Becoming a martial arts god starting from the mortician.

The three walked eastward along the dirt road on the edge of the town, and the further they walked, the more desolate it became.

After passing the last row of houses, all that's left is a barren, grassy slope.

At the end of the slope stood a low, stone-built courtyard, all alone.

This is the mortuary in Qingping Town.

Half of the courtyard wall had collapsed long ago, with rubble scattered everywhere, and the roof tiles were covered with withered grass.

The two wooden doors were crooked, with most of the black paint peeling off the door panels, revealing grayish-white wood shavings.

This mortuary was originally built in town as a place to store the bodies of those who died violently and whose bodies were left unattended.

But the last time it opened was more than a decade ago.

Ever since Shen Qi's father brought young Shen Qi to settle in the town, the Shen family father and son have taken on all sorts of jobs.

Dirty, smelly, or with an ugly death appearance, I'll accept anyone who comes.

In the town, whenever someone in a family dies, people would rather spend more money to have the Shen family handle the aftermath properly.

The government would also pay the Shen family to take care of passing merchants and people who died from the epidemic.

Over time, the mortuary fell into disrepair.

Shen Qi looked at the crooked wooden door and tightened his grip on the toolbox on his back.

Back then, his father, despite his illness, took on any job without being picky, which is how he managed to settle down in this town.

Now, as he walks on this road, he is exactly the same as he was back then.

As they approached the entrance to the mortuary, the two constables stopped abruptly.

The leader glanced through the crack in the door, his face turned pale instantly, and he stiffened his neck and took two steps back.

The other one simply turned his back, covering his nose with one hand and waving his other hand.

"Seventh Brother, we two brothers won't go in. We'll keep watch at the door for you. You should go and come back quickly."

Seeing the two of them looking so cowardly, Shen Qi didn't say anything more and could only push the door open and go inside.

The interior of the mortuary was even more dilapidated than the exterior.

Several holes were in the roof, allowing beams of light to slant down and illuminate the dust particles slowly swirling in the air.

Spiderwebs formed in the corner of the wall, and clumps of withered yellow grass sprouted from the cracks in the blue bricks on the ground.

In the center of the room, there were two stone slab beds placed side by side, each with a corpse covered with a white sheet lying on it.

A faint, unpleasant odor permeated the room.

Qingping Town is located in the north. As autumn draws to a close and the weather turns cool, the corpses do not decompose very quickly.

It wasn't exactly pungent, but it didn't smell good either.

It wasn't nearly as bad as the neighbors in the teahouse described, that it all stank.

Shen Qi put down his toolbox, took out a pair of sheepskin gloves, and put them on.

He walked to the stone slab bed on the left and reached out to lift the white cloth.

It's Zhao the Cripple.

His death was exactly the same as Wang Laosan's.

His mouth was torn apart, and his entire face was twisted beyond recognition. Because he had been dead for some time, his eyeballs no longer bulged out but instead sunken in.

Zhao the Cripple's dough had begun to loosen and collapse, and the crack at the corner of his mouth was turning bluish-black.

Lividity spread from the side of the neck all the way to behind the ears, with dark purple patches spreading out.

A layer of grayish-white waxy substance can be faintly seen on the jaw and cheeks.

If it weren't for the cool weather, the adipocere would probably have already solidified, making the skin and flesh slippery and difficult to clean.

Shen Qi stretched out his finger and gently pressed Zhao the Cripple's cheek.

The fingertip sinks in, and the skin doesn't spring back for a long time, leaving a shallow indentation.

Rigor mortis has completely subsided, and the joints of the limbs can move freely.

He raised his head again and looked up at the top of Zhao the Cripple's head.

The life force had almost completely dissipated. Only a tiny, last remnant remained suspended at the very end.

Shen Qi stared at that last trace of something, his expression gradually becoming serious.

The outer layer of this life-giving silk is grayish-white, just like that of ordinary people in the town.

