Becoming a martial arts god starting from the mortician.

It wasn't until his back was soaked with cold sweat that Shen Qi realized what was happening.

Wang Laosan had already reached the second realm of martial arts, the Gang Sha realm, during his lifetime.

Martial arts training is a gradual process of climbing higher and higher.

The first stage involves body tempering, strengthening muscles and bones, and refining blood and qi.

In the second realm, Gang Sha, one's blood and qi can be released outwards as Gang and contained inwards as Sha.

Upon reaching this level, one can easily shatter stone tablets and split rocks with a mere gesture, and defeat a hundred enemies single-handedly.

To put it dramatically, Wang Laosan was practically a god-like figure in Qingping Town.

But this very person was killed by someone pressing down on his skull with one move.

Shen Qi felt a chill run down his spine when he thought of Wang Laosan's twisted face.

Then, another thought popped into my head.

In Wang Laosan's memory, once a martial artist in the Gangsha Realm dies, the evil energy in his body will leak out uncontrollably. Ordinary people will not only be unable to touch it, but will also have their internal organs corroded by the evil energy if they get close to it.

At best, it can cause a serious illness; at worst, it can lead to sudden death.

Therefore, the military and the Observatory of Astronomy of the Dayan Dynasty both had "Suppressing Evil Envoys" who were specifically responsible for handling the remains of warriors.

But where would a savior come from in this poor and remote place like Qingping Town?

Shen Qi frowned.

If that's the case, why did Mr. Zhou specifically seek him out?

To send a sickly mortician to perform mortician work for a martial artist at the Gang Sha realm.

What's the difference between this and sending someone to their death?

But strangely enough, he didn't get into any trouble; instead, he benefited from it.

Shen Qi racked his brains but couldn't find a solution, and his heart became even more troubled.

I got up and practiced a few moves of the Tiger-Taming Fist, which made me break out in a light sweat and relieved some of the tightness in my chest.

But not long after, he slumped to the ground again.

He put his hands on his knees and stared blankly at the fallen leaves on the ground.

He could only practice the first three forms of the Tiger-Taming Fist.

By the fourth stage, it must be combined with the practice method and medicinal soup; forcing the practice will only damage the muscles, bones, and meridians.

He grew increasingly anxious, but he knew that there was no room for luck in the path of martial arts.

He had to get the medicine.

I have to go out.

We've been staying home these past few days, and we're out of food. We've also almost finished the medicine Dr. Li prescribed.

He rummaged around the room for a while, picked out a large robe to wrap himself in, and then put on a felt hat, covering himself up completely.

Pushing open the courtyard gate, a cold wind rushed in.

The atmosphere in the town became even more oppressive. A series of murders had occurred, and the bizarre manner of the deaths caused widespread panic. Pedestrians on the street hurried along.

Several neighbors walked towards him, and even though they nodded and greeted him, they still quickened their pace and moved a little further away.

The mortician was already considered unlucky, and Shen Qi was weak and sickly, so no one wanted to be tainted with bad luck at this critical juncture.

Seeing this, Shen Qi couldn't help but quicken his pace.

He walked with his head down, stepping into Huichuntang.

The pharmacy was deserted. Doctor Li was still the same as always, busy behind the counter with a small scale.

"Uncle Li," Shen Qi pulled a prescription from his sleeve and pushed it over, "Could you take a look and see if our shop can supply all the medicines listed here?"

This house contained the body-tempering formula he obtained from Wang Laosan's memory, which was needed to enter the first realm of martial arts.

Doctor Li reached out and took it, glanced at it, and his expression changed instantly.

He hurriedly looked up, glanced around like a thief, and then crumpled the paper into a ball, clutching it tightly in his palm.

"Seventh Brother!" Doctor Li lowered his voice, his face stern as he pulled him to the counter. "Where did you get this?"

"Just a random folk remedy, supposedly good for health," Shen Qi said, his face remaining impassive as he blatantly lied. "What's wrong, Uncle Li?"

"A folk remedy?" Doctor Li's beard twisted with anger. "This is a deadly remedy!"

He handed the crumpled paper back to Shen Qi.

"There are three potent medicinal herbs here, forbidden from being planted or sold by the imperial court! These are the deadly tonics used by the soldiers to strengthen their bodies; if an ordinary person drank even one sip, their internal organs would be burned through!"

Shen Qi's heart skipped a beat.

"Listen to me," Doctor Li carefully instructed. "This prescription must remain firmly in your heart; you must never show it to a second person, or the consequences will be unimaginable."

