The collective two and a half square miles of herb fields owned by the Qing-Yun Sect reverberated with the name of a boy, of gluttony in human form: Fang Xing.
For the past two months, Fang Xing had been consuming at least ten pounds of meat every day. This didn’t even include the rice, fruits, vegetables, and wine he would have on top of that, and he’d even buy some herbs and tonics every so often to supplement his sizable diet. Thanks to him, all five of the daotongs in his herb field had managed to gain themselves extra layers of fat complete with prominent double chins and potbellies.
Yet, despite all this food, Fang Xing had actually become thinner than he was before. In fact, he had become so thin he was like a piece of paper that could be easily sent flying on a breeze. In spite of his physique, however, his spirit was high and his eyes were shining with energy.
Although his eyes were focused on the hare roasting on the bonfire as though fascinated, Fang Xing’s mind was wandering off somewhere else. ‘As I expected, Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation is really powerful. No wonder even Ninth Uncle Joshu with his skills in martial arts wasn’t a match for that man….’
They’d spent nearly all their savings on food in these two months, and—without any other options—they been forced to resort to hunting. Fang Xing couldn’t really ask them to sell themselves, after all… and besides, based on their appearance, no one would want to pay for them anyway.
The sect fortunately didn’t have any restrictions on hunting for wild animals within its mountain ranges, and now that Fang Xing had grasped the basic flow of Qi, his eyes and ears had also become sharper than normal; hunting wild hares and birds was a breeze for him.
Fang Xing had even run into a wolf and battled with it on one occasion. He’d grabbed its tail, jumped on its back, and then bashed it with his bare hands until the poor sucker died. When Fang Xing dragged the wolf back to their wooden cabin, Wang Zhi and the rest of the daotongs were so stunned they nearly wet themselves.
It was also from that point on that they finally accepted Fang Xing as their leader from the depths of their hearts. From that day onward, "Boss Fang Xing" was no longer just a name they forced themselves to address him with, but rather something that came honestly from their hearts.
‘I finally have enough Qi to circulate one full cycle. I wonder if this counts as reaching the first tier of Spirit Stage?’ Fang Xing thought to himself. According to the rules of the sect, once a daotong reached the first tier of Spirit Stage, they would no longer need to do any hard labor and instead would receive numerous benefits as a true disciple of the Qing-Yun Sect’s outer court.
Qing-Yun’s Qi Formation mentioned nothing on how to distinguish the difference between each tier, so Fang Xing was left without even knowing how close or how far he was to reaching the first one.
"Boss! We’re back with the firewood…." Freckle-Boy and Wang Zhi were smiling broadly, each carrying a bundle of firewood on their back. Although they’d started hunting, the work at the herb field still had to be done, so the daotongs took turns hunting with Fang Xing. Today it was Freckle-Boy and Wang Zhi’s turn, and he’d asked them to pick some firewood so they could start up a fire and cook their kills for the day.
During Wang Zhi’s time as boss, there had been a clear hierarchy despite there only being five of them total. Wang Zhi would bully someone, and that someone would bully the next person down along his hierarchical chain, and so on. Ever since Fang Xing had become the boss, however, everything had become much simpler—everyone had to listen to Fang Xing, and there was no bullying allowed among the rest of them. Every time Wang Zhi unconsciously tried to order Freckle-Boy or Ghost-Face to do something, Fang Xing would kick him out of it. Within three months, Wang Zhi had even gotten used to washing his own dirty socks.
Fang Xing’s dirty socks were washed by everyone else, of course.
"The fire’s almost out, hurry up you two! Going to just take your time?" Fang Xing mocked, hurrying the boys over.
The supposedly simple and ascetic lifestyle of these daotongs had now become quite… plentiful.
As they were portioning out the already-cooked hare meat onto plates, someone ran hurriedly over, screaming, "Boss! There’s a shixiong from one of the departments asking for you guys in the herb field! They’re angry because you’re not in the fields!"
All three of them looked up to see a worried Ghost-Face. Fang Xing wondered aloud, "Isn’t the monthly inspection tomorrow? What are they doing here today?"
"I’m not sure, but apparently it’s a shixiong named Yu who just happened to pass our herb field and decided to drop by and have a look…."
Hearing this, a surprised and bitter expression formed on Wang Zhi’s face. Normally, no one would ever bother them as long as they maintained their herb field well.
Every three months, someone from the Herb Department would come and check in on the daotongs to make sure there was no slacking off and everything was in order, and if they managed to find something wrong or unusual during their visit, it was possible for the daotongs’ wages to be cut. Depending on the actual "problem", even physical punishment might get involved, and these greedy shixiongs would often take the opportunity to extort some money during their visits as well.
None of the gang had taken the day off today. They had, however, gone out to the back mountain to hunt, which was potentially a rather large "problem" now that someone had come here for an early inspection.
Freckle-Boy was so frightened that his complexion grew just as pale as Ghost-Face’s.
