Chapter 7 — ILK Chapter 7

Brine Boils Everything and Pocket Dimension Transplants

Gourmets who truly know their food are meticulous; they believe the "base materials" used to brew a broth—including the meat and carcasses—should not be eaten. They feel that every ounce of worth has already been absorbed by the high broth, leaving the remains as flavorless as chicken ribs: tasteless to eat, yet a pity to throw away.

Back in the cultivation world, Sang Ye would fish out these remains and feed them to her spiritual beasts—though only the common ones. Higher-level spiritual beasts were like cultivators; they possessed no human intelligence but would only drink from sweet springs and eat spiritual fruits.

But here, Sang Ye fished out all the pork bones and had a feast with Wu Jianing, dipping the meat into the sweet vinegar. After all, the contents of her storage ring were not inexhaustible; it served mostly as a medium to bring things out of her pocket dimension. Sang Ye didn't want to waste a single scrap, especially since her pocket dimension required spiritual energy from her own cultivation to expand.

Sang Ye’s current body was tall and sturdy. She could feel the firm, powerful muscles in her arms and thighs, which naturally meant she had a high metabolic demand. She was extremely satisfied with this body; she had much more strength for tossing woks and wielding ladles now.

The people of Shifang Grotto had always looked down upon the "immortal style" prized by other cultivators—the idea that the thinner one was, the better. Those sects loved to praise stories of genius youths who could "break ten thousand laws with one strike," especially if that youth was as elegant as a deity, as upright as bamboo, or as beautiful as a lotus.

However, if one stayed in the cultivation world long enough, they would realize that no true Great Power was as thin as a stick. No matter what stage of cultivation one reached, the physical body was the foundation of everything. Many Nascent Soul stage cultivators sought breakthroughs only to have their bodies give out first.

To her surprise, little Wu Jianing was also quite the eater. Despite having just consumed so many wontons and marrow, she was still able to keep going. Once finished, Wu Jianing obediently helped Sang Ye clear the table and even followed her to the sink, wanting to help wash the dishes.

Sang Ye checked the time, washed the girl's small hands and face, and said, "It's getting late. Why don't you head back first? Your family will worry. Next time you come, I'll make you braised meat and crispy grass carp, okay?"

Wu Jianing’s eyes went wide and sparkly. Although she didn't understand what those dishes were, she nodded vigorously, waved goodbye, and happily steered her wheelchair out of the kitchen.

Sang Ye didn't know when Wu Jianing would return, but she had already decided to make the braised meat.

Brine can be used to cook a vast variety of foods: chicken, duck, beef, lamb, fish, and even tofu, mushrooms, wood ear fungus, and lotus root slices. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that brine could boil the world. Brine itself was an excellent accompaniment to rice, and more importantly, it lasted a long time and became more fragrant the more it was used. There was a folk saying: Brine lasts three generations; the person leaves, but the brine remains.

Shifang Grotto had improved upon traditional folk brine by replacing common spices with spiritual plants grown in their pocket dimensions. The longer the spiritual energy simmered, the more concentrated it became; it was said that after eating it, cultivators could go into closed-door meditation for seven days and nights without hunger. Over the years, Shifang Grotto’s brine had incorporated so many new spices transplanted into their dimensions that a single bowl became a rare treasure in the cultivation world.

The more Sang Ye thought about it, the more she craved it. She wanted to braise a pot right now, steam a small bowl of fine rice from the foot of White Condensate Peak, and pair it with a glass of plum juice. But there was no rush. She decided to first organize her storage ring and pocket dimension and furnish her small building.

She also needed to cultivate her pocket dimension for a while. Before transmigrating, it had shown signs of an impending breakthrough but lacked the right catalyst. Her Master and sisters had told her not to worry; for cultivators, a catalyst is hard to find and isn't something that can be forced through effort alone. Her Master had broken through twice while cooking, one sister while performing an act of justice, and another while soaking in a hot spring...

Returning to her small building, Sang Ye noticed the bare patch of ground by the door. A thought struck her: Could she bring soil from her pocket dimension into this world and plant things?

Everything in the pocket dimension possessed spiritual energy, the primary source being her spiritual essence—the Parasol Tree—which constantly nourished all things. Back in the cultivation world, no one had ever tried to bring soil out. There was simply no need. No matter how powerful their spiritual energy, it couldn't compare to the spiritual veins of Shifang Grotto, and the cultivation world wasn't lacking in fertile, spiritual soil. On the contrary, they would often dig up soil from near the spiritual veins to bring into their dimensions to nurture new plants.

She didn't know if the soil brought out would retain its spiritual richness. But even if it became ordinary soil, as long as it could take root in this interstellar world, her "Grand Planting Project" had a future, and she wouldn't have to explain where her ingredients came from.

Sang Ye sank her consciousness into her pocket dimension. She gave the increasingly plump spiritual pigs a satisfied pat before shooing them away. With a thought, she drove her spiritual power to perform a "one-click harvest," packing up all the matured fruits and vegetables.

She had about three hundred catties of produce—enough to last a while. 

