7: Qi-inducing skill

His third brother, Li Qingfeng, immediately pulled a long face and muttered under his breath:

"Dad... do we have to go listen to Old Scholar's chanting again..."

He clearly had no love for the Clan School.

"Shut up!"

Li Dashan glared at him.

"If I tell you to go, you go! Learning a few characters is better than being an illiterate fool! Qinghe is going too, everyone's going!"

Mrs. Zhang said nothing, but silently added another spoonful of porridge to Li Qinghe's nearly empty bowl, her eyes filled with a trace of hope.

In her view, being able to read was a most prestigious thing; now that her son's mind was better, he should go learn.

Li Qinghe swallowed the porridge in his mouth and nodded:

"Okay, Dad."

His voice was calm. Learning to read? To him, a former programmer, it was hardly worth mentioning.

But in this world, in this isolated mountain village, literacy was indeed the most fundamental way to contact the outside world and understand this cultivation world.

He also needed this identity to serve as a bit of a cover.

Early the next morning, Li Qingfeng hung his head, dawdling as he packed his few tattered books with curled edges, which had passed through who knows how many hands.

Li Qinghe had nothing; he just wore a clean set of faded clothes and followed behind his third brother, stepping for the first time into the Li Family Village Clan School—a low-slung adobe building at the east end of the village.

The light inside the room was dim, filled with a scent that mixed aged wood and low-quality ink.

Over a dozen children of various ages were squeezed behind several dilapidated long wooden tables; the oldest were thirteen or fourteen, while the youngest were only five or six. Every one of them looked at the newcomer, Li Qinghe, with curiosity and a hint of scrutiny.

After all, the fool Fourth Brother suddenly becoming normal was the biggest news in the village lately.

Behind the podium sat a thin, withered old man with graying hair and beard, wearing a gray-washed scholar's robe. This was the village's "Old Scholar," Li Shouwen.

It was said that he had taken the Tongsheng exam in his youth but failed; he then returned to the village to look after his ancestral home and teach children to read on the side to earn some rations.

His cloudy eyes looked Li Qinghe up and down as he stood at the door.

"You are Dashan's fourth boy?"

His voice was dry, carrying a tone unique to scholars.

"Yes, Clan Uncle." Li Qinghe followed his third brother's example and bowed slightly.

"Hmm."

Li Shouwen let out a hum from his nose and pointed to an empty seat next to Li Qingfeng.

"Sit there. Qingfeng, share your 'Thousand Character Classic' with him."

Li Qingfeng pushed the yellowed, dog-eared book in his hand toward Li Qinghe; the pages were printed with dense traditional characters.

Li Shouwen cleared his throat, tapped the table with his ruler, and began to chant while swaying his head:

"The sky is dark, the earth is yellow; the Universe is vast and desolate..."

The children below followed along, chanting listlessly in uneven voices.

Looking at those familiar square characters, Li Qinghe felt no inner turmoil.

However, he mimicked the other children's expressions, showing a bit of confusion and clumsiness. His fingers unconsciously picked at the cracks in the table while he occasionally looked up at the podium with vacant eyes, as if struggling to understand the "heavenly script."

He needed a process—a transition from a newly awakened fool to someone who could barely read.

Being too fast would instead be abnormal.

The days became regular like this.

During the day, he was the new student Li Qinghe in the Clan School—a bit slow to react and struggling to learn, but still quite diligent.

He followed Old Scholar in tracing characters stroke by stroke, chanting sentences he already knew by heart, and enduring the stench of cheap ink and the whispers of the bratty kids.

At night, when the entire village fell into a deep sleep and only the sounds of insects and wind remained, he transformed into a stalker of the night.

With the dark wood heart wrapped tightly in a tattered cloth tucked into his chest, he hurried toward the small stream three miles west of the village.

Moonlight, bluestones, and the flowing stream.

They became the entrance to his other world.

[Ding!]

