Chapter 120: Special Materials

**Chapter 120: Special Materials**

Jie Ming wasn’t merely wandering; he was “gathering qi.”

In the cultivation system, there was a unique method to collect “mortal aura.”

Of course, this was a cultivator’s term. In Jie Ming’s understanding, it was a technique to condense specific concepts.

This aura stemmed from the joys, sorrows, births, deaths, and myriad emotions of the mortal world, embodying the essence of human existence.

Though it couldn’t directly enhance cultivation or transform matter like spiritual energy, it was an exceptionally versatile “universal material.”

Normally, it could be used to temper a cultivator’s mental state, making it resilient and capable of dispelling inner demons. It could also enhance the spirituality of magical artifacts or serve as an essential component for most illusion arrays.

In certain special cases, through unique techniques, its properties could be reversed to forge a golden body, repair souls, or craft treasures and elixirs.

At Noren Academy, Jie Ming could barely collect any useful mortal aura.

After all, the wizards there were research fanatics, immersed in experiments and meditation, with monotonous lives and faint emotional fluctuations.

Even across the entire Noren Plane 13, there was no suitable place to gather mortal aura. All Noren planes had been transformed by wizards into highly ordered “petri dishes,” stripped of the raw, chaotic “character” of the mortal world.

But in Golden Harbor, Jie Ming was like a mouse in a granary.

Walking through the bustling streets, he felt the joys, sorrows, loves, and hatreds of passersby brushing past him.

These rich, chaotic concepts silently flowed into his body, absorbed by a special seal in his dantian, gradually refined into vibrant strands of mortal aura.

He didn’t even need to speak to people—just sensing the pulse of their lives allowed him to draw in vast amounts of mortal energy.

Yet, Jie Ming’s focus often wasn’t on the refined mortal aura but on the special seal in his dantian that produced it.

“Truly remarkable. A relatively simple seal, yet it autonomously gathers and creates concepts out of nothing…” Jie Ming “observed” a newly refined strand of mortal aura in his dantian, stroking his chin with curiosity.

Despite years of research, Jie Ming knew that techniques for extracting concepts from nothing were beyond his current reach, yet he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

“Impossible to comprehend. It even functions consistently across different planes or worlds, suggesting it contains a rule-binding essence akin to a sixth-tier wizard’s power… an exaggerated level of technical sophistication.”

His steps subtly shifted, his movement trajectory adjusting to deftly avoid two arms reaching for his money pouch.

Glancing at the two scrawny, terrified children, Jie Ming paused briefly, then tossed them two copper coins before turning to continue his thoughts.

“It seems the technical complexity of these special techniques in the cultivation world far exceeds that of most offensive spells.”

“Since most cultivation spells require harnessing heaven-and-earth spiritual energy, which doesn’t work well in the wizarding world, I’ve focused on these special techniques. Going forward, I can concentrate even more on them,” Jie Ming mused.

After all, his current combat and survival abilities were sufficient.

If he encountered an unbeatable foe, relying on cultivator spells that couldn’t harness spiritual energy for escape was futile. Better to focus on these special techniques.

Looking up at the sky, Jie Ming turned and leisurely headed toward the Adventurer’s Guild.

Besides gathering mortal aura, he planned to post a task at the “Drunken Dolphin” tavern—collecting Hundred Flowers Dew.

This was simple to gather: dew condensed on flower petals in the morning, with the only requirement being as many flower types as possible.

This dew, infused with the essence of various flowers, could be refined through a specific technique into “Hundred Flowers Dew,” carrying related concepts.

It was useful for aiding alchemy and nurturing the soul, making it a valuable material.

Noren Academy grew plenty of magical herbs, so collecting some for experiments wasn’t an issue, but their “prices” were exorbitant. Large-scale collection would make him a fool.

Collecting it himself was too tedious, but now, with a stable base in Golden Harbor, he could finally gather it on a large scale.

Jie Ming’s task offered a lavish reward: one gold coin for every small cup (about 200 milliliters) of Hundred Flowers Dew.

This was an astronomical sum for the typically impoverished adventurer community, shocking even the usually stoic beastman bartender.

“Jack, are you mad? One gold coin for a cup of dew?!” The beastman bartender’s short, thick eyebrows twisted, his eyes gleaming with incredulous greed. “Are you planning to pluck every flower in Golden Harbor bald?!”

