"Master Shen, the pharmacist said this medicine can only keep him alive."
Lin Feng's voice was low, addressed to Shen Lian, who lay on the bed with his eyes closed.
Shen Lian's Adam's apple bobbed, but he didn't open his eyes. Only the crackling of the oil lamp and the incessant noise of the distant market filled the shack. The dull pain in his left leg was still there, but bearable. The inferior ointment he'd bought with thirteen spirit stones seemed to have only temporarily suppressed the coughing up of blood; the ashen, deathly look on the old man's face hadn't dissipated.
Dawn was approaching.
Lin Feng leaned against the cold earthen wall, closing and opening his eyes again. His arms were empty; the thirteen spirit stones had been replaced by the sticky jar on the bedside table. He mentally reviewed the accounts, the numbers crystal clear: zero.
He got up, stretching his stiff neck. He pushed open the door and stepped into the usual thin, grayish-white daylight of the valley. A mist, thick with the stench of rust and the cloying sweetness of something rotting, seeped into his lungs.
He needed to get some food first, and some copper coins to gather information.
At the east end of the market, Chen San's stall was deserted. His hunched figure was slowly laying out a few clumps of dull-colored dregs, his movements as slow as moving stones. Seeing Lin Feng approach, Chen San's shoulders hunched, his head almost burying itself in his chest.
"Brother Lin..." his voice slurred, forced out from his throat.
The dregs on his stall were less than usual, piled haphazardly. "Metal and earthy waste," Lin Feng said.
Chen San rubbed his blackened hands, the grime under his fingernails scabbed over. "Recently... I haven't been able to collect any." His eyelids twitched rapidly, glancing towards the alley entrance before quickly looking down again. "The mines... are cracking down on it."
He didn't say who was cracking down, but the fear was blatantly written on his face.
Lin Feng didn't ask any more questions. He took out the only five copper coins he had—leftovers from yesterday's hide-moving—and placed them on the stall. "That's all."
Chen San grabbed the coins and stuffed them into his pocket, as if afraid of burning himself. He pushed over a small handful of the darkest metal scraps and a hard, dry clod of mud; the quantity was pitifully small.
Lin Feng picked up the items and turned around. He could feel the gaze behind him; it wasn't gratitude, but fear. Fear of what?
He didn't turn back, walking straight into the depths of the market. The hide shop wasn't open yet, so he squatted against the wall opposite, nibbling at the coarse, rock-hard flatbread in his pocket. The crumbs scraped his throat, which he swallowed slowly.
The shop door creaked open, and the burly owner, his face full of grime, poked his head out. Seeing him, he curled his lip. "You're here early. The pile of raw hides in the backyard, the usual: ten cleaned hides, fifteen copper coins. If you don't finish, get out."
Lin Feng nodded and walked into the stench-filled backyard. A dull knife, a whetstone, and a small mountain of damp animal hides. He found a wooden stool, sat down, spread out a hide, and began scraping away the sticky fat and bits of meat.
The work was tedious and strenuous. His arms quickly ached and went numb, sweat stung his eyes. Flies buzzed around him. The other day laborers worked silently, no one uttering a sound.
As he scraped, he tried to steady his breathing. He recalled the crooked words on the tattered copy of the *Qi-Inducing Technique*: "Calm your mind and focus your spirit, observe your inner self..."
It was difficult. The aches, the grease, the stench, and the boss's occasional glances all tore at his meager "calmness."
But occasionally, in the pauses between movements, in the moments of even breathing, he seemed to feel a faint warmth slowly flowing deep within his body—near those dim veins he had "seen" before. Slow and fleeting.
Was this spiritual energy? Or just an illusion born of exhaustion? He didn't know, so he could only keep shaving.
Before dark, he barely finished eight sheets. The shopkeeper glanced at them and tossed him twelve copper coins. "Slow and clumsy. If you want to come again tomorrow, come at dawn."
Lin Feng took the coins and rubbed his hands in the murky, cold water in the courtyard. The grease seeped into the lines of his skin, impossible to wash off, carrying a stubborn, fishy smell.
He walked back with the twelve copper coins in his pocket. Passing the entrance to a narrow alley, he overheard several rogue cultivators squatting inside chatting idly.
"...Scarface Liu's side, two more have fallen," a hoarse voice said.
"Old Cave No. 3?"
"You bet! That place is cursed; you die every time you go. It only fools those who'd rather die than risk their lives."
