Chapter 8: CH9: Nag To Spirit Beast

Silas worked with his face covered to get the product of the hollow’s attack to the designated isolation center. In other words, he poured the shit buckets from the cleansing potion into a wooden box inscribed in seals created to keep the worms inside and isolated from the hollow’s direct control.

 

To his surprise, the worms weren’t tapeworms or conventional parasites but mutated earthworms of all things, which made making a worm farm easier. He extracted some with seal-covered wooden tongs and chopped the 8ft long worm into manageable pieces before tossing them to the chickens.

 

He never saw hens so excited to eat a bug he tossed to them. After they consumed the worm, he shut the door to the coop and left them locked up for observation. If they appeared normal, he planned to reintroduce them to the chicken population in a month.

 

Silas added some normal earthworms to the worm bed, hoping that mating with the common worm would produce hybrids with less malignant spiritual energy. This situation was new to him, and he didn’t know what to do most of the time. At best, he made some adjustments, sealed things so nothing catastrophic could happen, and waited.

 

It had been 4 days since the incident with the worms, and the men were a bit friendlier to him. “Hark thee, boss, must we drink more medicine? I don’t think there is much left in me.” Franklin Abam said with good, if accented English. But, unfortunately, he spoke with the same Dutch accent the dutchman couldn’t escape.

 

He was glad the man dared to speak to him. The men were his responsibility. Before they had just arrived, he wanted to hold them at a distance, but his feelings had changed after the attack and their reliance on him.

 

They had endured his fists but hadn’t fled from him when they regained their senses. Silas could respect that, and with his newfound respect, perhaps he could open his door to a bit of cultivation. While they wouldn’t be baptized in the cultivation culture, they could become pillars of a new cultivation community.

 

“The lot of thee art cured as of yesterday. Did Cletus fail to tell thou?” Silas asked as he pulled out his pipe and poured some tobacco into it before lighting it with a match. “After suffering that contagion under my care, I’ve decided to free thee. Cletus should have told thou, so why remain?”

 

He listened to the chickens clucking away while they relaxed in their nests with crops full of worms. The freedman beside him pulled at the brim of his hat and moved about, crunching his boots in the ice. A soft glow covered the ground from the rising sun. Silas scanned his holdings, pulled out a bottle of spirit water, and swallowed a mouthful.

 

Every little drink brought him closer to the first rank. Most of his cultivation was devoted to filling every capillary with cultivated spirit energy. Distilled cow urine worked well enough to start automating the process soon. His cow friends had more than enough intelligence to pee where he told them to, and building a trough for them wouldn’t be difficult. A few seals and a container like a water tower to hold the distilled spirit water wouldn’t be hard to make. It would take him a few months if his men didn’t leave. If they stayed, he could work for years to automate the process. Even if he was going into the off-season, there were tasks he needed to complete to get a handle on the next season.

 

As for the hollow, it wouldn’t be a problem. Silas had made a new set of sealed lead balls for his musket, and they glowed with greater power. After gaining spirit water, his rate of cultivation increased dramatically, taking him from over 60% to 80%, where his rate of increase slowed. While the spirit water would get him over the line, it would take time.

 

When Franklin spoke, it was more than Silas had hoped. “I want to stay here, work as a freeman for a fair wage, and learn from thou,” Franklin said.

 

That was something he thought might happen but didn’t count on it. Slavery wasn’t something he was interested in, unlike many of the young masters from the other world. Mechanized equipment had long since outstripped the use of slave labor to the point that only the exceedingly wealthy practiced it. Slaves were a luxury item in his last world that was more for showing off than practical use. Having cultivators pulling a palanquin instead of automatons or puppets was considered the height of luxury.

 

Silas’s problem with slavery was more moral than economic, much to his shame. He didn’t like owning people and kept his distance from them before out of embarrassment. If he could have minimal interactions with Cletus, he would be happy. Unfortunately, the entire situation had been a troubling necessity.

 

It was ironic that the status quo had barely changed after saving them from the hollow’s parasites. Silas would pay them a fair wage, and they would most likely work harder. He could pay them for how many wagon loads they harvested, allowing them to work hard and have plenty of free time to cultivate.

 

“Methinks we can agree, though I must warn thee of the dangers of what I teach. The beasts that prowl beyond mortal sight will become visible to thee, and they will seek thou out. Nevertheless, thou will learn quickly, work hard, and be paid with the resources to advance in mystical power. Can thou read and write?” Silas asked.

 

Franklin shook his head. “No, it was forbidden.”

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“It is no longer. Methinks thou will learn quickly, given the chance. I will need to hire a schoolmaster to teach thee. Tell Cletus and the others of our new deal. The wagon is full, and I must go to town soon.”  Silas said and took out his flask to show to Franklin. “Methinks, thou wants to know what resides in this flask.”

 

The big man who swung an ax at Silas took a step back. “No, master, I don’t question you.”

 

“Tis water,” Silas said.

 

The man looked far less worried at the statement. “I am befuddled,” Franklin said.

 

“From sacred mushrooms fed to cows, their urine is collected, and distilled spirit water is made. Tis a safe source of mystical power, once drank, can fuel the cultivation of spiritual power. I will teach thou, along with thy letters, how to cultivate the mystic power in the water into thy blood. Be not afraid, for a door to freedom and power has opened before thou. Thou may open it and walk through and accept it as payment or 15 shillings a month.” Silas said.

 

Franklin’s eyes bugged out for a second before they narrowed. “15 shillings is a lot of money,” Franklin said.

 

“A wagon load of the harvest will earn 10 crowns in the current market. Without the famine, it would be 1 crown, so I can afford to pay thee.” Silas said.

 

“What about Cletus?” Franklin asked.

 

“He will be paid 20 shillings or receive my teachings. Any business venture any of thee come up with will remain thy own. The price of my teachings is thy wage.” Silas said.

 

“I will take this back to the others, and we will present our decision,” Franklin said.

 

 Silas patted the man’s back. “Good man, think carefully before deciding; what I teach thou can learn nowhere else,” Silas said.

 

The man joined the others, and Silas felt his doubts about teaching them. Former slaves suddenly gaining power could hold a lot of resentment. Silas was taking a gamble offering his teachings even if he had already told them they would be free after the harvest. They were men stripped of their humanity and sold to other humans. He couldn’t imagine going through that or how they really felt about him. While he held power, they acted subservient, but betrayals were frequent in the steady climb of cultivation. Still, without some competition, his edge would dull, and then all it would take was a mistake for a hollow to get lucky.

 

Silas checked on Dotty, and the old nag looked healthier than he had ever seen her. She nipped at his chest, smacking her lips but never biting him. The affectionate mare tried to pull him closer while he poured grain into her trough. While before, he would have been stingy with his spirit water, he decided to pour his flask into her water.

 

Dotty ignored the grain and immediately went after the water drinking deeply. It was a test that told him what he wanted to know. Dotty was adapting to the spirit energy and had begun the steady transformation from an old nag into a spirit beast. So she naturally went after sources of higher spiritual energy.

 

Spirit beasts were erratic dangerous animals that often killed their owners. Cultivators trained for decades to control them, but few managed. Silas specialized in alchemy and seals. Soon enough, his farm would be full of spirit beasts, adding another layer of danger. So he needed to find a way to hasten his cultivation if he wanted to survive.

 

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