The medicinal soup's effects were almost immediate. Not only did Xie Yuan's body grow faintly warm, strength even seemed to rise from his very bones.
He had no idea what herbs went into this concoction, but its effects were astonishing! No wonder the Iron Clothes Gate guarded the recipe so tightly. Even the pharmacy was overseen by another of Liu Heshang's personal disciples.
No wonder a dose cost a whole tael of silver...
It seemed there was only one kind of illness in this world.
With a sigh, Xie Yuan sprang to his feet, walked straight into the small courtyard, and assumed his stance.
He ran through all six sets of Stance Training from beginning to end. The barely perceptible Blood Qi in his chest seemed to have quietly increased by a thread.
Feeling that minuscule yet genuine progress, Xie Yuan's spirits lifted. Without pausing after one round, he began another, then another...
Silver moonlight spilled down. In the frigid winter night wind, the youth exhaled clouds of heat.
Before his body could feel tired, Xie Yuan withdrew his stance.
From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to keep training without end. The strengthening of his Blood Qi, the rising progress, the visible gains—all of it filled him with enthusiasm for martial arts.
But only one's own feet knew whether one's shoes fit. The weakness that had seeped from his bones last time was still fresh in his mind. Even though the medicinal soup worked remarkably well, even though he felt its efficacy had not yet been fully tapped, Xie Yuan cautiously stopped before his body could sound the alarm.
A cautious sailor could sail a ship for ten thousand years. Xie Yuan still wanted to walk this road for a long time.
"Since I have inherited this body,