By early afternoon, the southern granaries of the Myriad Spirit Safe hall were groaning under the weight of golden abundance.
Six massive cedar barns, freshly built by Tie Shan and the badger masons along the eastern cliff base, stood with their double-timbered doors thrown wide. Inside, mountain upon mountain of golden pulley wheels had been threshed, winnowed, and funneled into cedar bins. Xiao Long’s gentle morning breezes had swept through the threshing grounds with clean, steady care. He carried away every speck of dry husk and straw without losing a single precious grain.
The final tally recorded on Su Ling’er’s cedar scroll was staggering: sixty-two thousand jin of Grade-1 Jade-Grain Spirit Rice.
Now, as the afternoon sun warmed the cobblestones of the central plaza beneath the Primordial Spirit Willow, the hard labor was done. The time had come for the kitchen hearths to take center stage.
In the center of the communal pavilion, Tie Shan had built a massive outdoor cooking hearth of fire-cured granite blocks. Resting securely atop the stonework was the prize of his morning’s smithing: the Grand Scarlet Star-Iron Wok. Four feet across, its hammered ruby-metal facets gleamed like polished garnet in the sunlight, fully spotless and seasoned with rendered lard until it held the non-stick gloss of dark jade.
Resting on wooden tables beside the hearth were four huge circular steamer baskets, each four feet in width, carefully woven by the rabbit clan from strips of green iron-bamboo.
Lin Xiao hopped onto the prep counter beside Su Ling’er, his azure body bouncing with genuine excitement.
“Is the water hot, Tie Shan?” Lin Xiao asked, peering into the cavernous depths of the star-iron wok.
“Warming up right now, Lord Xiao!” Tie Shan boomed, tossing two split logs of dried mountain cedar into the lower draft. “Two hundred gallons of grotto spring water poured in ten minutes ago!”
Lin Xiao hopped onto the hearth rim. “Let’s bring it to a rolling boil. Good steamed rice needs violent, steady steam from the very first second.”
Lin Xiao extended a fluid slime arm toward the lower firebox, channeling his [Crimson Flame Manipulation].
FWOOOOOOOM!
A packed vortex of ruby dragon-fire ignited beneath the wok. Within three seconds, the extraordinary heat flow rate of the Grade-4 star-iron proved its worth. Heat flashed through the hammered metal with ninety-nine percent smooth speed, warming every square inch of the basin at the same time. The two hundred gallons of cold spring water didn’t slowly simmer. They erupted into a violent, churning boil, sending thick, white plumes of pure, stone-scented steam rushing skyward like an erupting geyser!
“Line the baskets!” Lin Xiao called out.
Su Ling’er stepped forward, her three snowy tails swaying gracefully as she directed five fox maidens. In their arms were heaps of fresh, emerald-green lotus leaves gathered at dawn from the calm waters of the grotto pool. They lined the slatted bamboo bottoms of each four-foot steamer basket with overlapping lotus leaves, puncturing small steam-vents with bone needles so the moisture could rise unimpeded.
Then came the rice.
Carried in woven willow hampers by four burly bear youths were three hundred jin of raw Jade-Grain Spirit Rice.
Lin Xiao extended a slime arm, scooping up a handful of the raw grain to inspect it in the sunlight.
The kernels were remarkable. Unlike ordinary mortal white rice, these grains were long, slender, and semi-clear, possessing a delicate, pale-green soft glow reminiscent of polished mutton-fat jade. Each grain held a tiny, crystal-clear vein running along its spine. The packed leyline marrow infused by the valley’s soil. Raw, they carried the crisp, grassy fragrance of bamboo shoots and sweet mountain spring dew.
The raw jade rice was washed three times in cedar tubs, gently strained. Then poured into the lotus-lined steamer baskets in three-inch layers.
Before the lids were placed, Lin Xiao produced a lacquered wooden jar from his void frozen stillness pocket.
“A little festival touch,” Lin Xiao said with a wink.
With a series of fluid flicks, he scattered handfuls of dried golden osmanthus blossoms and a light dusting of coarse rock salt across the surface of the rice. The tiny yellow petals settled like golden snowflakes among the jade grains, promising a delicate floral balance to the rich, starchy sweetness.
THWUMP. THWUMP. THWUMP. THWUMP.
The four-foot bamboo tiers were stacked securely atop the boiling star-iron wok, capped by a heavy cone-shaped cedar lid weighted down by smooth river stones.
Inside the stack, the culinary magic began.
The white-hot steam, driven by Lin Xiao’s pinpoint dragon-fire, tore through the slatted bamboo and pierced the lotus leaves. The organic essential oils of the fresh lotus leaves boiled away. It wrapped around the swelling jade kernels in an invisible mantle of herbal freshness. At the same time, the heat softened the dense starch lattice, causing the grains to drink in the stone moisture without bursting their delicate cell walls.
For twenty minutes, the central plaza was silent except for the rhythmic, bubbling roar of the boiling water.
