Chapter 24
Chapter 24: Hand-Hammered Beef
After that night, Master Han and Hu Qing grew close fast. Close enough that he finally gave her a paying job.
“Pound beef?” Hu Qing stared at him. “Bring in a donkey and even it could do that.”
Master Han frowned. “You think we can feed guests meatballs pounded by donkey hooves?”
Hu Qing lowered her gaze and looked at her own hands.
Fine. Her hands did have an advantage over hooves.
“Pounding meat is easy,” she said. “Make a little tool and it’s done.”
“Handmade tastes better,” Master Han replied.
Hu Qing stared at him.
Master Han raised an eyebrow. “So? Are you doing it or not?”
“I’m doing it,” Hu Qing said at once.
Master Han smiled. As long as she got paid, who cared what she was pounding?
Still, curiosity got the better of her. “Isn’t pounding meatballs also part of helper training? Food Delicacies isn’t short on people. Master Han, you’re giving me special treatment—if others find out, won’t it reflect badly on you?”
“Orders have surged lately,” Master Han said. “We’re short-handed.”
He led her to the storage area. A whole wind ox lay there—skin still on, untouched.
“You can skin it too, right?” Master Han asked casually.
Hu Qing blinked, then pointed at the ox. “Wait. Isn’t this the wind ox that pulls carts for guests?”
She hadn’t seen luan birds pulling carts, and she’d never seen a celestial horse up close. But wind oxen had delivered goods plenty of times. Green hide, black horns—this was definitely one.
What, was it too old to pull, so they butchered it for meat?
Even in the immortal realm, an ox got used to the bone.
“This one doesn’t pull carts,” Master Han said. “It’s raised to eat.”
Hu Qing decided to accept that and moved on—only for her teeth to ache with the next thought. “Master Han, I heard Da Mu say wind ox meat is extremely tough. Hard to cook. Most people don’t want to eat it.”
“He tells you a lot,” Master Han said, amused.
Now that they were closer, he was willing to explain more. “Immortal Lords don’t want to eat wind ox, sure. But if you prepare it properly, it’s especially nourishing for children.”
“Children?” Hu Qing repeated.
Master Han held up a finger. “And it has another benefit. Using Food Delicacies’ secret recipe, it can make you fly.”
Hu Qing stared. “This is the immortal realm. Who can’t fly?”
Master Han gave her a look like she’d missed something obvious. “Children can’t. Or they can’t fly steadily. After eating our meatballs, they can fly stable for a short while. Not very high, but steady.”
He tapped his finger again. “It’s also good for their bodies, so even Immortal Lords are willing to buy it for them.”
Hu Qing’s eyes widened in understanding. A children’s market.
It wasn’t just about meatballs. It was about the immortal realm itself.
Among the human clan, everyone was born with spiritual roots—but spiritual roots still differed by heavens and earth. Many people would spend their entire lives stuck at Mahayana Stage, never stepping into the Spirit Immortal grade. Their numbers were as common as mortals in the lower realm.
Even among those who became Spirit Immortal, plenty would struggle their whole lives at low-grade, like Qi Refining Stage cultivators back home.
The environment was better. Spiritual energy was richer. Everyone’s starting point rose.
But the ones who truly stood out were always a minority.
Competition didn’t disappear. It simply evolved.
In the lower realm, sects judged disciples by spiritual roots. In the immortal realm, they judged by spiritual roots too—but with far more detailed standards: the depth of the root, purity, comprehension, physique, bloodline, and more.
Those who ascended from the lower realm were often the best of an entire world, in roots, comprehension, bones, and temperament. Immortal sects valued them highly—sometimes even more than local ordinary people.
In Deng Yun Realm Immortal Realm, spiritual energy was so dense that the early stages were almost effortless. Qi Refining Stage, Foundation Establishment Stage, Golden Core Stage—those could be climbed in one smooth breath. Even Nascent Soul Stage wasn’t difficult. Someone Hu Qing’s age reaching Nascent Soul Stage was not unusual.
After that, it got hard.
But even “hard” here was easier than in the lower realm, and the human clan’s lifespans were far longer.
