Chapter Thirteen

Drawing qi into the body?

The wound on Yun Zhi's forehead had stopped bleeding. His weathered face showed a puzzled look: "Gongzi wants to cultivate?"

"Not necessarily." Chu Rong's lashes lowered, without giving a clear answer.

He wasn't certain he could cultivate — it was just a momentary impulse, wanting to give it a try. If "Tianxiao Records" hadn't been so lacking in detailed descriptions of the qi-drawing technique, he wouldn't even have needed to ask Yun Zhi: "If the cultivation method can't be taught, I won't force..."

"It can be taught — I can teach Gongzi!" Yun Zhi hastily cut off whatever Chu Rong was about to say next. Being able to do something for Chu Rong made him genuinely happy.

Drawing qi into the body was the most fundamental cultivation technique. The Qingyang Heavenly Sect's Guardian Formation opened once every two years, so the sect accepted new disciples once every two years accordingly.

Anyone accepted into the sect for their potential was taught how to draw qi into the body by the Qingyang Heavenly Sect — and Yun Zhi knew the method too, though whether it was because spiritual energy in the cultivation world was truly too thin, or because his own comprehension was too poor, he had never managed to succeed despite all his years of trying.

Had that not been the case, he wouldn't have spent all these years suffering so much hardship in the outer gate.

Yun Zhi recited the technique's mnemonic verse word for word without omitting a single character, then went through each precaution one by one: "When drawing qi into the body, one must still the breath and focus the mind, following the mnemonic verse. One cannot be disturbed midway, and cannot let the attention wander."

Chu Rong gave a slight nod, his dark hair rippling like water with the motion, indicating he understood. The mnemonic verse was only four lines, sixteen characters in total, and he had it memorized after hearing it once.

Three years working at the company had given Chu Rong a well-honed ability to read and understand things. He turned the technique over in his mind quietly and found the meaning wasn't difficult to grasp. Drawing qi into the body shouldn't be too hard.

Having received something good, Chu Rong was in rather high spirits. His eyes shimmered with a fluid, flowing light, enough to make anyone hold their breath. In a rare show of generosity, he offered some advice: "In the future, here in Misty Pine Residence, don't get too close to me."

Although he had cleverly used the Truth Pearl to overturn the original owner's crimes, that didn't mean what the original owner had done had never happened. There were many people who had grievances against the original owner. Getting too close to him would bring no benefits.

Yun Zhi should follow Cen Yan and become one of Cen Yan's followers.

Yun Zhi's face reddened again. He stared blankly at Chu Rong.

In his eyes, Chu Rong was already completely innocent. Chu Gongzi was kind-hearted and good, and was also half a master of Misty Pine Residence — why couldn't he get close?

Chu Rong offered no further explanation. He turned and shut the door, saying nothing more.

Yun Zhi stood outside the door for a moment, then, following what the administrator had told him along the way, went to the servant's room at the far end of the covered walkway to put down his things, and began doing his work.

By the time Cen Yan returned to Misty Pine Residence, Yun Zhi had already thoroughly cleaned his room inside and out — fresh and clean, without a speck of dust.

"Misty Pine Residence isn't so strict. You don't have to rush to do everything at once — rest and let your wounds heal first." Cen Yan looked at the dried bloodstain on the wound on Yun Zhi's forehead, his brows knitting, and couldn't help but speak up to stop him.

He still remembered how frightening Yun Zhi had looked when he had come to find him.

Yun Zhi wiped casually at his forehead, not caring at all, shaking his head at Cen Yan: "Cen Shixiong, I'm fine — it's just a small wound, nothing serious."

Compared to the injuries he had sustained before, this was nothing. And exchanging these wounds for his escape from suffering — no matter how he looked at it, Yun Zhi felt it was a bargain.

High spirits come with good fortune. Yun Zhi was full of energy right now, and could easily do even more.