Then, the steam escaped the cedar seams.
The aroma that billowed across the plaza was nothing short of intoxicating.
It wasn’t the heavy, oily smell of mortal tavern kitchens. It was the purest, most comforting scent imaginable. The rich, toasty warmth of freshly cooked sweet grain. He mixed with the clean, tea-like herbal perfume of steamed lotus leaves and the ghostly, nectar-sweet fragrance of wild osmanthus blossoms. The scent rolled through the courtyards, down the stone pathways. Then it drifted through the open windows of every cottage in the valley.
In the tool sheds, bear smiths dropped their files to inhale deeply. Along the residential lanes, children stopped playing shuttlecock. Their eyes turned toward the willow plaza with wide, hungry wonder. Even Xiao Hei, lounging comfortably on the cool grass, lifted his massive head. His tail giving three was heavy, rhythmic thumps against the turf.
“Lord Xiao,” Su Ling’er whispered. Her cheeks were flushed with delight as she breathed in the floral steam. “I have attended royal banquets in the country capitals before my clan fled south. Never in my life have I smelled rice so pure.”
“The secret is the lotus leaf barrier and the steady heat of the star-iron,” Lin Xiao explained happily, checking the internal timer with Dao Spirit. “Ordinary iron develops hot spots that scorch the bottom layer while leaving the top undercooked. Star-iron heats like an invisible radiant cloud. And... Time is up!”
Lin Xiao throttled his dragon-fire down to a gentle holding ember.
“Tie Shan, lift the lid!”
Tie Shan stepped up to the steaming tower. His golden titan hands gripped the hemp handles of the heavy cedar lid. With a mighty heave, he hoisted the lid away.
WHOOOOOOSH!
A huge cloud of shimmering white steam erupted into the sky, perfuming the afternoon air for three miles around.
As the cloud cleared, the five hundred beastfolk gathered in the plaza gasped all at once.
Resting inside the bamboo basket, the Jade-Grain Spirit Rice had transformed into a masterpiece. The slender grains had swelled to twice their original size, glistening with a natural, glossy lacquer that caught the sunlight like heaps of polished emerald pearls. They were plump, perfectly separated, and fully intact—not a single kernel was mushy or broken. Scattered across the steaming green-tinted surface, the golden osmanthus blossoms glowed like tiny stars, their fragrant oils coating every single grain.
Lin Xiao dipped a carved wooden paddle into the top basket, scooping a steaming mound of rice into a small celadon bowl.
He didn’t add sauces. He didn’t add meat. He simply held the bowl close, took a deep breath of the osmanthus-scented steam. Then he slurped a mouthful into his azure body.
GLOP.
The texture was extraordinary. The grains possessed a firm, springy outside that offered a delightful al dente chew, yielding into a tender, velvety center that released waves of sweet, nutty grain essence. The subtle floral perfume of osmanthus cut through the rich starchiness. Meanwhile, the lingering, tea-like earthiness of the lotus leaf grounded the flavor with clean mountain purity.
As the rice settled into his core, a soothing warmth washed through his fluid lattice. It wasn’t violent spiritual energy. It was the wholesome, calm nourishment of pure earth and water qi, harmonizing his internal balance and leaving behind a sweet, refreshing aftertaste that made his entire spirit feel cleansed.
A celebratory chime chimed in his mind:
Lin Xiao wobbled with sheer culinary triumph.
“Flawless,” Lin Xiao announced, his voice ringing across the cheering crowd. “Tie Shan, Ling’er, dish it out! Bring out the large wooden bowls! Every table gets a steaming platter, topped with a ladle of rendered lard and wild chili oil if they want it!”
The plaza erupted into thrilled cheers as the fox maidens and bear apprentices began dishing the steaming jade pearls into hundreds of polished wooden bowls.
Down along the eighty banquet tables, families from every corner of the forest sat shoulder to shoulder. Elderly badger masons scooped up steaming mounds of jade rice with wooden chopsticks, marveling as the single grains glistened without sticking or clumping. Young deer beastfolk sprinkled bowls with roasted sesame seeds and crispy dried shallots. Meanwhile, Tie Shan passed around clay pot cruets filled with wild chili oil and melted scallion lard. One spoonful of the fragrant chili oil drizzled over the hot osmanthus rice created a contrast of spicy, nutty warmth and delicate floral sweetness that brought tears of genuine thanks to the eyes of the older refugees.
Lin Xiao watched the joyful scene from his cedar perch, his heart filled with deep, quiet satisfaction. In the traditional training world, grandmasters obsessed over longevity pills, bloodline sacrifices, and immortal jade scriptures. Yet looking at these five hundred living beings laughing, passing bowls, and sharing the honest fruits of their summer labor, Lin Xiao knew that the true foundation of great realm was not divine swords or golden palaces. It was a full bowl of warm rice shared in peace.
The harvest feast was underway. The sweetest, most intoxicating part of the equinox was waiting in the cool cellars below.