Half an hour later, as the water cooled, the two reluctantly climbed out of the medicinal vat.
Following their regular routine of evening chants and fist practice, which had already become second nature to Qin Sang, he returned to his room at the hour of Hai and resumed cultivating the Nether Scripture.
Once a single heavenly circuit was complete, Qin Sang abruptly stopped his cultivation and opened his eyes, astonishment written across his face.
Over this period, he had grown accustomed to making only miniscule progress each time. Today, however, was suddenly different—in just one heavenly circuit, he had made as much progress as he usually did in half a day!
Feeling the qi within his body, which had clearly grown noticeably stronger, Qin Sang quickly calmed his mind, entered meditation, and proceeded with the next heavenly circuit.
The second circuit still brought an obvious improvement, though slightly less than the first. Qin Sang continued to direct the technique's circulation; with each passing circuit, the gains progressively diminished until, by the ninth circuit, the effect had returned to normal.
After completing all nine heavenly circuits, Qin Sang lay down. He was supposed to sleep for an hour to replenish his energy, but his excitement kept him wide awake.
The only explanation for such sudden and immense progress today was the medicinal bath from the previous night. Who would have thought the prescription passed down from the old Daoist's master could not only solidify one's foundation and cultivate vital essence, but even be effective for the Nether Scripture?
Truly worthy of an imperial physician.
Qin Sang silently rejoiced. His Tiger-Subduing Long Fist had truly served its purpose, and it was a good thing he had dragged Mingyue into it as well; otherwise, the old Daoist would never have brought out such a formula for him alone!
At this thought, Qin Sang hurriedly cast his mind back. His memory seemed to have improved as well, allowing him to recall every detail of that prescription without the slightest error. If he ever left the old Daoist in the future, he could gather the herbs and compound the medicine himself.
With the aid of the medicinal bath, Qin Sang finally saw the dawn of a breakthrough. Thrilled beyond sleep, he watched as daybreak soon arrived. Rolling out of bed, he rushed to Qingyang Hall to light the fire and brew the medicine.
When master and disciple finished washing up and entered the hall, they looked at each other in surprise, having never seen Qin Sang so enthusiastic.
Daoist Priest Jixin stroked his long beard and said with a beaming smile, "Well? How effective was this humble Daoist's prescription?"
"You truly are a divine physician! A miraculous medicine!"
Qin Sang gave repeated thumbs-up and moved closer with a fawning look. "Daoist Priest, how many more ancient prescriptions do you have? Could you bring them all out so this humble one can broaden his horizons?"
Daoist Priest Jixin gave a heavy harrumph, flicked his sleeves, and walked away.
Mingyue leaned in close to Qin Sang, shifting his back rather uncomfortably, and whispered, "Senior Brother, how did you feel last night? Why did my insides feel so unbearably hot, and even a bit numb and itchy? I couldn't fall asleep until very late, and I don't feel any better for it."
Mingyue was definitely affected by the medicinal potency. However, since Mingyue did not know the Nether Scripture, his efficiency in absorbing the medicinal power was likely far inferior to Qin Sang's, and it had all gone to waste as dry heat.
Qin Sang made up nonsense on the spot. "Oh, don't worry. You've reached puberty."
Even when it came time for the medicinal bath, Mingyue was still pressing him to explain what "puberty" was.
Soaking in the medicinal broth, Qin Sang recalled how the medicinal potency had gradually faded during his cultivation the previous night. A thought suddenly stirred within him: What would happen if he circulated the Nether Scripture while soaking in the medicinal bath?
Cultivating the technique only required meditating with a calm mind, and the bathwater was murky enough that no one could see his posture beneath the surface. Acting the moment the idea struck, Qin Sang immediately crossed his legs and began circulating his technique.
To his surprise, before completing even a single heavenly circuit, Qin Sang felt threads of pain shooting through his meridians. Intimately familiar with this sensation, he hurriedly halted his cultivation.
Mingyue was still resting with his eyes closed and had not noticed Qin Sang's quiet actions.
Qin Sang glanced down at the broth, his gaze narrowing slightly. The water around him had turned noticeably lighter than that around Mingyue. Had it not been for the dim lighting inside Qingyang Hall, anyone could easily have spotted the difference.
