11: Chapter 11 Qi Refining Perfection

The door to the main hall was pushed open from the inside.

The door panel slammed against the wall with a dull thud.

A tall, thin middle-aged man walked out.

He was wearing a dark gray short tunic, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing two lean forearms.

The muscles on his forearms were clearly defined, as if carved by a knife.

In his right hand, he held a blade—the blade body was twice as wide as a standard waist saber, over three feet long, pitch-black, and forged with nine iron rings on the back.

As he walked, the iron rings collided, making a clattering sound.

A thirty-six-pound ghost-head saber.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao.

Behind him followed a short, stocky man.

The man was half a head shorter than Society Leader Wei Tiedao, but his shoulders were a circle wider, like a wall growing horizontally.

His temples bulged high, and his arms were longer than an ordinary person's, hanging down past his knees.

In each hand, he held an iron whip, the bodies of which were cast with protruding joints, section by section, like the nodes of bamboo.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's gaze swept over his disheveled subordinates in the courtyard.

The one holding the stone lock was still dazed, and the stone lock had already slipped from his hands, smashing into the ground and creating a pit.

The two sparring with saber techniques still had their blades crossed, forgetting to separate them.

The one kneeling on the ground was still screaming, his voice rising wave after wave.

His face was as dark as the bottom of a pot.

"Who are you?" Society Leader Wei Tiedao's voice squeezed through his teeth. "Has the Iron Blade Society offended you?"

Jiang Yan glanced at him, then looked at the short, stocky man behind him.

Two.

Perfect.

He did not answer and walked straight over.

His boot soles stepped on the rammed earth, one step, two steps, three steps.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's pupils constricted.

He stopped wasting words, and the ghost-head saber whistled down.

The blade was fast.

The thirty-six-pound heavy blade was as light as a willow branch in his hands.

The blade edge cut through the air, emitting a sharp whistling sound—not the sound of wind, but a screech, like the sharp noise of fingernails scraping across an iron plate.

The nine iron rings clattered together, and the sound of iron colliding with iron pounded densely into his ears.

The moment the blade fell, Jiang Yan sidestepped.

The tip of the blade slashed down half an inch from his chest.

He could feel the airflow stirred up by the blade edge grazing his clothes, like someone drawing a line across his chest with a finger.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's slash missed, the momentum spent, the blade still traveling downward.

Jiang Yan's palm struck the side of the blade.

Clang—

The sound of his palm colliding with the blade was like striking a bell.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's tiger's mouth vibrated, a numbness shooting up his arm, and his five fingers could barely hold onto the handle.

The ghost-head saber was jolted to one side, and the iron rings on the back of the blade all flew in the same direction with a clatter.

The short, stocky man moved.

He flashed out from behind Society Leader Wei Tiedao, swinging his iron whip in a full circle towards Jiang Yan's temple.

The whip body carried the sound of wind, a wailing, like the howl of a wolf from afar.

Before the whip arrived, the whip wind pressed in first, and the skin on his temples could feel the pressure.

Jiang Yan lowered his head.

The iron whip grazed past his hair.

He could hear the sound of the whip passing by his ear—a whoosh, low and resonant, like a blunt knife cutting through thick cloth.

His right elbow simultaneously struck backward.

The tip of his elbow hit the short, stocky man's ribs squarely.

The ribs gave a crisp crack under the elbow tip; at least two were broken.

The sensation traveled up from his elbow—first hard, then brittle, like stepping on a dry twig.

The short, stocky man let out a muffled groan, his body arching like a shrimp, his feet sliding back half a step on the ground.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's second strike followed immediately.

Faster than the first.

The blade slashed horizontally, heading straight for Jiang Yan's neck.

The sound of the iron rings and the screech of the blade mixed together, making one's eardrums ache.

Jiang Yan did not dodge.

He extended his right hand and grabbed directly at the back of the blade.

The moment his fingers locked onto the back of the blade, his palm could feel the vibration from the blade—the aftershocks of the muscle tremors from Society Leader Wei Tiedao's exertion conducted into the blade.

The iron rings were still clattering, but the blade stopped.

