It took a long while for Qin Sang to recover. He gasped for breath and opened his eyes, his gaze filled with horror.
The excruciating pain in his meridians gradually faded, but a lingering dread gripped his heart whenever he recalled that terrifying sensation.
Just then, Qin Sang heard the chirping of birds outside. Turning his head, he saw the faint light of dawn—daybreak had already arrived.
Qin Sang was secretly astonished. His entire mind had been absorbed in cultivation, and he felt as though he had only circulated the qi for a few heavenly circuits over an hour or two at most, yet an entire night had passed.
Hearing footsteps and quiet murmurs outside, Qin Sang did not dare to continue. He lay down in his clothes and fell into a deep sleep.
After several days of experimentation, Qin Sang gradually grasped the patterns of the Nether Scripture. For now, he could only guide that wisp of qi through nine heavenly circuits within his body; any more, and the excruciating pain would interrupt him.
If he forced it further, his meridians felt as if they were being torn apart, bone-deep agony wracking him.
As things stood, Qin Sang could only look forward to breaking through to the second layer of the cultivation technique. To his dismay, a whole month slipped by, yet the wisp of qi had only grown by a sliver. There was no telling how long a breakthrough would take.
Even more disheartening was that this qi seemed to offer no boost to his martial arts. Striking out with all his might, his punch packed roughly the same force as before—he could not even snap a wooden post.
However, over the course of that month, Qin Sang discovered that his body had undergone changes. The transformation was subtle and gradual, so much so that he had not noticed it at first.
Two days ago, a snare he had crafted trapped a wild bird. He had intended to roast it over a fire, but an accidental slip while untying the knot let the bird break free.
As the bird took to the air, Qin Sang reflexively grabbed a stone and hurled it. Right on target, it struck true.
Startled by his own pinpoint accuracy, Qin Sang froze in place.
He had actually perceived the bird's flight trajectory with crystalline clarity. To his eyes, the bird had appeared to slow down, allowing him to instantly discern which direction it would dart in the next instant. In the past, such a feat would have been completely impossible.
Because of this incident, Qin Sang could not help reflecting on various other subtle changes in himself.
Things like improved digestion and a voracious appetite hardly needed mentioning.
Beyond his sharper vision, his hearing was far keener than before; he could clearly pick up the faintest rustle in the distance.
Practicing martial arts also required conditioning the body. He and Mingyue trained with stone mallets, wooden posts, and the like; no matter how careful they were, injuries were inevitable. Vulnerable spots like joints and the lower back were notoriously difficult to heal once damaged, flaring up every now and then to torment a person.
Lately, however, all of Qin Sang's old aches and pains seemed to have vanished without a trace, leaving him in peace for a long while.
Furthermore, he could now effortlessly execute some of the most intricate stances of the Tiger-Subduing Long Fist. His flexibility had steadily improved, and his fist technique had advanced by leaps and bounds.
Reflecting on all of this, Qin Sang realized just how many benefits the Nether Scripture had brought him.
If such improvements continued, his physical constitution would undoubtedly far outstrip ordinary mortals.
"With wondrous effects like these, no matter how slow the Nether Scripture is to cultivate, I must persevere."
Qin Sang hummed a tune as he led the donkey along, lost in thought.
The donkey bore a sack of coarse grain. Ever since the temple had taken in several refugee families, the old Daoist had provided them with relief food from time to time. As a result, the temple's grain supplies were depleting rapidly, while grain prices outside were skyrocketing. Qin Sang figured that sooner or later, he would have to contribute the several dozen taels of silver he had on hand.
Urging the donkey into the temple courtyard, Qin Sang let out a startled sound. "Mingyue, why are you hauling out that battered vat?"
"Senior Brother, come help me!"
Mingyue gasped, shouting as if he had spotted his savior. "Master told me to move this vat from the woodshed into Qingyang Hall. He said we'll need it tonight!"
Since it was Daoist Priest Jixin's instructions, Qin Sang quickly tied up the donkey and lent a hand.
