Chapter Fifty-Two: Thieves Never Leave Empty-Handed

When Jiang Yuan arrived at the dining hall, Feng Ke’er had already been waiting for some time.

“Senior Brother Jiang, over here!” She had already gotten his meal and was sitting at a wooden table near the wall, waving at him. Coincidentally, the one distributing meals today was Jiang Fang, Jiang Yuan’s older brother. So when she asked, “Senior Brother Jiang Yuan is busy and will be late, can I get his meal for him first?” Jiang Fang merely glanced at her and gave her an extra portion. Both bowls of demonic beast meat soup were generously filled.

Jiang Yuan smiled, walked over, and sat opposite her. “Junior Brother Qin, what a coincidence.”

Feng Ke’er, eager to please, pushed the other meal toward him. “Senior Brother Yuan, please eat. Since you weren’t here yet, I got a meal for you.”

In the sect, only those with a close relationship or from the same master would address each other by their given names. Typically, disciples called each other by surname. So when Jiang Yuan heard the change, he paused briefly, then smiled and corrected himself. “Junior Brother Heng, thank you.” Qin Heng was a direct descendant of one of the sect’s three great families and had the backing of an inner sect elder. Even the newly arrived steward showed him deference. So, making friends with him could only be advantageous. Jiang Yuan was happy to befriend him.

“You’re welcome.” Feng Ke’er’s eyes crinkled with a smile.

By the end of the meal, their relationship had taken a significant step forward. The two left the dining hall together, chatting and laughing.

Back at the spiritual fields, Feng Ke’er saw Feng Jiu standing in the open space far from the field’s edge, facing the wind. If he had been a handsome man in white, hair and robes fluttering, it would have been a pleasing sight. But as a plump, grey-feathered chicken—no, a phoenix, a fat fire phoenix—the scene was, well…

She stifled her laughter with a cough, cleared her throat, and walked over. “Hey, Meat Bird, look what I brought you!”

Thanks to the fire phoenix’s blood crystal and her storage pouch, she had easily slipped into the main kitchen and “borrowed” half a basket of spiritual rice balls. The demonic beast soup was harder to pilfer, but she still had two wild chickens at hand for her own cooking.

She presented the twenty or so spiritual rice balls like a treasure. The plump creature gobbled them one by one, shaking its head and sighing, “These are from the main kitchen, aren’t they? They’re just low-grade spiritual rice balls. There’s a small, refined kitchen next to the main one, meant for the outer sect’s stewards. The rice balls there are made from top-grade spiritual rice. I once wandered in by accident and tasted one. Now that’s fragrant.”

Top-grade spiritual rice balls! Feng Ke’er’s eyes sparkled, her mouth all but watering. “Alright, I’ll check it out tomorrow.” She was, after all, a foodie at heart.

“Have you decided how you’ll manage this spiritual field?” Feng Jiu asked casually.

Feng Ke’er gave him a mysterious smile. “That’s a secret.” She had just chatted with Jiang Yuan and learned quite a lot. At the very least, she could be sure that when it came to planting, her distant Uncle Yuan didn’t seem as optimistic about her as he claimed. What seemed to be a simple task was now growing more interesting. In this era without internet, television, or any entertainment, she finally had something to amuse herself with.

Feng Jiu raised an eyebrow and continued to swallow rice balls one after another. His experience and instincts told him this girl had already found herself a new rival.

While Feng Ke’er was out, Feng Jiu hadn’t been idle. He had found a quiet valley nearby, rich in spiritual energy, and had already carved a stone cave into the cliff for his seclusion. Since Feng Ke’er hadn’t returned, he figured he might as well do something else, so he built a simple shelter of straw and branches beside his cave. At least the trouble she went to the dining hall was not wasted—she’d brought him some rice balls.

His stone cave was protected by a barrier, which Feng Ke’er had no hope of detecting. When she came to see his new “home” and saw only the simple shelter, she pursed her lips. “Meat Bird, you’re planning to meditate inside this? How long do you plan to stay in seclusion this time?” It was obviously a temporary structure—fine for three or five days, but for several months, it was clearly shoddy work.

“That’s for you,” Feng Jiu said, pointing with his wingtip at a spot on the stone wall. “Mine is over there.”

Feng Ke’er was touched for a second. She gazed at the wall covered in vines, hesitated, and walked over to rap on it with her finger. Frowning, she said, “Granite, huh? Meat Bird, you’re not expecting me to dig my own cave, are you?” She knew there was no such thing as a free lunch. Why would “Meat Bird” build her a shelter for nothing?

Feng Jiu huffed and, with a wave of his wing, dispelled the barrier.

Suddenly, beside Feng Ke’er’s hand, a stone cave of at least a hundred square meters appeared, divided into inner and outer chambers, with three rooms in total. In modern times, this could comfortably house a family of three—let alone in an era where the concept of “housing” barely existed.

Feng Ke’er clicked her tongue, scrutinized the fat bird, and then looked at her own pitiful shelter. She was deeply dissatisfied. “Really, Meat Bird, you’re just a… a phoenix. Was there any need to dig such a big cave? You’re only going into seclusion, not moving in permanently.” In her opinion, this was a classic case of having too much time on one’s hands and wasting energy.

