Chapter 3652 — The Gluttonous Meng Tong

To shirk work and seek ease—that is human nature, born in the bone. Compared with grubbing away in the mines day after day, trading a few worthless jade scraps from Meng Jueming's hands for Wei Zhao's fine jade was plainly far more to his liking.

In fact, Meng Tong had already begun to feel some regret—regret that he had been such a big mouth back then and let slip that Wei Zhao, that idiot, could not tell good jade from bad. Looking back on it now, he had been a complete fool!

If he had not let it slip, then the other newcomers would never have learned they could take worthless jade to that idiot Wei Zhao and trade it for fine jade. And then every fine piece in Wei Zhao's possession would have been his, would it not?

A full fifteen pieces of fine jade—even if he slaved away in Mine No. 7 for three whole months, he could not earn half of those fifteen! If things had gone that way, he would not have to burrow into the mines every cursed day like this; he could have lain about in his cave dwelling, counting spirit jade for fun!

But such good fortune could only be savored in his head. Even if Meng Tong's wits were none too sharp, he knew well enough that if things had gone that way, most of the fine jade traded from Wei Zhao would still have ended up in Meng Jueming's hands, and he himself would have been lucky to lap up a little of the thin broth.

After a spell of sighing and lamenting, Meng Tong had no choice but to report to the mines as usual. Yet when he had passed through the long underground corridor and was just about to enter the mining area, he suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"What in the world?" Meng Tong could not help glancing about. For an instant just now, he had distinctly caught sight of a black-and-white shape darting past his eyes, and it had moved with considerable speed.

An ordinary person might not have been able to react in time, but Meng Tong was, after all, a consummate master of the Heaven rank. Though he had not clearly made out its form, he could already be certain that the shape which had just flashed past him was unquestionably a spirit beast.

"A spirit beast! Its meat will be far more delicious than any ordinary wild game!" At the thought, Meng Tong could not keep himself from swallowing again and again.

By rights, once a cultivator's strength reaches the level of a Heaven-rank master, he can already subsist entirely on qi, drawing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth through his daily cultivation, which is more than enough to meet his body's needs; there is no longer any call to replenish his energy by taking food.

But that does not mean every master above the Heaven rank stops eating altogether. In fact, out of long-ingrained habit, the great majority of cultivators still eat something from time to time. Of course, by then eating is no longer a necessity—it is purely to satisfy the palate.

Take Meng Tong himself: years ago he had already been a Heaven-rank master capable of fasting on qi, yet he still kept up the habit of eating all manner of rare delicacies every day, and every few days he would even go out and hunt a few hard-to-find wild beasts to tickle his taste buds.

And in his experience, however rare the beast, the flavor of its meat still fell far short of a spirit beast's.

One must understand that a spirit beast is, so to speak, a cultivator among beasts. Even the weakest and lowest-ranked of them is a quintessential being nurtured by the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. Their flesh is not only far more savory and delicious than ordinary game—more importantly, it brims with spiritual energy. Even for cultivators it is a rare tonic; if its efficacy cannot quite match that of pills, it comes close enough.

Before Meng Tong came to the Welcome Pavilion, he had often feasted on spirit beasts from the deep mountains and old forests of North Island—though always the weaker Yellow-rank ones, or even rankless ones. For one thing, they were not too troublesome to catch; for another, it would not stir up too much commotion or draw others' attention. That last point was of the utmost importance.

Cloud Terrace Island was not the mortal world. There, so long as you had the strength, you could hunt spirit beasts however you pleased. But on Cloud Terrace Island you could not—even hunting the weakest of spirit beasts, once such a thing came to light, would spell enormous trouble.

The reason was simple: on Cloud Terrace Island, spirit beasts were cultivators just like humans, and once they grew powerful enough they too could take human form. On the road in pursuit of the Heavenly Dao, all stood on equal footing.

South Island of Cloud Terrace Island was, as everyone knew, the Isle of Spirit Beasts. It gathered the mighty clans of spirit beasts, whose power and influence in no way yielded to any human sect.

The proclamation issued by the spirit beast clans stated it plainly: anyone on Cloud Terrace Island who dared slay a spirit beast would be regarded as an enemy of the entire spirit beast race, and the feud would end only with death. And this proclamation, through the unremitting efforts of the spirit beast clans, had won the endorsement of several top-tier sects on Central Island.

Thus the lives of spirit beasts were guaranteed to some degree—not only those on South Island, but those scattered across the other islands as well.

Yet the true sphere of influence of the spirit beast clans was, in the final reckoning, confined to South Island alone. Human masters elsewhere might scruple in public, but in private they did not necessarily take that proclamation seriously.

Cultivators like Meng Tong, long accustomed to feasting, would never slaughter a spirit beast wantonly in front of others—but behind their backs, the weak little spirit beasts that had gone into his belly numbered no fewer than eighty, if not a hundred. So long as no one discovered it and reported him, all was well: eat it clean, and neither man nor ghost would be the wiser.

"I wonder what kind of spirit beast it is!" Meng Tong's eyes lit up, and he at once turned his head and began searching all around for that shape from a moment ago.

He had been at the Welcome Pavilion more than twenty days now, and hemmed in by his surroundings, he had not managed a single bite of meat. Pent up for so many days, his mouth had long since gone bland as a bird's feather. Now that a spirit beast had delivered itself to his doorstep, how could he possibly let it go for nothing?

The Spirit Jade Hall was heavily guarded within and without, but the corridor leading up to the mine entrance—that stretch alone—had no guards posted.

This suited Meng Tong well enough. After all, if guards had been everywhere, he could hardly have gone about catching spirit beasts in broad daylight; otherwise he would surely have been seized as a suspicious character.

Yet after searching the whole length of the corridor, Meng Tong simply could not find a trace of that spirit beast. He was just about to give up and slink back to the mining area in disappointment when, right before the great gate, he spotted that black-and-white figure once more.

"A ring bear?" Staring at the small figure ahead, which was sneaking furtively toward the gate, Meng Tong's eyes went wide.

Standing upright it was not even half a man's height, with a round head and a plump, rolling body, covered from head to toe in creamy white down—save for the eyes, the ears, and the ring of fur about its chest, which were jet black. This was unmistakably a ring bear cub.

Of course, it could not be called a pure cub either. Judging by age alone, this ring bear was at least a dozen years old or more! RP

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