It was as if clamped by iron pliers, not moving a whit.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's expression changed.

He pulled hard on the blade.

The muscles on his arms bulged, and blue veins protruded from beneath his skin, like earthworms wriggling.

The blade, held in Jiang Yan's hand, did not move at all.

He pulled again, this time putting his entire body weight into it, his heels off the ground, shoulders leaning back—still, it didn't move.

Then he saw a fair, slender palm rapidly enlarging in his field of vision.

The palm struck his chest.

Bang.

The dull thud was like a drumbeat.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao felt as if his chest had been rammed by an ox.

His ribs bent under the force of the palm, pressing against his lungs, the air in his chest cavity squeezed out, and a wheezing sound came from his throat.

His feet left the ground, and he flew backward.

His back crashed through the wooden door of the main hall.

The door panel shattered, wood chips flying.

The broken wooden splinters were stark white, like a torn-open steamed bun.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao tumbled into the main hall, his body rolling twice on the ground, knocking over the eight-immortal table in the center.

The teapot and tea bowls on the table smashed to the ground, porcelain shards scattering everywhere, tea soaking the floor.

The ghost-head saber slipped from his hand and clattered to the ground.

The iron rings bounced a few times on the floor, making a final few sporadic sounds, then went quiet.

The short, stocky man clutched his ribs, trying to crawl up.

His fingers pressed against his broken ribs; every time he moved, the broken bone fragments grated against his muscles, the pain causing beads of sweat to roll down his forehead one after another.

He had just propped up his upper body—

Jiang Yan stepped on his back, stomping him back to the ground.

His face pressed against the rammed earth, he could taste the soil and bits of grass.

The remaining gang members in the courtyard watched as their Society Leader and Vice Society Leader were both defeated in a single exchange, their weapons clattering to the ground.

Someone took a step back, their heel hitting the stone lock, stumbling and falling to the ground.

No one dared to step forward.

Jiang Yan bent down, one in each hand, lifting Society Leader Wei Tiedao and the short, stocky man by the scruff of their necks.

Like carrying two dead dogs.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's ribs were broken, he didn't know how many; blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he was already semi-conscious.

Held by the back of his neck, his head hung down, his chin resting against his chest.

The short, stocky man was still awake, the intense pain in his ribs making him tremble all over, but held in mid-air, he couldn't even struggle—every time he moved, the broken ribs pierced deeper.

Jiang Yan carried the two out of the Iron Blade Society gates.

On the threshold, the bearded man was still kneeling on the ground, half his body still numb, unable to get up.

He saw his own Society Leader being carried past him, his mouth opening, but not a single word came out.

People on the street saw this scene and were all stunned.

The peddler carrying his wares let his pole slide from his shoulder, fruits and melons rolling everywhere.

A woman hurriedly pulled her child behind her; the child stumbled from her action, but still poked their head out to look.

People drinking tea in the teahouse held their bowls and forgot to drink, only snapping out of it when the tea spilled over the rim and burned their hands.

No one spoke.

And no one dared to stop him.

Jiang Yan carried the two people, turning into a secluded alley.

The alley was narrow, the walls on both sides towering high, blocking out the sunlight, leaving only a sliver of gray sky overhead.

Twisting and turning.

Finally, they arrived at an abandoned Earth Temple at the base of the city wall.

The temple door was long gone, and only two dark holes remained on the door frame, the pivot holes from when the door was installed.

The courtyard was overgrown with weeds, foxtail grass and lamb's quarters crowding together, the tallest reaching past the knees.

The statue in the main hall had collapsed, the clay body shattered into pieces, revealing the straw fibers and wooden frame inside.

The incense burner was overturned on the ground, its body rusted, with no incense ash inside, only clumps of weeds sprouting from the burner's mouth.

Jiang Yan threw the two on the ground.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's back hit the blue brick floor, he let out a muffled groan, his eyes opening a slit, then closing again.

His chest was sunken in, every breath accompanied by a rattling sound like rolling phlegm.

The short, stocky man lay on his side, curled into a ball, his hands clutching his ribs, sweat seeping through his fingers and soaking his tunic.

