Senior sister, stop working and go home for dinner.

Chapter 389 Foundation Building

As dusk streamed down through the gaps in the mountains, Fatty Li finally had a moment to spare.

He put the last stack of bowls and chopsticks from the kitchen into a bamboo basket, took off the apron from his waist that was shiny from being soaked in oil, and draped it over the crossbar next to the stove. The steam in the steamer had dissipated, but the residual heat from the stove still warmed his palms, like some kind of lingering thought that refused to be extinguished.

He walked out of the Immortal Cuisine Shop and sat down on the stone steps at the entrance.

Autumn is deep—or rather, this era should be called "late autumn." The ginkgo trees in the resort were transplanted, and their leaves haven't yet adapted to the climate of three thousand years ago, turning yellow reluctantly, with only a few sparse clusters hanging there. But the colors of the distant mountains and forests have become intense, with layers of ochre, brownish-yellow, and dark green, as if someone had overturned a vat of dye.

Fatty Li took out a cigarette, then remembered that it was Senior Jiang Yan's stash, which he had been using to keep it up, and now it was almost empty. He didn't light it, just held it in his mouth, watching the figures coming and going in the twilight.

The apprentices at the Feng family's medicinal garden finished their work. Several young men, carrying hoes and their clothes covered in mud, walked and argued about which medicinal herbs should be harvested before the first frost. Xiao Cui followed behind them, carrying a small, rough pottery pot in her hands. In the pot was a seedling of a spiritual herb that she said was "given to her by Master Feng." She would look down every few steps to check on it, afraid of swaying it.

As for Baicao Pavilion, there was still no sign of them. It was estimated that the Feng brothers, Feng Changyuan and Feng Lie, were still taking care of the unconscious Mo Han.

People were also gradually emerging from the Jiang family workshop. Zhang Laoshi and his apprentices were now learning mechanical repair from Jiang Yun and Asheng, spending their days fiddling with those intricate gears and springs. Their hands had developed a few fine cuts, but they looked more energetic and walked with a brisk pace.

Further away, Qi Lan was perched on the roof of the Meow Immortal Abode, staring intently at something. The lights were still on in Lingdang's "Cloud Hidden Spirit Abode," and through the half-open door, one could see her squatting beside a wicker basket, adding food to the bowl of the little beast named Gray Ball. Gray Ball had gained weight in the past two months, its fur becoming smoother, and it was currently engrossed in eating, its tail curling contentedly.

Fatty Li suddenly remembered before he transmigrated, when the Immortal Cuisine Restaurant first started recruiting people.

I especially thought of Xiao Zhou.

She was in her early twenties. Fatty Li had poached her from a big restaurant in Guangzhou for a hefty sum. She was quick-witted and good-looking. Fatty Li had long had his eye on her, thinking about how to develop a relationship with her. So, he had planned to bring her along, and asked her if she wanted to go on a business trip with the immortal masters on the mountain, which might take a very long time…

Xiao Zhou looked surprised at the time, and then she said that she couldn't let go of her parents and declined Li Pangzi's invitation.

On the day he left, Xiao Zhou helped prepare the ingredients for the last meal, took off his apron, folded it neatly, and placed it on the cutting board.

"Brother Li," she said, "will Xian Shan Fang still be open when you come back?"

Fatty Li's throat was sore, he could only manage a soft "hmm".

"Then I'll come again," Xiao Zhou said with a smile.

She finished speaking and left, her figure quickly disappearing around the corner of the resort's main street.

Later, when the Feng and Jiang families were selecting their entourage, some people mentioned Xiao Zhou. But some said she wasn't suitable for cultivation, her physical abilities were average, and the risks of time travel were too great. Fatty Li opened his mouth, but ultimately said nothing.

As he pondered, Fatty Li thought of Bin Dasheng again.

Fatty Li opened his eyes, his gaze passing over the layers of rooftops and landing on the few unprocessed stones at the entrance of the resort.

The stones were transported from "Yunyin Stone Art". In fact, Fatty Li had some guesses about the origin of these spirit-gathering stones, but he didn't say anything.

However, Lao Bin was also recommended to Chen Anran by him, so they already had some acquaintance. In addition, they had become even more familiar with each other over the years.

Fatty Li called Bin Dasheng and extended an invitation to him, but Bin Dasheng declined.

Fatty Li thought of the chefs and waiters from the Immortal Cuisine Restaurant again... Recalling the familiar faces from before his transmigration, his eyes couldn't help but sting.

Many people were left behind three thousand years later.

That era when spiritual energy was scarce, but at least people didn't have to live hand to mouth.

Fatty Li finally lit the cigarette.

The smoke dissipated into the deepening twilight, quickly disappearing without a trace. He took a deep breath; the nicotine pierced his lungs, bringing a sluggish clarity.

Three thousand years.

How long will it take them to gain a foothold in this era? What level of cultivation will they need to reach to cross that chasm of time and space once again?

When he goes back, will Xiao Zhou still remember him? Probably not, right?

Three thousand years of change, can it withstand such a long wait?

Or perhaps—

Fatty Li stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the stone steps very gently.

Or perhaps, as they gradually become familiar with the winds and moon of this era during their long cultivation, they become familiar with the awe-inspiring yet expectant gazes of mortals, and with how spiritual energy surges through their meridians...

Will the world three thousand years from now still be the "home" we want to return to?

He remembered how neatly Xiao Zhou had folded the apron before he left.

"Will Xian Shan Fang still be open when you come back?"

He only hummed in response to the question, not daring to think about it further.

I still don't dare.

Dusk had fallen.

Suddenly, very light footsteps came from the mountain path at the end of the stone steps.

Fatty Li looked up.

The figure descended the stone steps slowly, still dressed in the same dark cloth robe, his short hair gently swaying in the night breeze. His aura was restrained, unlike the composed and reserved demeanor he displayed during his seclusion two months ago; now, his steps carried an indescribable air of ease.

Like a sword finally sheathed.

Fatty Li's eyes suddenly lit up.

He jumped up abruptly, not even bothering to brush off the ash from his cigarette, and rushed to meet him, finally able to exhale the breath that had been stuck in his throat for two months—

"Master! You've finally emerged from seclusion!"

Chen Anran stopped and looked at Fatty Li's face, which was flushed with excitement.

The fat man had lost some weight in the two months since I last saw him.

"Mm," Chen Anran replied. "Thank you for your hard work."

Fatty Li was stunned for a moment, then his eyes suddenly welled up with tears.

He paused, then couldn't help but look up and scrutinize Chen Anran closely.

Master was still the same master. His hair was a bit longer, and his face didn't show much expression. But Fatty Li felt something was different. It wasn't his aura; he couldn't sense that either.

Is it... is it the posture? The look in the eyes? Or that inexplicable sense of reassurance and certainty?

"Master, you've... broken through?" Fatty Li asked cautiously.

Chen Anran nodded.

"Foundation Building?"

"Foundation Building".

Two words, a simple and understated description.

Fatty Li stood frozen in place, as if struck by lightning.

Foundation building.

He had been following Chen Anran in his cultivation for the past two years, and although he had only practiced sporadically, he still knew what this hurdle meant.

In the Dharma-ending Age, the spiritual energy of heaven and earth is severed, and countless exceptionally talented individuals are trapped outside the threshold of Qi Refining Perfection throughout their lives, unable to make any progress until their death.

As for Master, it has only been two months since he transmigrated to this day.