Becoming a martial arts god starting from the mortician.

Shen Qi stood in front of the stone bed, the mulberry bark thread in his hand flying up and down like a butterfly, and in a few quick movements he stitched up the rolled-up wound on his subordinate's corpse.

According to the bailiffs who brought the body, this man was a small gang leader who had just emerged in the last two days. Today, he got into a fight with someone over half a street and died in the street.

"These cuts are of varying depths and the flesh is mangled; it's clearly not the work of a skilled hand." Shen Qi thought to himself as he tightened the thread. "Being killed by this person must have been a terrible ordeal."

This newly emerging gang is, to put it bluntly, just a bunch of thugs who got together for courage because they had some strength. When it comes to actually using knives, they just blindly swing them around.

Soon, the corpse's appearance was tidied up. Shen Qi stretched out his right hand and grabbed the life thread into his palm.

At the same time, fragmented memories surfaced.

The scene depicts a narrow, dirty alleyway.

This gang leader was shirtless, carrying a rusty, thick-backed knife, and swaggered as he walked, exuding arrogance beyond measure.

The group blocking the way consisted of several teenagers, the leader of whom was holding a broken woodcutter's knife, his legs trembling.

"Come on! Slash here!" The leader slammed his knife on the ground, pounded his chest loudly, and strode forward. "Grandpa here has practiced some martial arts, I'm invulnerable to blades and spears! You little brat, come at me if you dare! If Grandpa takes even half a step back today, I'll change my surname to yours!"

The young man in the lead was so frightened by his fierce appearance that he lost his temper on the spot.

"Ah—" He let out a distorted scream, squeezed his eyes shut, and swung the broken wood-chopping knife wildly in his hand without any regard for anything else.

"Pfft."

A wood-chopping knife, without missing a beat, pierced the boss's neck.

In the final scene of his memory, the leader felt a dizzying sensation as he clutched his bleeding neck, his face filled with grief and indignation: "No... you fucking really did it..."

Shen Qi slowly opened her eyes, her lips still twitching slightly.

This guy's got some nerve. With skills like that, he dares to try and make a name for himself in the martial arts world? What's with all this talk about being a peerless master? He's practically begging to be slit in the throat; what a pathetic way to die. In the end, he just got himself killed.

As his life thread was completely assimilated, Shen Qi clearly felt a warm current surging through his limbs and bones.

He immediately opened his palm and saw that all the threads of his life force had turned crimson. Not only that, but there were even more of them than before.

This mortuary is truly a treasure trove.

……

The next morning.

As dawn broke, Zhao Youtian, carrying a large mahogany food box, hummed a little tune as he pushed open the door to the accounting office.

"Seventh Brother, breakfast is ready! Come and try the mutton and scallion buns your sister-in-law made herself, and she also cooked millet porridge, it's still hot."

Zhao Youtian skillfully placed several plump steaming buns on the table, then took out "Chronicles of Peaceful Times" from his pocket and slammed it on the table.

"You watch first, I'll get you some porridge."

Shen Qi washed his hands, picked up a steamed bun, took a bite, and found it to be incredibly fragrant, his mouth oozing with oil.

He casually grabbed the newsletter and quickly scanned the page.

"Oh dear, brother, you wouldn't believe it," Zhao Youtian sighed, shaking his head as he ladled out porridge, his chubby face full of resentment. "We finally managed to get the disaster relief officials to come, so fewer refugees are starving to death outside. But guess what? Those damned thugs and ruffians in the outer city are fighting even more fiercely!"

Zhao Youtian cursed, "Yesterday, another seven or eight bodies were carried back from East Street, all chopped to pieces. These short-lived bastards, they can't even get enough to eat, yet they still have the energy to kill people!"

Shen Qi swallowed the bun in his mouth and pointed to the front page of the official gazette: "Brother, it's written in black and white in this newspaper, the government has issued an order."

Zhao Youtian was taken aback, then stretched out his thick neck and leaned closer.

The front page featured a large official document: "The Prefectural Governor's Office hereby orders the deployment of soldiers from the Inner City Patrol Battalion to the main streets of the Outer City to severely crack down on gang disturbances. Anyone found engaging in armed fights will be killed on the spot without exception!"

Zhao Youtian clicked his tongue: "Wow! Shoot them on the spot? The higher-ups used to be indifferent to this, what's going on here?"

Shen Qi casually flipped the newspaper over, his gaze falling on the footnotes on the last page.

[The government, mindful of the benevolence of prominent families, continues to encourage wealthy households to contribute funds to purchase grain. Those who donate 100 shi (a unit of dry measure) or more of grain will be recorded and commended.]

Shen Qi finished the hot porridge in the bowl in a few gulps, wiped his mouth, and stood up.

I told Zhao Youtian that I was going to the inner city today.

……

After leaving the government-run mortuary, Shen Qi pulled up his collar and headed north.

Although it didn't snow today, the wind was still incredibly cold.

The gangsters who used to hang out in groups of three or five on the streets have indeed disappeared without a trace.

Occasionally, two or three people would peek out, but upon catching a glimpse of the patrol soldiers with their standard-issue swords hanging from their waists, they would immediately dart into the alley like mice seeing an old cat and never show their faces again.

The eaves of houses along the street were still crowded with emaciated refugees.

But when Shen Qi approached the northern part of the city, the scene before him was completely different.

Just two streets away, you can see a row of brand-new wooden porridge distribution sheds standing in neat rows on the open ground outside the north gate of the city.

In front of the soup kitchen, refugees lined up in a long queue. Although they were all dressed in rags, the order was surprisingly well maintained under the control of dozens of burly servants from aristocratic families, each wielding a staff that reached their eyebrows.

Shen Qi stopped and looked past the dark crowd, landing behind the porridge stall.

A dozen or so oxcarts loaded with sacks were slowly making their way in. At the head of the convoy, a young gentleman, dressed not in brocade but inside out in a plain cotton robe, was unloading the goods with his servants.

Yan Qing.

This highly sought-after, privileged student from the inner city actually rolled up his sleeves, carried a heavy sack of brown rice, and did some menial manual labor.

Yan Qing's face showed no signs of fatigue; on the contrary, his eyes were bright and his spirit was high, with a vibrant energy emanating from his gentle brows.

Shen Qi quietly shrank into the street corner.

The Divine Eye of Fate, open.

In an instant, the world around us lost its color.

Looking out over the long street, countless refugees had wisps of gray-black hair floating above their heads, like withered spider webs that seemed ready to snap at any moment, giving them a lifeless appearance; while the burly servants had slightly thicker gray-white hair on their heads.

Only the space above Yan Qing's head was exceptionally brilliant.

Crimson and blue life threads intertwine and swirl, like dragons and snakes rising from the land, displaying a myriad of magnificent phenomena.

The outlines of the bamboo slips and official seals that Shen Qi had seen in the inner city when he first saw Yan Qing had become extremely clear.

The description of this destiny in the "Original Destiny" chapter of Volume Seven of "Yuanming Sui" involuntarily came to Shen Qi's mind.

"Crimson and azure gleam in the purple palace, the scrolls remain untouched by dust. If you ask what this body resembles, it is an immortal standing amidst crimson clouds and towering trees."

……