Becoming a martial arts god starting from the mortician.

The constables roughly pushed and shoved the crowd, heading straight towards East Street.

The crowd was scattered, but then regrouped on the street.

Shen Qi calmly walked across the street corner and turned into the alley where her house was located.

He only stopped when the noise behind him was completely blocked by the courtyard wall.

The autumn wind blew into the courtyard, lifting the hem of his robe.

Wang Laosan's face, with its bulging eyes and twisted like a demon, once again vividly appeared in my mind.

The killer is still in town.

Moreover, he is still committing murder.

Without hesitation, Shen Qi turned around, found a broken wooden board, dipped it in ink, wrote a few words, and hung it on the courtyard gate.

"Hand injury, business closed for a month."

The characters were written crookedly, and the ink was not yet completely dry before the autumn wind faded them somewhat.

The townspeople passing by glanced at him but didn't think much of it. After all, a mortician deals with the dead all day; it's perfectly normal for his hands to get bumps and bruises. Besides, things haven't been peaceful in town lately; people have died, and the government has closed the streets. Who has the time or inclination to care whether a mortician is on leave or not?

Shen Qi returned to the main room, bolted the door shut, and closed the windows tightly.

Fifty taels of silver notes were tucked under the bed. This money was enough for him to buy grain and medicine, allowing him to survive the entire autumn without any worries.

For the first two days, he stayed inside the house.

During the day, I brew medicine, practice martial arts, and assimilate the life force.

In the evenings, I still brew medicine, practice boxing, and assimilate the life force.

Shen Qi can now execute the first three moves of the Tiger Subduing Fist in a continuous sequence.

Although the structure is a bit loose, it's much better than it was a few days ago.

The fist slammed out, and a muffled thud echoed in the air.

When retracting the fist, the arm moves steadily and smoothly.

The Nourishing and Strengthening Soup, combined with the assimilated crimson life essence, is rapidly replenishing his body, which has been depleted for many years.

Every morning when he wakes up, he can clearly feel his body growing longer and his bones being reshaped.

On the third day, another person died in the town.

That morning, Shen Qi was sitting at the table assimilating the life threads when an explosion broke out outside the courtyard.

The yamen runners banged their gongs so loudly that the cries and curses of the neighbors blended together and could be heard even through several walls.

"Sun the blacksmith from North Street! He died in his own shop!"

"Damn it! He died in the exact same way as Zhao the Cripple!"

"That face... my God..."

Shen Qi sat at the table, his movements of peeling away the crimson life threads never ceasing.

That makes three.

Wang Laosan, Zhao the Cripple, and Sun the Blacksmith.

He closed his eyes and drew the crimson life thread into himself.

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the crimson life threads had completely melted into it.

As assimilation deepens, the carrying capacity of his own life force is also rapidly increasing.

On the first day, I only dared to draw out one strand, on the second day two strands, and today I can simultaneously introduce three strands of crimson life force into my body.

Shen Qi opened his palm and looked down.

The changes in life threads are very intuitive.

The grayish-white silk threads, now more than a dozen more strands, were twisted together and were much thicker than before. The very center strands had turned crimson.

Although there were only four or five strands, as thin as silkworm threads, they were inconspicuous among the large mass of gray and white. But Shen Qi could see them clearly.

Shen Qi slowly clenched his fist.

It's even more powerful now.

His joy didn't last long.

Because after assimilating the three strands of life, the memories returned.

These past few days, each assimilation session has brought back a memory of Wang Laosan. At first, it was fragmented scenes of practicing boxing, eating, traveling, and other trivial moments, like a shattered bronze mirror.

But today's segment is completely different.

The picture shows a house.

The room was dimly lit and cramped. On the table lay a yellowed map, with intersecting lines and several ink dots next to it marked with hidden annotations.

Zooming in, a square vermilion seal was stamped on the upper left corner of the paper.

"Supervising Heavenly Siyin."

The scene changes.

Wang Laosan stood in front of a middle-aged man who was wearing an official robe. The man's face was indistinct, but his voice was very clear.

Wang Laosan stood bowing in front of a middle-aged man dressed in an official robe.

"Wang Shou, you are going to Qingping Town under the guise of returning home. Your mission is to search for people with innate martial arts lineages for the Surveillance Bureau. Once you find them, record them in the register and send the list back to the Bureau every autumn."

"Your subordinate obeys."

"Although you are a third-class Pulse Finder, your rank is not high, but your duties are important. You must not tell anyone about your identity as a Pulse Finder."

Memory interruption.

Shen Qi opened her eyes.

He sat in the chair for a long time without moving.

The pulse finder.

The Bureau of Astronomical Observation.

Wang Laosan was not a镖客 (bodyguard/escort) who got into trouble and then retired from the martial arts world.

Instead, they were officials from the Dayan Dynasty. They were sent to this remote town specifically to find people with martial arts talent.

Shen Qi cleared his mind of distractions and closed his palms again.

For the next two days, he barely slept or rested.

The crimson life force was dissipating rapidly.

Whether it was because too much time had passed since Wang Laosan's death, or the inherent characteristics of the life thread itself, the crimson thread that was wrapped around it was gradually fading and thinning.

Whatever the reason, he doesn't have much time left.

He simply increased his speed.

Large fragments of memory were pieced together to complete the whole story.

Wang Laosan remained in seclusion in Qingping Town for twelve years.

Using the art of observing qi and discerning pulse passed down from the Bureau of Astronomy, they secretly observed the young and strong men in the town.

Over the course of twelve years, he wrote down only three names in the thin booklet he always carried with him.

Zhao the Cripple. Sun the Blacksmith.

And Chen Liu, the hunter who lives on West Street.

Next to each of the three names was a red annotation left by Wang Laosan.

Unfit for improvement.

Despite his martial arts talent, he was destined not to go far and was therefore not worth the court taking him away to train.

But now Zhao the Cripple is dead. Sun the Blacksmith is dead too.

That register must now be in the hands of the murderer, who is now following it to commit murder.

Next up was hunter Chen Liu.

However, it is currently the peak season for autumn hunting, and once Chen Liu goes into the mountains, he will not show his face for ten days or half a month.

The killer couldn't find him.

Therefore, the killer is most likely waiting.

Shen Qi slowly stood up and walked to the window.

The window paper was tightly sealed, and the light that came in was dim.

He raised his right hand and looked at his lifeline.

Among the gray and white silk threads, there are already more than a dozen crimson life threads.

If the crimson life thread is the martial vein...

He has one now too.

If the killer also has the means to identify martial veins...

Shen Qi's heart sank.

He slowly sat back in his chair, staring at the wood grain on the table, motionless.

Outside the courtyard wall, the sound of the yamen runners' gongs rang out again.

"Every household must lock and close their doors before dark; no one is allowed to go out—"

He had to become stronger before the killer noticed him.

In the palm of his hand, the last wisp of crimson life force had faded to almost transparent, like a wisp of smoke about to dissipate.

Shen Qi extended his finger and guided it into his body.

As the last wisp of crimson merged in, a very brief memory flashed through my mind.

Wang Laosan lay sprawled on the ground, with a person standing in front of him. The person's face was obscured by darkness, with only one hand visible.

That hand was placed on Wang Laosan's crown.

Wang Laosan's mouth was wide open, his eyes were bulging out, and his facial muscles were contorted.

And the hand that held his head.

On the wrist bone where the sleeve was half-pulled down, there was a pure black animal head tattoo.

Taotie.