"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
‘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.
Fang Xing threw the fresh weeds into his mouth and gobbled them down in seconds while Freckle-Boy and Ghost-Face watched on in disbelief and horror.
"Don’t disturb me without a good reason!" Red-eyed, Fang Xing slammed the door shut behind him and locked himself in the wood cabin.
The boys looked at each other and agreed that Fang Xing must have gone out of his mind. The weed was called "
What the hell did he want to bang?
Seated in the lotus position, Fang Xing could feel an irresistible urge rising up from his lower abdomen while a small bulge stood up noticeably against the front of his pants. Remembering the instructions in the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation, Fang Xing attempted to take the Jing he’d just devoured and circulate it throughout his veins. He repeatedly pushed it through his body before directing it into his
The enormous amount of Jing tortured Fang Xing as he tried to restrain the unruly energy contained within him. Red veins burst in his eyes, and his lips cracked under the strain. ‘I can do it!’ Fang Xing thought to himself, enduring the burning sensation throughout his entire body while focusing on keeping the Jing on its correct path.
Twenty minutes passed.
An hour passed.
Still seated in the same position, Fang Xing’s face was flushed in an unnatural tone of purplish red. Something inside him was rapidly changing.
As he concentrated on keeping the Jing on its path, he began to feel a faint but refreshing sensation tickling at his senses. As this progressed, however, the heat and violent energy was replaced with an agonizing ache coming from his meridians.
"So I guessed it right…." Aching all over, Fang Xing carefully converted the last trace of Jing.
He’d been skeptical this would work at first, but this made him excited. It had just been a freakish idea he’d come up with when he saw the weeds Freckle-Boy had in his hands. It was an idea stemming from a sentence in the Book of Revelation concerning Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation.
Using his studies on the flow of circulation illustrated in detail in the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation, Fang Xing had concluded the first step into cultivation required building up Qi through meditation. Those lucky enough to be born with exceptionally high aptitude could even passively accumulate Qi with every effortless breath and movement they made.
It was not rare for most people—such as Wang Zhi—to make zero progress in feeling Qi despite seven years of effort, and most of these people would only die in vain trying. The only method for these ordinary people was to rely on an outside energy to force Qi into their bodies, but even then, their path of cultivation was usually short-lived—most only went as far as the lower tiers of Spirit Stage.
Jing was a condensed form of essence that contained the energy to create life and usually went undetected while existing peacefully within the body. Most people couldn’t feel the existence of Jing, and even when they could, it was only after years and years of conscious accumulation. Fang Xing, on the other hand, was bold and quick-witted, and he dove headfirst into what he thought might work without much hesitation. It was fortunate that it was a risk worth taking, but in reality, he was just one of the lucky few who’d made it through.
If there was too little to be felt, then make it plentiful!
After three Hwa’jin weeds, it was most definitely plentiful. The burning sensation was the most literal reaction to a copious amount of Jing, and it was then that Fang Xing began his attempts to condense and convert it. Although the Qi produced by this process would be practically nothing in the end, it was still something.
Without enough determination and stamina to control oneself, this method could result in dangerous instability, dealing terminal damage to internal organs and even the mental state. Despite his young age, Fang Xing was ruthless not only towards those who might pose a threat to him, but also towards himself.
Grrr….
As the aching sensation slowly eased, Fang Xing’s stomach growled out as loudly as if he hadn’t eaten once in the past three days. It turned out that when converting Jing into Qi, a large amount of the user’s own energy and vitality was also used up in the process. The first and most obvious sign was the dizziness and hunger.
"Argh, I need something to eat, fast!"
As Fang Xing sluggishly pushed himself up, his hands accidentally landed on the Book of Revelation. "Huh?" As soon as his hands made contact with the book, he felt a slight tremor throughout his meridians before the book disappeared right before his very eyes. The sudden event left Fang Xing stumbling slightly, and he worked to regain his balance.
"Where did the book go?" Fang Xing scrambled through everything around him, unable to believe the book had just disappeared into thin air. He was sure it was there just a second ago.
‘Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation. Suitable for Spirit Stage. A manual for beginner cultivation….’
Just as he’d grabbed the Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation to see if the Book of Revelation was hidden beneath it, that very familiar description had flashed across his mind.
"What the…." It took some time before Fang Xing was finally convinced the book had made its way into his mind. "You’ve got to be kidding me…. An entire book? How is that even going to fit in my brain?" While lingering on the thought of his brain exploding due to having a whole book crammed inside it, Fang Xing rubbed his empty stomach and finally walked outside the wooden cabin.
Night had already fallen, and the gang cautiously watched the wooden cabin while gathered around some food and wine. They were scared Fang Xing would come out of the cabin either insane or murderous, and so were intentionally quite some distance away.
"Did he really eat all of it?" Wang Zhi asked in disbelief while taking a sip from his wine. He’d asked the same question three times already, yet he was still unconvinced.
"Not only that, he swallowed them whole! He didn’t even bother chewing!" Freckle-Boy—still horror-struck—whispered while glancing nervously towards the cabin.
"Oh dear…. I’m certain he couldn’t endure it even if it was just one, let alone all three of them! He’s… he’s not—you know—into that sort of thing, is he? I mean, if he’s had so many, he’ll need to let it go with someone!" Wang Zhi shuddered at the thought before looking at Ghost-Face standing next to him. "Hey, Ghost-Face, we’ll all be counting on you!"
Ghost-Face dropped his half-eaten pork leg and desperately cried out, "I—I ain’t no good! It’ll hurt! H— how about… how about Freckle-Boy? You go!"
"No! That won’t work!" Freckle-Boy recoiled at the suggestion. "You’ve got the palest skin out of all of us; you’re the pretty boy here! You’re the best hustler we can find—there’s no better option!"
"What hustler?" a husky voice asked, causing all five daotongs to shrivel up in fear. Before they knew it, Fang Xing had already walked to where they were hiding and—in high spirits—sat down to savagely devour the rest of the pork as though nobody was watching. His face, however, was noticeably pale and strikingly contrasted by the light of the bonfire.
For Fang Xing, it felt as though everything inside him had been used up. It was if his appetite had transformed into a black hole, and it didn’t seem to be satisfied no matter how much he ate. After some time, he finally stopped and washed down the last bit of pork with a couple shots of wine. Although he was still feeling hungry, his stomach was already too full to accept more.
"From today onwards, make sure to bring me three— no, one will do…. Bring me one Hwa’jin weed each day. I don’t care where it’s from or how you get it, whoever brings it to me first each day can be pardoned from their entire day’s worth of work. Oh, and we need to improve our meals a little, too! What’s with this? How is this enough? We will double… no, make it triple the amount of meat as well."
Everyone gazed blankly at Fang Xing, none of them having any idea what he was up to. As the oldest, Wang Zhi was the first to come to his senses and asked, "This is already… five pounds of pork. We’re going to triple this?"
"Yep! That’ll do for now." Fang Xing nodded. "We can always add more if it’s still not enough!"
"But… we don’t have enough silver for this…."
"Then go sell yourselves," Fang Xing ridiculed, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Weren’t all of you just arguing over who was the best hustler?"
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