoulder, signaling patience.
From his robe, he drew a small blue cloth pouch and poured out six pale-golden incense sticks.
These were refined during the day using Nightglow Vine sap, Morning Dew petals, and Star-Pattern Grass extract. But deep within each stick, Jiang Muchen had secretly blended a pinch of Warm Jade Powder, refined from discarded furnace residue.
Warm Jade Powder carried a gentle heat. It softened the sharpness of the incense, making its aroma longer-lasting—and more importantly—
According to a fragmented passage of the Classic of Flora, the Seven-Star Beetle King slumbered year-round, and only the aura of "warm jade" could rouse it.
Once awakened, the King would command the entire beetle swarm in a coordinated feeding frenzy—ten times more efficient than an ordinary swarm.
The risk was just as sharp.
The Beetle King was violent by nature. If the incense formula was even slightly off, or if the environment displeased it, it could turn on the summoner without hesitation.
What Jiang Muchen was betting on…
Was that the infestation in these three mu was horrifying enough.
Horrifying enough for the King to come.
And terrifying enough that Zhao Xiaoliu's spies wouldn't dare interfere.
He slid the incense sticks into the bamboo tubes one by one, padding the bottoms with specially prepared slow-burning charcoal—capable of burning steadily all night.
"Light it," he said softly.
Zheng Xiaoqi struck a fire starter and ignited the charcoal.
Orange-red light bloomed within the bamboo tubes. The incense began to burn.
Thin streams of pale-gold smoke drifted from the holes—not as intense as during the day, but far more lingering and deep. Like six golden rivers, they flowed into the heart of the field.
After one incense-length of time, the first wave arrived.
Several hundred Seven-Star Beetles descended, shimmering like a veil of gold. They circled briefly, then plunged into the corrupted soil.
The sound of feeding rose again—soft, constant, like rain on leaves.
Behind the bushes, the two spies relaxed.
"That's it?" the tall one sneered.
"So much for a Beetle King."
"Wait," the short one murmured.
"The incense just started—"
Before he could finish—
A low, thunderous hum rolled out from the western mountains.
It wasn't loud, but it struck straight into the chest, rattling blood and breath alike. A massive pressure followed, surging from the forest like an invisible tide, sweeping over the entire medicinal garden.
Jiang Muchen's pupils shrank.
It's here.
A streak of gold burst from the forest.
A Seven-Star Beetle the size of a palm emerged, its body molten gold, seven star-marks blazing like miniature suns. It flew slowly, but every beat of its wings carried crushing pressure. Wherever it passed, grass bent low, and even the wind seemed to freeze.
The Seven-Star Beetle King.
Behind it came the swarm—ten times larger than before. A golden torrent that swallowed half the night sky.
"R-Run!" the tall spy screamed, legs buckling.
"Wait!" the short one grabbed him.
"Look!"
The Beetle King hovered above the field, not diving immediately. It circled several times, sensing.
Then it descended onto one bamboo tube, antennae brushing the golden smoke.
Jiang Muchen held his breath.
Accepted.
The King let out a sharp hum—like a command seal.
The swarm erupted.
A golden river crashed downward, engulfing the entire field in an instant.
The sound was deafening, like torrential rain hammering tiles.
Within moments, the Spirit-Devouring Insects vanished—not just killed, but erased. Not even husks remained.
The two spies stared, dumbstruck.
"This… this is insane…" the tall one muttered.
The short one's eyes flickered. He pulled out a recording stone—intent on capturing "evidence" of the Beetle King destroying the fields.
But the King was disciplined.
The swarm devoured only the pests, never touching a single spiritual plant. Any beetle that strayed too close to the Golden Thread Grass was driven back by a sharp hum.
The entire process lasted less than half an hour.
Then, full-fed, the swarm rose, circling the field three times as if in salute, before streaming back toward the mountains.
Moonlight poured down.
The field was pristine.
Jiang Muchen stepped out from the shrubs, walking to the bamboo tubes. The incense burned out completely, the final thread of golden smoke dissolving into the night.
He turned toward the spies' hiding place.
"Senior brothers," he said calmly.
"Enjoy the show?"
The bushes rustled.
The two men emerged, faces pale as paper.
"J-Jiang… Junior Brother…" the tall one forced a smile worse than crying.
"We were just passing by…"
"Finished watching?" Jiang Muchen asked.
"Care to report to the Enforcement Hall?"
The recording stone slipped from the short one's hand and shattered.
"N-No! We wouldn't dare!"
They fled in panic.
Wang Duobao jumped out laughing and picked up the broken stone.
"Worth at least five fragments!"
Jiang Muchen didn't respond.
He looked toward the western forest.
Just before leaving, the Beetle King had glanced his way.
That gaze didn't look like it was watching prey—
It looked like it was judging… a peer.
He shook the thought away.
"Pack up," he said.
"At dawn, we collect."
The next morning, Lin Yueyao arrived with the garden steward.
The three mu of land were spotless. Not a trace of Spirit-Devouring Insects remained. The Golden Thread Grass shimmered green and healthy in the morning light.
Lin Yueyao stood frozen.
She walked the field three times, even dug into the soil.
Nothing.
"This level of extermination…" she murmured.
"Even a professional team couldn't manage this."
She looked at Jiang Muchen.
"How did you do it?"
"Luck," he replied.
"The Beetle King answered."
"The King?!" the steward cried.
"You dared summon that thing?"
"It has spirit," Jiang Muchen said.
"It eats pests, not crops."
He returned the access token.
Lin Yueyao was silent for a long time.
Then she tossed him a brocade pouch.
"Ten spirit fragments."
She paused—then produced a green jade token.
"Medicinal Field Overseer. Three-month term," she said.
"You're in charge of thirty mu. Monthly stipend—twenty low-grade spirit stones."
Wang Duobao sucked in a sharp breath.
Twenty stones.
Jiang Muchen shook his head.
"I'll take the token," he said.
"But only ten stones."
Lin Yueyao frowned. "Why?"
"Convert the other ten into contribution points," Jiang Muchen said.
"I want access to the Archive Pavilion and alchemy rooms."
She studied him, then smiled—this time without arrogance.
"Agreed."
As she left, Jiang Muchen looked toward the depths of the garden.
Zhao Xiaoliu would have heard by now.
And this game—
Had only just begun.
Creed of the Licking Path:
When you save someone a hundred stones, don't rush to take twenty in payment.
Trade ten for authority—and ten for roads.
One lets you keep saving them.
The other ensures you'll never need to beg again.