The Immortal Clan begins with deductive intelligence.

Xu Yanzhen went up to the second floor and found some miscellaneous items piled up in a corner.

Most of them were old account books, and several stacks of yellowed paper that had turned yellow from dampness.

These were inferior goods that the family used to train their apprentices before the family fell into decline, and now no one cares about them anymore.

Xu Yanzhen walked over, bent down, and reached into the pile of papers to search.

As his fingers touched the rough paper, he felt inexplicably at ease.

He took out a sheet of paper, laid it flat on his lap, and since he had no ink, he mixed the remaining cinnabar residue from the inkstone with water to make a thin, pale red liquid.

"rise."

Xu Yanzhen's lips moved slightly, he exhaled a breath of hot air, and the tip of his pen landed on the paper.

The spiritual energy flowed along that thin, bony wrist, desperately trying to transfer to the paper through the worn-out pen.

But this was more difficult than he had imagined.

The spiritual energy was too strong, and the paper was too brittle. If it went too far, with a "rip," a piece of the yellow paper was charred and ruined.

Xu Yanzhen remained expressionless, folded the paper, and stuffed it into his pocket.

That was his first talisman, even though it was a piece of junk.

Xu Yanzhen laid out a new one.

This time he held back, and his brushstrokes moved extremely slowly.

But going too slowly won't work either. If the spiritual energy is intermittent, the runes will fall apart halfway through being drawn, turning into a jumbled mess of scribbles.

Another one wasted.

Xu Yanzhen wasn't annoyed; he just stared intently at the tip of the pen.

Xu Yanzhen's legs are useless, but his hands and his heart are no less than anyone else's.

One, two, ten...

The pile of waste paper at his feet gradually rose, almost burying his crippled leg.

Time slipped away in this monotonous repetition. It was already pitch black outside, and the house was dark, relying solely on the pale light reflected from the snow.

Xu Yanzhen, however, was completely unaware.

At this moment, his mind was completely blank except for that winding rune.

The feeling of complete concentration made him forget his hunger, the hidden pain in his legs, and even that he was a useless person who was pitied by others.

Just as he was starting to get a feel for it and felt that the flow of spiritual energy under his pen was slightly smoother,

"Clang!"

A loud bang.

The window, which was already in disrepair, finally gave way to the raging cold wind outside and was violently blown open, slamming heavily against the wall.

"call--"

A gust of wind, carrying snowflakes, instantly filled the room.

The stack of yellow paper on the table was the first to be affected, swept up by the wind and flying everywhere.

Even the talisman that Xu Yanzhen had just finished drawing and was about to take shape was blown away, rolled twice in the air, and finally drifted down into the pile of waste paper, mixing together and making it impossible to distinguish which one was which.

Xu Yanzhen was stunned.

He maintained the posture of holding the pen, the action of writing the character "收" (shōu, meaning "to collect") frozen in mid-air.

The wind and snow lashed his face, icy cold, instantly waking him from his frenzied state.

He instinctively reached out to grab the fluttering papers, wanting to salvage the night's hard work.

But as soon as he moved, he realized something was wrong.

My right hand is not obeying my commands.

The hand holding the pen was trembling violently, its five fingers stiff like rusty iron hooks, unable to loosen its grip on the pen, let alone grasp the paper.

That's due to excessive depletion of spiritual energy, coupled with poor blood circulation caused by maintaining one posture for a long time.

Xu Yanzhen looked at her hand, which was trembling uncontrollably, and then at the mess of scraps of paper scattered all over the room.

Everything seems to have returned to square one.

Just like his broken life, whenever things start to look up, God slaps him in the face and tells him to stop dreaming.

Xu Yanzhen lowered his head, his face hidden in the shadows, his shoulders trembling slightly.

"Hehe...hehehe..."

The laughter grew louder and louder, eventually turning into unrestrained, maniacal laughter that echoed through the empty attic, sounding somewhat eerie.

He laughed as he slammed the worn-out pen hard on the table with his trembling hand.

This was the first time in his life that he had truly touched the threshold of that door.

Although the last picture was blown away by the wind, the feeling it evoked was deeply etched in his mind.

The feeling of spiritual energy leaping at the tip of the pen, flowing along the lines, and finally converging into a powerful force.

At that moment, he could control the world within that small space.

Given time and enough paper and pen, he will definitely be able to draw it.

Xu Yanzhen pressed down on her still trembling right hand with her left hand, forcibly stopping it. There was no trace of despair in her bloodshot eyes, only fanaticism.

If one day I find a way to escape, even eating bitter herbs will taste sweet!

At this moment, Xu Yanzhen felt an almost obsessive drive.

After the burst of laughter came a violent cough.

Xu Yanzhen coughed so hard he bent over, his already pale face turning bright red.

He ignored the mess on the ground and dragged his barely conscious leg, shuffling step by step, to the window.

The window latch was broken by the wind and rattled wildly in the cold wind.

He reached out, bracing himself against the streams of snowflakes pouring down his neck, and desperately gripped the window frame. It took him a great deal of effort to close it again. He then searched around for a broken table leg and used it to prop the window open.

The howling wind in the room finally stopped, leaving only his heavy breathing.

Xu Yanzhen slid down against the wall. The frenzy from before had passed, leaving only exhaustion from overexertion.

He looked down at his right hand, which was still twitching slightly, without the slightest disgust, but rather as if he were looking at some rare treasure.

We rested for fifteen minutes.

Xu Yanzhen stood up, leaning on his cane, and bent down to pick up the scattered yellow papers on the ground, using the dim light coming in from outside.

In the future.

I'll find some decent paper and pens later.

……

The ten-day period has arrived in the blink of an eye.

Xu Changqing sat cross-legged on the futon, a familiar buzzing sound coming from the depths of his mind.

The mirror, which seemed to reach the heavens, floated in the mist. At this moment, its surface shimmered with golden light, and lines of writing were clearly visible.

[The simulation is complete]

Details of the transportation of supplies to Zhangjia are as follows:

[Time: Three days later, at the second quarter of the hour of Chou (1-3 AM).]

[Route: Starting from the outskirts of the market town, follow the underground waterway of "Black Reef Beach," circle around the edge of the Great Swamp, and arrive directly at the private port on the north side of Ling'ao Island.]

[Personnel: Three escorts, led by Liu Sandao, a non-Zhang family member at the fifth level of Qi Refining; the remaining two are clansmen at the fourth level of Qi Refining.]

[Supplies: Over 800 low-grade spirit stones, a number of mid-grade first-tier spirit materials, and a batch of recently acquired low-level demon beast pelts.]

The Zhang family's stronghold on the outskirts of the market is a shady den that specializes in exploiting independent cultivators, buying low and selling high, and has sucked blood from them for who knows how many years.

These eight hundred spirit stones are probably their earnings over the past two weeks.

Moreover, choosing to travel at the second quarter of the hour of Chou (1-3 AM) via the remote and desolate Black Reef Beach was clearly a way of avoiding being watched and engaging in shady business.

"Qi Refining Level 5..."