In the alleyway, the sounds of shouting and the footsteps of slave laborers seemed to merge into a single force, yet at that moment, the crisp sound of a bell shattered this once-solid "momentum," prompting everyone to turn their heads subconsciously to look.
The taskmaster’s whip halted in mid-air, and the movement of the slave laborers paused ever so slightly.
Within Qibin Hel’s body, his inner strength also faltered, no longer flowing at its original pace.
This anomaly lasted but a moment before the slaves continued to carry their burdens onward. The long whip struck Qibin Hel’s back, yet with less force than before—three to five parts weaker—but the taskmaster himself did not notice. The inner strength that was meant to retaliate automatically was disrupted by this interference and, instead of fighting back, was scattered, lingering around his back.
Therefore, although another lash marked his skin, the protection of his inner strength meant it was merely a superficial wound, without serious harm.
The donkey ambled past, carrying a young Taoist sprawled out atop it, a sugarcane stick dangling from his mouth, his eyes half-closed as if dozing, showing no interest in the slaves or the foreign taskmaster barking orders and brandishing a whip on the other side, simply letting the donkey lead the way. His leg hung off one side, swinging back and forth lifelessly.
He was inherently a laid-back character.
Additionally, coming from a Taoist Sect that believes in not meddling with the affairs of Heaven and Earth, he thought that acting rashly would only bring trouble upon himself. Even though the scene tugged at his heart, he could not even lift an eyelid to look at it, lazily opening his eyes only as he was leaving the alley, crunching on the sugarcane stick.
Because the whip had not struck with full force, the taskmaster felt discontent. He cursed under his breath and raised his arm. Qibin Hel was ready, suppressing his inner strength in preparation—when suddenly, the taskmaster screamed in agony, his bloodstained whip falling to the ground.
A man from North of the Desert clutched his wrist howling in pain, a bloody hole through his palm—not life-threatening, but excruciatingly painful, with ten fingers all connected to the heart, too much even for this burly man to bear.
Qibin Hel was momentarily stunned.
A wooden stick lay embedded in the ground, trembling ever so slightly.
Weiming Sect.
Sitting cross-legged on the martial training field, Xia Changqing from the Weiming Sect, watched as his Sect Leader Brother hesitated for a while, scratched his head, and finally spoke cautiously:
"Junior brother..."
Xia Changqing raised his eyes to look at him.
"Let go."
The Sect Leader’s expression froze, and he almost choked, coughing twice heavily before awkwardly saying:
"Is it really alright to let Shanxue leave the mountain alone?"
"His personality... he’s just too indolent, and I’m a bit worried."
The disciples of Weiming Sect were few in number, and Mu Shanxue, being the senior disciple, naturally made him worry about his journey out in the world.
Xia Changqing couldn’t be bothered to answer and simply closed his eyes to continue his breathing exercises.
On the training field, only a dozen disciples sat—all clad in white Taoist robes, sitting cross-legged on the ground, circulating their energy in accordance with the channels and collaterals of their bodies while reciting true formulas.
"To relax it, first you must tighten it; to weaken it, first you must strengthen it."
"To eliminate it, first you must promote it; to take it away, first you must give it."
"Softness overcomes hardness, weakness overcomes strength."
"Fish cannot escape from the depths; the sharp weapons of a state should not be shown to the people; this is known as Weiming."
Fufeng County City.
On the back of a grey donkey, Mu Shanxue yawned, the sugarcane stick no longer in his mouth, looking even more indifferent. He patted the donkey beneath him and said languidly:
"Let’s go back, I’m no longer in the mood..."
"Today, let’s not bother the Keeper of Books anymore... I’ve had some sweets and feel sleepy."
The donkey brayed, turned around, and ambled leisurely toward the inn where it stayed. Mu Shanxue lay atop it, and moments later, snoring sounds began to emerge.
........................
