Becoming an immortal from a canal worker

On the eve of the Dragon Head Festival.

Before the morning mist had completely dissipated, Chen Ping set off for the greywater treatment plant.

He wore a manager's nameplate hanging from his waist and walked at a leisurely pace.

Walking west from Qingkou Wharf, the further you go to the edge, the more dilapidated the streets become. The shops with blue bricks and gray tiles gradually disappear, replaced by shacks made of rotten wooden planks and thatched roofs.

The road was cleaner than before, at least you didn't have to walk around sewage anymore. There was still a faint fishy smell in the air, but it was much less pungent than the overwhelming stench of decay a month ago.

Scarface walked beside him, reporting as they went: the commotion at the docks yesterday, news from his informants in the West Market, and the new manpower registered at the greywater yard in the past few days. His voice was low and his points were clear.

Chen Ping listened without saying a word, his gaze sweeping forward.

Further ahead is the greywater treatment plant.

Compared to a month ago, there are fewer dead bodies lying on the roadside. Occasionally, a homeless person squats in front of a shack, holding a medicine bag in their hand, whispering something to the person coughing inside. There is something more in their expression, it is hard to tell if it is hope or just the feeling that they are not quite dead yet.

The shacks are still the same shacks, the muddy ground is still the same muddy ground, and dilapidation is the main theme here. A month can't change anything, but the atmosphere of utter desolation has faded a little.

Chen Ping and Scarface inspected the ashwater treatment plant inside and out, walking from the east end to the west end, from the widest part to the narrowest part, and stopped at the entrance of the ashwater treatment plant.

Chen Ping said, "I'll be leaving after the Dragon Head Ceremony. If you don't have anywhere to go, join the gang and register under the Business Hall. This place will still be under your jurisdiction from now on."

Scarface stood to the side, remained silent for a moment, and then spoke: "Having fled down from the north, we have nowhere to go. If Steward Chen is willing to give me this opportunity, I, Scarface, will be extremely grateful."

Chen Ping nodded: "That's settled then."

He turned and walked out, with Scarface following behind him for a few steps before stopping.

These days, he works with Scarface. Although the two are not very familiar, he tries his best to carry out the tasks Chen Ping assigns and also has his own ideas.

Among the Red Flower Sticks in the gang, if strength is not a factor, Scarface is actually the best choice to succeed Hu Qian, but he still needs to be trained. If Hu Qian is willing to take him under his wing for a period of time, that would be excellent.

As we left the greywater field, the fog had mostly dissipated, and the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a faint outline of the rooftops of Qingkou Town.

Inside the council hall, Lü Cheng sat at the head of the table, outlining the final arrangements one by one. A row of red-flowered sticks stood by, and several stewards responded in turn. The atmosphere in the hall was very tense, and no one spoke much.

Chen Ping sat on the left, listening without saying a word.

Lu Cheng gave a final look around and said, "Everyone, take your positions. Tomorrow is the Dragon Head Ceremony; I don't need to say anything more."

The crowd rose and left one after another, their footsteps fading into the distance, leaving only two people in the council hall.

Lu Cheng didn't move. Only after everyone had left did he turn to Chen Ping and ask, "Can you break through?"

Chen Ping felt the sensation of the Yongquan acupoint on the sole of his foot being repeatedly washed by the condensed qi and blood, and nodded: "It will all fall into place tonight."

Lu Cheng paused for a moment, then threw his head back and burst into laughter, patting Chen Ping on the shoulder and saying repeatedly, "Good, good, good, I'm relieved to hear you say that!"

Chen Ping cupped his hands in greeting, turned, and left.

Back in the courtyard, the sun was already setting in the west, the sky was darkening, and the light in the courtyard was hazy.

Chen Ping stood still and erected the water-fixing stake.

The blood and qi in his body surged wildly, condensing and flowing along the meridians to the soles of his feet, washing over the Yongquan acupoint again and again, at an increasingly faster speed. That acupoint was like a stubborn rock, being hit and bounced back time and time again, but each time it hit, it went a little deeper than the last.

boom.

A dull thud came from beneath my feet; this time it was different—the stubborn rock had shattered.

In Chen Ping's perception, it was as if a black hole suddenly cracked open in the sole of his left foot, bottomless. The next moment, all the condensed qi and blood in his body seemed to be sucked in by something, rushing towards that place. The qi and blood gathered more and more in his acupoints, and when it was about 10% full, it stopped abruptly.

The next moment, the condensed qi and blood within the acupoints began to tremble gently with each heartbeat.

One, one, one.