"That bastard Scarface Liu is heartless. People die, he washes his hands of it, and still makes his money off the spirit stones."
"Who can blame him when he has connections? I heard he's made connections with 'Black Rat' in the west. Black Rat has some real Qi-cultivating under his command."
"Tsk, without connections, without power, you're just wasting your life in Shen Gu."
Lin Feng didn't stop, walking past the alleyway with his head down. The few rogue cultivators glanced at him, seeing his young age and filthy appearance, and didn't pay him any attention, continuing to puff on their cigarettes.
Connections. Power.
These two words weighed heavily on his heart like stones. Scarface Liu had connections, so he could fill the mine with lives. He didn't, so he could only skin people here, earning twelve copper coins, and being watched at night. Back in the shack, Shen Lian was awake, leaning against the wall, his eyes cloudy as he looked at him.
Lin Feng took out the cheapest coarse salt and hard biscuits wrapped in oiled paper from his pocket, broke them into pieces, soaked them in hot water, and fed Shen Lian a few mouthfuls before swallowing a bowl himself. With something in his stomach, the lingering weakness subsided slightly.
He lit the oil lamp and took out the incomplete copy of the *Qi Guiding Technique*. The paper was rough and yellowed, the ink almost gone. He carefully turned to the first few pages, reading in the dim light.
Sitting cross-legged, regulating his breath, sensing "spiritual energy," guiding it into his body, circulating it along the pathways, and returning it to his dantian.
The diagrams for the circulation of Qi were a mess, the lines tangled together. He only looked at the parts about sensing and guiding Qi.
Shen Lian stared at him for a long time before speaking in a hoarse voice, "Bought from a street stall in the market?"
"Yes."
"It's fake, right?" Shen Lian said. "Eleven out of ten of those books are fake."
"I know," Lin Feng said without looking up. "I had no other choice."
Shen Lian fell silent and closed his eyes. Only the crackling of the oil lamp remained in the shack.
The night deepened. Lin Feng blew out the lamp and sat cross-legged in the darkness. Following the instructions in the booklet, he tried to relax his body and adjust his breathing. He closed his eyes and focused his attention inward.
Darkness, silence, faint distant noise, Shen Lian's weak and long breaths.
Time passed slowly. His legs grew numb, and his mind began to wander. Just when he was about to give up, a faint coolness emanated from the ancient jade placed against his chest.
Clear and cool, as if it could penetrate to the bone.
With this coolness, the few dim veins in his body seemed to become slightly clearer. Especially the faint, yellowish-brown vein that stretched from his chest downwards, barely visible.
Meanwhile, something so thin it was almost nonexistent was slowly, spontaneously, gathering towards his chest, drawn by the coolness of the ancient jade.
Then, a tiny wisp actually seeped into his skin, creeping forward along the yellowish-brown vein.
Slower than a snail's pace, but undeniably moving.
Guiding Qi into the body?
Lin Feng's heart skipped a beat. He suppressed the fluctuation, continuing to concentrate, trying to push the warm current with his mind. It was difficult, like trying to push a feather through a thick fog.
After an unknown amount of time, the warm current had only advanced less than an inch, almost stopping. He also felt a wave of mental exhaustion, his temples throbbing.
Opening his eyes, the oil lamp was long gone, and it was pitch black outside.
This is cultivation? So slow it's despairing. At this speed, it would take months to complete just one meridian. Qi Refining Level 1… In the Deep Valley, even Qi Refining Level 1 is the lowest level, like an ant.
The road was so long it was breathtaking.
But at least, there was some solid ground beneath his feet.
The next afternoon, the hide shop owner asked him to deliver a few bundles of tanned hides to a herbal medicine shop at the other end of the market.
The herbal medicine shop was relatively tidy, with herbs drying in the sun, and a bitter smell filled the air. Lin Feng carried the hides inside. Behind the counter sat a thin, elderly man in a dark, worn robe, wearing a monocle, looking down at the ledger.
The old man raised his eyelids, his gaze sweeping over the hides, then over Lin Feng's face, pausing on the old scar on the web of Lin Feng's left hand.
The clerk counted the hides and handed over a few copper coins. Lin Feng took them and turned to leave.
"Young man."
The old man suddenly spoke, his voice low and hoarse.
Lin Feng stopped.