Inside an inn by the roadside, all of a sudden two gazes landed on Mu Shanxue’s face, sticking there as if glued, not moving away until the donkey, carrying the Taoist, had gone off into the distance. Only then did the eyes retreat, hands propping up cheeks, cheeks flushed red, the onlooker murmured:
"Such a handsome Taoist..."
There was also a young man dressed in green clothes inside the room, with simple and honest features and an air of naivety. Hearing this, he just scratched his head and said:
"Little junior sister, this this, this is not proper, not not not, not appropriate..."
The girl turned around; the one who had uttered those words was a rather lovely young girl, her black hair neatly tied with a ribbon, strands hanging obediently from her temples, her demeanor endearing. However, she shot a white look at the naive young man and said:
"You’re so annoying, you talk more than Grandfather does."
The young man was slightly taken aback, apparently embarrassed, and hastily waved his hands saying:
"I, how can I compare with Ancestor Master? He truly is the formidable one..."
The straightforward response from the youth almost made the girl burst into laughter, but knowing his nature, she understood he wasn’t one for cunning, and with a slight turn of her eyes and a smile, she said:
"Alright, let’s not argue. You just focus on your medicine preparation."
"Grandfather wants you to go and visit the seniors. During this time, shouldn’t I also do something? Could it be that you came to the big city and don’t want to do anything? Just to run errands for Grandfather?"
Sure enough, she caught the young man’s attention, and after some thought, he said longingly:
"There is something indeed..."
"Master once spoke of a young hero known as the Keeper of Books, who broke through Xia Changqing’s poison that could rapidly age an injury. I’ve never heard of such strange medicinal properties before. If possible, I’d like to get to know him."
The girl’s eyes sparkled, and she asked:
"The Keeper of Books? Is that gentleman good-looking?"
The young man was briefly taken aback and stuttered:
"That, I, I don’t know..."
Seeing him hesitate, the girl assumed the Keeper of Books was not pleasant to look at and lost interest, saying:
"Oh... so he’s just another smelly man."
She again picked up her teacup, took a couple of sips, and without anything better to do, laid down on the bed and began reading a book. She was engrossed in it.
The young man, seeing the girl ignoring him, scratched his head awkwardly, unsure of how to behave. Suddenly he heard her voice:
"Oh, another thing. Be smart in this city..."
"I notice there have been a lot of people from Jianghu around lately, and something might happen. You’re so naïve, someone could sell you and you wouldn’t even know. Don’t go out alone."
The naive young man acknowledged her words, feeling much relieved, and bowed his head to continue tinkering with the bronze medicine furnace in his hands. It was separated into upper and lower sections: the bottom for placing charcoal and starting a fire, the lid could be lifted to add various herbs—a rather intricate device, not to be used by anyone not knowledgeable in medicine.
At this moment, a blazing red fire had already ignited below, but the young man pressed his right hand against the top of the furnace, ignoring the high temperature. The flames inside the furnace seemed to have a life of their own, rising and falling as if under the fine control of his own inner strength.
From a single spot, one can infer the whole leopard, and from a falling leaf, one can tell that autumn has arrived in the world. Just at this subtle point, one can see the strength of his cultivation, the profound and exquisite control far exceeding that of ordinary martial artists. Even a martial artist of the eighth rank would definitely be unable to win against him when it comes to inner strength.
His expression was calm, fully focused on the medicine furnace. Although his features were ordinary, he exuded an extraordinary temperament, somewhat ethereal. It was just a pity that the girl, absorbed in her book, sometimes giggling, sometimes shaking her head, had not witnessed this scene.
..................
The stars began to densely cover the sky.
A middle-aged man dressed in luxurious clothing hurried by.
In his hands, he no longer held the exquisite jade rings he usually carried, nor were there servants and beauties following him.
He had changed his clothes today and washed ten times until his skin turned red.
He stopped in front of a door, meticulously straightened his clothes, trying desperately to dispel the terror in his heart. With trembling hands, he lifted them and knocked on the door.
No one came to open it.
The most uptodate nove𝙡s are published on frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓.
