3: Chapter 3 Century-old Ginseng

Early in the morning, Jiang Yan was drinking water by the mountain stream when his ears suddenly twitched slightly.

He heard footsteps approaching from the distance—not from a beast, but from humans, and more than one.

The footsteps were chaotic and not deliberately concealed; it was clear the arrivals did not believe a seventeen-year-old scholar could pose any threat.

Jiang Yan set down his water skin, picked up the firewood chopper seized from Wang Gang's home, and silently slipped into the bushes.

A moment later, twelve men appeared below the mountain stream.

They wore uniform black official robes, iron rulers hanging from their waists, and held broadswords. The leader was a burly middle-aged man with thick eyebrows and large eyes, and his temples bulged high—he was clearly a trained Martial Artist.

"Chief Constable, there are footprints over there, fresh ones!" one of the officers said, pointing to the wet mud by the creek.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan walked over, crouched down to examine the footprints, and said in a deep voice, "He hasn't gone far. Spread out and search. That brat killed Wang Gang, and Steward Yuan Zhen said we must see him alive or see his corpse."

"Chief Constable, is a single scholar worth sending so many of us?" a young officer asked, unimpressed.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan did not speak, but in his heart, he also felt that Steward Yuan Zhen was making a mountain out of a molehill.

What kind of trouble could a scrawny seventeen-year-old scholar possibly cause?

He stood up and was about to order the search to continue when he suddenly felt a chill on the back of his neck.

It was an instinct honed by twenty years as a constable—danger.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan turned abruptly, his right hand simultaneously pressing onto the hilt of his blade.

A figure lunged out from the bushes, as fast as a hunting leopard.

Jiang Yan did not give them any time to react.

His first target was not Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan, but the young officer closest to him.

The firewood chopper carved a cold arc through the air, its back slamming heavily against the back of the man's head—Jiang Yan did not kill him outright; he wanted essence blood, and dead blood would solidify quickly, while only living blood was fresh enough.

The man let out a muffled groan and collapsed to the ground.

"Ambush!" the officers finally reacted, drawing their blades one after another.

But it was already too late.

Jiang Yan's figure wove through them, as fast as a gray shadow.

His footwork was not flashy, but extremely efficient—each dodge perfectly avoided the blade's edge, and every strike precisely hit a vital point.

His century of combat experience from his past life was fully displayed at this moment; it was as if he could predict the movements of every officer, knowing the trajectory of their blades before they even attacked.

Clang, clang, clang—three broadswords slashed at the spot where he had just been standing almost simultaneously, but they only struck air.

Jiang Yan had already circled behind them, swinging his firewood chopper repeatedly, and the three men fell to the ground in response.

"Don't panic! Circle up!" Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan shouted, drawing his own saber.

It was a saber forged from fine iron, twice as heavy as the broadswords of the ordinary officers, with a cold light faintly flowing along the blade.

The remaining eight officers quickly closed in, forming a circle back-to-back with their blades pointing outward.

Jiang Yan stopped and stood three zhang away, tilting his head as he watched them.

This was the first time he had openly exposed himself to the officers under the sunlight.

He wore a faded, coarse cloth garment, his hem stained with mud and dark red blood, and his skin was so fair that he did not look like someone who had been hiding in the mountains for half a month.

His features were impossibly delicate, but those eyes were as cold as a frozen pond in the twelfth lunar month, making one's heart shudder with just a glance.

"Are you Jiang Yan?" Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan gripped his saber hilt, his voice tight.

He saw his four subordinates lying on the ground—they were all still breathing, but they had already lost their combat effectiveness.

This brat's swordsmanship was terrifyingly accurate, specifically targeting the back of the head and the temples, one strike for each.

"Are you the leader?" Jiang Yan did not answer, his gaze lingering on Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan for a moment. "A Third-rate Martial Artist, not hard to deal with."

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's pupils constricted, and his heart skipped a beat—a country scholar, how could he see through his strength at a single glance? And how did he knock down his several subordinates so quickly?