"What... what do you want?" the short, stocky man's voice trembled.

Jiang Yan squatted down.

First, he pressed down on Society Leader Wei Tiedao's chest.

His palm pressed against the skin of his chest, he could feel the heart beneath still beating—weak, erratic, like a drum about to stop.

He exerted a suction force.

Society Leader Wei Tiedao's body began to convulse.

Not struggling, but convulsing.

His limbs tensed simultaneously, his heels kicking against the ground, his shoe soles scraping two white marks on the blue bricks.

The blue veins on his neck bulged, as if something had been poured into him.

A clucking sound came from his throat, like a chicken being strangled.

The short, stocky man widened his eyes.

He watched as Society Leader Wei Tiedao's face withered at a rate visible to the naked eye.

The skin turned from sallow to grayish-white, then to grayish-brown, clinging tightly to the bone.

His eye sockets sank deep, his eyeballs protruded, and the light in his pupils faded bit by bit.

His lips retracted, revealing the stark white teeth inside, even the roots exposed.

In the time of a few breaths.

A living person had turned into a skin-and-bones corpse.

The short, stocky man's lips began to tremble.

Not speaking, but trembling.

His upper teeth knocked against his lower teeth, making a light clattering sound.

He wanted to retreat, his palms pushing against the ground to scuttle backward, but every time he moved, the broken bones in his ribs pierced deeper, the pain making him grimace.

Inside the Dantian, Society Leader Wei Tiedao's vital essence transformed into a stream of heat and surged in.

The dark red vortex of thirty-five strands of Spiritual Qi vibrated violently.

The heat was drawn into the center of the vortex, the Bloodthirsty Demon Scripture circulated, stripping the energy contained within the vital essence strand by strand.

Gang Leader Liu Zhen, Guard Leader Sun Wei, Society Leader Wei Tiedao—for each one absorbed, the effect diminished by a fraction.

By the time he reached Society Leader Wei Tiedao, he couldn't even generate a single strand of Spiritual Qi.

He remained expressionless, turning to the short, stocky man.

That man saw Jiang Yan's gaze turn toward him and froze completely.

His pupils dilated suddenly, his lips stopped trembling—not because they weren't trembling, but because they were frozen, open, unable to close.

"Don't... don't..."

Jiang Yan's palm pressed onto his chest.

The suction force erupted again.

The short, stocky man's body straightened abruptly.

His heels kicked against the ground, making the blue bricks creak.

His eyes were wide open, the eyeballs almost popping out of their sockets, the collapsed statue of the ruined temple reflected in his pupils.

His body began to wither.

The skin clung to the bones, the bones supported the skin, as if the flesh in between had been sucked away.

His face collapsed, his cheekbones jutted out, and his chin was as sharp as an awl.

Another stream of heat surged into the Dantian.

The Bloodthirsty Demon Scripture circulated crazily.

The vortex of thirty-five and a half strands vibrated violently, as if something was pushing outward at the gap, and then—

The thirty-sixth strand of Spiritual Qi condensed and formed.

The moment it returned to its place, the dark red vortex in the Dantian contracted suddenly.

All the Spiritual Qi collapsed toward the center, like a clenched fist.

The vortex stopped spinning, and the entire Dantian fell into a moment of silence.

Then it expanded violently.

The thirty-six strands of Spiritual Qi were no longer spinning disorderly.

They arranged themselves into a complete ring within the Dantian, each strand of Spiritual Qi running on a fixed orbit, connecting end to end, endlessly circulating.

The center of the vortex sank, the edges rose, forming a complete funnel shape.

The dark red Spiritual Qi flowed along the orbit, like blood surging through blood vessels.

Qi Induction Perfection.

Jiang Yan shattered the two dried corpses.

The debris fell with a rustle, mixing into the weeds of the Earth Temple.

The wind poured in from the entrance of the ruined temple, blowing the grass leaves to rustle, and those powders were swept up by the wind, dissipating completely.

Jiang Yan stood up and brushed the dust off his hands.

When he walked out of the ruined temple, the sunlight shone straight down from overhead, trampling his shadow beneath his feet.