But among the gray and white silk threads, there were several dark red strands.

He strode to the second stone slab bed and lifted the white cloth.

Sun the blacksmith also died a gruesome death. However, because he died two days later, his body was preserved slightly better.

The lifeline on the top of his head was also reduced to its tip.

Shen Qi leaned closer for a closer look and saw the same structure: grayish-white wrapping sparse, dark red threads.

The life threads of Zhao the Cripple and Shen Qi's own life threads were almost identical.

He began to recall the life ties between Zhou Wenyuan and Wang Laosan.

The life threads of these two people were either dark red or crimson, but they were pure colors without any other colors.

Then look at Zhao the Cripple and Sun the Blacksmith in front of you.

The base is grayish-white with a thin layer of dark red, so dark red is barely visible without close inspection.

The difference between the two is like heaven and earth.

Shen Qi pursed his lips.

Zhao the Cripple and Sun the Blacksmith's martial arts skills were marked as inferior.

Even though life threads and martial veins are not the same thing, they are inevitably related.

Solid colors are superior, while mixed colors are inferior.

And Shen Qi's life thread is exactly like this.

It is predominantly gray and white, and although the interior is crimson rather than dark red, the difference is not significant.

He came to a not-so-good conclusion.

He, Shen Qi, is most likely also of inferior martial lineage.

It must be because after assimilating Wang Laosan's crimson life thread, his physique underwent a drastic change in a short period of time, and his blood and qi surged violently, which caused Zhou Wenyuan to misjudge and make a mistake.

Having figured this out, Shen Qi was not disappointed at all; instead, she breathed a long sigh of relief.

Whether Zhou Wenyuan initially saw him as a rough gem or later discovered he was a stubborn rock, that was a matter for the future.

The most important thing right now is to survive this ordeal.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts and started working.

The two had been dead for several days; what should have been stiff had become soft again, making them easier to handle than fresh ones.

Shen Qi's technique was swift and skillful. She used ointment to fill in the sunken cheeks and used a fine needle to stitch up the torn corners of her mouth little by little.

While tidying his face, Shen Qi reached out and touched the remaining strands of hair floating above their heads.

After incorporating all the remaining threads from the two corpses, Shen Qi carefully examined them.

One more thread of life was added, but it was negligible.

There was no sign of any increase in the body's Qi and blood, nor any memory resurfaced.

It's nothing compared to Wang Laosan's lifeline.

To become stronger and to continue in this martial arts world, he must obtain high-grade life threads.

Shen Qi stood up and glanced at the two corpses one last time.

They probably never knew they possessed martial meridians until their deaths, simply believing they were stronger than others.

Every husband is not guilty, and he is guilty of his crime.

He wiped the ointment off his hands, packed his tools one by one into the box, slung it over his shoulder, and pushed open the door to leave the mortuary.

At the entrance, two yamen runners were squatting against the wall, puffing on their pipes.

Upon seeing Shen Qi emerge, the two quickly stood up.

"alright?"

The head constable asked anxiously.

"The face has been prepared; just notify the bereaved family to come and collect the body for placement in the coffin."

The yamen runner breathed a sigh of relief.

He quickly took out the loose silver coins wrapped in cloth from his pocket, counted them, and stuffed them into Shen Qi's hand along with the two taels he had previously agreed upon.

"Seventh Brother, you're a true friend! I'll treat you to drinks another day!"

Before they finished speaking, the two turned and left, as if afraid to stay there for even a moment longer.

Shen Qi gathered the loose silver into his purse and followed.

The air above the barren grassy slope was desolate. The two constables in front ran faster and faster, and soon they disappeared from sight.

The mortuary shrank smaller and smaller behind us, while the outline of the town was still far ahead.

Shen Qi quickened his pace.

The autumn wind chased after him from behind, blowing into his collar.

Shen Qi suddenly stopped in his tracks.

The chirping of insects around us disappeared at some point.

……