Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

The screams had barely stopped when the alley remained deathly silent.

A moment later, a few lights appeared at the entrance of the alley, their orange glow flickering in the darkness, and footsteps grew louder and louder as they approached.

Several gang members, holding torches, peered into the alley and saw Chen Ping standing next to the pile of minced meat. The one in the lead let out a sigh of relief and said, "Master Chen."

The words had barely left his mouth when the firelight illuminated the ground beneath his feet.

The first one paused for two seconds, then stopped and didn't move forward.

A young gang member approached, shone his torch on the ground, then covered his mouth, bent over, and took two steps back to the edge of the alley, making a dry gagging sound.

The older man took a few steps inside, holding a torch and looking down to examine the meat closely. His eyes swept over the pile of minced meat, his brows furrowed tightly, as if he were trying to identify something.

He suddenly squatted down, squinted, and stared at the wrinkled human skin on the ground for a moment.

"This...isn't this Old Zhang?" His voice was hoarse as he looked up to the side. "Look at this face..."

Several people gathered around, and the firelight reflected off the human skin, revealing complete facial features, yet it was hollow, like a dried-out mask.

"Which Old Zhang?" someone asked in a low voice.

"That guy from the greywater plant, he disappeared a few days ago. We thought he'd run away..."

The first one turned pale after hearing this, took a half step back, and stopped talking.

The younger one was still gagging and didn't have time to respond.

The bolder one stood up, bent down, and picked up the human skin from the ground. The skin swayed softly in the evening breeze, its facial features contorting with the movement.

He paused for a moment, then put the human skin back on the ground, clapped his hands, and didn't touch it again.

Footsteps came from the alley entrance, and Chen Ping looked up.

Lu Cheng walked ahead, with Huang Ya holding a torch behind him, and the two stepped into the alley one after the other.

The firelight illuminated the alleyway brightly.

After entering, Lü Cheng did not speak immediately. He stood still and scanned the entire alley from beginning to end. His gaze swept from the minced meat on the ground to the collapsed holes in the wall, and then fell on the human skin. His brows furrowed deeper and deeper.

He took two steps inside, squatted down, held the torch up to examine the human skin, let out a low snort, stood up, dusted off his knees, and after a moment of silence, spoke: "You handled this all by yourself?"

Chen Ping nodded.

Lu Cheng didn't speak immediately. He paced a few steps in the alley, as if matching what was in front of him with something in his mind, and then said, "Pi Sha."

The voice was very low, "They like human skin, they like cold and damp places, and they specifically target people whose qi and blood are weak. They pierce through the eye sockets and suck the person dry from the inside, leaving only a intact skin."

He paused, then turned to the gang members around him and said, "Burn these and clean them up."

Huang Ya stood motionless at the alley entrance, holding a torch. His gaze swept over the mess on the ground, then lingered on the collapsed walls, staring at them for a moment.

The holes in the wall varied in size and depth. He looked at them for a while, then turned his gaze to Chen Ping, scrutinizing him from head to toe without saying a word.

As the gang members began to act, he took two steps from the alley entrance, stopped next to Lü Cheng, and whispered, "There might be more than one of these things around here."

Lu Cheng glanced at him and said, "It's not clear yet."

Chen Ping took the gray crystal out of his pocket and handed it over: "It was taken from its body."

Lu Cheng took it, placed it in his palm, and examined it carefully by the firelight. He turned it over and over for a moment, then shook his head and returned the crystal to Chen Ping: "I can't recognize it, but since it's inside this thing, you should be careful with it."

He glanced at the edge of the alley.

The two jars of wine were broken, and the liquid seeped into the cracks of the bluestone slabs, mixing with the fishy stench on the ground and emitting a strange smell.

Lu Cheng pulled over a member of the gang next to him and said, "Go to the restaurant and send two jars of good wine to Chen Ping's residence."

The group responded, "We'll go right away."

Chen Ping didn't say anything more and turned to leave the alley.

Back in the courtyard, the gate was not closed.

Old Liu sat at the stone table, a pipe in his mouth, an oil lamp lit, and several bowls on the table, still steaming. Next to him was the jar of yellow wine he usually drank, which had already been opened.

Seeing Chen Ping enter, he looked up, glanced at him, pulled the pipe from his mouth, and tapped it on the edge of the table: "Did you bump into him?"

"We bumped into each other." Chen Ping sat down opposite him, picked up Liu Laoguo's wine jar, poured him a bowl, and then poured one for himself.

The rice wine, when poured into the bowl, had a bland aroma and a slightly sour, aged smell.

The two ate the dishes on the table for a while and exchanged a few words. Then, footsteps sounded outside the courtyard gate, and a member of the gang came in carrying two jars of wine. He bowed and said, "Master Chen, the wine has arrived."