Chen Ping clenched his right fist, his skin and flesh tensed, and with the rhythm of his heartbeat, his acupoints trembled and his internal organs resonated. A strange and enormous power rose from between his muscle groups and flowed throughout his body, a feeling unlike any he had ever experienced before.

This is strength.

A truly powerful force.

Unlike the rudimentary form of power unleashed when the Crushing Stone Force is fully mastered, this power flows throughout the entire body. If he so desires, every inch of his muscles and every piece of skin can be transformed into a weapon, ready to be unleashed at any time.

He walked to the corner of the courtyard, dragged out the ironwood stake, stood still, raised his right hand, and gently pressed it down with the Yin Palm posture of the Two Elements Palm, without mobilizing his Qi and blood.

The moment the palm touched the wooden stake, a surge of force erupted, striking the stake surface and causing spiderweb-like cracks to spread across it, fine and deep.

Chen Ping stopped, glanced at it, and his arm trembled.

Ninety percent of his qi and blood were mobilized at this moment, surging into his arms. The heavy, mercury-like blood in his body surged through his body. He pressed out with his palm, and the force, along with his own power, spread along his palm and into the wooden stake. The wooden stake flew out horizontally, without tumbling or spinning, just flying straight forward.

After flying three steps, the stake began to crack from the middle. The cracks spread, and pieces of wood peeled off one by one. Before hitting the ground, it had scattered into a handful of broken wood. The moment the broken wood touched the ground, a cold wind blew in from outside the courtyard wall, swirling the fragments in the air, scattering them, and disappearing without a trace.

Chen Ping withdrew his hand and looked at the open space.

Ming Jin has been achieved!

......

Inside the White Gang's council hall, Yan Hai sat at the head of the table, flipping through a stack of account books and making final arrangements. Several leaders in the hall responded in turn, and the atmosphere was very tense.

Footsteps came from outside the door.

It wasn't just one person's footsteps.

The door was pushed open, and twelve people walked in. The one in the lead was an elderly man with a tall and straight figure, a beard, a thin body, and a slow and steady pace. His eyelids were slightly drooping, as if he were dozing off, but everyone in the hall inexplicably held their breath.

Qi Renwu, who was standing beside the old man, quickly rose from his seat upon seeing this, walked over swiftly, and bowed, saying, "Uncle, why have you come in person?"

The old man did not answer, but merely opened his eyes slightly and scanned the room with his gaze.

With just one glance, the members of the White Gang in the hall felt a chill run down their spines, as if they were about to be crushed to death by this old man. Some quietly took a half step back, but dared not move, frozen in place.

The old man waved his hand, and the eleven people behind him silently dispersed, standing in various places in the hall.

The old man looked at Qi Renwu and spoke in a low, somewhat casual voice: "Your grandfather told me to keep an eye on you before he passed away. You've been out here for so long, and you haven't even gone back to visit him."

Qi Renwu stood next to the old man, reached out and patted his shoulder, and said with a smile, "It'll be soon. Once we wipe out the Green Robe Society and get the stuff, we'll leave."

He paused, turned his head, looked at Ghost Hand Zhang in the corner, and said, "By the way, Uncle, I also brought a tribute to the sect."

Ghost Hand Zhang stood up, clasped his hands in a fist salute to the old man, and looked solemn.

The old man sized him up for a moment and said indifferently, "Hmm, he's almost ready to be an outer sect disciple, but he's too old, his aptitude is average, and his foundation is poor. Take him back to guard the gate."

Ghost Hand Zhang stood there, silent, his hands clenched tightly.

Xie Xiao and Yan Hai exchanged a glance, immediately recognizing Qi Renwu as an elder from his sect. Judging from Qi Renwu's demeanor, he clearly held a very high position.

Yan Hai quickly stepped forward, bowed to the old man, and said, "Sir, you have all had a long and tiring journey. Why don't you rest first?"

The old man said, "Lead the way."

Yan Hai quickly responded, turned around and walked out, leading the way.

Qi Renwu followed behind the old man, lowering his voice to say, "Uncle, that thing..."

The old man raised his hand, stopping him from speaking. He slightly lifted his eyelids and said calmly, "There are too many people around. If you speak here, these people..."

He glanced around at his surroundings.

"Everything needs to be cleaned up."

Yan Hai walked ahead, his back stiffened for a moment, but he didn't stop walking. However, the cold sweat on his back had already quietly soaked his clothes.

The old man and the eleven people behind him walked out of the council hall and across the street filled with displaced people. Their gazes were calm, their steps were steady, and their eyes showed no emotion, as if they were walking through a muddy field.