Mysterious Qi Flow

Someone was practically rushing to hand over weapons and equipment, so Zhang Chen naturally had no reason to refuse. Still, he worried that these weapons might bring trouble.

Especially the blade. In this backward agrarian civilization, it was a strictly controlled weapon. If the authorities discovered it, heads would roll. But with a blade for protection, he could venture farther into the mountains in the future and have some confidence to fight back if he encountered wolves, tigers, or leopards.

"Take it all! With these things, you'll be able to hunt bigger prey." Blacksmith Cui smiled as he patted the chest.

Zhang Chen did not stand on ceremony. He placed the blade directly into the basket on his back, then carefully wrapped the dozen or so arrowheads in cloth. Only then did he look up at Blacksmith Cui with a solemn expression. "Uncle Cui, there's something I don't know whether I should say."

"What is it? With the friendship between us, just say it." Blacksmith Cui replied with a smile.

"Blades and swords are prohibited items. I don't know how many blades and swords that person asked you to forge, but if this ever leads to trouble, I'm afraid your customer might kill people to silence them." Zhang Chen lowered his voice.

In truth, Zhang Chen had asked an unnecessary question. Of course he knew blades and swords were being forged in large quantities. Otherwise, how could Blacksmith Cui have had the chance to skim off iron ore to make him a long blade and arrowheads?

"Do you think I don't know how dangerous this is?" Blacksmith Cui gave a bitter smile. "You don't think a mere village blacksmith like me has any chance to refuse, do you?"

Zhang Chen's heart sank. Sure enough, the worst-case scenario had come to pass.

"The arrowheads are too conspicuous. Better to melt them down into iron pellets and make a powerful slingshot instead." Zhang Chen looked at the arrowheads in his hand, afraid they might cause trouble. He set the sharp arrowheads down and looked up at Blacksmith Cui. "Iron pellets will be enough to hunt muntjacs, pheasants, and rabbits. As for hunting wolves and tigers, that will still have to rely on traps."

Blacksmith Cui looked at Zhang Chen, the corners of his mouth curling into a smile. "You're still as cautious as ever, kid. I'll forge it for you overnight, and you can come find me tomorrow. But you'll have to figure out the slingshot bands yourself. It won't be easy to find bands strong enough to launch iron pellets."

"Leave the slingshot bands to me. I have my own way to solve that. Also, please prepare some iron wire for me, Uncle. Hunting traps in the mountains consume too much wire. And get me a few iron tubes as well." Zhang Chen seemed to think of something and added.

Blacksmith Cui nodded. "That won't be difficult. We'll put it all on your tab when the time comes."

After bidding Blacksmith Cui farewell, a shadow rose in Zhang Chen's heart. Someone had come out of nowhere to ask a blacksmith to forge weapons. That was absolutely not a good sign.

"Could someone be plotting a rebellion?" Zhang Chen muttered to himself as he walked through the night.

Unfortunately, he had never gone more than ten li beyond the village. He knew nothing about this world. He was a true-blue country boy and had no idea what the great currents of the realm looked like. But vigilance had already taken root in his heart. He always felt that the world outside was far from peaceful.

Zhang Chen kept a low profile on his way home, shut the doors and windows, and did not light an oil lamp. Instead, by the moonlight, he took out the long blade and examined it in his hand.

"It looks somewhat like an Embroidered Spring Blade from later generations. The blade is thick, built for sturdiness and durability. But by my standards, Blacksmith Cui's craftsmanship isn't bad—he simply didn't heat-treat it, so it falls a little short. It's only an ordinary iron blade, not steel. Still, it's enough for me for now. I just need to heat-treat it, and I can improve its performance."

Zhang Chen stroked the iron blade. It had already been sharpened, gleaming with a cold sheen and carrying a trace of Killing Intent.

Zhang Chen tore off a strip of cloth and carefully wrapped the iron blade before placing it in the basket beside him. He absolutely dared not let the villagers see it. Someone would surely report him then, and his little life might not be saved.

In the bureaucratic age, control over weapons such as blades and spears was strict to the extreme. Even the constables at the yamen used only Iron Rulers. Outside military camps, weapons were basically nowhere to be seen.

After wrapping up the weapon, the fragrant smell of claypot rice drifted in from next door. Zhang Chen could not help frowning, feeling rather uncomfortable. Those one human and one beast next door were enjoying the fruits of his labor. How could he possibly be happy about that?

"I wonder how much stronger my Second Order Righteous God's Light has become at restraining the Fox Spirit." Zhang Chen moved close to the wall, took out a tiny brush made from rabbit fur, and gently brushed at a crack in the wall. Before long, a gap appeared before his eyes, and a faint ray of light shone through, illuminating the pitch-black room.

