Becoming a martial arts god starting from the mortician.

Shen Qi burned off the last thread and tucked the sewing needle back into the cloth pocket at his waist.

The corpse in front of me is the old mother of Zhang the butcher on South Street; she died last night.

Before dawn this morning, Butcher Zhang stood at the Shen family's door with half a carcass of pork.

"Seventh Brother, I'm entrusting my mother to you." A man who had been butchering pigs for over ten years cried, his face covered in snot.

Shen Qi didn't say much, accepted the pork, and told him to carry the person in.

The mortuary is located in the backyard of the old house, consisting of three blue brick rooms that are perpetually dark.

The ground was paved with stone slabs, and rows of earthenware jars were placed in the corner, containing herbs for preservation.

The smell was a bit pungent, but Shen Qi was already used to it.

He squatted beside the corpse, smearing a layer of ointment along the old woman's withered face with his fingers, filling in her sunken cheeks.

The point of encoffining is to "leave with dignity." No matter how much suffering one endures in life, one must at least die with dignity.

These are the rules his father taught him.

After applying the ointment, Shen Qi straightened up, supporting herself on her knees, and immediately felt a soreness in her lower back.

He supported his back and stood for a moment until the dizziness subsided before lowering his head again.

In his line of sight, three inches above the old woman's head, there was a wisp of grayish-white silk thread that was slowly drifting away.

Life threads—ever since Shen Qi regained his memories of his past life, he has been able to see these things on people.

The life thread is an outward manifestation of a person's destiny; one can judge a person's life simply by its length, thickness, and color.

The old woman's life-giving threads were grayish-white, just a few strands, as thin as spider silk, and had become so dim they were almost transparent. The ends of the threads naturally dissipated, like wisps of smoke blown away by the wind, drifting upwards and disappearing in mid-air.

A peaceful life, and a natural death.

Shen Qi checked the cause of death and habitually made a mental note of it.

He stretched out his right hand and held it above the old woman's lifeline.

His fingertips felt slightly cool. The dissipating gray-white life threads seemed to sense something, slowing their dissipation, with a few hesitantly wrapping around his fingers.

Shen Qi slowly guided the remaining life threads along his fingertips into his body.

Those who die peacefully in their sleep have very little life left to hold onto. But even a little is good.

The silk-reeling process was finished, and Shen Qi opened his eyes. He looked down at the old lady's peaceful face, and his lips moved slightly: "Thank you."

……

The well water in the backyard was icy cold. Shen Qi washed his hands three times before the grease under his fingernails was finally clean.

He shook the water off his hands and went into the main room.

Steam rose from the earthen stove.

A somewhat matte black clay pot is bubbling away.

The bitter smell of medicine permeated the room, much stronger than the herbal smell in the mortuary.

Shen Qi lifted the lid and glanced at it. The soup had already turned a dark brown color, so it looked about ready.

He used a cloth to cushion his hands, poured the darkened medicinal liquid into a bowl, gently blew on it to cool it, and then gulped it down in one go.

Bitter. The bitterness started at the back of his tongue, went down to his throat, and burned all the way to his stomach. He frowned, put down the bowl, and took out a small piece of maltose from the cupboard and put it in his mouth.

This medicine was prescribed by Doctor Li from Huichuntang in town, and each dose costs three hundred coins. Shen Qi needs to drink two doses every day.

Six hundred coins a day, eighteen taels of silver a month.

The price given by the bereaved family for a body depends on their financial situation, ranging from as little as five hundred coins to as much as two or three taels of silver, and sometimes there is a tip.

He was skilled and didn't pick and choose his work. Whenever someone died in town, nine times out of ten people would come to him. He could earn more than twenty taels a month.

This amount wasn't small in the town. But Shen Qi still lived a frugal life, for no other reason than that all his money had been invested in this medicine pot.

As the maltose dissolved, the bitterness was suppressed by the sweetness. Shen Qi leaned back in his chair and raised his hand to press his temples.

He raised his other hand and opened his palm.

Above his palm, his own life force floated quietly.

It was also grayish-white, and its length and thickness looked no different from those of ordinary people in the town.

The wisp of life force that had just been drawn was slowly merging into it, emitting a faint glow.

It looks perfectly normal.

But Shen Qi remembered what it originally looked like.

At the age of thirteen, he saw his own lifeline for the first time at his father's funeral.

It is only a quarter the length of an ordinary person's, as thin as a spider silk thread, with a dull luster, and looks like it might break at any moment.

At that moment, he understood that his father's illness was not an illness, but fate.

The fate of the Shen family.

A short life.

If it weren't for these divine eyes that allowed him to borrow life from the dead, Shen Qi would have been buried in a mass grave long ago.