Cen Yan's impression of Yun Zhi grew better and better. He turned his hand and produced two vials of medicine from his spatial storage and held them out to Yun Zhi. His usual cool voice softened by two degrees: "Apply these to the wounds. They'll heal faster."

Yun Zhi's instinct was to decline, wanting to say he already had medicine — but then remembering Chu Rong's advice, he swallowed the words back down.

"Thank you, Cen Shixiong." Yun Zhi accepted the medicine respectfully and put it away carefully.

Cen Yan gave a mild sound of acknowledgment, raised his hand to gesture for Yun Zhi to step back, then tilted his chin upward to glance at the wall, the color in his eyes deepening slightly.

Cen Yan stepped toward the room next door, pushed the door open with force: "Do you know something?"

The window panel was half open, and the evening light from outside filtered in through the gap, falling across the tall, slender figure by the writing desk. Chu Rong had his gaze lowered and was pondering where a good spot to practice drawing qi might be. Hearing the question, he lifted his long lashes with a light sweep and glanced sideways at Cen Yan, his hoarse tone idle and unconcerned: "About matters within the Heavenly Sect — how would I know anything."

Cen Yan wasn't quite convinced. His thin lips pressed lightly together. After a silence, he spoke in a low, firm, resolved voice: "I will restore a proper order to the Qingyang Heavenly Sect. If you don't believe me, you may wait and see."

He believed it.

Having read every word of the novel, of course Chu Rong believed Cen Yan.

In fact, in the middle-to-later portions of the book, when Cen Yan came to recognize the problems within the sect, he did indeed use swift and decisive means to purge the sect from top to bottom, laying the groundwork for the Qingyang Heavenly Sect's flourishing prosperity in the story's later chapters.

But the current Cen Yan was not yet capable of it.

For one thing, the outer gate's waters ran deep. Cen Yan had sailed smoothly through life and had never noticed many of its problems. Even if he tried to forcibly suppress and root things out, it would only treat the symptoms and not the cause.

For another, the Qingyang Heavenly Sect had too few disciples with the ability to cultivate. Many of the future inner-gate disciples would still need to come from the outer gate. Aggressively suppressing the outer gate would inevitably shake its foundations, destabilizing the sect. And once a sect became unstable, it could ruin the entire sect's future.

Given the scarcity of spiritual energy and resources in the cultivation world, relations between the hundred immortal sects were already extremely tense, each watching the others closely, just waiting for a chance to take a bite out of a rival. Only a fool would sabotage their own future.

So even if Cen Yan had the will to do it, the pressure from every direction would make it an uphill battle every step of the way.

But Chu Rong had no intention of alerting Cen Yan. After all, in half a year's time he would be leaving, and whatever became of the Qingyang Heavenly Sect was none of his business.

Chu Rong raised an eyebrow and made a "please yourself" gesture: "Do as you like."

With that, he ignored Cen Yan entirely, leaving him standing there alone — white robes immaculate, like a snow lotus transplanted and growing in the room.

If it had been the original owner, he would likely have been completely besotted by now, rushing over eagerly to chat Cen Yan up about anything and everything.

Cen Yan meant what he said.

The very next day, he went to the outer gate in person, intending to set its conduct in order — but after half a day's efforts, the result was exactly as Chu Rong had predicted: minimal effect.

And Chu Rong, taking advantage of Cen Yan being tied up in outer gate affairs with no time to return to Misty Pine Residence, stepped through the evening glow quietly and slipped away to the clear spring in the back mountain.

The back mountain was thickly wooded. The dim, amber light of evening couldn't filter through, and the light was murky and indistinct. Mist drifted above the surface of the spring pool, the moving water reflecting a faint, weak shimmer — making the scene feel all the more cold and still.

Chu Rong circled the pool once. The mist from the pool settled on his hem, soaking it through with a scattering of dark damp patches. The eyes behind the mask were lowered and intent, carefully searching over the ground.

He paid absolutely no attention to the fact that at the edge of the spring, a faint apparition had suddenly appeared, and mist drifted straight through its vague outline. The moment it appeared, it caught sight of the masked man by the pool.

