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0.47% Plundering the Heavens / Chapter 2: Tenth Bandit

Chapter 2: Tenth Bandit

Editor: celllll, Nou

The Qing-Yun Sect had over three thousand years of historical legacy and was one of the most respected sects in the Chufung Kingdom. Within all of the kingdom—or even the entire South Jambu Continent—even the lowest-ranked disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect was viewed by the ordinary people with a holy reverence, for they were more powerful than any local gangs or factions.

Perhaps the most famous story of them all was how its core disciple—Xiao Jianming—had single-handedly managed to infiltrate Guiyan Valley’s infamous bandit group three months ago, successfully kill nine out of the ten bandits, and leave their heads hanging at the entrance to the valley. However, while everyone else had celebrated, Xiao Jianming did not; he was determined to find the tenth bandit who’d escaped, and he’d been searching all of Mount Yandang ever since.

It was said that the tenth bandit was also the most mysterious of them all and that no one had even verified his existence, but Xiao Jianming believed he would find him—he had sworn to do so, so he must. What he didn’t know, however, was that just under three months ago, the tenth bandit had already joined the Qing-Yun Sect and become one of his new shidis1….

If one considered a daotong1 to be a disciple, that is.

Although the Qing-Yun Sect had its recruitment ceremony to find talented disciples only once every ten years, daotongs were recruited throughout the year. Daotongs were still considered a part of the Qing-Yun Sect, but there was a sharp contrast between them and an actual disciple, and daotongs received neither formal teachings from the elders nor Spirit Stones as rewards for their hard work and contribution. Not only were there over ten thousand daotongs in the sect, they were usually assigned to mundane tasks such as cleaning, cooking, and farming, with only one day off for each month.

All of this just for a thin manual titled "Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation".

After Shijie Linyun had taken off with Xiao Mahn, the plump Daoist brought Fang Xing to a wooden cabin. Inside the cabin sat a man with a distinctively large mole on his face, seemingly around his late teens. The Daoist gave a grim smile before passing Fang Xing a set of cyan-colored robes, a thin booklet, and a small woodblock engraved with his name.

Once the plump Daoist had left the cabin, Fang Xing looked around the room while the man with the mole spoke to him unwelcomingly, "Aren’t you a lucky little one? If it weren’t for Shijie Linyun, someone like you? Hah!" he laughed in disdain. "With no connections, no money, and no innate powers, you can only start from the bottom. Take this Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation and study it well. Not just anyone can have the opportunity to read this, you know! When you’ve mastered the first level, you can become one of the outer court disciples."

There were also a few other boys in the room and—although none were much older than Fang Xing—they all had their arms crossed and pretended to be much older than they actually were.

"So which tier are you in?" Fang Xing asked.

The mole-faced man pointed his thumb to himself with pride. "I have already felt the movement of Qi. Nobody else here has accomplished anything!"

"And how many years have you all been here?" Fang Xing questioned again, thoughtful.

"I’ve been here for six years! They’ve been here for at least three now," the mole-faced man answered proudly.

"Dammit, so that woman lied to me!" Fang Xing released a loud sigh and threw the manual aside.

"What woman?" the mole-faced man asked, curious.

"Who else? That woman named Linyun! She said she’d take me into the Qing-Yun Sect… but I’m not here to be a worker! And all I get is a stupid booklet!" Fang Xing continued while clutching his fists. "Look at all of you! Six years, three years, and what have you achieved? That lying bi*ch…."

"Shijie Linyun?" Shocked by Fang Xing’s words, the furious mole-faced man reached for Fang Xing’s collar and spoke in a hushed manner, "Shut up, you little brat! Do you know how much trouble we’ll all get into if someone hears about what you just said? Remember this: you’re here in my herb field. If I tell you to go east, you don’t go west. If I tell you to jump, you ask me how high and don’t question it. Do you understand?"

"That’s right! You’ll also need to clean the stools and fill the tank with fresh water every day!" a boy with freckles—likely the person normally in charge of such chores—excitedly agreed.

"Hah! And the laundry, too! This is always done by the newcomer!" The motive of whoever demanded this went without saying—he must have been doing the laundry for quite a while now.

Fang Xing looked to everyone present before nodding to himself, as though just realizing something. "So you’re all just bullying me?"

"Yeah. And?" The mole-faced man grinned before slamming his arm savagely against a nearby table, showing off the blue veins of his muscular arm. "What are you gonna do?"

"Don’t you dare hit me! I… I can scream…." Fang Xing appeared frightened, as though he would scream for help if someone so much as touched him with a single finger.

