7: Chapter 7 The Storm is Brewing

For several days in a row, the dilapidated little courtyard was so quiet that only the sound of the wind and the faint breathing of two people remained.

Lin Chen spent almost all of his waking hours on that dull and painful Cultivate.

He sat cross-legged on the cold dirt floor, following the basic breathing technique of the Qingmu Sect taught by Su Qingyao, guiding the Spiritual Qi in the world—which was so thin it was almost negligible—into his body, thread by thread.

This process was like trying to dig a great river with an embroidery needle; it was despairingly slow.

Every time he finally managed to accumulate a small wisp of weak spiritual power and attempted to charge at the invisible barrier lying between the third and fourth levels of Qi Refining, a sharp, needle-pricking pain would shoot through his Meridians.

The spiritual power crashed against the barrier like a drop of water hitting a solid stone; apart from stirring up a ripple of pain, it made no progress at all.

The barrier remained unmoved.

He also tried clutching the few Spirit Stone fragments, now as dull as ordinary pebbles, in his palm, attempting to use his Divine Thought to squeeze out the last remnants of energy within them, but they were empty. Apart from the cold sensation, he could no longer sense anything.

After another failed Breakthrough, Lin Chen slowly opened his eyes and exhaled a breath of turbid air.

Fine beads of sweat seeped from his temples, slid down his cheeks, and dripped onto his dust-covered lapels, staining a small dark patch.

Leaning against the head of the kang, Su Qingyao, who had been watching him silently all along, finally spoke softly.

Her voice carried a hint of imperceptible weakness, but her words were clear: "Relying solely on meditation here... won't work."

Her gaze fell on Lin Chen, her cold, clear eyes reflecting his weary and stubborn figure, "This is a land of the end of the Dharma, where Spiritual Qi has withered. Without the support of a Spiritual Vein or the assistance of a Medicinal Pill, wanting to break through a small Realm barrier relying only on breathing exercises is like climbing a tree to catch a fish."

Lin Chen did not speak, merely wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

He certainly understood this principle, but knowing it was one thing; right now, he had no other options besides this most clumsy method.

That afternoon, a small head peeked out from a gap in the courtyard wall.

"Uncle Lin..."

It was Xiao Wan.

Lin Chen was in the courtyard sorting the drying medicinal herbs. Hearing the voice, he stood up and walked over.

The little girl's face wore a nervousness and timidity that didn't match her age. She leaned over the wall, quickly glanced left and right at the empty alley, and then lowered her voice to a mosquito-like hum: "Uncle Lin, I... my mother asked me to come and tell you something."

"What is it?" Lin Chen crouched down to bring his line of sight level with hers.

Xiao Wan bit her lip, her small hands nervously tugging at the corner of her clothes, and said in a low voice: "My mother said... that Patrol Squad Captain, he was drinking at the Stray Dog Tavern at the east end of town last night. He got drunk and was bragging to people..."

She paused, seemingly recalling some terrible words, her small face turning a bit pale.

"He told people... that you owed him a huge sum of money and couldn't pay it back. He also said..." Xiao Wan's voice dropped even lower, almost inaudible, "He also said that Sister Su is as beautiful as a fairy, but it's a pity her body is too weak, she's a medicine jar, and I'm afraid... I'm afraid she'll have trouble bearing children. Otherwise..."

The little girl's cheeks suddenly flushed red when she reached this point, and she couldn't bring herself to say the rest, as if she felt it was something dirty.

She just glanced at Lin Chen quickly, then turned and ran away like a frightened rabbit.

Lin Chen crouched by the wall, not moving.

The afternoon sun shone on him, but it couldn't dispel the chill rising from the bottom of his heart.

He slowly stood up, his right hand hanging by his side, fingers curling one by one into a fist.

His knuckles made a faint "clucking" sound from the force.

How vicious the intentions behind Patrol Squad Captain's words were.

This wasn't just ruining their reputation; it was laying the groundwork of public opinion for any potential forced seizure he might carry out later.

An outsider who "owed a huge debt and couldn't pay it back," a "useless man with a weak body who had trouble bearing children and occupied a fairy-like wife"—in a place like Black Stone Town, where the folk customs were fierce and the strong were respected, once such labels were attached, it meant they had become an existence that could be bullied at will, or even stripped of everything without anyone questioning it.

Patrol Squad Captain was telling everyone that this couple was prey he had set his sights on, that he could strike at any time, and his reasons would be "justified."

Lin Chen slowly loosened his fist, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the stone ring on his thumb.

He forcibly suppressed the surging intent to kill.

He knew that before having sufficient strength, any impulsiveness was just courting death.

Two days later, Lin Chen strapped on his herb basket again.

This time, he did not linger in the outer areas where he had previously been active, but headed straight into the deeper mountain forests.

