Seed Candidate

On the way back to Hundred Pine Peak, where he lived, Ye Zhen carried his bundle and raced along the mountain path, panting like an ox.

From time to time, menial disciples in gray robes, likewise returning from visits with their families, overtook Ye Zhen from behind. They moved with swift, steady strides, yet their expressions did not change.

Their faces were not red, nor were they out of breath, filling Ye Zhen with envy and fiery yearning.

These menial disciples who strode like flying along the mountain paths, their breaths long and steady despite moving even faster than Ye Zhen ran, possessed cultivation no lower than the Blood Refining Second Level—the Qi Absorption and Breath Extension realm.

The martial inheritance of the True Profound Continent held that bloodlines were the foundation of human life.

A person could live without bones, without flesh, sinews, or skin—but not without blood.

Bloodlines were the very foundation of a person's existence in this world. Thus, the path of martial arts began with blood refinement.

A martial warrior's blood refinement was divided into five levels: the first, Strength Training and Blood Strengthening; the second, Qi Absorption and Breath Extension; the third, Blood Qi Condensation Pearl; the fourth, Blood Essence Tempering Body; and the fifth, Essence Condensation and Origin Gathering.

At present, Ye Zhen's cultivation was at the realm of Strength Training and Blood Strengthening.

If he could break through to the second level, Qi Absorption and Breath Extension, his breath would become long and enduring, his blood qi ceaseless. Then he too could race between the peaks of the Qi Yun Sect without changing expression.

In that case, he would no longer need to sprint for over two hours just to travel from Hundred Pine Peak, where he lived, to the mountain gate.

Watching fellow disciples overtake him one after another, Ye Zhen felt not only envy, but also a measure of secret anticipation.

If his little secret continued, perhaps breaking through to the Blood Refining Second Level would be within reach.

That was also why Ye Zhen had insisted on remaining in the Qi Yun Sect.

The moment he thought of his little secret, Ye Zhen unconsciously quickened his pace. That secret had lasted for some time now; perhaps the days of harvest would come within the next few days.

Ye Zhen raced all the way, crossing eleven mountain peaks. When he saw a mountain shrouded in layers of dark shadow, covered everywhere in ancient pines over ten meters tall and some nearly a hundred meters high, he finally let out a breath of relief. He had arrived. That was Hundred Pine Peak.

Hundred Pine Peak was named for this very reason. As a menial disciple, Ye Zhen's daily chore was to fell the Iron-Branch Old Pines unique to Hundred Pine Peak.

Yet when Ye Zhen stepped onto Hundred Pine Peak, he did not follow the mountain path back to his quarters. Instead, he veered from the small trail and plunged directly into the pine forest beside it.

After finding a secluded place rarely visited by others, he chose several young pines, brushed aside the thick layer of fallen needles, dug a deep pit, and buried the two hundred taels of silver his parents had given him. Then he covered it over once more.

Once everything had been tidied up and he had left a marker, Ye Zhen departed. He returned to the mountain path, carrying only the bundle containing the clothes and food his mother had brought, and headed toward his quarters halfway up the mountain.

By the time Ye Zhen returned to his quarters on the mountainside, darkness was already falling. The three hundred menial disciples living on Hundred Pine Peak had all finished their work and gathered in groups of three or five in the courtyard, chatting.

At the very center of the courtyard, a broad-shouldered, powerfully built young man lounged comfortably in a rocking chair, swaying at ease. Ye Zhen recognized him. This menial disciple was Ma Yuanwu, Hundred Pine Peak's Senior Disciple Brother.

Five or six menial disciples surrounded Ma Yuanwu, while two rather thin menial disciples knelt on one knee beside him, massaging his shoulders and legs.

In truth, the Qi Yun Sect did not rank disciples by seniority—not among menial disciples, nor even among outer disciples. There was no such thing as a Senior Disciple Brother.

The capable came first.

Among the menial disciples of any given peak, the strongest cultivator would privately be called Senior Disciple Brother by the menial disciples of that peak.

However, the strongest menial disciple on a peak had an official title—Seed Candidate!

Among the several hundred menial peaks of the Qi Yun Sect, the menial disciple from each peak most likely to advance into an Outer Disciple was called a Seed Candidate.

Put more plainly, every peak's seed disciple was the local tyrant. Even the stewards of the menial peaks had to fear them to some extent.

"Ye Zhen's back from visiting his family!"

Someone shouted, and the gazes of nearly three hundred menial disciples in Hundred Pine Peak's courtyard immediately converged on Ye Zhen, who had just stepped through the gate.

More precisely, they converged on the bundle in Ye Zhen's hand.

The few menial disciples beside Ma Yuanwu in particular stared at Ye Zhen's bundle like hungry wolves.

"Ho, what a big bundle. Your parents came to see you, so they must have brought plenty of good things, right? Wu Jian, bring it over and let me take a look." Ma Yuanwu, lounging in his rocking chair, narrowed his eyes and called out lightly.

"Yes, Senior Disciple Brother!"