Seeing this, the mole-faced man gave a laugh. "Don’t you worry about that! I won’t touch you now, but once the night falls and we’ve shut our doors… there’ll be just you and all of us. No one will be able to hear you, even if you scream at the top of your lungs…."

"That’s right! The shixiongs from the Herb Department only come to check on us once every three months, and it’s all up to us when they’re not here! No one, not even the regulation shixiongs will be able to help you," the boy with freckles on his face threatened. "They’ll be way too busy to care about you. And if you didn’t know, as a daotong, you won’t be able to leave for at least another ten years…." It seemed as though this was his first time threatening someone, and he sounded almost too excited to stop.

"My dear brothers, please don’t hurt me. I’m a good person! I’ll do whatever you say…" Fang Xing suddenly began to pitifully beg.

"Hah, thought so," the mole-faced man laughed, clearly experienced with people like this.

The herb field was not only vast, but also magical. Even at the closure of autumn, the garden was still filled with different shades of green, reinforcing just how abundant and wealthy the Qing-Yun Sect was.

On the next day, Fang Xing went straight to work at the field, voluntarily taking on the hardest and dirtiest of the jobs. The field was spread across three miles, yet the entire area had to be maintained by only the six of them. The freckled boy responsibly taught Fang Xing how to water, weed, fertilize, and control the pests—flowers such as the "Qinrui" could only be watered during the sunset hours, the herb called "Moling" had to be watered at the first crack of dawn right before the dewdrops disappear….

Fang Xing caught on quick and was extremely polite and friendly throughout the whole day. By dusk, he’d even drawn some water to soak everyone’s dirty clothes so they could be washed after dinner and dried overnight. Everyone was extremely satisfied with his attitude and promised they would all share their experiences and understandings of cultivation with him. By nightfall, the herb field rested quietly as everyone fell asleep.

Everyone except for Fang Xing, that is.

Sitting on his bed, Fang Xing fiddled with a sharp dagger he’d just taken out from the cloth-wrapped bundle containing everything he owned. The dagger had been a gift from his third uncle along with some gold leaves he’d used to buy Xiao Mahn before arriving at the sect. His third uncle had also taught him a set of cunning martial arts to be used with the dagger for close-range combat.

Other than that, there was a cute tiger plushie given to him by his first uncle; some medicine from his second uncle; his fourth uncle’s snuff bottle that could release a thick smog; a hidden weapon that released silver needles from his fifth uncle; his sixth uncle’s… treasured collection of Chun’hwa1; the seventh uncle’s rare wild ginseng; his eighth uncle’s wine gourd; and finally, the most mysterious item of them all: a book from his ninth uncle.

Fang Xing stared blankly at all that remained of his uncles… until—clearing his head of all thoughts—he packed up the bundle and placed it safely aside.

Stealthily, with his dagger clutched in his hand, he drew close to the bed where the mole-faced man was still fast asleep. "Brother Wang, Brother Wang…" he whispered ever so softly into his ears.

It took Fang Xing quite some effort before the man woke up. "What the hell are you doing in the middle of the night! Do you wanna die?" the man snapped, irritated.

"No, you will." Before Wang Zhi had time to react, Fang Xing stabbed the dagger right into the man’s body, pushing it all the way down to the handle.

The man let out an agonized scream—just one scream, and then it was nothing. Fang Xing had quickly covered the man’s mouth, preventing him from making another. Listening carefully, Wang Zhi’s earlier words were proven correct; the nearby area was vacant and nobody had overheard.

Wang Zhi wanted to flee, but couldn’t; the dagger was stabbed so deeply through him that it had practically stapled Wang Zhi to his bed. Pinned, he soon realized it was less painful if he just stayed still and remained quiet.

Fang Xing didn’t want to cause a large disturbance, but he’d made sure those he wanted to hear had heard. It didn’t take too long before everyone in the room realized just what had happened, and the freckle-faced boy let out a sharp shriek in terror.

"If you don’t want to die, shut the hell up!" Fang Xing muttered in a deep tone unnatural for his barely ten-year-old appearance. The freckled boy was a couple years older, but he was so shaken that a sudden warm rush trickled down between his legs.

Fang Xing slowly withdrew the dagger, and the second it was pulled free, Wang Zhi curled up like a shrimp from the pain. Everyone else froze as Fang Xing walked towards them on the other side of the room, and the timid freckled boy was even hiding beneath his blankets while sobbing uncontrollably to himself.

"How dare you all try to have a go at me? No one ever bullies me, you hear?" Fang Xing swayed the dagger in front of everyone before continuing, "Only I get to bully all of you! And, just to make it clear, I’m your new boss. All of you are now in my herb field; if I tell you to go east, you don’t go west. If I tell you to jump, you ask how me how high and don’t question it. If anyone decides to get their own ideas… well, my dagger doesn’t discriminate, and you know, if my hands slip….