Jie Ming calmly tossed a gold coin as a deposit, which spun on the wooden table with a crisp ring.

“Just post the task. Don’t worry about the rest,” he said coolly, his tone carrying an undeniable authority.

The beastman bartender quickly curbed his expression, rubbing his hands as he pocketed the coin and scurried off to post the task.

Once the news spread, Golden Harbor’s adventurers erupted in excitement.

Days later, it was time for Jie Ming’s first inspection of the Hundred Flowers Dew.

A long line formed outside the tavern, with adventurers, commoners, and even suburban farmers clutching bottles and jars of what they claimed was “Hundred Flowers Dew.”

Jie Ming sat by a second-floor window, while the beastman bartender called out numbers.

The first to approach was a wiry thief, grinning obsequiously as he handed over a sealed bottle.

Jie Ming took it, his expression calm.

A necklace appeared in his hand, its gem emitting a faint glow, like a precise magical detection tool.

In truth, this was a cover; the real work was done by the technique he employed.

With a gentle shake, the liquid in the bottle turned murky, emitting a faint earthy smell.

“This came from a mud pit, didn’t it?” Jie Ming’s voice was flat.

The thief’s smile froze, his eyes darting as he opened his mouth to argue, but Jie Ming casually tossed the bottle back.

“Next.”

The next few were similar—diluted, mixed with plain water, or even just river water passed off as dew.

Jie Ming’s “magical tool” revealed the truth with a single shake.

“Hmph! What’s with the act?!” A few burly, farmer-like men grew hostile.

Having painstakingly collected a large jar of “dew” only to be exposed by this young man, they were naturally indignant.

One muscular, rough-faced farmer stepped forward, growling, “Kid, don’t think you can dodge payment by playing tricks! We worked hard—”

Mid-sentence, his large hand reached for Jie Ming’s collar, intending to intimidate.

Jie Ming glanced at him expressionlessly, unmoving. As the man’s hand neared, Jie Ming’s foot shot out like lightning, striking the farmer’s shin with precision.

*Crack!*

A bone-chilling snap echoed, and the farmer’s massive body froze before he collapsed, clutching his leg and howling in agony, his face drenched in cold sweat.

The other farmers paled, their bravado vanishing as they shrank back, not daring to make a sound.

The tavern fell silent, everyone witnessing Jie Ming’s ruthless strike.

Only a few adventurers familiar with “Jack’s” ferocity remained unfazed, even feeling a smug sense of superiority.

Jie Ming had expected no useful materials today, but the next inspections brought an unexpected surprise.

“My lord, this is Hundred Flowers Dew from my family’s garden.”

A servant in worn but clean clothes respectfully offered a small wooden bottle filled with crystal-clear dew.

Compared to the large jars others brought, this bottle’s contents were modest.

Jie Ming took it, and with a flash of his necklace, his eyes lit up.

The dew was of exceptional quality, containing the essence of multiple flowers, proving its purity.

“Three gold coins,” Jie Ming said calmly, handing over the payment.

The servant’s face lit up with joy, thanking him repeatedly.

More servants, similarly dressed, followed. Their Hundred Flowers Dew, though varying in quantity, all met Jie Ming’s standards.

Jie Ming’s eyes narrowed. He understood—these were likely servants of minor nobles, once wealthy but now struggling due to war, taking on high-reward tasks to maintain their masters’ dignity.

With their own gardens, they could collect dew easily, and their noble “pride” made them more honest than the greedy farmers.

Finally, a ragged, seven- or eight-year-old orphan timidly pushed to the front, clutching a muddy, chipped clay bottle.

Inside was a thin layer of exceptionally clear Hundred Flowers Dew.

The orphan’s eyes were nervous, as if fearing Jie Ming would discard his offering like the others’.

Jie Ming took the bottle, and under the necklace’s glow, the dew shone with pure radiance.

He gave the orphan a silver coin and a few extra copper coins. “Well done.”

The orphan stared at the silver coin, tears welling up before he clutched the money and ran off as if startled awake.

Watching this, Jie Ming sighed inwardly.

In the education he’d received, “simplicity” and “farmers” were nearly synonymous.

He’d thought the poor would surprise him, driven by their need for money.

Yet, they were the most cunning, trying every trick to pass off fakes.

Ironically, those with some dignity proved purer.

“Morality has nothing to do with status or occupation—only with the person,” he mused.

This realization made his soul feel clearer, another form of tempering through the ways of the world.