Chen Ping took it, pushed the bowl of yellow wine aside, unsealed the new wine, poured a bowl for Old Liu, and then poured one for himself.

The wine is excellent; its aroma is enticing when poured into the bowl, and it is much richer and more substantial than the previous jar.

Old Liu picked up the glass, took a sip, smacked his lips slowly, and said nothing.

Chen Ping picked up a piece of braised pork knuckle, took a bite, and found the skin and meat tender and juicy, with the aroma of star anise and cinnamon melting in his mouth.

"The world is probably going to be in great chaos." Old Liu sighed, putting his pipe on the table. "It's not a good sign that evil spirits can come out in this remote and impoverished place."

Chen Ping took a bite of the fish soup but didn't reply.

"When do you plan to set off for Tianyan Prefecture?" Old Liu asked.

"It's still early."

Old Liu grunted in agreement and picked up his wine bowl again.

Chen Ping paused for a moment, then said, "So I'm asking if you want to come with me..."

Before he could finish speaking, Liu Laoguo shook his head: "Tianyan Prefecture and this place are not on the same level. You're just a burden by bringing me along."

He took a sip of wine and said slowly, "I'm quite content to retire here. If you insist on me going, fine, but wait until you've completely established yourself in Tianyan Prefecture before you come and take me to enjoy my retirement. I don't want to go through hardships with you."

Chen Ping smiled, shook his head, and said nothing more.

The two sat there, one eating and the other drinking. The light from the oil lamp cast a dim yellow glow on the courtyard, and the sound of the night wind rustling through the treetops could be heard from afar.

Old Liu went back to his room to sleep.

Chen Ping moved the oil lamp to the stone table, stood up, walked to the middle of the courtyard, assumed a horse stance, focused his energy in his dantian, lowered his center of gravity, raised his right fist, and began to practice the Twelve Forms of Crushing Stone Force.

The force originates from the ground and flows through each segment.

At that moment, a line of small text flashed across my retina.

[Stone Crushing Force, Proficiency +1]

[Current Progress: Completed 1499/1500]

One short.

The Crushing Stone Force is now at its peak!

He paused, resumed his stance, and finished the second round of the attack.

A line of small print flashed across my retina.

[Crushing Stone Force, Great Mastery → Perfection]

Something surged into his mind, long and deep. It was every punch Chen Ping had thrown since he started practicing the Crushing Stone Force. Which punch was too forceful, which punch had a wrong trajectory, and which punch was slightly off. He picked up, gathered, solidified, and engraved these things into his understanding of the Crushing Stone Force.

Unlike the Great Accomplishment Realm,

Chen Ping stood still, his movements continuing.

One punch after another, slowly thrown out.

He began to understand that the Great Completion meant completing the path of the founder of the cultivation method, going to the very end, and not deviating even by a fraction.

Perfection is integration; it involves comprehending the martial arts experience of the founder of the technique while incorporating one's own unique insights.

The air in the courtyard subtly changed.

The flame of the oil lamp tilted slightly in the direction of his punch, causing a tiny ripple to spread across the wine bowl on the stone table before returning to stillness.

His movements became slower and slower, but with each punch he threw, the force rising from the ground grew heavier and more integrated, as if something was kneading his bones, muscles, and blood together, twisting them into a rope.

As the experience transfer ended, his mind suddenly cleared.

His figure vanished from the spot.

He appeared by the wooden stake not far away, without any attempt to break the stone's momentum, but instead turned sideways and delivered a punch to his side.

The movements are very slow.

It was so slow it was as if it were just handed over casually.

The moment the fist made contact with the wooden stake, the stake made no sound. The next moment, it shattered in the middle, and wood chips scattered in all directions, falling to the ground without a single intact piece of wood.

Powdered granules.

Chen Ping withdrew his fist, stood still, and carefully felt the residual force of the punch on his fist.

Its power has increased significantly, that's for sure.

But there was an inexplicable feeling in my heart, like something was missing from my fist, something that was within reach but I could never quite grasp.

That punch could have been done better.

He suppressed the thought in his mind, sat down on the stone bench, and remained silent for a moment.

He has probably reached the limit of the martial art of Crushing Stone Force. He can see its many flaws and the limits it can reach.

The founder of this martial art was an extraordinary person, but he was still just a person. What a martial art can record and pass on to future generations is only his own path, the feeling of walking, the wind by the roadside, and the stones under his feet. These are things that can only be walked by oneself.

He has now completed this journey.

At the current rate of cultivation, the Crushing Stone Force should be able to transform in about five months. At that time, perhaps we can grasp that glimmer of inspiration.

He looked up and glanced at the sky.

The moon had already set in the west, and the night was deep.