"Do you even know who my sister is?" Fang Xing showed a proud smile. "She’s a current favorite of Shijie Linyun, and I have her protection! You guys are as blind as a bat!"

"Fang Xing…."

"What did you just call me?"

"I mean… Boss Fang Xing! Boss… I think we should probably bandage Shixiong Wang. He might really die…."

Fang Xing glanced over to Wang Zhi—who was still shriveled up on the corner of the bed, by now exhausted and seemingly passed out—before smirking. "He won’t die. My third uncle said as long as I have the dagger enter him through these acupoints1, it’s not going to injure any of his organs and he can’t die. But... maybe my hands slipped…. Hey, you! Go bandage him up!"

  1. Shidi: 师弟. Literally "Junior Martial Brother", or "Junior Apprentice Brother". The male inverse of "Shixiong" or "Shijie", typically used to reference those with less seniority relative to the speaker.
  2. 道童. Literally "child of Daoism/Taoism".
  3. Ancient Chinese erotic arts. It was heavily influenced by illustrations in Chinese medicine manuals.
  4. These acupoints, specifically, are the "geyu" (膈俞穴), a point located just below the heart and above the spleen, and the "bulang" (步廊穴), a point located on the chest around the fifth rib.

Chapter 3: The Book of Revelation

Editor: celllll, Nou

"What a hot day…." The heat peaked as the midday sun settled high up in the sky. Fang Xing relaxed with his legs crossed in a bamboo chair while—over in the herb field—Wang Zhi and the rest of the daotongs were doing their best to catch as many pests as possible. This task could only be done under the scorching midday sun, as these flowers would only fully blossom during this hour. Once the blossoms opened, the pests that had managed to sneak inside their petals during the night would be released, and the pest control operations could be carried out more effectively.

Of course, none of this hard labor required any work from Fang Xing. After stabbing Wang Zhi on that one fateful night, he had become the boss of this herb field; someone even washed and dried his dirty socks for him now.

It wasn’t that Wang Zhi never tried to get even, of course. The day after he’d been stabbed in the chest, he was stabbed again for staring at Fang Xing with ill intentions, this time in the leg. That time had marked the end of his rebellion.

Although Wang Zhi had been the former boss of this C-Rank field, he had never really touched a weapon, nor would he ever consider actually hurting someone. The rest of the daotongs—particularly the freckled boy that now trembled when seeing Fang Xing—had been nothing but obedient from that night on.

Still bored, Fang Xing flipped through his Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation without purpose. There was nothing he could get out of the manual. He’d tried meditating in precisely the manner the manual instructed with no result—not even a tickle of anything could be felt. After several attempts, he’d pretty much determined the manual was nothing more than a hoax and simply didn’t work.

It wasn’t just him, either; no one in this entire herb field had felt anything over all these years. Even Wang Zhi later admitted he’d just been bluffing when he said he could already feel the flow of Qi.

Despite this, Fang Xing still couldn’t let it go so easily. Rumor had it there had been daotongs who successfully managed to master the first stage of Qi through this booklet and had become outer court disciples. It happened very rarely, but there were always a few days each year when such rumors filled everyone’s ears.

"Maybe I’m just not practicing it right..." Fang Xing sighed and hopelessly shook his head, reconsidering whether he had the talent for this. His worries were not unfounded, either, as innate ability was quite important in such matters.

Finally giving up, Fang Xing put the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation back into his cloth bundle only to take notice of the book that had been sitting inside for quite some time now, given to him by his ninth uncle before his death. The book didn’t seem to have many pages, but it was this very book that had caused the death of the three hundred or so men in Guiyan Valley, as well as the loss of his nine uncles.

Fang Xing was the sole survivor from Guiyan Valley.

Even Fang Xing knew the only reason he’d been able to escape unharmed was that Xiao Jianming assumed the tenth bandit was a grown man, just like the other nine who’d died beneath his sword—never would he have guessed it was a ten-year-old child. This was the very reason Fang Xing’s ninth uncle had given him the mysterious book and told him to run away from Guiyan Valley as fast as he could once they’d found out how powerful their enemy was.

The title was written in an ancient Chinese writing called Seal Script that his ninth uncle had once taught him, with the imprint reading as "The Book of Revelation".

After the book caught his interest, Fang Xing opened it up only to find nothing. Emptiness. He even went so far as to place the book under the sunlight to see if anything had been written using some of the invisible ink his second uncle had been inclined to use to scam rich traders.

Still nothing.

‘Wait, it can’t be invisible ink; it doesn’t last that long, and this book clearly looks like it’s been through a lot…’ Fang Xing thought to himself. He placed the book back into the cloth bundle and atop his Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation... and then it happened—a faded paragraph appeared.