He deliberately avoided the small paths that had been trampled with obvious traces, relying on the extremely faint sensing of the stone ring to specifically pick and dive into those corners where few people went, but vegetation was lush.

The mountain forest was deep and secluded, with crises hidden everywhere.

Several times, he brushed past venomous snakes and wild beasts lurking in the shadows, and it was only thanks to his pathetic bit of wilderness survival knowledge from before his Transmigration and his twelve-fold vigilance that he barely managed to avoid them.

After two days, he was covered in scratches from thorns, his clothes were tattered, yet his harvest remained meager.

Only a few stalks of Kuling Grass that lacked sufficient age, and two stalks of Purple Leaf Vine whose leaves had not yet fully turned deep purple, lay forlornly at the bottom of the herb basket.

He did not lose heart, carefully wrapping up these meager gains. Early on the third day, he dragged his exhausted body back to Black Stone Town and headed straight for Huichun Hall.

It was still that tall mahogany counter, still that Pharmacist Wang with the goatee and the shrewd face.

Pharmacist Wang finished checking the few medicinal herbs of poor quality one by one without even lifting an eyebrow, and the price he quoted was twenty percent lower than last time.

Lin Chen did not bargain, still exchanging them for Spirit Stones.

Two Spirit Stone fragments, smaller and with even thinner Spiritual Qi than the last time, were taken out by Pharmacist Wang from that locked drawer and pushed in front of him.

Lin Chen put away the fragments and was just about to turn and leave.

"Only wandering in the outer areas?" Pharmacist Wang suddenly spoke up, his voice not loud, as if making casual small talk.

Lin Chen's footsteps paused; he turned around and nodded: "I'm not familiar with the mountains and don't dare to venture deep."

Pharmacist Wang put down the copper scale in his hand and lifted his eyelids, those shrewd eyes scanning the new scratches on Lin Chen's body and his utter exhaustion.

He was silent for a moment, then suddenly stroked his goatee with his fingers, leaned forward slightly, and lowered his voice: "Black Stone Mountain, thirty miles to the west, there is a valley that locals call Wild Boar Valley. The valley entrance is shrouded in a layer of pale green miasma all year round; herb gatherers find it unlucky and generally don't dare to enter."

Lin Chen's breathing hitched, and he listened quietly.

"However," Pharmacist Wang changed the subject, "right on the shaded slope on the outskirts of that valley entrance, because it is damp and gloomy all year round, you can sometimes find something called 'Ghost Face Mushroom'."

"That thing has Yin poison and cannot be touched directly. But if processed with specific techniques, it is a main ingredient for refining several obscure Medicinal Pills, and it's much more valuable than these Mortal herbs you've been gathering."

He paused, his scrutinizing gaze seeming to evaluate Lin Chen's courage, "However, that place is not far from the territory of Black Wind Stronghold. In case you run into that gang... you, weigh it yourself."

After saying this, Pharmacist Wang said no more, lowered his head again, and leisurely fiddled with the medicinal herbs on the counter, as if the words just now were merely discussing today's weather.

Lin Chen bowed slightly to him, thanked him, and turned to walk out of Huichun Hall.

Returning to that dilapidated courtyard, he told Su Qingyao Pharmacist Wang's words exactly as they were.

Su Qingyao was sitting by the edge of the kang, mending Lin Chen's damaged clothes by the light filtering through a hole in the roof.

Upon hearing the words "Ghost Face Mushroom" and "Black Wind Stronghold," her needlework stopped, and her delicate brows furrowed tightly.

"Ghost Face Mushroom... I have indeed seen it in the Sect's alchemy classics," she mused. "This item is extremely Yin; collecting and processing it is extremely cumbersome. It must be touched using specific jade utensils or through thick animal hide. Once the juice touches the skin, at best it causes flesh to rot, and at worst, the Yin poison enters the body, damaging the Meridians. It is indeed valuable, but..."

She did not continue, but Lin Chen understood her meaning.

More critically, Black Wind Stronghold.

That was a gang of fierce bandits entrenched deep in Black Stone Mountain, burning, killing, looting, and committing all kinds of evil.

Rumor had it that there were real Cultivators stationed in the stronghold, their strength unknown. Even a prestigious Sect like the Qingmu Sect was unwilling to easily lose Disciple to wipe them out.

Going to such a place to gather herbs was no different from dancing on the tip of a knife.

Lin Chen spread his hand, looking at the two Spirit Stone fragments in his palm that could almost not be felt for Spiritual Qi.

They couldn't even let Su Qingyao circulate a small cycle, let alone help him break through his Bottleneck.

In his mind, Patrol Squad Captain's face, piled with fat, and that nauseating look in his eyes when he looked at Su Qingyao, appeared again.