Wu Jian, standing behind Ma Yuanwu, answered delightedly. He immediately strode over and barked coldly at Ye Zhen, "Hand it over!"

Ye Zhen instantly clenched his teeth, gripping the bundle in both hands.

Though Ye Zhen had anticipated this scene on his way back and hidden the most valuable item—the silver—up on the mountain, when he actually faced it, an indescribable humiliation surged through him.

"Hand it over! What are you staring at? A piece of trash about to be kicked out of the sect dares glare at me? Glare again, and I'll gouge out your eyes!"

Growing impatient, Wu Jian cursed as he snatched away the bundle Ye Zhen had been gripping tightly. He shoved the glaring Ye Zhen hard, then swaggered off.

"Senior Disciple Brother, Ye Zhen's bundle!"

Wu Jian had been arrogant enough before Ye Zhen, but in front of Hundred Pine Peak's Seed Candidate, Ma Yuanwu, his arrogant manner instantly vanished.

"Hm?"

Ma Yuanwu flipped himself upright, tore open Ye Zhen's bundle, and began rummaging through it with some impatience.

Every June, when the families of many menial disciples came to visit, was the most comfortable time of year for the Seed Candidates of the various menial peaks.

Whatever a menial disciple's family brought during a visit, whether valuable or cheap, had to pass through their hands first. Anything good belonged entirely to them.

As for why?

Strength!

Their powerful strength.

Not convinced?

Then come compare fists!

As for the Qi Yun Sect, it would not concern itself with such rotten affairs among menial disciples.

The Qi Yun Sect claimed to have a hundred thousand menial workers. Every day, countless menial disciples fought, broke arms, and shattered legs. Who had the energy to manage it all?

Ma Yuanwu, who had begun searching through Ye Zhen's bundle with great delight, gradually grew displeased.

After searching through everything, he found only a few articles of clothing and some food. Not even half a tael of silver was to be found.

Narrowing his eyes, Ma Yuanwu fixed Ye Zhen with his snake-like triangular eyes. "Tell me, Ye Zhen. Your family isn't that poor. Your parents see you once a year, and all they bring you are a few ragged clothes and some stinking meat? Where's the silver?"

Ragged clothes?

Stinking meat?

The instant those words entered his ears, Ye Zhen clenched his fists, veins standing out thickly across his knuckles.

Had Ye Zhen not retained a shred of reason, and had the miserable sight of several fellow disciples nearby—bruised and battered, with broken arms and legs—not constantly reminded him, he would nearly have charged forward to fight for his life.

Those things had all been sewn stitch by stitch, coin by coin, by his mother.

"What a disappointment!

The things sent by a trash family are trash too!"

Unable to find anything that could help his cultivation, Ma Yuanwu looked thoroughly displeased. As though taking revenge, he tossed the shoes, socks, and clothes from Ye Zhen's bundle one by one toward the menial disciples around him.

"You can split these rags among yourselves."

Wu Jian and several menial disciples beside Ma Yuanwu immediately burst into cheers.

As he spoke, Ma Yuanwu took a savage bite from the preserved meat Ye Zhen's mother had made herself. "Mm, this stinking meat actually tastes pretty good. Mm, you lot should have some too."

In an instant, the roast chicken and preserved meat in Ye Zhen's bundle were distributed until nothing remained.

Smack!

A roasted chicken leg that had already been torn apart and bitten several times flew from Ma Yuanwu's hand and struck Ye Zhen in the chest.

"Mm, your family sent it, so you should have a bite too. Don't go saying I, Ma Yuanwu, kept it all for myself."

Looking at the roasted chicken leg at his feet, covered in clumps of mud, and the clothes in the distance that had been torn apart because they did not fit, the blood vessels on Ye Zhen's forehead began throbbing violently. His chest heaved like a bellows.

A fury—an uncontrollable, indescribable fury—rushed straight to Ye Zhen's head.

In that instant of boiling blood, Ye Zhen wanted nothing more than to rush forward and fight Ma Yuanwu to the death!

Just as Ye Zhen stood on the verge of exploding, Sha Fei suddenly pounced from nearby, wrapped his arms around Ye Zhen, and dragged him toward their room.

"Ye Zhen, you haven't eaten yet, have you? I picked up your dinner and Blood Origin Soup for you today."

Qi Yun Sect menial disciples lived two to a room. Sha Fei was Ye Zhen's roommate, and among all the menial disciples, he was one of Ye Zhen's closer friends.

Sha Fei had entered the sect a year before Ye Zhen and had taken good care of him. Thanks to Sha Fei's guidance, Ye Zhen had avoided many losses.

"Hmph! At least you know what's good for you!"

Watching Sha Fei forcibly drag Ye Zhen into the room, Ma Yuanwu spat out a chicken bone in disdain. "Trash!"

"Ye Zhen, don't lower yourself to their level. Endure it for now. If you clash with them and they break your legs, you'll be finished! Have you forgotten Cheng Agou, who they beat into a cripple half a year ago?"

