10: Chapter 10 Consuming a Semi-Essence

The horse's hooves stepped into the mountain stream, and the splashing water dampened Jiang Yan's trouser legs.

He walked upstream along the creek for about half an hour.

Ahead was a protruding giant rock, like half an open umbrella canopy, slanting out from the mountainside.

Jiang Yan pushed aside the hanging vines, revealing the cave entrance behind the rock.

The cave entrance was not large, just enough for a horse to walk in.

He led the Black-maned Horse inside, its hooves echoing hollowly against the rocks.

He tethered the horse to a stalagmite deep inside, unloaded the box containing gold from the horse's back, and placed it in a corner.

Then, he cleared a dry spot. He pushed away the gravel and dead leaves on the ground, revealing the flat rock underneath, and sat down cross-legged.

The stone was very cold. Through his clothing, the chill crept up from his legs, as if he were sitting in a pool of cold water.

Jiang Yan took the Fleeceflower root from his bosom.

The dark brown root was almost invisible in the dim light of the cave, but when he touched it, he could feel the texture of the skin—rough and shriveled, like an old person's skin.

He broke off a piece and put it into his mouth.

The medicinal flesh was very hard, and his teeth made a slight crunching sound as he bit down.

A bitter taste exploded on the tip of his tongue; it wasn't the pure bitterness of Coptis, but mixed with an earthy scent and a faint, elusive sweetness.

Saliva welled up, softening the medicinal flesh, and he swallowed it down his throat.

A ball of warmth rose in his stomach.

It wasn't burning, but warm. It was like lighting a small lamp in his belly; the warmth slowly seeped out from his stomach, permeated his blood vessels, and flowed along his Meridians to all parts of his body.

Jiang Yan broke off another piece, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. Then, he activated the Bloodthirsty Demon Scripture.

The dark red vortex within his Dantian began to accelerate.

The vortex formed by the twenty-nine strands of Spiritual Qi slowly rotated, like a pool of stirred water; the center of the vortex sank, and fine ripples appeared at the edges.

The Spiritual Qi within the medicinal power was stripped away strand by strand—it wasn't absorption, but stripping, like separating stuck threads one by one, then rolling them into the vortex.

The light outside the cave slowly changed.

From bright to dim, from twilight to gray-white. The creek kept making noise, gurgling day and night without stopping.

Occasionally, bird calls came from outside the cave, chirping a few times before stopping.

The Black-maned Horse, tired of standing, lay on the ground, snorting from time to time and pawing at the ground with its hooves.

Jiang Yan did not move.

When all the medicinal power was refined, he opened his eyes.

Inside his Dantian, the number of strands of Spiritual Qi had jumped from twenty-nine to thirty-five.

The dark red vortex was much more solid than before, rotating faster, and the edges were no longer a blurry mist but had clear boundaries.

The thirty-five strands of Spiritual Qi arranged themselves into an incomplete ring within the vortex—missing a gap, like a copper coin missing its final stroke.

He was only one strand away from the thirty-six strands required for the Perfection of Qi Induction.

The light outside the cave told him that a day and a night had passed.

Sunlight slanted in from the cave entrance, casting a bright square patch of light on the ground.

Jiang Yan stood up. His joints made a slight crackling sound, like fine cracks appearing on a frozen surface.

His blood accelerated again, and he could feel his temples throbbing, beat by beat.

The final strand of Spiritual Qi could not be built up with ordinary herbs.

Half Spirit Medicines like the Fleeceflower root were rare and hard to come by.

Even in the treasury accumulated by the Zhou Family over several generations, there was only this one.

To find another one, he didn't know how many mountains he would have to cross or how many pharmacies he would have to ransack. It was time-consuming, laborious, and there was no guarantee of a result.

The fastest way was still the essence blood of a Martial Artist.

The essence blood of a Second-rate Martial Artist.

The three major Gangs in Qingyang County.

Gang Leader Liu Zhen of the Green Wolf Gang had already been drained dry; all that remained were Society Leader Wei Tiedao of the Iron Blade Society and Gang Leader Cheng Biao of the Axe Gang.

Gang Leader Cheng Biao was only at the Peak of the Third-rate, so the quality of his essence blood was a notch lower.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao was a Second-rate Martial Artist, and that day at the Drunken Immortal Residence, he heard that fat man say the Iron Blade Society also had a Vice Society Leader, who was also a Second-rate.

A Second-rate who had been heavily injured and was half-crippled.

But the quality of his essence blood shouldn't have decreased. The injury was to his muscles and bones, not his Qi and blood.

Two Second-rate Martial Artists.

That would be enough.

Jiang Yan walked back into the cave and untied the horse's reins. The Black-maned Horse snorted and pawed the ground twice with its front hooves.

He swung onto the horse, squeezed its belly with his legs, and the horse's hooves made crisp sounds against the rocks as he rode out of the cave along the original path.

The midday sun hung overhead, glaring white, scorching the scalp.

When Jiang Yan led the horse into Qingyang County, the shops on the street were bustling.

The bun seller lifted the steamer lid, and white steam rushed out, carrying the aroma of meat filling and dough.

The blacksmith shop rang incessantly with clanging sounds; hammers struck the anvil, and sparks flew with every blow.