"Seventh Brother!"

The courtyard gate was pounded so loudly it shook the mountains, pulling Shen Qi out of her memories.

He slowly withdrew his hand, got up, and went to open the door.

A middle-aged man, in his early forties, stood outside the door. He had a long face, thick eyebrows, and wore a worn blue cotton robe. He was carrying two bags of pastries.

"Uncle Liu." Shen Qi's expression softened slightly as he stepped aside to make way.

Liu Gui was his father's good friend. The two came to this town together to make a living. Shen's father was a mortician, and Liu Gui ran a coffin shop. One dealt with the dead, and the other sold coffins. They helped each other in business and got along well in private.

Liu Gui entered the courtyard, looked Shen Qi up and down, and his gaze lingered on his face.

"That's strange." Liu Gui clicked his tongue, put the pastries on the table, and said, "Seventh Brother, what good stuff have you been eating lately?"

"I didn't eat much."

"How did you get so muscular if you didn't eat much?" Liu Gui slapped Shen Qi on the shoulder. "I remember this time last year, you were as thin as a bamboo pole, your face was pale, and you'd be out of breath after just a few steps. Look at you now—"

He circled Shen Qi halfway around, his eyes filled with joy, clicking his tongue in amazement: "His face has gotten fuller, his eyes are brighter, he looks so much more energetic than before. Standing there, he looks like a handsome young man from a wealthy family."

Shen Qi didn't say a word, turned around, poured a bowl of water and handed it over.

Over the years, he has been taking supplements to improve his health day after day, and his physical condition has naturally improved.

Such physical changes naturally wouldn't escape the notice of acquaintances.

Liu Gui took the bottle and gulped it down. His previously cheerful face fell again, and he sighed heavily, "If only your father could see you like this. Your father had the same problem as you back then; his health deteriorated as he got older, until he couldn't even walk anymore... What a pity, he didn't have that fate."

I'm not destined for that.

Shen Qi's fingers, holding the bowl of water, tightened slightly.

He remained silent.

Liu Gui was a restless person; after a brief remark, he brought the topic back to the main point.

They say there have been serious natural disasters lately, and a plague has broken out in the north, causing many deaths, so coffin shops are doing brisk business.

"You must have a lot of work to do here too?" Liu Gui asked.

"good."

"That's good, that's good! Listen to your uncle, once you've cured this illness and saved some money, I'll ask a matchmaker to find you a good girl, so your Shen family line won't end." Liu Gui got up to leave, but turned back at the door. "By the way, have you finished cleaning up at Zhang the butcher's place?"

"It's all packed up. He can come and carry them out tomorrow morning."

"Alright, then you can rest now." Liu Gui waved his hand and left.

The sky darkened. A chilly autumn wind crept in from over the wall, rustling the old locust tree in the yard.

Shen Qi rubbed his cold hands, turned around and walked to the front door, lifting the bolt to lock it.

"Thump."

"Thump."

"Thump."

There was another knock at the door.

The knocking was slow, three times, not very forceful, and evenly spaced.

Shen Qi frowned slightly, lowered the bolt, and opened the door.

Two people stood outside the door. The one in front wore a long black robe, had a fair complexion and no beard, and was in his forties; he looked like a schoolteacher. Behind him was Old Wu, the coroner from the yamen.

Old Wu winked at him: "Seventh Brother, the work is here."

Seeing that Shen Qi remained silent, the man in the long robe spoke up. He smiled and said politely, "My surname is Zhou, and I am an old acquaintance of the deceased, Wang Laosan."

Having recently learned of his sudden death at home, I came to handle the funeral arrangements.

I heard from Coroner Wu that Master Shen's skills are the best in town, so I took the liberty of coming to your door to ask you to come over.

It is said that Wang Laosan was a镖师 (bodyguard/escort) in his early years. He got into trouble and had to return to the town to settle down. He lived at the end of South Street and did not usually associate with anyone.

Shen Qi then looked at Lao Wu.

Old Wu strode over and lowered his voice: "The body he examined today wasn't in a very pleasing state, so the other morticians refused to take the job."

Shen Qi lowered his eyelids and thought for a moment.

"How much?"

Mr. Zhou smiled, extended one hand, and raised five fingers.

"Five taels?" Shen Qi asked.

Mr. Zhou shook his head.

"Fifty taels."

Shen Qi's pupils contracted slightly.

He raised his head and looked at Mr. Zhou again.

His life force was not the grayish-white color of ordinary people.

Instead, it was dark red.

It was about two fingers wide and faintly glowed.

Shen Qi's breathing unconsciously became a little heavier.

Those whose life force is not gray or white are different from ordinary people.

"Let's go," he said.