Honey Pumpkins, a new crop bred by her Eldest Sister. They were several times sweeter than normal pumpkins but much smaller. Whether making pumpkin pancakes or roasted milk, not a grain of extra sugar was needed. 

Sweet Potatoes, good for staples like sticky rice cakes or snacks like mochi balls.

Purple Potatoes, massive in size; just one could make many milk-cubes.

Loofah, had to be eaten quickly; it wouldn't keep well.

Bamboo Shoots, meaty Thunder Shoots, refreshing Horseshoe Shoots, and delicate and crisp Dragon-Whiskers—each had a different use. There were also broccoli, green beans, celery, and bell peppers.

The beauty of the pocket dimension was this: ignore the seasons, no weeding or watering required, and no fertilizer needed. Harvesting was effortless. Sang Ye satisfied herself by categorizing them. Her dimension was small, but its yield was the highest in her sect; her sisters used to beg her to grow things for them to take on their travels.

Once I cultivate a pond, I can grow water celery, lotus roots, and water chestnuts! she thought. After harvesting, she scattered rice seeds in a field and called out to the Parasol Tree: "Tongtong, remember to irrigate!"

The Parasol Tree shook a branch vigorously, as if nodding its head.

Sang Ye then dug up three jars of soil from the edge of the fields—about 100 catties each. She carried them with ease; although this body lacked the convenience of cultivation spells, such physical tasks were simple. The soil in the dimension would quickly be replenished by her mental power. If the storage ring was finite, her pocket dimension was a true cornucopia.

She took the three jars to the empty plot behind the building and spread the soil evenly. She turned the dirt several times and waited for a change. As soon as the soil touched the outside world, Sang Ye felt the spiritual energy within it dissipate rapidly. However, once it reached a certain level, the dissipation slowed and eventually stopped.

Sang Ye’s eyes lit up. The planting project was a go!

When Wu Huansheng and her husband, Mu An, returned from their mission, their subordinate Lena told them that Wu Jianing had snuck out to play that afternoon. She had eaten something unknown, and after coming home, she had fallen asleep without drinking a single drop of nutrient solution.

Just now, when Lena tried to perform a mental channeling for the girl, she found Jianing’s mental domain exceptionally clean, as if a massive amount of mental energy had been poured into her. But there were only a handful of Guides in the base capable of providing that much energy at once, and they were mostly out on missions with Sentinels.

"Where is the surveillance?" Wu Huansheng frowned.

"The footage shows her heading toward the West Building, but there are no cameras there," Lena replied.

Wu Huansheng’s brow deepened.

"Jianing’s mental landscape is fine, which proves she wasn't harmed," Mu An comforted her. "This is actually a good thing. Her surgery period is approaching. With more mental input, she’ll suffer less pain during the procedure."

Wu Huansheng’s worried and angry expression softened into a different kind of anxiety.

"I'll go check the West Building another day. Maybe the Empress sent another Guide..." Mu An patted his wife's arm. "The West Building is where Marshal Lin stays. He dislikes being monitored by the Empress, which is why he had all the cameras removed. Although the Marshal enters a violent state every time a Guide is sent, he wouldn't hurt Jianing. Don't worry."

Sang Ye was unaware of the situation with Wu Jianing. She was focused on decorating her room. She disliked the original bed and blankets—they were iron-gray and "prison style"—but she loved the room's massive floor-to-ceiling window. It overlooked the cliff and the deep sea, making it a "sea-view room."

She moved the original furniture to the room opposite. Then, from her storage ring, she pulled out a bed made of Snow-Peak Parasol Wood. She had asked a disciple from the Mohist Sect—masters of craft—to install mechanisms and spells on it; it could fold and auto-transform. The wood resonated with her spiritual essence, helping her cultivate even in her sleep. In this world, the spells were dead, but the mechanical parts still worked. With a few clicks, she unfolded and assembled the bed. Mohist craftsmanship was divine; once closed, it looked like a solid piece of wood with no visible seams—sturdy and firm.

Then she laid down a mattress woven from Nine-Tailed Fox fur and various divine bird feathers. It was soft, fragrant, and saturated with the aura of divine beasts. Because of Shifang Grotto's spiritual veins, divine beasts often visited, and they would exchange their spiritual down and fur for the sect's plants and animals.

She continued in this fashion, filling the room with wonders from the cultivation world: shelves filled with decorations, and two water jars by the window planted with small snow lotuses. She considered hanging curtains but decided against it; no one was going to climb this cliff to look in.

Satisfied, she lay back on her bed and used her terminal to browse information.

As a Guide, even a convicted one, she had the right to access the Imperial Library. She looked at ancient texts, many translated into Interstellar Common. Some were so old they hadn't been preserved well and were merely scanned as digital archives for historical record.

Sang Ye mostly browsed cuisines from other lands. Cultivators lived in their own small worlds, but she discovered that cuisines from other nations had once flourished, only to vanish in the era when humanity discovered mental power and spiritual forms. Looking at these dishes made her eager to try them, though she had never heard of many of the ingredients.

As she looked, she drifted into a deep sleep.