"Hiss... So that's how it is." Shen Qi showed a hint of lingering fear at the opportune moment. "I understand everything now, thank you for the explanation, Uncle Li."

Dr. Li finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He picked up the teacup on the counter, took a sip, and glanced at Shen Qi's large robe.

"I know you've been feeling better lately and want to strike while the iron is hot." The old man's tone softened. "Those few forbidden medicines definitely can't be used. Let me adjust the nourishing and strengthening soup you're drinking now, and increase the amount of some of the warming and tonifying herbs."

"Your breathing is now steady, and you can easily handle a higher dosage. But you must never touch this prescription of unknown origin again."

Shen Qi thanked him repeatedly and paid the money.

Before long, he walked out of Huichuntang carrying a bamboo basket of medicines on his back.

The autumn wind lifted a corner of his robe, and Shen Qi blended into the sparse crowd.

What he didn't know was—

On the second floor of the teahouse diagonally opposite Huichuntang, a pair of eyes were already fixed on him.

Mr. Zhou stood behind the half-open window, holding a cup of coarse tea.

My fingertips gently caressed the warm cup.

He was just aimlessly searching for clues on the street, but he never expected to see the craftsman who was preparing Wang Laosan's body here.

When I first met Shen Qi a few days ago, he looked like he was suffering from both qi and blood deficiency, and his bones were so weak that he had to pant for a long time just to squat down and stand up.

If the coroner in Qingping Town hadn't been so utterly incompetent, he would never have allowed such a sickly man to touch Wang Laosan's corpse.

Even after the body was disposed of, he specifically hinted to the coroner, Lao Wu, to remind Shen Qi not to take on any more jobs for the next month, lest the evil spirits enter his body and cause him to lose his life in vain.

But now?

Mr. Zhou squinted.

A martial artist's senses far surpass those of ordinary people. Even from half a street away, he could clearly perceive the slowly rising qi and blood beneath Shen Qi's wide robe.

Martial Vein!

The Dayan Dynasty has been passed down for thousands of years, and the theory of its martial lineage has long been established.

Those who possess martial arts lineage are invariably born with strong and healthy bodies.

How could someone be as weak and sickly as Shen Qi?

He subconsciously recalled what the coroner, Old Wu, had said.

Shen Qi handled most of the funerals in the town by himself.

I started this profession at the age of thirteen, and now I'm twenty-one. I've been working with the dead for eight years.

"I see..." he suddenly realized.

This kid had been immersed in the mortuary since childhood, and the yin energy accumulated day by day, year after year, invading his bone marrow and meridians, suppressing his original martial arts talent that was about to blossom.

No wonder he was weak and sickly; no wonder medicine was ineffective.

In the past few days, Shen Qi listened to advice and stopped touching dead people. In addition, he was also affected by the remaining evil energy in Wang Laosan's body that day.

The clash between Yin and Yang can actually turn misfortune into blessing.

The shackles of Yin energy accumulated over many years were broken in one fell swoop, allowing the martial meridian to be revealed.

Mr. Zhou thought about it more and more and it seemed reasonable.

Immediately, an even darker thought flashed through his mind.

Could this murderer who has been killing people be Shen Qi?

But he immediately dismissed the absurd idea.

Those who practice evil arts cannot control their greed for martial arts and would never honestly work as morticians in such a remote town.

Moreover, Shen Qi's weak appearance a few days ago was definitely not an act.

Wang Laosan could kill him with a single blow, so why would he kill someone?

The killer must be someone else.

He had visited Zhao the Cripple and Sun the Blacksmith who had died in the past few days, and sure enough, they died in the same way, and both possessed inferior martial veins.

Without a doubt, the evil man has obtained the "Pulse Search Record" from Wang Laosan and is killing people one by one to seize their pulses, according to the list.

He had previously been deliberately loitering near the crime scene.

On the day Sun the blacksmith had his accident, he was just two streets away. Given his vigorous energy, it was impossible for that evil person not to notice.

Those who practice evil arts will experience a surge in greed once they successfully seize the meridians.

This person is insatiably greedy, constantly killing to seize inferior martial veins. His blood and energy are right in front of us, yet he hesitates to show himself, which only shows that he is weak and dares not forcibly take it.

"A bully who picks on the weak and fears the strong..." Mr. Zhou sneered and drank the remaining tea in his cup in one gulp.

He was just worried about not being able to find this evil person.

Fate delivered a live bait right to our doorstep.

A mortician whose martial arts lineage is outwardly visible and whose blood and energy are abundant, yet who has absolutely no martial arts skills.

He put down his teacup, a slight smile playing on his lips.