Fang Xing spat out the grassroot he’d been chewing on. "What are you all afraid of? I’ll go have a look!" he said with derision before ordering Wang Zhi to wrap up their cooked hare meat in bamboo leaves.
In front of the C-Rank herb field, three blue-faced Daoists coldly watched the three daotongs arrive following behind Ghost-Face.
‘It’s him?’ Fang Xing smirked to himself when he saw who the leader of the pack was: a stubby man with squinty eyes who clearly looked like he was up to no good.
The stubby man was the very same plump Daoist Fang Xing had ridiculed in front of hundreds and thousands of people during the recruitment ceremony: an outer court disciple named Yu Sanliang. The other two following close behind were two daotongs the plump Daoist had asked to be there with him to improve his image.
"Hah! Caught red-handed! This is during work hours; what are you all doing slacking off! If I go and report this to the Herb Department, they will beat the hell out of all of your *sses!" When Yu Sanliang saw Fang Xing from afar, even the fat on his face wobbled from excitement. "Oh, and especially you! You’ve only been here for how many days? How dare you violate the rules; do you want to be thrown out of the sect so soon?"
The plump Daoist Yu did not belong to the Herb Department, but actually worked at the Miscellaneous Department. This Miscellaneous Department—as its name implied—looked after all the menial matters in the Qing-Yun Sect. Put simply, they pretty much just ran errands for the other departments.
Yu Sanliang only decided to drop by the herb fields because he’d been asked to sort something out at another field. Remembering the little monkey he’d sent to a nearby field three months ago, he decided to drop by to see if he’d been fixed up by the older daotongs... but who would have expected that when he arrived at the field, Fang Xing would be nowhere to be seen? There was no better opportunity to have some sweet revenge for what the monkey said about him three months ago.
"Isn’t this Shixiong
"Zhu your face! My name is Yu!" The fat on his face rolled again as he loudly cursed.
Fang Xing smiled even more broadly when it seemed Yu Sanliang didn’t even realize he’d just been mocked. Suddenly, a random paragraph appeared across his mind:
‘Spirit Stage. Tier one. Physically weak. Amount of Qi contained in his meridians is….’
It was all information about Yu Sanliang’s cultivation tier and stage, and there was even information about his shortcomings.
‘Wait, was that… that book can do appraisals on people, too?’ Fang Xing was so surprised not even he could control the muscles in his face.
Seeing Fang Xing’s expression change, the plump Daoist was convinced his words must have sent the boy into shock and fear. Satisfied and proud of himself, he coldly laughed out, "Scared, huh? Then drop to your knees. If I feel satisfied after that, I may just forgive you this time…."
Fang Xing began to circle the plump Daoist in thought, catching the latter’s interest. Not knowing what the monkey could be planning in his head, the plump Daoist Yu began to yell, "What are you looking at, you little brat! I’ll kick you flying again if you keep on looking at me like—"
"Are you from the Herb Department?" Fang Xing suddenly interrupted.
"No, but so?"
"Did a shixiong from the Herb Department ask you to come here for inspection?" Fang Xing continued.
"No. I was passing by, so I thought I’d check on all of you to make sure no one was slacking off…."
"Slacking off your mom!" Fang Xing—being only ten years old—was not very tall in comparison to a fully grown man like the plump Daoist, but he was still able to reach his face to land a loud smack on his cheeks after a swift jump. An obvious palm mark was left on the Daoist’s right cheek, and blood began to ooze from his nose.
"Little bastard, you dare to hit me?" Yu Sanliang shouted a few seconds later after he realized what had just happened. Just as he finished, however, a powerful kick forced him to bend his leg at the knee and—unable to regain his balance—the Daoist fell flat on the ground face-first with Fang Xing standing right over him.
"No, how dare you! Someone from the Miscellaneous Department coming to interfere with our Herb Department?" Fang Xing landed another punch to Yu Sanliang’s face before continuing, "Yes, I’m beating you up. You know, you really deserve a good beating for thinking you have any authority here!"
Soon, the crying man realized something: although he’d only achieved tier one of Spirit Stage, he was still a cultivator, and he tried to utilize his Qi to fend Fang Xing off.
Who would have imagined that Fang Xing had also reached the Spirit Stage by now and would use his Qi to counteract Yu Sanliang’s own? Fang Xing continued to land punches and kicks all over the plump man’s body while the daotongs watched on in horror.
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ĐÃ NHẬN ĐƯỢC
Chương 4: First Qi
Biên tập viên: celllll, Nou
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 "Hwa’jin1 ", and a single leaf consumed by a fully-grown man could make a woman cry from pleasure for an entire night, to say nothing of a whole handful of them. To be consumed by a boy who had yet to even hit puberty….
1What 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 hislower dantian1 , trying to compress and reshape the Jing into a force that would push open his pores to receive Qi.
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.
2Night 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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