After pulling Ye Zhen into the room and shutting the door, Sha Fei kept trying to persuade him.

Only after a long while did Ye Zhen's violently heaving chest slowly calm. He forced out a smile uglier than crying. "Thank you. It's a pity I couldn't bring you anything."

"We're brothers. What the hell are you thanking me for?"

"Stop being angry. Cultivate well. Once you achieve success in cultivation, beat that bastard Ma Yuanwu until he cries for his father and mother, and win back in one breath all the anger you've suffered over these years." Sha Fei's words of comfort were somewhat against his true feelings, because he understood that given his and Ye Zhen's circumstances, they would likely never have such an opportunity.

In less than a year—perhaps only half a year—Ma Yuanwu would be able to advance into an Outer Disciple. Outer Disciples had more cultivation resources and cultivated faster. Ma Yuanwu would probably remain above them forever.

Yet the moment Ye Zhen heard Sha Fei's words, his spirit surged. The rage filling his chest was wholly suppressed and transformed into motivation for cultivation.

"Fine. I'll cultivate bitterly. The humiliation I suffered today, I'll definitely reclaim from that bastard Ma Yuanwu someday!" Ye Zhen declared resolutely.

When the bright moon rose in the east, Hundred Pine Peak, which had been somewhat noisy before, immediately became unusually quiet.

Everyone, Ye Zhen included, consciously returned to their rooms and sat cross-legged on their beds. It was time for their evening lesson.

He gulped down the entire tube of Blood Origin Soup issued by the sect, then circulated the Blood Qi Art taught to them by the Qi Yun Sect. It was extremely ordinary within the Qi Yun Sect, yet quite precious in the secular world. Thus began his daily evening lesson.

The cultivation of Qi Yun Sect menial disciples was divided into morning and evening lessons. In the morning, they practiced boxing and trained their strength; in the evening, they cultivated the Blood Qi Art to strengthen their blood qi and train their strength.

The Blood Origin Soup transformed into surging heat the moment it entered his stomach. As the Blood Qi Art circulated, the heat contained within the soup spread through Ye Zhen's limbs and bones, flowing along with his blood qi.

With every fraction of heat that vanished, Ye Zhen's blood qi grew stronger and fuller.

A quarter-hour later, the medicinal power of the Blood Origin Soup had been fully refined, and Ye Zhen opened his eyes with a trace of melancholy.

This serving of Blood Origin Soup was far too little, both in quantity and quality. During the two-hour evening lesson, its medicinal power could only last for a quarter-hour.

If he had enough Blood Origin Soup for its medicinal power to last two hours, Ye Zhen estimated that his cultivation would have broken through into the Qi Absorption realm long ago and reached the Blood Refining Second Level.

There was a medicinal pill in the sect called the Blood Origin Pill—the kind Ye Tiancheng had told him to buy. Its medicinal power was said to be dozens of times greater than a serving of Blood Origin Soup, and it was specially supplied to Outer Disciples with exceptional bloodline talent.

Unfortunately, menial disciples like Ye Zhen could only consume Blood Origin Soup made from the leftover scraps from refining Blood Origin Pills.

Closing his eyes again, Ye Zhen persevered in continuously circulating the Blood Qi Art.

Without the support of Blood Origin Soup, the speed at which his blood qi grew became as slow as a turtle's crawl.

Ye Zhen estimated that cultivating bitterly like this for two hours would not even match the effects of cultivating for a quarter-hour after consuming Blood Origin Soup.

Still, on the path of martial arts, perseverance was precious. Ye Zhen understood that very clearly!

Two and a half hours later, when Ye Zhen felt the blood qi within his body becoming somewhat unstable, he stopped cultivating. That was also why the sect had set the evening lesson at two hours.

Opening his eyes, Ye Cheng saw that Sha Fei, who shared the room with him, had already finished cultivating and fallen deeply asleep.

These menial disciples worked heavily during the day. At night, their heads barely had to touch the pillow before they fell fast asleep, so deeply that thunder would not wake them.

Yet Ye Zhen did not immediately go to sleep. Instead, he quietly put on his clothes, gently closed the door behind him, slipped outside, and amid the rising and falling sounds of snoring, crouched low as he raced toward a small hill on Hundred Pine Peak.

After spending nearly half an hour, Ye Zhen sprinted to the small hill he had visited almost every night for the past half month.

The moment he set foot on the hill, Ye Zhen immediately regulated his breathing, pricked up his ears, and listened intently to the sounds filling the mountain.

At first, all Ye Zhen heard were the sighing of the pines and the chirping of insects. But as he completely calmed his mind, the chattering cries of small beasts immediately entered his ears.

"Squeak, squeak, squeak..."

The squeaks of a rat reached Ye Zhen's ears, but to him, they revealed another world entirely.

Where others heard only chaotic, irregular squeaks, Ye Zhen could make out an exceedingly clear meaning. "Seventeenth Brother, hurry! The time is nearly here. Let's go."

This was Ye Zhen's secret.