Zhang Chen peered through the gap and saw Zhang Chen sitting upright before a desk, reading. The Fox Spirit stood on the tabletop, swaying her head as though she were listening in rapture. Zhang Chen watched the man and fox and listened to the recitation beside his ear. It was a classic he had never heard before, but regrettably, it did not grant him a skill.

"If I hadn't hunted that rare Sparrowhawk back then, he wouldn't have had the chance to use it to curry favor with the teacher, become the teacher's disciple, and gain the opportunity to study." Zhang Chen muttered resentfully to himself as he lay before the crack in the wall. He had originally wanted that Sparrowhawk for himself, only for the Fox Spirit next door to cut him off at the pass.

"Damn Fox Spirit. One day, sooner or later, I'll make you pay the price." Zhang Chen cursed inwardly, his mind filled with indignation.

The conflict between him and the boy next door was not solely because of the Fox Spirit. More importantly, there had long been bad blood between them.

"Eh?"

Just then, Zhang Chen, who was spying, suddenly noticed something different from usual. Golden light from his abdomen suddenly burst into his eyes, and the Fox Spirit before him blurred and shifted. A layer of green qi flow unexpectedly appeared around her body.

The green qi flow draped over the Fox Spirit like a gauzy robe, lush and green, exceptionally conspicuous.

"That is... qi?" Zhang Chen stared at the green qi flow for a long while before speaking thoughtfully.

He looked at Zhang Chen, only to find that Zhang Chen possessed Mortal Flesh, with no qi flow flickering around him.

"My eyes can see this qi. Is it Demonic Qi? Or some other kind of qi? Or does it only work on all beasts?" Zhang Chen was astonished. In a daze, he seemed to have discovered something new.

Lowering his head to look at his own hands, he vaguely saw a golden qi flow circulating beneath his skin. It was open and aboveboard, blazing brightly like the great sun, utterly different from the Fox Spirit's qi flow.

"I understand. That qi flow represents the power of the uncanny. As long as one possesses uncanny power, qi flow will accompany them. Zhang Chen is merely an ordinary scholar, so naturally he has no qi flowing around him." Zhang Chen formed a hypothesis in his heart and provisionally settled on this theory.

After listening to Zhang Chen read scriptures for a quarter of an hour without any skill appearing, Zhang Chen carefully sealed the hole with mud and sand again, then began fussing over dinner. His dinner was simple, nothing more than roasted meat. After eating and drinking his fill, he happily took a hot bath, then lay down on the bed to sleep while pondering his Dharma Eye.

The next morning

Zhang Chen packed his equipment and prepared to enter the mountains early for hunting. If he went too late, the prey in his traps might be snatched up by the small animals in the mountains.

But this body of Zhang Chen's was still young, at an age of growth and development when he loved to sleep. He got up in the morning still groggy, chewing on the leftover roasted meat from last night.

"Zhang Chen, it's time to enter the mountains and hunt!"

Just as Zhang Chen was still half-asleep, a familiar shout came from outside the door. It was Wang Wu, the village hunter.

Zhang Chen jolted awake and hurriedly climbed to his feet. "I'm coming."

With meat in his mouth, Zhang Chen gave a muffled reply, hurriedly grabbed his basket, packed his woodcutter's blade, and rushed out the door.

A thought suddenly flashed through Zhang Chen's mind. "Five years ago, Wang Wu personally captured the Fox Spirit and nearly skinned her alive to make a fur collar. Could Wang Wu be some reclusive master?"

The possibility stirred a little excitement in Zhang Chen's heart. If Wang Wu was a reclusive master, then if he asked Wang Wu to teach him, Wang Wu would never refuse given their relationship.

Wang Wu was the village hunter. He had never married in his life and treated Zhang Chen like his own son. If Wang Wu had not pitied him over the years and often helped support him, he might have starved to death long ago.

When Zhang Chen was eight, his biological father entered the mountains to hunt and was bitten by a ferocious beast. With no anti-inflammatory or disinfecting medicine, he ultimately failed to pull through three months later and breathed his last, leaving behind a mother to support three children.

But that mother was his stepmother. As for Zhang Chen's biological mother, even the memories of the previous owner of this body were too vague to remember. In those childhood memories, he only recalled that the Lineage seemed to be a branch of some great clan, exiled to a bitterly cold land after committing an offense. His stepmother was a village widow whom his father married through the village matchmaker after ending up in this village, so that he could put down roots here. That made him half a villager himself.