A peddler carrying a load shouted at the top of his lungs, his voice sharp and long, as if he wanted to tear a hole in the sky.

He tethered the horse to a locust tree by the street; the bark was rough, and the reins made a rustling friction sound as they tightened.

People were talking in the teahouse.

"Have you heard? Gang Leader Liu Zhen of the Green Wolf Gang has disappeared."

"How did he disappear?"

"Heaven knows. Someone went to the Green Wolf Gang's headquarters the day before yesterday; seven or eight people were lying in the courtyard, and Gang Leader Liu Zhen's room was empty. The man was gone. Neither alive nor dead."

The speaker lowered his voice, but Jiang Yan's hearing caught it clearly.

"One person?"

"I heard it was a young man. Very handsome, and he fought his way in alone."

"Bullshit. One person could take down the Green Wolf Gang? Gang Leader Liu Zhen is a Second-rate Martial Artist; his pair of Iron Sand Palms have crushed bulls to death."

"Why would I lie to you? It's spread all over Willow Lane. That young man held Gang Leader Liu Zhen in his hand like he was carrying a chick, and walked out the front door of the headquarters. Someone saw it with their own eyes."

A teacup dropped onto the table with a crisp ding.

Jiang Yan walked past the teahouse entrance without stopping.

The streets in the east of the city were wider than in the west, and the shops were more imposing.

Rolls of silk hung at the entrance of the cloth shop, colorful and swaying gently in the breeze.

Sacks were piled up at the entrance of the grain store, their mouths open, revealing the golden grains inside.

The headquarters of the Iron Blade Society was at the end of the street.

It was a two-courtyard compound with a black plaque hanging over the lintel; the three characters "Iron Blade Society" were painted in gold, the strokes rough and coarse, as if carved directly into the wood with a blade.

Four men stood at the entrance, all with blades tucked into their waists, the copper buckles on their scabbards gleaming with a dull light in the sunlight.

The four of them were bored. A bearded man squatted on the threshold picking his teeth, a tall thin man leaned against the door frame yawning, and the other two sat on the steps throwing dice, which made a rolling sound as they landed on the bluestone.

Jiang Yan crossed the street and walked toward the gate.

The bearded man saw him first. His hand picking his teeth stopped, the bamboo toothpick hanging from his mouth, as he looked up and down at the youth in the cyan long gown.

The tall thin man's yawn was cut in half, his mouth hanging open, unable to close.

The two throwing dice hadn't noticed yet and were arguing until their faces were red over a score.

The bearded man stood up, took a step forward, and reached out to block him.

His palm opened, revealing five short, thick fingers with dirt stuck under the nails.

"Kid, do you know what place this is—"

Before he could finish his sentence.

Jiang Yan walked past him and pressed a hand on his shoulder.

The bearded man felt as if half his body had been pressed by a stone; the numbness spread from his shoulder to his waist, his knees went soft, and he fell to his knees with a thud.

The bamboo toothpick fell from his mouth and bounced twice on the bluestone.

The remaining three people hadn't reacted yet, and Jiang Yan had already pushed open the gate of the Iron Blade Society.

The door hinges made a long, creaking sound.

There were a dozen or so people in the courtyard.

Some were shirtless, lifting stone locks; sweat streamed down their backs, seeping into their belts and leaving dark marks.

Some were practicing blade techniques, the clashing of blades making crisp clanging sounds, with sparks flying every time they struck.

Some were squatting under the veranda drinking water, holding coarse pottery bowls, water dripping from the rim of the bowl and wetting their trouser legs.

When the gate was pushed open, everyone stopped what they were doing.

The person lifting the stone lock remained in a half-squatting position, the stone lock suspended in front of his chest, the muscles on his arms taut.

The two practicing blade techniques had their blades crossed, edge locked against edge, neither moving. The one drinking water held the bowl, no longer drinking.

Jiang Yan walked in.

Stepping on the rammed earth ground of the courtyard, he could feel the slight undulation of the ground under his feet.

The soil was mixed with gravel and dry grass clippings, making a rustling sound when stepped on.

The first three to rush up were the ones closest to the gate.

The first person was unarmed and threw a punch at Jiang Yan's face.

Before the fist arrived, the wind of the punch came—Jiang Yan tilted his head, and the fist grazed his earlobe; he could feel the calluses on the knuckles brushing against his skin.

He reached out with his right hand, gripped the man's wrist, and twisted it outward.

The wrist bone made a slight click under his palm, and the man's entire arm was twisted behind his back, forcing him to his knees with a scream.

The second person seized the opportunity to lunge from the side, clutching a short blade in his hand.

The tip of the blade aimed straight for Jiang Yan's waist, a tricky angle. Jiang Yan turned, and the short blade grazed his belt.

His elbow smashed downward at the same time, hitting the man's wrist holding the blade squarely.

The wrist bone made a crisp crack, the short blade slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

The man clutched his wrist and squatted down, his face flushed red, his lips trembling, unable to make a sound.

The third person rushed halfway and stopped abruptly.

Seeing the fate of the first two, his hand holding the blade began to tremble.

The tip of the blade drew small circles in the air, unable to steady itself.

The remaining people formed a semicircle, blade tips pointing outward, surrounding Jiang Yan.

No one dared to step forward, and no one retreated. Sweat streamed down from their foreheads, dripping along their cheeks.