Children didn’t feel pressured to cultivate right away. But what child didn’t dream of flying?
Being carried by an adult or riding a spirit skiff—how could that compare to clawing through the air yourself, free as a bird?
And sure, there were pills for that… but were pills as delicious as meatballs?
“The city lord’s family just came back from traveling,” Master Han added. “They had a lot more children. The city lord’s residence put in an order big enough to keep us busy for six to ten months.”
Hu Qing whistled softly. A massive client.
Master Han lifted a finger. “One wind ox is worth one low-grade spirit crystal.”
Hu Qing stared. “Only one?”
“Da Mu and the others pound meat too,” Master Han said. “No one’s paying them.”
“I’ll take it,” Hu Qing said immediately.
Master Han then demonstrated what it meant to butcher like a god. He wrapped a layer of spiritual power around his hands and tore the wind ox apart barehanded—skin separated from meat, meat from bone, bone from cartilage. He burned the organs away with a burst of flame.
The whole thing took less than a minute. The tough wind ox was as easy as tofu in his hands.
Hu Qing gaped. “Master Han, do it again. I didn’t see clearly!”
Master Han snorted, pleased with himself. “It took me a hundred years to master that. You pound the meat. I’ll come collect it later.”
He told her what texture to aim for, how to store it, and where to stack the skin and bones.
Hu Qing watched him leave, then called after him, “This one counts as paid, right?”
“It counts,” Master Han replied without looking back.
Everything she needed was already there. Hu Qing spread the meat out across a massive table. Hundreds of pounds, laid flat. She picked up the special wooden club.
It was heavier than she expected.
She swung it down. The club struck with a crack—then rebounded so hard it nearly flew out of her hands. Her palm went numb.
Wind ox meat really was tough.
Once she found the correct force and angle, she began striking in a steady rhythm, one blow after another.
It felt strange—new.
When she hammered iron, heat and fire were her companions. Here, she couldn’t use fire at all. The room held a cooling array to keep the meat fresh.
With no one else around, Juan Bu spoke lazily in her mind. “Treat it like hammering cold iron. Some Spiritfire is cold, you know. Polar Iceflame—when it appears, it freezes everything around it into an icy world. But it’s still fire.”
Hu Qing didn’t slow her work. “Where is Polar Iceflame?”
“That was a long time ago,” Juan Bu said. “Someone—no, not a person. A yao. A powerful one, at great demon rank. He subdued Polar Iceflame.”
“And then?” Hu Qing asked.
“He died,” Juan Bu said bluntly. “He was strong, but someone else was stronger. After he died, Polar Iceflame probably fled.”
Hu Qing’s interest sharpened. “Didn’t the one who killed him take it?”
“Maybe they wanted to,” Juan Bu said. “But Spiritfire chooses a master. It’s picky. And Polar Iceflame is too lethal. Hard to subdue.”
Hu Qing understood easily: the killer wanted it, but it didn’t accept them. They couldn’t overpower it, so it ran.
“Can you find Polar Iceflame?” she asked.
Juan Bu gave a short, scornful laugh. “Some spiritual things can run so far that even the Heavenly Dao can’t find them. I’m an artifact spirit. You’re really overestimating me.”
Hu Qing smiled faintly. “You told me to find another Spiritfire.”
“Ha.” Juan Bu’s tone turned sharp. “Scorching Sun Blaze can’t be exposed, and you think Polar Iceflame can? People who want to steal Scorching Sun Blaze are many. People who want to seize Polar Iceflame are even more.”
His voice lowered, dangerous. “Polar Iceflame is too terrifying. The moment it’s used, life is severed. Anyone who possesses it is destined to be hunted down and killed.”
A chill crawled down Hu Qing’s spine.
Juan Bu suddenly sounded alarmed. “Don’t tell me you want it for Hu Nuan?”
He sounded genuinely frightened. “I’m telling you—kill that thought. Immediately.”
Hu Qing coughed, awkward. “If you explain it clearly, then I won’t want it. I’ll find her something else.”
Juan Bu huffed. “Listen to yourself. You say it like Spiritfire is something you can pick from a shelf. Who do you think you are?”