Only a loud booming sound could be heard.
With each crash, the body of the wealthy man in Fufeng City would tremble slightly. His mind uncontrollably replayed the past, the memories of disciples and servants who died under the heavy hammer because of their negligence, his complexion growing paler, losing its human color.
No matter the status.
No matter the youthfulness and beauty.
When the heavy hammer fell, ash to ash, dust to dust, they were nothing but a puddle of mush.
Why would this master come here?
He sighed to himself, filled with anger, sorrow, and ultimately returned to utter fear and trembling.
Time seemed to stretch on until, with a creak, the wooden door was slowly opened.
A sturdily built young man holding a hammer glanced indifferently at the middle-aged man who was visibly trying to stay calm. He said, "Come in," then turned to leave. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his strong muscles glistened under the light of the fire, a violent aesthetic filled with pure power.
That middle-aged man followed closely behind the young man, knelt halfway to the ground, and tried to steady his voice as he reported a few matters. The young man, however, continued to hammer the blade, his expression stern, without saying a word. After hammering for a while, he took the red-hot long blade and plunged it into the water.
Among the hissing noise, the cold water boiled, sending up clouds of white vapor.
The young man lifted the long blade after quenching it, admired the fierce cold light it emitted, flicked it with his finger and said,
"Today in the city, I saw a man in blue clothes, carrying a wooden sword. I’m quite interested in that sword."
"Find him within three days."
"Otherwise, you die."
The wealthy man trembled, his head knocking against the ground as he said,
"Your subordinate obeys."
...............…
Inside the inn.
The dull young man tucked away the elixir, his waist wrapped with numerous little bottles and jars, the contents of which were unknown but didn’t seem to be a burden. He looked up at the moon in the sky, a fleeting light shining in his dull eyes as he murmured,
"Cangshu Shou..."
"I really want to witness your knowledge of medicine."
...............…
Mu Shanxue was slouched weakly on a wooden stool. He tapped on the table listlessly and said,
"Mutton offal soup, make it spicy, add more coriander."
It was only when the proprietor placed the large bowl in front of him that he managed to prop himself up to start eating. Then he saw a young man dressed in yellow, his identity well concealed, sitting at the adjacent table. Noting the bowl beside him, he frowned slightly.
The young man in yellow seemed to sense something and carefully moved the bowl in his direction, afraid that his identity had been exposed. Just then, he heard Mu Shanxue’s voice,
"My friend, are you avoiding coriander in your mutton because you..."
"Have some hidden ailment?"
The young man in yellow coughed violently and shook his head without answering. Mu Shanxue licked his lips with a hint of regret and mumbled to himself.
He then gorged himself on several more bowls of the soup. Not until the young man in yellow had left in an awkward flurry did he let out a satisfied sigh, wiped his mouth, and with a slouching posture that hinted at languor, seemingly casually said,
"Proprietor, your food truly has a delightful flavor..."
"If the young master likes it, that’s all that matters."
"I came here on a friend’s recommendation, but I also heard that just half a month ago, your establishment nearly had a brush with disaster?"
The proprietor seemed still to have a lingering fear, sighing as he said,
"Yes, if it weren’t for Cangshu Shou passing by that day, the young master might not have been able to enjoy my mutton offal soup..."
Mu Shanxue laughed and said,
"So it is..."
His voice paused, then he lightly tapped on the table, half-joking,
"I wonder what Cangshu Shou looks like. If I meet him one day, I really must express my gratitude."
...............…
Within Shaolin Temple.
"Achoo, achoo..."
The young man in blue robes sneezed several times in quick succession.
Wu Changqing frowned, stroked his beard and said,
"Anfeng, have you caught a cold? You must take care of your health and not get reckless just because you know martial arts."
Before Wang Anfeng could reply, Hong Luoyu had already laughed and said,
"What cold? Surely someone is just talking about him behind his back. We don’t even know how much trouble this kid has stirred up outside the temple..."
"Isn’t that right, you rascal."
PS: The second update.