Chapter 17: Half a Year

Only after Daoist Jixin spoke did Qin Sang realize that Old Wu was actually not even forty years old.

Old Wu was a native of Jiao Ming County in the Northern Lands. He originally had two sons and one daughter, and made a living through farming; though poor, they managed to get by.

Last year, a series of disasters struck, and smoke of war rose across the various counties of the Northern Border. Rebel armies acted like bandits, slaughtering the innocent without mercy.

Old Wu's village was pillaged by these rogue soldiers, and his wife and children met tragic deaths. He managed to escape with only his young daughter, but shortly after, she fell gravely ill. With no money for medical treatment, she died on the road.

A happy family of five had, in the blink of an eye, dwindled to just Old Wu. In a daze, he followed his fellow villagers to Three Witch City, earning a meager living as a boatman at the first ferry crossing and spending his nights under the eaves or in the doorways of local houses.

Seeing his plight, the old Daoist took him in to live on the mountain.

Who could have imagined that the situation in the Northern Border would deteriorate to such an extent? One wondered when this vast kingdom would ever see stability again.

Spring passed and autumn came.

Every morning upon waking, Qin Sang could see the courtyard filled with fallen leaves blown by the mountain wind. Unknowingly, a full year had passed since he arrived in this world. Qin Sang wrapped his clothes tightly around him and walked toward the Green Goat Temple, preparing to light a fire to decoct medicine.

After tending the fire, while practicing his fist techniques in the courtyard, he happened to run into Old Wu.

The two nodded to each other. Old Wu, with a hunched back, walked silently toward the exit.

Watching Old Wu's stooped figure disappear outside the Daoist temple, Qin Sang shook his head.

He truly hadn't expected that Old Wu, despite his old and frail appearance, possessed such strength. He had been working as a boatman for over half a year without once mentioning returning to his hometown.

For these past six months, Old Wu had been leaving early and returning late, pulling boats every single day without a single day of rest. Sometimes, when Qin Sang woke up late, he wouldn't see him at all all day.

Seeing Old Wu's manner, Qin Sang felt a sense of shame, which drove him to work even harder and rarely indulge in laziness.

Qin Sang had never seen Old Wu smile once. Furthermore, being mute, Old Wu would only respond to greetings with a raised hand, his face devoid of any expression.

Qin Sang wondered if Old Wu had not yet recovered from the great upheaval—if his heart was dead and he had lost interest in everything, giving him the impression of being a walking corpse.

Despite sharing the same space, Qin Sang did not find much inconvenience and gradually grew accustomed to it.

During these six months, his fist practice, cultivation, and medicinal baths had never ceased. After learning the effects of the medicinal baths, Qin Sang became very proactive, following the old Daoist up the mountain to gather herbs every time. He had traversed all the dozens of mountain peaks within the vicinity of Mount Huanghuang.

The terrain on both sides of the Wuling River was steep and treacherous, teeming with wild beasts; entering the deep mountains to gather herbs inevitably brought danger.

The most perilous instance was encountering a pack of wild wolves.

It happened at night. Qin Sang and the old Daoist were lighting a fire to cook in a cave when, unexpectedly, a pack of over a dozen wolves was lured by the light. By the time Qin Sang heard the howling and extinguished the bonfire, it was too late. He held only an iron rod he had bartered from a stonemason.

The wolves surrounded the cave entrance. The beast-repelling powder made by the old Daoist from predator dung was utterly unable to scare them off; to survive, they had to fight for their lives.

Holding the iron rod, Qin Sang stood alone at the cave entrance, a single man guarding the pass. Using his staff as an extension of his fist, he unleashed the "Tiger-Subduing Long Fist."

He had expected a bitter struggle, but unexpectedly, Qin Sang fought with great ease. Because the cave entrance was narrow, no more than three wolves could squeeze in at a time, and Qin Sang was able to handle three vicious wolves at once with effortless grace.

Relying on a single iron rod, Qin Sang struck the alpha wolf so hard its brain burst, then moved like lightning to kill several more in succession. The remaining wolves fled with their tails between their legs.

