Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

early morning.

Chen Ping was practicing standing meditation in the courtyard.

He stood there for two hours.

The sun climbed over the wall, the shadow of the soapberry tree shortened, and sweat dripped down my neck, soaking my back and sticking to my skin.

Something under my feet has loosened.

It wasn't a normal loosening; it was like a floodgate suddenly opening.

The qi and blood surged out of the dantian, not with the slow, penetrating force of before, but with a whoosh that spread along the meridians. Wherever it flowed, the bones and muscles felt heavy and hot, as if something had stretched them open from the inside.

What's even stranger is that after that energy dissipated, there was no feeling of emptiness.

Instead, it's like a spring that has opened; whatever is released, the same amount gushes out again, endlessly and unstoppably.

My heart is pounding.

prick!

The stinging sensation was deeper than usual, but it also subsided faster.

He didn't move, just stood there, feeling the flow of qi and blood in his meridians.

After a moment, he opened his eyes.

According to the usual progress, it takes at least seven or eight days to condense one-tenth of one's Qi and blood.

But in the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the mark has already moved forward by 10%.

He recalculated it.

At this current speed, it takes 10% to 3-4 days to complete 80% of the journey, which is about a month.

One month is the end of the Blood Refining stage. There are still five months left to refine the filth and move towards the Ming Jin (manifest strength) or even An Jin (hidden strength).

There's enough time.

Two lines of small print flashed across my retina:

[Skill: Stabilizing Water Stance (Mastery)]

Current progress: 1/1500

[Effects: Qi and blood flow like a spring, foundation is strengthened, refinement is multiplied, and circulation is self-generating]

In the afternoon, there was a knock on the courtyard gate.

Scarface pushed the door open and came in. The scar on his face was taut and pale. As soon as he entered, his voice became loud: "Master Chen, something has happened. Two of our informants along the river in the west of the city broke yesterday, and three more broke this morning. That makes a total of five. They didn't all die at once; they broke off one by one."

He paused, rubbed his hands together, glanced at the direction where Li Yuan lived, and then looked away. "I don't dare to go over to Master Li's place, for fear of offending him, so I came to find Master Chen first."

Chen Ping stood up, carried Jing Ye on his back, and said, "Go and notify all the other informants one by one, and tell them to protect themselves in the next few days and not to go to places they shouldn't be."

Scarface responded and turned to leave.

Chen Ping went out, walked to the next door, knocked on the door, and waited for a moment before Li Yuan opened the door, leaned against the door frame, and glanced at him.

"Five informants in the west of the city have broken off, in batches. I'll go check."

Li Yuan's eyebrows twitched slightly, he nodded, and the door closed again.

Riverside in the west of the city.

The fishy smell wafted from the river, mixed with mud and decaying grass, and lingered in the air.

The shack area was built on the slope by the riverbank. Seven or eight dilapidated shacks were crammed together, and the cloth curtains that shielded them from the wind were flapping wildly in the wind. Suppressed crying could be heard coming from inside the shacks.

Chen Ping approached and listened intently for a moment.

The cries were mixed with gasps, and some people were begging for mercy.

He parted the curtain of the outermost shed and went inside.

The room was dimly lit. Two people, a man and a woman, were kneeling on the ground. They were dressed as refugees, their clothes were tattered, they were covered in wounds, and their mouths were stuffed with rags as they made whimpering noises.

A man in short clothes squatted in front of them, holding a thin bamboo skewer in his hand, humming a tune, looking relaxed, as if he were doing an ordinary craft.

The man didn't even look up, and said casually, "Why are you shrinking? It's not like it's the first time. If you can't even handle this little bit of pain, you deserve to be called a dog."

puff.

The man's eyes rolled back instantly, a muffled groan escaped his throat, and his entire body convulsed like a boiled shrimp.

"You bunch of beggar vagrants, alive you're just a waste of food, dead you're not even worth as much as a stray dog. The only thing I have left is to amuse myself when I'm bored." He lazily twirled the bamboo skewer in his hand. "If I didn't need to pry out the locations of other spies from your filthy mouth, I would have skinned you alive long ago!"