The old man kept his head down, the tip of his pen lightly touching the ledger. "That scar on your hand, from a pickaxe?"
"...Yes."
"Have you been mining recently?"
Lin Feng's heart tightened. "I ran errands for someone."
The old man took off his monocle and wiped it with the corner of his clothes. Only one of his eyes was intact; the other was cloudy and whitish. His intact eye looked over, its gaze sharp.
He stared at Lin Feng for a few seconds, then twitched his lips.
"There's a hint of newly formed 'qi' on you." He lowered his voice, almost a whisper, "As faint as if it were nothing. You've got a foothold?"
Lin Feng's body tensed.
"Don't be nervous." The old man put his monocle back on and looked at the ledger again. "I took some wrong turns when I was young, and I've seen a lot of mess. Here's some nonsense for you, take it or leave it."
He tapped the ledger again with his pen.
"In Shen Gu, without a powerful backer, revealing your secrets is suicide. Especially someone like you, a greenhorn who's just scratched the surface, knows nothing, and is carrying something he shouldn't be carrying."
Lin Feng felt a chill run down his spine. Something he shouldn't be carrying?
"Scarface Liu is the kind of person with a keen sense of smell," the old man continued, without looking at him. "The abnormality about you won't escape his notice. He won't touch you either because he hasn't figured you out yet, or because he thinks you can still be exploited. Once he thinks you're useless, or when something about you is worth his time..."
He didn't finish.
"Thank you," Lin Feng said softly.
"No need to thank me," the old man waved his hand. "I'm just a medicine seller; too much talk will only cause trouble. Let's go."
Lin Feng quickly left the herb shop. Even after walking a long way, that gaze still seemed to be fixed on his back.
Without a powerful backer, revealing your secrets is suicide.
Scarface Liu's spying, Chen San's fear, the one-eyed old man's warning… danger, like the fog in this deep valley, silently enveloped them.
Night, in the shack. Shen Lian drank some hot water and leaned against the wall. He watched Lin Feng flipping through the tattered booklet under the oil lamp for a long time, then asked hoarsely, "Still practicing?"
"Yes."
"...Save your energy." Shen Lian finished speaking and closed his eyes.
The oil lamp went out. Lin Feng sat cross-legged in the darkness and tried to cultivate his qi again. With the experience of the previous two days, he entered the state a little faster. The ancient jade emanated a slight coolness, attracting the sparse spiritual energy, which seeped in and slowly crawled along the earthen-yellow veins.
Slow.
A thought suddenly popped into his mind. The ancient jade could attract spiritual energy, so could it… directly consume it?
Hesitating for a moment, he took out the only twelve copper coins he had earned that day from his pocket. No, that's not right. Copper coins are useless. He remembered something and reached for his chest—there, besides the ancient jade, were two darkest, almost imperceptible fragments of stone he'd picked out from the medicine dregs and kept close to his body. The stall owner, Chen San, had said these things were too impurities; cultivators wouldn't want them, and mortals were useless—practically free.
He gripped one of the fist-sized, rough, cold stones, focusing his attention on the ancient jade at his chest.
No reaction.
Just as he was about to give up, a very slight tremor suddenly came from his chest. An indescribable throbbing, as if something dormant had awakened for a moment.
Then, the stone in his hand, with its almost nonexistent spiritual energy, seemed to be tugged at. A faint, almost imperceptible stream of spiritual energy was drawn from the stone, seeping through his skin and into his body.
This stream of spiritual energy didn't travel along his meridians; instead, it surged directly to his chest and merged into the ancient jade.
The ancient jade "ate" it.
Then, after two or three breaths, a finer, but more "gentle," stream of heat flowed from the ancient jade into his body, merging into his earth-yellow veins and slowly propelling him forward.
The speed was slightly faster than when he tried to draw his own qi.
It really worked!
The slight fluctuation in Lin Feng's heart was interrupted by a sudden feeling of weakness. A slight dizziness, a general weakness in his limbs, as if something had been drained from him.
The feeling wasn't strong, but it was very clear.
This jade could help him, but it would also consume him.
There's no such thing as a free lunch.
He held the piece of broken stone, now even dimmer after a bit of its spiritual energy had been drained, and sat in the thick darkness. The stench of a distant garbage heap drifted in on the wind.
The faint light that had ignited upon discovering the shortcut flickered with exhaustion and a growing awareness of the unknown cost.
To use it, or not to use it?