Afterward, without Qin Sang even having to ask, the old Daoist made sure to drag him along every time they went to gather herbs.

Following this real combat experience, Qin Sang realized that his strength was truly no longer weak.

Later, to verify this feeling, he sought a sparring match with a disciple of Yang Zhen at the Wuwei Escort Agency's manor. Although he feigned defeat every time, Qin Sang knew he had actually only used five parts of his strength.

Their fist techniques were far superior to the "Tiger-Subduing Long Fist." Their moves seemed to possess extraordinary power, but in Qin Sang's eyes, they appeared very slow. If he wished, he could easily find their flaws and counter them.

With this martial prowess, Qin Sang's thoughts inevitably became more active.

Currently, the rebellion in the Northern Border could not be quelled. People in various counties were raising flags to revolt in waves, yet the local kings responded passively, leaving the imperial troops exhausted and frustrated.

Midway through the year, the Holy Emperor issued an edict, calling upon the righteous men and scholars of the world to join the army in the North to suppress the chaos. He promised that if one achieved unprecedented merit, being enfeoffed as a king or marquess would be within reach.

When the edict arrived, it caused a stir in Three Witch City. Many ambitious men headed north to serve the throne; even three of Yang Zhen's disciples traveled together, hoping to establish themselves through merit.

Qin Sang felt some temptation, but it was not wealth and glory he valued.

The words spoken by Daoist Jixin remained etched in his heart. Even the Immortals could not cast aside the seven emotions and six desires, and they too enjoyed splendor. By approaching the nobility and aristocracy, perhaps he could come into contact with the Immortals.

However, having never experienced war, Qin Sang felt a certain trepidation. The battlefield was merciless; if he were accidentally killed by a stray arrow, wouldn't that be a great loss?

Moreover, there were many talented individuals in this world. Just how strong was his martial arts, and how did it compare to martial arts masters who possessed internal energy? Could he truly stand out?

Because of this, Qin Sang found it difficult to decide. Ultimately, he decided to stay at the Daoist temple to patiently cultivate the "Nether Scripture," planning to make a move only after breaking through to the first layer.

Day after day, Qin Sang practiced. The wisp of Qi in his body, which had once been the size of a hair, had now gathered into a small stream flowing through his meridians, finally nearing a breakthrough.

Today's batch of medicinal bath was a fresh one. As Qin Sang approached his breakthrough, his demand for medicinal potency increased; the previous batch had only lasted five days.

At night, after patiently completing his evening lessons, Qin Sang waited until the dead of night. After sealing the doors and windows tightly, he sat cross-legged on his bed. He recited the "Scripture of Tranquility" over a dozen times to calm his mind before entering a state of deep meditation to drive his cultivation technique.

In the blink of an eye, five cycles had passed. As the Qi circulated through his meridians, Qin Sang felt intuitively that after the next cycle, he would break through!

The "Nether Scripture" did not state whether there were other bottlenecks between the two realms. Anxiously, Qin Sang drove his technique. After one cycle, the Qi returned to his dantian.

Suddenly, Qin Sang let out a muffled groan. The Qi in his dantian began to boil. A violent, swelling pain started from the dantian and rapidly spread through his entire meridian system, followed immediately by a tearing sensation.

Fortunately, as fiercely as the pain arrived, it departed just as quickly. Following the intense pain came a sense of profound relief and comfort!

A look of intense joy appeared on Qin Sang's face. Suddenly remembering the "inner vision" mentioned in the "Nether Scripture," he subconsciously "looked" toward his dantian. With a sudden *boom*, his vision cleared, and he finally truly "saw" that wisp of Qi.

A blue stream of Qi coiled within his dantian, magnificent and mesmerizing.

With a thought from Qin Sang, the Qi moved according to his will, entering his meridians like a rushing river. It circulated through his meridians at a speed several times faster than before. Soon, one cycle was completed, and the improvement was even more significant than during the first layer.

He continued to cultivate without pause until the tenth cycle. The pain he remembered did not appear. Greatly surprised and delighted, Qin Sang temporarily ceased his practice.