‘Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation. Suitable for Spirit Stage. A manual for beginner cultivation….’

"What the…." Fang Xing widened his eyes and cursed when he saw the words appearing from out of nowhere. There wasn’t a large amount of writing, but in only a few short paragraphs, it explained what the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation was, the principles behind it, and even went so far as to point out some of its mistakes and what should be done to improve upon it.

Dumbstruck, Fang Xing lifted the book up for a closer look. The words disappeared as he moved the book away from the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation, only to reappear when the book was placed upon the booklet once more.

Excited, Fang Xing then placed the book on top of his half-eaten watermelon.

Nothing….

"Perhaps that was too ordinary for the book?"

Rummaging through his belongings, Fang Xing noticed the snuff bottle given to him by his fourth uncle and remembered what he’d been told: "The smog it releases is so powerful that not even an adult bull would be able to stay awake!"

Only three short sentences appeared for the appraisal: ‘Low-grade spirit tool. Can be used to contain smog. No refinement category.’

"The snuff bottle is actually a spirit tool? I knew he was the most pragmatic uncle out of them all!" Fang Xing chuckled to himself. He tried a few other things with the book, but nothing else caused a reaction.

"Boss Fang Xing! It’s so hot today, so why don’t we have some booze to freshen up a bit!" Wang Zhi called out as he ran towards the wooden house, interrupting Fang Xing’s train of thought. Oddly enough, the stabbing had actually brought them closer together. As Wang Zhi put it, "One cannot truly know someone without exchanging blows."

Fang Xing calmly put the book aside before giving a mocking reply, "Is drinking all you know? Have you finished with your job yet?"

"Almost! The others can finish up the rest for me and I’ll go buy some wine!" Wang Zhi took a bite out of the watermelon and stood in front of Fang Xing, as though waiting in anticipation.

"You stingy bastard! It’s not like it costs an arm and a leg!" Fang Xing ridiculed, but he took out a small silver chunk and added, "Buy some pork, too."

"Of course!" Wang Zhi beamed with joy as he took the silver chunk. He threw his half-eaten watermelon to the side and rushed off towards the village on the mountain’s hillside. The village near the foot of the Qing-Yun Sect’s mountain flourished with trade and business thanks to the tens and thousands of these daotongs who sometimes preferred fancier meals than those given to them by the sect.

In order to be an effective leader in this world, it was not only necessary to be ruthless, but also to let the subordinates know they would be provided with protection and shared spoils. As daotongs, they all received a small monthly wage of three taels of silver per person. In the months following the stabbing incident, Fang Xing had made sure all of their wages were handed over to him, but in return he’d made sure most of their meals had been supplemented with meat and wine, much to the contrast of Wang Zhi who had hoarded everything good for himself during his time as leader.

After Wang Zhi left for the village, Fang Xing allowed his mind to wander back to the Book of Revelation. The more he thought about it, the more mysterious it became. He speculated it had to be some sort of appraisal book, perhaps only effective on items with spiritual or special properties.

‘But no matter how magical this book is, what good is it to me? It’s not like I want to become an Appraisal Master…’ Fang Xing thought to himself with disappointment.

"Yay! Found some more of these weeds! We can probably make a small fortune out of these!" Freckle-Boy—holding a small bunch of emerald-green plants with purple roots—excitedly exclaimed while returning from the herb field with another daotong nicknamed "Ghost-Face".

The green-and-purple plant was a weed that sometimes made its way into the herb fields, and even though the weed itself was useless for those practicing cultivation, it could usually be sold for a decent price to those in the mortal realm. The weed increased Jing1, which was useful for improving the nightly activities between a man and a woman. For daotongs, this was usually a good find that they’d exchange for some extra silver in the markets.

‘One can first convert the essence of life into Qi….’

Fang Xing didn’t think too much of the weed at first—that kind of topic would have been far more suited for his fourth uncle—but a sentence from the Book of Revelation suddenly emerged into his mind. With a spark of insight, Fang Xing shot up abruptly, his eyes fixing onto Freckle-Boy.

"Boss… I— I swear I’m not goofing off…" Freckle-Boy nervously said beneath the gaze. Fang Xing’s behavior sent chills down Freckle-Boy’s and Ghost-Face’s spines, both assuming they had done something wrong.

"Pass that to me." Before Freckle-Boy even had time to react, Fang Xing snatched the weeds out of his hands, and what happened next left the boys trembling in shock.

  1. 精. Can be translated as the "essence of (life)", "energy", or literally as "sperm/seed". Its meanings are often intermixed in this story.

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