Feng Jiu gave her a sidelong glance and snorted, “I’ll be in seclusion for forty-nine days this time.”

As for what constituted “big,” he couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. In the divine realm, his medicine storage rooms were at least three times this size!

So that’s how it was. Feng Ke’er still thought the cave was a bit much, but her attention quickly shifted. “Forty-nine days? Do you have enough fasting pills and spiritual stones?” If she remembered correctly, last time the Meat Bird had only secluded for ten days and it had cost her ten fasting pills and several low-grade spiritual stones. This time… she felt an inexplicable pang of anxiety.

Sure enough, the shameless fat bird squinted at her, his gaze circling her belt lazily. “I don’t, but you do.”

“Hey!” Feng Ke’er quickly covered her pouch. She had no idea how he knew. When she came out of seclusion, Qin Jun had indeed sent her thirty fasting pills, thirty low-grade spiritual stones, a low-grade Azure Edge longsword, and assorted other pills via transmission talisman—supposedly all from Qin Ruhua, to help solidify her breakthrough. Fearing the fat bird would discover them, she hadn’t even dared to use the sword openly, practicing in secret at night. Just earlier, Jiang Yuan had “casually” mentioned he needed four more low-grade spiritual stones to forge an artifact, and Feng Ke’er had given them to him without hesitation. Now, only twenty-six stones remained in her storage pouch. She was certain no one else in the outer sect knew about her stash.

Yet, despite her caution, the fat bird still knew. Did he spy on her at night? The thought made her bristle.

Before she could react, her storage pouch seemed to sprout wings and flew right into the bird’s possession.

“We’re contract partners. My cultivation is higher than yours. Nothing about you escapes me.” Feng Jiu smugly caught the pouch and unceremoniously pulled out the fasting pills and spiritual stones. “Still a few fasting pills short. Tomorrow, you and I will go to the small kitchen for more.” With that, he tossed the pouch back to her.

Feng Ke’er was exasperated but completely powerless. Thirty fasting pills and over twenty spiritual stones—for a shelter that might blow away with one gust of wind. She felt utterly cheated!

As if reading her mind, the fat bird said, “Don’t worry about it. You won’t be living in this shelter for long, because you won’t be doing this job for much longer.”

“What do you mean?” Feng Ke’er, stung by the truth, was annoyed.

Feng Jiu tossed the last rice ball into his beak and grunted, “Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Jinx! May you choke!” Feng Ke’er rolled her eyes at him.

The next morning, the two of them snuck into the small kitchen of the dining hall. The kitchen was protected by a barrier, which was why Feng Ke’er hadn’t noticed anything on her previous visits. But a foundation-building cultivator’s barrier was nothing to Feng Jiu; in his presence, it was as good as nonexistent.

They arrived early, before any of the stewards had come for their meal. Inside were freshly steamed spiritual rice balls and a huge pot of demonic beast soup—the sect’s rule was that everyone, including the sect leader, ate two meals a day, each with two rice balls and a bowl of hot soup. In quantity, all were equal, but in quality… well, the difference was more than a little.

Feng Ke’er grabbed a rice ball, took a bite, and was filled with indignation.

Feng Jiu, unconcerned with eating, went straight into a small side room. Feng Ke’er followed out of curiosity, only to find a massive bronze cauldron—she now realized it wasn’t for porridge but for alchemy. Apparently, the small kitchen not only served the steward elders but also functioned as a pill room for refining fasting pills.

On a small table nearby stood several large brownish gourds.

“That’s where the fasting pills are stored,” Feng Jiu said, opening one gourd, “but these folks are stingy. We can’t take too many at a time.” With the lessons of last time, he was more cautious and only took three pills from each gourd.

“But we can help ourselves to the top-grade spiritual rice.” He led Feng Ke’er through a passage to a wooden door. “Behind this is all top-grade spiritual rice.”

So, for the first time in her life, Feng Ke’er saw top-grade spiritual rice—the door was small, but the storeroom behind it was vast, piled with at least several dozen tons of the finest rice, clearly reserved for the stewards.

The dark side of humanity is everywhere. Once she tasted rice balls made from top-grade rice, Feng Ke’er couldn’t stomach the low-grade ones from the main kitchen anymore. After all, these were the “spoils” the stewards had skimmed off the outer disciples, so why not help herself? Without hesitation, she filled her storage pouch with top-grade rice to take home for congee.

“That should be enough for you,” Feng Jiu nodded. “Do you know how to make rice balls?”

The look in his eyes… Hmph! Feng Ke’er stiffened her neck and blurted, “Of course…” I can! But I won’t! Do I look like your kitchen maid?

Unfortunately, the fat bird was impatient and, before she could finish, hooked a whole basket of rice balls with his wing.

“Let’s go! Someone’s coming.”

The two of them flashed out of the small kitchen just as a furious voice rang out behind them: “Who cooked today? We’re short a whole basket of rice balls! Can’t you count?”

(To be continued)