Next month's "tribute" was like a sword hanging over his head.

He needed Spirit Stones; he needed to quickly increase his strength.

Silence spread through the small room.

Finally, Lin Chen slowly clenched his palm, gripping the two cold fragments in his hand: "I will go and see."

That night, under the halo of the oil lamp, Su Qingyao spread out the other medicinal herbs that Lin Chen had managed to find in the mountains over the past few days on the table.

"Come over and help," she said softly.

Lin Chen walked over and saw her placing a withered stalk of Mind-Confusing Grass that emitted a faint, strange fragrance, along with a few segments of Night-Crossing Vine and the last bit of Kuling Grass, into a stone mortar.

"Soul-Calming Powder?" Lin Chen instantly understood her intention.

Su Qingyao nodded and handed him the pestle: "You have strength; grind them all into the finest powder. The finer, the better."

Lin Chen took the heavy stone pestle and began to pound rhythmically, one strike after another.

The stone pestle collided with the stone mortar, making a dull "thud-thud" sound, which was exceptionally clear in the silent night.

Su Qingyao sat to the side, using the dim light to focus intently on the changes inside the mortar, occasionally speaking up to guide him on the amount of force and the order of grinding.

An hour later, the herbs in the mortar had turned into a handful of extremely fine, variegated powder.

Su Qingyao used a clean piece of bamboo to carefully scrape out all the powder, meticulously filling it into a rough porcelain bottle no bigger than a thumb that Lin Chen had bought at the market that day for two copper coins.

She put on the wooden stopper and handed the porcelain bottle to Lin Chen, letting him take a sniff.

There was almost no scent.

"After ignition, the smoke is also colorless," Su Qingyao's voice was cold and steady. "For Cultivators below the third level of Qi Refining, if they are completely caught off guard, it can have some effect, but the time is very short, at most... it can buy ten breaths of time. It will be much more effective on Mortals."

She handed the heavy little porcelain bottle into Lin Chen's hand, her gaze carrying an unprecedented solemnity: "Use it sparingly. Unless absolutely necessary, do not ignite it."

Lin Chen hid the porcelain bottle close to his body, his warm body temperature passing through his coarse cloth clothes onto the cold bottle.

The next day, before dawn, thin morning mist shrouded the entire Black Stone Town.

Lin Chen had already gotten up silently.

He repeatedly sharpened the short knife he had obtained from the dead thug on the whetstone by the stove, until the blade emitted a faint, cold gleam in the dimness.

He re-wrapped the handle tightly with a piece of rag to ensure it wouldn't slip when gripped.

He carefully checked the herb basket and the thick hemp rope again, confirming they were sturdy enough.

Then, he packed the few remaining wheat cakes and half a pot of clear water from home, along with the little porcelain bottle containing the Soul-Calming Powder, into a tattered bundle.

Su Qingyao on the kang had woken up at some point; she sat up, draped in her outer garment, her pale face devoid of any color, but her eyes, under the flickering oil lamp, appeared exceptionally bright.

She did not speak, but silently walked off the kang, came to Lin Chen's side, and extended her slightly cool fingers to help him straighten his somewhat crooked collar.

Her fingertips paused on his shoulder for a fleeting moment, then quickly retracted as if burned.

Lin Chen looked at her and said in a low voice: "At most three days. Regardless of whether I have a harvest or not, I will return."

Su Qingyao nodded forcefully.

Her fingers subconsciously lifted, wanting to press against her lower lip, but this time, she held back.

That habitual action, representing nervousness and unease, was forcibly suppressed by her.

She turned to retract her hand, quietly clenching it into a fist at her side.

"Be careful."

Only one word, yet heavier than a thousand others.

Lin Chen strapped on the herb basket, took one last look at her, and pushed open the dilapidated courtyard gate that would emit a "creaking" groan. His tall figure quickly submerged into the thick morning mist that had not yet dissipated.

Su Qingyao stood inside the gate, watching the direction in which his back had disappeared for a long time before slowly closing the gate.

She leaned her back against the cold door panel, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

That breath of air, mixed with the morning chill and the smell of cooking oil from the room, allowed her chaotic mind to calm down slightly.

In the room, the flame of the oil lamp flickered lightly, stretching her lonely shadow long and casting it onto the mottled mud wall, swaying unsteadily, yet revealing a silent determination.

And at this moment, deep in the alley outside the small courtyard, a pair of sinister eyes in the grayish mist were staring fixedly at the direction in which Lin Chen had left.

The owner of those eyes stood in place for a moment until Lin Chen's figure was completely swallowed by the morning mist; then he pulled at the corners of his mouth, revealing a sinister grin, and then quietly turned and disappeared into the shadows of another fork in the road.