Qin Sang quickly stirred the broth to blend it back together. Feeling the qi inside him, he knew the progress was truly tremendous, yet the pain throbbing in his meridians was all too vivid—they could easily be overwhelmed at any moment.
It seemed absorbing too much medicinal power was not necessarily a good thing, so Qin Sang temporarily set aside the thought of striking out on his own.
Afterward, Qin Sang had no choice but to exercise patience, absorbing only a little at a time during each session.
Only on the seventh day, during their final medicinal bath when the potency in the broth had grown exceedingly faint, did Qin Sang dare to absorb it freely, continuing until he had thoroughly drawn out every bit of medicinal power without wasting a single drop.
After finishing the bath, Qin Sang and Mingyue scraped out the remaining medicinal dregs and dumped them outside. The originally pitch-black broth had now turned somewhat clear.
"Senior Brother, why hasn't Master returned yet?"
Holding a wooden ladle, Mingyue stood at the temple gate, gazing into the distance and asking with no small amount of worry.
Today was another auspicious day. A household at the ferry was building a new house and had chosen today to raise the roof beam, inviting the old Daoist to perform rituals to bless the home and pray for good fortune. Night was about to fall completely now. Usually, it would almost be time for evening chants by this hour, yet the old Daoist was still not back.
Qin Sang frowned. "Keep watch at the temple. I'll head down the mountain to meet him."
The old Daoist had ridden off on the donkey, so Qin Sang grabbed a wooden staff and started down the mountain path.
The forest was dense and thick, and the end of the mountain trail looked like nothing more than a black abyss. When the night wind blew, rustling noises echoed all around, as though countless ghostly silhouettes were baring their fangs and brandishing their claws.
Yet Qin Sang did not find it particularly frightening. Although he only knew an elementary fist routine, cultivating the Nether Scripture had sharpened his senses and made his limbs agile and quick; even if he crossed paths with a vicious wolf, he was confident he could put up a fight.
Mingyue had practiced martial arts alongside Qin Sang, yet he could not last a single round against him, which had left Mingyue thoroughly frustrated.
Before Qin Sang could even make it down the mountain, however, he spotted three dark silhouettes. With his sharp eyesight, Qin Sang could tell that the one in front was Daoist Priest Jixin.
"Daoist Priest, why are you returning so late today?"
Qin Sang ran up to help lead the donkey, sizing up the stranger following behind the Daoist.
This person was very small and thin, carrying a large bundle on his back.
From a distance, Qin Sang had thought the old Daoist had found spring in his withered years and brought back a girl; only when he drew closer did he see that it was an elderly man.
He was only slightly taller than a dwarf, with a hunched back, a sallow face covered in wrinkles, looking fifty or sixty years old. Yet his steps were brisk, and he walked steadily even on the treacherous mountain path, keeping close behind the old Daoist. At a glance, he was clearly a poor laborer accustomed to walking long distances on foot.
"This is Benefactor Wu," the old Daoist said, gesturing toward his mouth as he looked at Qin Sang. "Benefactor Wu cannot speak. He works as a boat tracker at the First Ferry. Originally from the north, he recently fled here as a refugee and couldn't find a place to stay. I invited him to stay at the temple for a while. The room next to yours is empty, so let him stay next door to you."
He then said to the mute man, "This lad is named Qin Sang. He's quite shrewd. If you run into trouble in the future, just go to him for help."
Carrying secrets of his own, Qin Sang naturally did not want someone living next door. But the Daoist temple did not belong to him, so he could only suppress his displeasure and offer a greeting: "Old Wu, you can just call me Qin Sang from now on... ah, wait!"
Qin Sang lightly tapped his own mouth and smiled apologetically. "I speak without thinking, please don't mind me."
Old Wu looked ill at ease, gesturing repeatedly with his hands while making a few "ah-ah" sounds from his mouth—he truly was mute.
There was not much to say to a mute man. The three walked back to the temple in silence. Old Wu joined them for dinner, after which Qin Sang led him to his room.
Returning to Qingyang Hall, Qin Sang asked the old Daoist about this Old Wu, and the old Daoist let out a soft sigh.
Chapter 16