"Attack together!" Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan stopped wasting words and charged forward first.

As he moved, the remaining eight officers moved simultaneously.

The nine men lunged from different directions, their blade light weaving into an airtight net.

Jiang Yan did not retreat.

He met them head-on.

The firewood chopper collided with the saber, emitting a crisp sound of metal clashing.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan felt his tiger's mouth go numb and his arm grow sore—how could this brat have such immense strength? He looked as thin as a bamboo pole, but his strike felt as heavy as a thousand catties.

Utilizing the recoil, Jiang Yan rotated his body, his firewood chopper sliding against an officer's blade, the back of the chopper precisely striking the officer's temple.

The man's eyes rolled back, and he fainted instantly.

Seven men left.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan roared, his swordsmanship suddenly becoming fierce.

He came from a legitimate martial arts school, having practiced the Five Tigers Gate-Breaking Saber for twenty years, and was considered a person of some standing in Qingyang County.

Now, exerting his full strength, the wind of his blade whistled, every strike aiming for Jiang Yan's vitals.

Jiang Yan flashed his figure repeatedly, swimming through the blade light like a fish.

His cultivation was on par with Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan, both at the level of a Third-rate Martial Artist, but their combat experience was worlds apart.

Every move of Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan looked like slow-motion playback in his eyes, full of openings.

He just didn't want to kill this Chief Constable yet—a living Martial Artist's essence blood was of higher quality than a dead one's.

Three more fell.

Then the fourth, the fifth.

In less than half a cup of tea's time, all eight officers were lying on the ground, some unconscious, others wailing while clutching broken hands or feet.

Only Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan remained.

Cold sweat seeped from Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's forehead, and the hand holding his saber trembled slightly.

He looked at his subordinates covering the ground, then at the expressionless youth drenched in blood, and a fear he had never felt before welled up in his heart.

"You... you are not Jiang Yan..." Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's voice trembled slightly. "Who on earth are you?"

Jiang Yan did not answer. He stepped over the blood-covered ground toward Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan, his pace neither fast nor slow, as composed as if he were taking a stroll in his own backyard.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan gritted his teeth and slashed out his final strike.

Jiang Yan dodged to the side, then backhanded his firewood chopper, the back of the blade smashing into Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's wrist.

With a crack, the wrist bone shattered, and the saber flew out of his hand.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan screamed, and before he could retreat, Jiang Yan had already closed in and struck him on the chest with one palm.

The force was just right, shattering his heart Meridians without killing him immediately.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan spat out a mouthful of blood and fell backward. He struggled to get up, only to find he had no strength in his body.

He could only watch helplessly as Jiang Yan walked toward the fallen officers.

Jiang Yan crouched down and pressed his hand onto the first officer's chest.

A terrifying suction force emanated from his palm. The officer's body convulsed violently, his blood flowing in reverse as his essence blood surged into Jiang Yan's Dantian along his Meridians. In just a few breaths, a living person turned into a shriveled corpse.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's eyes widened, and he wanted to scream, but his throat felt as if it were being gripped by something, and he couldn't make a sound.

The second, the third, the fourth...

Jiang Yan absorbed them one by one, his movements clean and efficient, with no expression on his face.

The essence blood of the eleven ordinary officers gathered in his Dantian, transforming into wave after wave of energy. The Bloodthirsty Demon Scripture circulated crazily, and Spiritual Qi condensed one strand after another.

Soon, seven strands of Spiritual Qi had condensed, and adding the original three, the total number of Spiritual Qi strands reached ten.

Finally, he walked to Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan.

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's pupils were filled with fear and disbelief. He opened his mouth, finally squeezing out a few words: "Evil... evil ghost..."

Jiang Yan looked down at him, his gaze as calm as if he were looking at a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

"You are a Third-rate Martial Artist; your essence blood is much stronger than an ordinary person's." He reached out and pressed his hand onto Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's chest. "Don't let it go to waste."