Every day just after midnight, that cold notification sound would always ring punctually in the depths of his consciousness.

[Today's Intel (Lifestyle): The big rooster from Widow Wang's house in the south of the village, which always likes to sneak out, will squeeze into your backyard's firewood pile tomorrow at noon to peck at the half-bag of aged grain seeds hidden there by Mrs. Zhang.]

[Today's Intel (Lifestyle): In the wild chestnut forest on the back mountain, hidden among the thorns under the third crooked tree at the east end, are three nests of wild bird eggs, already ready to hatch.]

[Today's Intel (Lifestyle): There will be rain showers tomorrow afternoon; the wheat drying on the threshing floor at the village entrance needs to be brought in promptly.]

[Today's Intel (Lifestyle): Under the kitchen windowsill of the Clan Chief's house, that half-withered 'Insect Repelling Grass' only needs to be watered once with stream water containing a faint trace of vitality to be revived; the special scent it emits can keep the granary free of rats for three months.]

The intel was varied, all consisting of trivial matters.

Li Qinghe silently noted them down. Sometimes, he would calmly and "coincidentally" remind his mother, Mrs. Zhang, to collect the wheat, or unintentionally discover those nests of wild bird eggs to add some nourishment to the family's meals.

Seeing his mother's surprised and happy face, the calculating intent of using the intel in his heart would be diluted by a trace of genuine warmth.

Seven or eight nights passed.

He sat cross-legged on a bluestone in the stream, the moonlight pouring down without reservation.

Casting aside all distracting thoughts, his mind completely sank into the Concept of the Autumn Moon River Qi Nurturing Art.

The tiny point of warmth at his Dantian, which had been almost too faint to detect, finally stopped flickering under the continuous nourishment of the lunar essence and the Qi of the stream, like a spark ignited in the darkness.

It became clear and stable, like a seed buried deep underground in a slumber, gently enveloped by the cool aura of the stream, sinking into the core position in the depths of his lower abdomen.

Every long breath taken with a strange rhythm seemed to inject a trace of faint vitality into this seed.

As he guided it with his will, imagining the grand power of a surging river and the moonlight flowing like water through his limbs and bones, that "seed" would tremble slightly.

It emitted an extremely subtle yet truly existent warmth, like the finest strand of hair, slowly and tentatively extending outward, flowing toward his aching legs and feet, and toward his fingers that were somewhat stiff from holding a pen... This heat flow was so faint it was almost negligible, far from enough to support any Spells, and it couldn't even make him run faster.

But it was real! It was no longer an ethereal sensation, but a trace of power within his body that could be clearly perceived as his own!

Inducing Qi into the body—the first step was complete!

Li Qinghe slowly opened his eyes, his dark pupils reflecting the starry sky and the flowing moonlight.

He slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air, which condensed into a small cloud of white mist in the cool night air before quickly dissipating.

That faint but incredibly real heat flow, like a newborn seedling, had finally taken root in his Dantian.

The cool night wind brushed past, taking away a trace of fatigue and leaving behind an indescribable excitement.

Success! Inducing Qi into the body—this first step of cultivation—he had finally managed to take it, albeit stumbling!

He subconsciously reached out his hand and, through his coarse cloth clothes, touched the cold and hard dark wood heart pressed against his chest.

This precious treasure was the starting point of everything for him.

The very moment his fingertips touched the wood heart!

A sudden change occurred!

The dark wood heart, which had been silent and would only reveal heavenly script under specific moonlight, suddenly became scalding hot without any warning!

It wasn't the burning heat of fire, but an extremely pure sense of energy with a penetrating quality that suddenly erupted from within the wood heart, piercing fiercely into his palm!

"Hiss!" Li Qinghe gasped, nearly jumping off the bluestone! The sensation came too suddenly and too violently!

Immediately afterward, an unimaginably vast torrent of information, like a river bursting its banks, used that scalding point of contact as a bridge and crashed into his mind with overbearing force!