The apparition paused for a brief moment, as though somewhat surprised to encounter him again.

The apparition stirred slightly, took in its surroundings with a glance, confirmed it was the same place as the previous time, and shifted its attention back to the figure by the pool.

The man nearby chose a clean, secluded spot, then folded his legs beneath him and sat cross-legged on the ground. His dark hair, loosely bound with only a hair ribbon, trailed around his body like spreading ink-dark lotus blooms in bloom. His translucently white hands turned over, palms facing up, resting on both knees. His spine straight, he slowly closed his eyes.

This was... drawing qi into the body?

The invisible eyes of the apparition dimmed slightly, not missing a single one of the man's movements.

Chu Rong closed his eyes, completely unaware. He followed the method Yun Zhi had taught him, stilling his breath and focusing his mind, reciting the mnemonic verse in his heart.

He recited the first time.

All around was silent. His body felt nothing at all.

Nothing happened.

He recited the second time.

His body was still utterly numb, without the slightest sensation.

...

The apparition faced Chu Rong's direction, standing motionless. Had he failed to draw qi in?

Chu Rong's brow also gave an involuntary twitch. A faint sense of foreboding rose in his heart. He wasn't going to share the original owner's fate and also turn out to be someone with no cultivation talent at all, was he?

But remembering Yun Zhi's reminder, Chu Rong quickly reined in his thoughts, pressing down the wavering that had risen. His pale lips parted slightly, he drew a deep breath, and continued reciting.

Third time.

Fourth time.

...

As time trickled by, the edge of the clear spring pool remained just as silent — not a single sound from start to finish.

A dead-still silence spread through the air. The apparition tilted its head slightly to one side, as though it had given a light laugh. It was just about to turn back when its translucent outline wavered and dispersed, dissolving once more into nothingness, vanishing without a trace.

Chu Rong slowly opened his eyes, looked down at his own body, and his pale, well-shaped lips pressed lightly together. His expression was one of reluctance to accept the result.

He was going to take back his earlier words. Drawing qi into the body was not easy.

He had failed.

Chu Rong had anticipated he might fail, but when facing the reality of it, he still couldn't help feeling somewhat deflated.

Chu Rong got to his feet, bent to brush a few blades of grass from his hem, then launched himself forward and plunged headlong into the spring.

The warm water rolled over his skin, suffusing his whole body with ease. He soaked contentedly in the bath, and the gloomy mood that had settled over him lifted a little.

His hair still dripping, he returned to Misty Pine Residence, where he came face to face with Shi Ming, who was just arriving to deliver the evening meal.

Shi Ming's eyes suddenly widened, his breath freezing, his gaze locked irremovably on Chu Rong.

The man's cloud-like long hair trailed behind him, his white gauze robe soaked through by the dampness from his hair, the thin fabric clinging to his skin and tracing the lean contours of his body, barely there yet unmistakable.

And the fingertips visible below the fallen sleeves were jade-white and dewy, suffused with a faint blush from the hot spring soaking — enough to make Shi Ming's head swim.

Chu Rong noticed that Shi Ming's expression wasn't quite right. His brows drew together slightly. His wet long hair fell at the side of his neck, the ends of it dripping water, a strand grazing the ghoulish mask: "What?"

Shi Ming felt not the slightest fear. His throat constricted, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva, bowed his head, and carried the meal inside the room.

Meal delivered and set down, Shi Ming snatched a swift glance up at Chu Rong, then backed out in a bow.

Closing the door, Shi Ming straightened up, stared at the tightly shut door for a moment, then, fingers trembling, tilted his body forward, inclining his head toward the gap in the door.

Pity that the crack was too narrow — there was nothing to see.

Afraid the person inside might notice, Shi Ming didn't dare linger. After confirming three times that he could see nothing inside, he gripped his food tray, unable to bear it, tugged at his robe, and left Misty Pine Residence.