Only then did the lean man belatedly realize that the light at the entrance of the shed seemed to be blocked by something.

He turned around impatiently.

I saw a tall figure standing against the dim light at the entrance of the shed.

The man paused for a moment, then stood up, casually wiped the blood-stained bamboo skewer on his shorts, his eyes flashing with malice, and cursed, "Where did this blind bastard come from? Looking for death?!"

Before he could finish speaking, the tall figure vanished.

The man's eyelids twitched, his expression froze, and he looked around. Apart from two half-dead refugees, there wasn't a soul in the shed!

He rubbed his eyes.

next moment.

The man appeared out of thin air, just fifteen steps away from him!

The man's body was surging with energy, and his deep blue broadsword was already pointing diagonally at the ground, the tip of the blade about an inch off the ground.

The man's back was drenched in cold sweat, and he reached out to grab the short stick at his waist, but before he could get a firm grip on it...

The figure disappeared again.

Ten steps.

The man let out a low, hoarse sound as he finally gripped the short stick. He unconsciously took a half-step back, his heels tripping on the ground, causing him to stagger before he managed to regain his balance.

Five steps.

The man's expressionless face appeared directly in front of him.

The man had never seen such a movement before. His mind went blank, his thoughts in complete disarray. He held on by a thread, gritted his teeth, raised his short stick high, and shouted hoarsely, "You bastard! I'll kill you!"

My hands are shaking.

The stick was also shaking.

Chen Ping remained silent, slowly raising the large sword in his hand.

The moment his eyes met those eyes, the man froze.

It's not because I'm afraid.

It was because of what emanated from that knife, that aura that was like the entire sea crashing down from the sky, overwhelming and pressing down on the body, on the chest, on every bone, heavy as if it wanted to crush a person into the ground.

He wanted to move.

My legs won't obey me.

He wanted to shout.

There was only air left in my throat.

His knees slammed to the ground. He didn't even realize when he had knelt down. He just looked down and saw his knees in the mud, his face covered in snot and tears. The short stick slipped from his hand with a thud.

He wanted to pick it up.

His fingers dug into the ground, scraping into the mud, leaving several bloody marks. The stick was just half a step away, yet it felt like an entire world separated them.

The shadow of the knife fell and covered his face.

He looked up and saw his own eyes reflected on the blade, his whites bloodshot, his lips trembling, making a whimpering sound like a dog being choked.

Fear filled his heart to overflowing, flowing into every vein. Suddenly, he thought of everything: his mother, the bowl of noodles he ate yesterday, and the few taels of silver he still had left.

The knife fell.

Clean and neat.

Chen Ping squatted down and searched the man's waist.

A few taels of silver, a strip of white cloth with red flowers, and a small porcelain bottle. After uncorking, there were round pills inside. I counted them; there were twenty. The smell of medicine was strong. They were heart-protecting pills.

He tucked the porcelain bottle and the strips of cloth into his sleeves, stood up, walked over to the two refugees, squatted down, tore the cloth out of their mouths, and cut the rope.

The two people lay paralyzed on the ground, unable to move, staring intently at him, their eyes filled with everything: fear, confusion, and something else indescribable.

Chen Ping stuffed the loose silver into their hands and said, "Let's go."

Two words, nothing more.

The man reacted first, trembling as he propped himself up and pulled the woman out of the shed. Once they were outside the threshold, he slowly stood up and walked away without looking back, his pace quickening until he was running.

Chen Ping left the shed.

The river breeze carried a fishy smell, but he paid no attention, his mind still reeling from the stab wound he had just received.

He swept his gaze across the void, and a panel appeared, his eyes landing on the section for the Vast Ocean Blade Technique.

[Skill: Vast Ocean Blade Technique (Mastery)]

Current progress: 3/1500

If even a master can achieve this, then someone in the same realm wouldn't even have the thought of resisting.

Chen Ping stared at the progress line and mentally calculated it.

Before the Dragon Head Sacrifice, the Vast Ocean Blade Technique will inevitably reach perfection.

At that time, the Stone-Crushing Strength will definitely be able to be broken through in five months.

He wrapped Jingye up, carried her on his back, and walked back along the riverbank.