This Sword Cultivator is Somewhat Dependable-Chapter 499 - 23: Three Bowls of Chicken Soup

Chapter 499: Chapter 23: Three Bowls of Chicken Soup

The Mogao Desert spans thousands of miles, with vast borders.

After Lu Qingshan entered Mo Gao, even the Netherworld, in a real world without satellites like the cultivation world, couldn’t manage to enclose all boundaries of Mogao.

Nor would they attempt such an overambitious deed.

They chose instead to place their people in the major cities along the border of Mo Gao to intercept Lu Qingshan, especially in the State Cities with Cross-Domain Teleportation Formations, where a confluence of demons gathered.

The reason was quite simple.

You, Lu Qingshan, are not from the Western Domain. Although the reason why you left the Eastern Domain and entered the Mogao Desert of the Western Domain is unknown,

...

once the matter is resolved, you’ll inevitably return to your Sect.

And to do so, one cannot do without the Cross-Domain Teleportation Formation.

Between the Eastern and Western Domains is an endless vast ocean and the Three Domains of Central State, a distance of countless tens of thousands of miles.

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Without passing through a Cross-Domain Teleportation Formation to cross domains, not to mention a mere Nascent Soul Cultivator, even an Integration Cultivator of the Seventh Realm would find it quite difficult.

The Netherworld was quite confident about their plan.

….

Further west of the Mogao Desert lay a barren wilderness, where Great Xia had not established any cities.

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The Western Sand Plateau was located five thousand miles further west of the Mogao Desert.

In the Western Domain dominated by the desert landscape, the Western Sand Plateau was like an island in a sea of sand, and truly a ‘Great Island Land’ by all means.

Although sparse in population, the plateau still had a total population of over ten million. Compared to the surrounding Sand Sea, it was considered a treasure.

On such a precious land, there was only one Buddhist Sect.

Dragon Elephant Chicken Soup Temple.

On the plateau, every one of the ten million ordinary people was pure and devout to Buddhism, with Buddhist shrines erected in every household, where they burned incense in reverence.

Every ten miles-there was a small Buddhist Temple, and every hundred miles—a large Buddhist Temple.

Of course, this territory was not won over by the universal light of Buddhism, but established through force.

The Dragon Elephant’s four institutes, thirty-six temples, and seventy-two shrines—among the thirty-six temples of Chicken Soup Temple, with regards to strength, this Temple was in the first tier, second only to the supreme four institutes.

The abbot of Chicken Soup Temple, the Chicken Soup Monk, was once hailed as a Buddhist sage by the Heavenly Ranking of the Heavenly Secret Pavilion when he was in the Seventh Realm, singing his praises: “With the Body of Great Vajra, invincible and indestructible, the upright words of Buddhism intimidate both dragon and snake.”

And so it was.

In the center of the Western Sand Plateau lay the area with the most verdant greenery on the plateau, incomparable to the “river flowers of Eastern Domain gleaming red like fire at sunrise or the river water that turns green as azure in spring” of the Eastern and Southern Territories. It was simply one patch after another of green-yellow drought-resistant shrubs, bursting with life.

This place was also the geographical high point of the Western Sand Plateau.

Because it was so high, the air was thin, leaving few mortals dwelling there.

Chicken Soup Temple was situated right in this location.

It was a glittering temple of gold, reflecting the sunlight and shining even brighter than the sun itself.

On this day, in the rarely visited Chicken Soup Temple, several cultivating monks noticed that two guests had arrived.

The youngest preaching monk of the temple went out and unexpectedly brought back a young man who was unconscious, along with a woman of noble demeanor.

This left the cultivating monks astonished:

Their junior preaching monk had some wild connections!

Of course, they only dared to think this to themselves.

Because although the preaching monk was “junior,” his status was indeed high.

….

Lu Qingshan’s consciousness slowly returned in a daze.

His first action was not to open his eyes but to carefully feel his condition.

It was completely different from the feeling when he awoke from unconsciousness the last time.

Last time he awoke, his body ached terribly, which was unpleasant.

This time, he felt a warm and cozy sensation throughout his body, as if he were bathing in a hot spring.

Between his brows, a blood-colored edge was sharp.

He had finally cultivated his first Intent to Perfection.

Slaughter Sword Intent.

They say that the Slaughter Sword Intent, geared towards killing, paired with a Sword Cultivator known for leading in slaughter, is like white radish with mutton, a natural match. There was indeed some truth to it.

His Slaughter Sword Intent, from growing start to finish toward the Perfection Realm, could all be considered smooth sailing without any major setbacks.

Only, how could the very serious injury he braved through sheer willpower before have healed so thoroughly?

Although Lu Qingshan was pleased, he was also puzzled.

He slowly opened his eyes, finding himself lying in an exquisitely carved sandalwood bed.

The first thing that caught his eye was Qin Yitian’s exceedingly beautiful face, with joy dancing in her delicate eyes.

Then there was a shining bald head… it was Jue Zhen.

“Young Master…” Qin Yitian started to speak but hesitated.

“Abbot Father said you would wake up today, and indeed you have,” Jue Zhen said with joy in his voice.

Though it was only a fragment of conversation, Lu Qingshan surmised his current situation based on the environment around him and his own condition.

“Thank you, little Abbot, for your rescue,” Lu Qingshan said slowly as he got up, his voice hoarse.

“The benefactor’s heart is like the Buddha’s. In our Buddhist Sect, respect is due for all Buddha figures,” Jue Zhen said with a shy smile, then passed over a white bowl.

In the bowl was a golden liquid, still and firm, resembling high-temperature simmered chicken soup in color and texture.

“What is this?” Lu Qingshan asked, puzzled.

“Our temple is known as Chicken Soup Temple, and the most famous thing here is this bowl of ‘chicken soup.’ It can heal all ailments and bring the dead back to life.

While you, Lu Benefactor, were unconscious, I already had Miss Qin administer two bowls of ‘chicken soup’ to you. This is the last bowl,” Jue Zhen explained with a shy smile.

Administered it? Lu Qingshan was taken aback and couldn’t help but glance at Qin Yitian, who was modest and demure.

Qin Yitian’s earlobes blushed slightly.

But she quietly took the white bowl from Jue Zhen, sat by the bedside, and with utmost care, helped Lu Qingshan to drink this treasured Chicken Soup from the temple—the ‘chicken soup.’