Back at the outer courtyard, Shi Ming set the tray down. Those fingertips flushed with pink, those lean, curving lines at the waist — they kept flickering back and forth through his mind.

Shi Ming propped himself against the table edge, unable to control the rough, ragged breath escaping him. Then thinking of the blood-streaked slender neck from a couple of days ago, the feet of carved white jade from yesterday, his breathing grew even heavier.

He couldn't hold it in any longer. He flipped up the hem of his robe and knelt on the ground.

...

Half a quarter-hour.

Shi Ming staggered to his feet and wiped his hands on his robe. Thinking of something, he hurried back to his room and quickly changed into a fresh set of clothes, pulled the outer courtyard's main door shut, and slipped away from the courtyard quietly.

Having gone through all that back and forth, Chu Rong was somewhat hungry. He removed the mask, lowered his gaze, and sat down to eat.

The disciples who pursued cultivation paid little attention to diet, and the few dishes that were delivered were all somewhat bland — but Chu Rong had eaten them for two days now and had grown used to it.

Once his appetite was satisfied, Chu Rong put the mask back on, opened the door to the room, and looked outside.

The covered walkway wound in a hundred turns. Yun Zhi, in a fresh change of clothes, had his tall, stout body slightly hunched as he wiped down the walkway's pillars with a damp cloth. His hair had been neatly groomed and tied back with a strip of cloth, and it suited his upright, honest features well — he looked to be in good spirits.

Chu Rong's gaze shifted slightly, and in a rare moment, he took the initiative to speak: "Yun Zhi."

His voice, filtered through the mask, had a distinctive quality to it.

Yun Zhi recognized it at once as his, and his tiger-like eyes lit up with a bright gleam. He set down the damp cloth, wiped his hands briskly on his robe, and came striding eagerly toward Chu Rong: "Does Gongzi have something to instruct me?"

There was something, a little.

He didn't want his interest in cultivating to become widely known. Chu Rong lowered his voice and asked tentatively: "If drawing qi into the body succeeds, what would it feel like?"

Yun Zhi had never drawn qi into his body, and didn't know exactly what it felt like. But years ago, when he had first entered the sect and an inner-gate senior disciple had taught him how to draw qi, that senior disciple had said something.

Yun Zhi had been hoping at every moment that one day he would be able to cultivate, so he remembered the senior disciple's words with perfect clarity.

Chu Rong was his benefactor, and Yun Zhi didn't dare hide a single thing from him. He laid it all out, every detail, without leaving out a single word: "Once the spiritual energy enters the body, it will travel through the seven meridians and eight channels, opening every aperture throughout the entire body. The process is excruciatingly painful, and at the same time the impurities within the body will be expelled. The amount of impurities expelled differs depending on the individual's natural talent, but it is said that in all cases they are viscous and foul-smelling, putrid beyond description."

Chu Rong rested one hand under his chin, his jade-pale fingertip unconsciously stroking the side of the mask, listening carefully. The more he heard, the more his heart sank.

"Tianxiao Records" didn't contain the mnemonic verse of the technique, but it did describe in detail the scene of the protagonist Cen Yan drawing qi into his body. What Yun Zhi said matched the novel's content down to the last detail.

Chu Rong knew he was just being stubborn about it.

Noticing the shift in Chu Rong's presence, Yun Zhi's voice gradually grew quieter, taking on a cautious, careful quality.

"Gongzi needn't be in a hurry." Yun Zhi said softly: "If the first time doesn't work, there are still chances afterward — plenty of opportunities..."

"Enough." Chu Rong raised a hand and cut Yun Zhi off. No need to say more.

Drawing qi into the body was something one could attempt many times — but if the first attempt failed, subsequent attempts would be increasingly difficult, and the longer it dragged on, the harder it became.

He still had only half a year before he would have to leave the Qingyang Heavenly Sect. To draw qi into the body within that half a year was probably hopeless.

By now, Chu Rong could say with certainty: he truly was, just like the original owner, an ordinary person with no cultivation talent whatsoever.