The clay vat was massive, large enough for a person to sit inside. Although Mingyue had grown sturdier from practicing martial arts and eating meat with Qin Sang, shifting it still pushed him to his limits.
Supposedly, back when Qingyang Temple flourished, this vat had been used to store sesame oil for incense lamps. Now that Qingyang Temple was dilapidated and lacked such copious amounts of oil, it had sat in the woodshed, filled with pine needles used for kindling.
Mingyue had cleared out all the pine needles and scrubbed the vat clean, though what the old Daoist intended to do with it remained a mystery.
When Qin Sang asked, Mingyue was just as bewildered, saying only that their master had gone up the mountain to gather herbs and had given the order before leaving.
Exerting considerable effort, the two hoisted the large vat into Qingyang Hall. Following Daoist Priest Jixin's instructions, they fashioned a base out of two stones and set the vat upon it.
Qin Sang wondered if the old Daoist planned to brew medicinal herbs in it.
With a vat this massive, it was fortunate Qin Sang had directed water down using bamboo conduits; otherwise, carrying buckets would have exhausted Mingyue to death.
Come dusk, Daoist Priest Jixin returned from foraging. His wicker basket was only half-full of herbs. He had Mingyue shut the front and rear doors of Qingyang Hall, and set to work.
Squatting nearby to sort through the herbs, Qin Sang realized that he was seeing most of them for the first time, and every one of them was a rare and valuable variety.
The ailments Daoist Priest Jixin treated most often were minor conditions like bruises, sprains, colds, or damp-heat, which only required a standard set of a dozen-odd herbs. On the few occasions Qin Sang had accompanied the old Daoist into the mountains, they had gathered those familiar plants. This time, however, everything the old Daoist had collected was new.
After sorting the herbs, Daoist Priest Jixin sat behind a long desk and brushed out a prescription, telling Mingyue to fetch the ingredients. Qin Sang leaned over to look. It was a new prescription, with intricate combinations far beyond the rudimentary medical knowledge he possessed.
"Daoist Priest, what is this prescription for?"
Seeing Qin Sang's puzzled expression, Daoist Priest Jixin explained, "Though this humble Daoist knows nothing of the martial arts, I understand well enough that scholarship favors the poor, while martial training demands wealth. You and Mingyue practice martial arts every day, which takes a heavy toll. No matter how much game you eat, it is difficult to replenish the vitality you deplete, and hidden ailments will inevitably take root. This is an ancient prescription my master obtained while serving as an imperial physician. It strengthens the foundation and cultivates vitality, making it ideal for practitioners of martial arts. However, it is meant for a medicinal bath and must never be taken orally. Measure out the herbs according to the recipe, fill the vat with water, and simmer it down until seven-tenths of the decoction remains. Once the temperature drops, soak in it for half an hour, twice a day—morning and evening. By topping it up with water, one batch can be used for seven days before replacing it with fresh herbs."
Upon hearing of such a boon, Qin Sang naturally would not decline. Committing the formula to memory, he could not help marveling, "Daoist Priest, just how many treasures are you hiding up your sleeve?"
Daoist Priest Jixin closed his eyes to rest.
Qin Sang and Mingyue busied themselves, swiftly measuring the herbs and filling the vat with water. Following the old Daoist's directions, they brewed the medicine, and once the temperature had fallen a bit, Qin Sang could hardly wait to leap in.
"Ah!"
For the first time in his life, he was soaking in a hot bath. Submerged up to his neck in the steaming medicinal brew, Qin Sang felt soothing comfort wash through his entire body. Every trace of exhaustion vanished in an instant, and an involuntary groan escaped his lips.
Mingyue could not handle the heat as well as Qin Sang and tentatively dipped a foot in. But seeing Qin Sang's expression of sheer bliss, he bore the scalding heat and jumped in as well.
Mingyue was young and small in stature, so sharing the space did not feel cramped at all.
The early spring chill lingered in the air, making soaking in the hot medicinal decoction pure bliss. Qin Sang rested the back of his head against the rim of the vat, feeling so relaxed that he wanted nothing more than to drift into a deep slumber.
Chapter 15