The suction force in his palm erupted, and the essence blood within Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan poured out like a breaching flood.

A Martial Artist's blood was much thicker than an ordinary person's, and the energy it contained was also purer.

Jiang Yan could clearly feel a warm current surging into his Dantian, which was rapidly converted into Spiritual Qi under the guidance of the Bloodthirsty Demon Scripture.

One strand, two strands, three strands...

Chief Constable Zhao Tieshan's body rapidly shriveled, his skin turning grayish-white, his eye sockets sinking in, and finally, he became a skin-and-bones corpse.

Four strands of Spiritual Qi, all accounted for.

Jiang Yan withdrew his hand and closed his eyes to feel the changes within his Dantian.

With the original ten strands plus the four, a total of fourteen strands of Spiritual Qi gathered in his Dantian into a dark red vortex, rotating slowly.

The size and rotation speed of the vortex far exceeded before, and a force nearly twice as strong as before surged within his body.

Qi Induction Middle Stage.

He opened his eyes, looked at the corpses and blood covering the ground, and began to clean up the battlefield with no expression on his face.

He dragged the corpses to a deep pit in the distance to bury them, covered the bloodstains with soil and fallen leaves, and collected the officers' weapons and dry rations—that fine iron saber was more than a grade better than his black-backed firewood chopper, so he casually threw away the firewood chopper and tucked the saber into his waist.

After doing all this, Jiang Yan returned to the cave, resealed the entrance, and sat cross-legged to consolidate his Realm.

Time passed day by day.

One month later, he discovered a century-old mountain ginseng behind a boulder deep in the mountain stream.

The ginseng was at least a century old, its roots intact, and although it had not transformed into a Spirit Medicine, the Spiritual Qi it contained was already quite considerable.

Jiang Yan carefully dug out the mountain ginseng, washed it, and consumed it slice by slice.

Once the mountain ginseng entered his stomach, a gentle Spiritual Qi rose from his stomach, the Bloodthirsty Demon Scripture circulated, and generated three strands of Spiritual Qi.

The total number of Spiritual Qi strands in his Dantian reached seventeen.

Days continued to pass. Jiang Yan hunted during the day, Cultivated at night, and occasionally practiced his combat techniques from his past life when resting.

But as time passed, he found that ordinary beasts provided weaker and weaker improvements to him—when he first started Qi Induction, one wild boar could generate two strands of Spiritual Qi, later one wild boar could only generate one, and later still, he had to hunt four or five large beasts to barely condense one strand of Spiritual Qi.

The large beasts in this mountain forest had almost all been killed by him.

Three months later, the Spiritual Qi in Jiang Yan's Dantian had accumulated to twenty-two strands.

He had fallen into a Bottleneck—if he wanted to continue improving, he had to absorb stronger essence blood, such as from a Martial Artist or a beast that was on the verge of becoming a spirit beast.

But in these deep mountains and old forests, the strongest prey he could find were wild boars and wolves, which were far from meeting his needs.

It was time to leave.

Jiang Yan packed a bundle containing a few herbs he had found in the deep mountains that contained weak Spiritual Qi—things like fleeceflower root and polygonatum.

The Spiritual Qi in these herbs was too thin, and consuming them wouldn't generate even one strand of Spiritual Qi, but taking them to a pharmacy down the mountain should be enough to exchange for some silver for use.

He tucked the fine iron saber into his waist, checked his bundle one more time, and then walked out of the cave.

The mountain breeze blew, carrying the chill of early autumn.

Jiang Yan stood at the cave entrance and looked back at the cave where he had lived for over three months.

It was crude, dark, and damp, but it had given him the most precious time.

He withdrew his gaze and looked toward the direction of the foot of the mountain.

A blade in his hand, vengeance in his heart.

Having lived a new life, he should naturally act with gratification and settle his grudges.

Jiang Yan stepped forward and headed down the mountain, his pace neither fast nor slow, his figure soon swallowed by the mountain mist.