Among the three siblings, Zhang Chen ranked second. Above him was a biological elder sister five years his senior, while below him was a younger sister, two years younger, born to his stepmother and that bargain-bin father after their marriage.

After Zhang Chen's father died of illness, the village landlord used every trick in the book to seize the family's fields, leaving only a dilapidated house and a few worthless jars and pots to the widow and orphans.

After his father died, Zhang Chen's stepmother struggled to raise the three siblings, relying entirely on mending and stitching to make a living.

Then, after Zhang Chen grew a little older and had been raised by his stepmother for four years, once he could often hunt prey in the mountains with Wang Wu, he was driven out to divide the household and live on his own. Zhang Chen returned to his family's old, rundown Thatched Cottage and became neighbors with Zhang Chen next door.

As for the deeper root of his conflict with Zhang Chen, it was that the Thatched Cottage Zhang Chen's family lived in had originally belonged to Zhang Chen's family. But after his father had effectively "married into" his stepmother's family, it had fallen into disuse. Then, because it had stood empty and unrepaired for years, Zhang Chen and his mother simply occupied it after they arrived.

Zhang Chen could not accept it and went to argue with them. They bullied him for being young, and since they had rebuilt the Thatched Cottage, they naturally refused to move out. Thus, the grudge was formed.

After Zhang Chen was driven out by his stepmother, he began fending for himself. Life was exceedingly difficult, and he nearly starved to death. Over the years, he had relied entirely on the support of the hunter Wang Wu. If Wang Wu had not taught him how to hunt and often taken him into the mountains, a half-grown child like him would have starved to death long ago.

So for him, Wang Wu was not his biological father, but he was better than one. Even the cured meat that had been hanging on the wall earlier was hunted before Zhang Chen's memories awakened, when he had followed Wang Wu into the mountains. It was stored as winter provisions.

The recollections ended. Zhang Chen tried hard to keep his expression normal. After taking a deep breath, he slowly rose to his feet, opened the door, and stepped outside. Sure enough, the old hunter Wang Wu was waiting beyond the gate.

Wang Wu was over fifty this year. His face was weathered by wind and frost, and he looked extremely old. But because he possessed exquisite skill in setting traps, even in old age he lived quite comfortably, eating meat every day and remaining robust and strong.

Golden light flickered in Zhang Chen's eyes, but he saw no Mysterious Qi Flow circulating around Wang Wu. Clearly, he was merely an ordinary person.

Zhang Chen casually glanced toward the neighboring courtyard and saw the Fox Spirit crouched by the wall, grinding her teeth. Her gaze toward Zhang Chen and Wang Wu held a trace of hostility.

"Let's go. We need to hurry into the mountains and hunt!" Zhang Chen said with a smile.

Though he and Wang Wu were both hunters, they each had their own tacitly acknowledged territory. They did not hunt in the same areas, lest they compete with each other for resources.

"I need to go to Uncle Cui's house today to collect some equipment. Uncle Wang, wait for me." Zhang Chen spoke to Wang Wu, then ran swiftly to Blacksmith Cui's home in the village. Hearing the clang-clang of metalworking inside, he stood outside the door and shouted, "Uncle Cui, I'm here to collect my things!"

Hearing his voice, Blacksmith Cui emerged from the house. He beckoned Zhang Chen into the courtyard, and only after Zhang Chen entered did Blacksmith Cui lead him into the house. He took out a palm-sized hemp cloth pouch. The pouch was quite heavy, and he shoved it directly into Zhang Chen's hands. "These are the iron pellets you wanted. There are three hundred of them. Use them sparingly."

Zhang Chen opened the pouch. Inside were dull gray iron pellets, one after another. Their surfaces were uneven and unremarkable, clearly showing that the casting technique still needed improvement.

"There's also the shovel and the slingshot frame. I hammered this slingshot frame out myself. It'll last your children and grandchildren for a hundred generations." Blacksmith Cui took an iron frame from the counter beside him. It had been polished quite smoothly. Though its shape looked somewhat clumsy, as Blacksmith Cui put it, it would last several generations.

Moreover, the slingshot's structural design was extremely reasonable. It felt solid in the hand, weighing about a pound, steady and substantial.

"Take it home and polish it yourself!" Blacksmith Cui said carelessly. "I worked until the middle of the night for these things of yours, kid."

Zhang Chen did not mind. He put away the slingshot frame, then carried the Luoyang Shovel and ran eagerly toward Wang Wu.

"Uncle Wang Wu, let's enter the mountains together." Zhang Chen carried a bamboo basket on his back and a Luoyang Shovel on his shoulder, his eyes full of delight—the delight and anticipation of Experience Points.