Cultivation Begins with Daily Intelligence Reports

46: Arriving at the pig farmIn the shadows beside the brushwood gate, Lin Jingyu’s expression was calm.

Beside him, the firewood burning at the bottom of a large pot crackled, and the rising steam clouded Lin Lingkuang’s face, which was filled with disbelief.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, sketching a faint arc: ”Just luck. This meager Dao cultivation is nothing in the outside world.”

Although he said this, a stormy sea was churning in Lin Lingkuang’s heart.

Eighteen years old. Among the younger generation of the Lin family, those who could step into the Qi Refining Third Layer before the age of eighteen could be counted on one hand in the last decade.

This was by no means something that could be casually brushed off with a single word of ”luck.”

Furthermore, the Storage Pouch at his waist was worth no less than two hundred Spirit Stones; in the Lin family, only Elders could afford to use one.

What on earth had happened to this boy? An indescribable shock and a deeper sense of curiosity intertwined in Lin Lingkuang’s heart.

However, Lin Lingkuang was, after all, a man who had experienced many storms.

The confusion on his face receded rapidly like the tide, replaced by a brightness that was almost scorching.

Whatever kind of Opportunity he might have had, it didn’t matter.

The youth before him had successfully broken through his realm under the heavy pressure of the Grand Elder and the Third Elder, and had even obtained a treasure like a Storage Pouch.

This potential, this Opportunity, was enough to prove that his, Lin Lingkuang’s, gamble at the ancestral hall that day—was not wrong.

He took a deep breath, suppressing his churning emotions, and yanked his daughter, who was still teasing the piglets on the stone wall, down.

The little girl was caught off guard, let out an ”Ouch,” and pouted in dissatisfaction.

”Xi Xi.” Lin Lingkuang’s voice carried an unprecedented solemnity, even some urgency. He pressed his daughter’s shoulders and pushed her in front of Lin Jingyu. ”Quick. Call him Brother Jingyu.”

Little Xi Xi rubbed her shoulder that had been pinched painfully, pouting. Her large, dark, liquid eyes held a hint of grievance and curiosity as she sized up the brother before her, who seemed somewhat strange yet also very familiar.

Suddenly, as if remembering something, her eyes lit up. A sly smile bloomed on her little face. She rushed a few steps to Lin Jingyu, extended her dirty little hand, grabbed his clean sleeve, and shook it vigorously:

”Brother Jingyu, you’re so amazing, can you do anything? Quickly tell A-Da to obediently lie down and let me ride it, okay? It’s the most disobedient one.”

Her little finger pointed toward the black giant pig in the pen—A-Da—which was as sturdy as a calf and was domineeringly monopolizing a feeding trough with its tusks.

A-Da seemed to hear its little master’s call; it raised its huge, mud-caked head, snorted, and glanced over with its cloudy little eyes, carrying a primitive, wild untamability, before lowering its head to continue gorging itself, completely disregarding Xi Xi’s request.

Lin Jingyu followed Xi Xi’s gaze; that giant pig indeed had an imposing Aura, no wonder this little girl couldn’t subdue it.

He couldn’t help but laugh; he wasn’t a Beast Tamer, so how could he make such an untamed Yao Beast obediently listen?

He shook his head slightly, and amidst Xi Xi’s disappointed gaze, he flipped his palm and reached into his robe.

The next moment, a dusty, roughly three-foot-long whip appeared in his hand.

The material of the whip was unknown; it seemed like leather but wasn’t, like vine but wasn’t. Its surface was covered in fine, spiderweb-like cracks, its spiritual light dim; it was clearly a low-grade Magical Artifact nearing the end of its life.

But even so, the faint, lingering spiritual power fluctuations were enough to make Lin Lingkuang’s eyes narrow.

”Brother can’t make A-Da listen.” Lin Jingyu gently placed the old whip into Xi Xi’s outstretched little hand; it felt slightly heavy and carried a hint of coldness. ”However, you can try using this to ’persuade’ it.”

He rubbed Xi Xi’s yellowish but soft braids, his eyes carrying a hint of encouraging laughter, ”Whip it until it’s convinced. If it still doesn’t submit...”

Lin Jingyu paused, and amidst Xi Xi’s suddenly brightening, expectant gaze, he whispered, ”When Brother finds a flying Spirit Pig in the future, I’ll give you one that’s a hundred times more majestic than A-Da.”

”Really?” Xi Xi’s eyes instantly shone like stars, her little face flushed with excitement, and she gripped the broken Magical Artifact whip tightly, as if holding an supreme divine weapon.

”Thank you, Brother Jingyu. A-Da, just you wait.” She cheered, like a happy little deer, turned, and charged toward the giant pig in the pen, waving the whip with quite a bit of Aura, causing a stir among the pig herd.

Watching his daughter’s joyful back, a gratified smile also appeared on Lin Lingkuang’s face.

However, this smile froze and shattered the moment Lin Jingyu spoke his next sentence, turning into monstrous rage.

”Uncle Lingkuang,” Lin Jingyu withdrew his gaze from Xi Xi and turned to Lin Lingkuang, his voice dropping a few degrees, carrying an unquestionable inquiry:

”When I just returned, I felt that Jingxia was a bit... not quite right. She seems to be hiding something on her mind, forcing a smile. During the few hours I was away, did... something happen in the clan?”

He vaguely felt that beneath his younger sister’s smile today, there was an unspeakable grievance hidden.

”Clatter.” The wooden ladle in Ling Kuang’s hand fell to the ground, hitting the muddy floor and splashing up a few stains.

His burly body shuddered violently, the blood draining from his face at a speed visible to the naked eye, instantly turning iron-blue.

Those copper-bell-like tiger eyes suddenly bloodshot, like a volcano on the verge of erupting, spewing terrifying rage and humiliation.

”Lin! Cheng! Yuan! That old dog!” A low roar, suppressed to the extreme, as if torn raw from the depths of his throat, carried heart-deep resentment and smashed fiercely into the sweltering air.

Lin Lingkuang’s fist, that iron fist covered in calluses capable of easily pinning down a sturdy Black Mountain Pig, smashed fiercely against the rough earthen wall beside him with immense power.

”Bang.” With a dull thud, the earthen wall shook, and a large amount of dust fell. A clear fist print was left on the wall, and the edges even cracked with fine lines.

”That old beast. A conscience-less piece of beast trash.”

Lin Lingkuang’s chest heaved violently; every word seemed to be ground out from between his teeth, carrying a thick, bloody stench:

”He... he somehow brought in a few low-class prostitutes. The kind from the dirtiest, rot-ridden brothels in the Southeast Market Town. He called Jingxia, Xiaoxiao, and Qiao’er—those three girls—over. He called it ’teaching etiquette’.”

He gasped for air a few times, as if the following words were too difficult to utter, filled with endless humiliation: ”But what he taught them... was those filthy methods for serving men. Teaching them how to... how to ingratiate themselves. How to... how to...”

As for the rest, Lin Lingkuang gritted his teeth tightly, the veins on his forehead bulging, and ultimately couldn’t say it, but that monstrous hatred already explained everything.

A pungent, extreme scent of sour pig swill, mixed with the raw smell of earth and the stench of feces, suddenly rushed into Lin Jingyu’s nostrils.

But this smell, at this moment, was far less pungent than the violent, murderous intent churning in his heart.