At the entrance to a lane in Southern District, the public well still saw a few figures at night.
By the edge of the well, several women washing clothes were beating the garments in their basins by moonlight while lowering their voices to gossip. The sounds of water, laundry bats, and hushed whispers mingled together, forming a scene unique to the long nights of the bustling streets.
"Have you heard? Old Sister-in-Law Gao's nephew at the end of the lane has struck it rich." A plump woman draped a wrung-out garment over the rim of the basin and spoke mysteriously.
"Which nephew? Isn't her family so poor you can hear the pots rattle?"
"The one who's been sailing outside all these years. They say he followed a Noble Person north on some business venture, and came back with several hundred taels' worth of silver notes. Yesterday, he gave Old Sister-in-Law Gao's family twenty taels of silver and even replaced their cotton quilt."
"Oh my, he really hit the jackpot!"
Ye Qingxuan set down his shoulder pole and wooden buckets to one side, turning a deaf ear to the neighborhood gossip. He rolled up his sleeves, seized the public wooden bucket by the well, and tossed it down.
With a "splash," the bucket struck the water. He gripped the well rope with both hands, sank his waist and back, and exerted force through his arms, preparing to draw up the water.
But when he exerted himself, he pulled at empty air.
The wooden bucket, filled with water and weighing at least thirty or forty jin, was effortlessly yanked from the water and shot rapidly upward along the well wall with a clatter. After only two or three pulls, he had raised the full bucket to the well mouth, nearly smashing it against the rim because of the excessive force.
Ye Qingxuan himself froze for a moment.
He poured the well water into his own wooden bucket, then tossed the empty one down again. This time, he took care, using only half the strength he had in the past. The well rope went taut. He gave his wrist a twitch, and the wooden bucket rose steadily.
Only then did he truly understand how much his strength had increased.
The hundred-odd jin of water was actually less than half as heavy in his hands as it had been before!
Without a word, he filled two large buckets, covered them with their lids, and threaded the shoulder pole through them. He drew a deep breath, bent his knees slightly, sank his energy to his dantian, and suddenly straightened.
The hundred-odd jin of weight settled firmly across his shoulders.
He took a step and headed toward his small courtyard.
In the past, carrying this load of water required him to hunch his back and grit his teeth, taking every step with utmost care for fear of sloshing any water out. On this short stretch from the well to his home, he had always needed to stop and rest twice.
But today, although the shoulder pole still had weight to it, it was no longer an unbearable burden. His waist and back remained ramrod straight, his steps were quick and steady, and the wooden buckets on his shoulders swayed faintly with his stride, while the water inside remained smooth as a mirror without the slightest ripple.
From the well to his courtyard gate, he walked back in a single breath. Not a bead of sweat showed on his forehead, and his breathing was only slightly heavier.
After pouring the water into the vat and watching it become more than half full in an instant, an indescribable exhilaration surged through his chest.
So this was the Body Refining First Layer.
So this was strength.
He barred the courtyard gate, returned to the outer room, and without pausing for even a moment, began another round of cultivation.
He removed his shirt, sat cross-legged, wrapped the old inner garment around his hand, and pressed it against his left arm.
The searing pain came again.
His flesh was already tough, but the pain seemed to burrow even deeper into his marrow. Sweat slid down his back, yet he did not stop moving. With every motion precise and methodical, he completed the entire set of techniques.
When his strength ran out and his arm grew so sore and weak that he could no longer raise it, the scroll painting appeared in his mind right on schedule.
[Merit: +1]
A warm current spread through his entire body, repairing the damage to his flesh and skin and dispelling his physical fatigue.
He looked at the writing on the scroll painting.
[Merit: 3/15]
He exhaled a breath of stale air, his plans already settled.
Twice at night, once after rising early. That made three points of Merit a day.
In only five days, he could once again complete his Merit and advance the Indestructible Vajra Body another inch.
Fierce Tiger Hall had given him ten days.
He had more than enough time.
From then on, Ye Qingxuan's life settled into a fixed rhythm.
At dawn, before the sky had even brightened, he rose and practiced once, accumulating one point of Merit.
During the day, he went to the Fengtian Division to check in and patrolled the streets with the team, moving his limbs and circulating his qi and blood. It also counted as a form of conditioning for his body.
When the night grew deep and still, he practiced twice more, accumulating another two points of Merit.
As the days passed, his appetite became increasingly astonishing, yet he showed no sign of growing fat. Instead, he became more and more lean and sinewy. The soap-colored uniform, washed until it had faded white, gradually began to look as though his body could properly fill it out.
One afternoon, he was patrolling a small alley with Wei Datong and Xiong Tiezhu. There was a tea stall at the alley mouth, with several wooden tables and benches, and business was fairly good.
A familiar figure was seated beside one of the tables, holding a coarse porcelain tea bowl and drinking at a leisurely pace.
It was Hong Qingshan.
The old constable noticed him as well and waved him over.
"Chief Qin." Ye Qingxuan stepped forward and cupped his fists.
"Sit." Hong Qingshan pointed to the bench opposite him. "Tired from patrolling? Have a bowl of tea and rest your feet."
He turned to Wei Datong and Xiong Tiezhu. "You two, come sit too. The tea's on me."
Wei Datong and Xiong Tiezhu exchanged a glance, then hurriedly waved their hands and said they wouldn't dare. They went to patrol the other end of the alley instead. Between temporary constables like them and an official constable like Hong Qingshan stood an invisible wall.
Ye Qingxuan sat down as instructed. The tea-stall owner brought him a bowl of hot tea. It was the cheapest coarse tea sold on the street, bitter on the tongue but with a somewhat thirst-quenching aftertaste.
Hong Qingshan took a sip. His murky gaze fell on Ye Qingxuan as he looked him over from head to toe.
"Young man, you've been looking well lately. Your build also looks sturdier than it did some time ago."
"I've built up my legs and feet by patrolling the streets every day," Ye Qingxuan replied.
Hong Qingshan smiled, his expression carrying the clear-sightedness of someone who had lived through much. He set down his tea bowl and sighed.
"A few days ago, I went and sat by your father's grave and burned him some paper money."
Ye Qingxuan's hand paused around the tea bowl.
"Old Ye was a stubborn man. Back then, I tried to persuade him. That assignment was dangerous; if he could avoid going, he should. But he refused to listen, saying that when it came to assignments from the Fengtian Division, there was no picking only the easy ones." Hong Qingshan gazed at the people coming and going in the street, his eyes distant. "And what happened? He came back, but half his life was left behind there."
Ye Qingxuan listened in silence.
"Myriad Tribulation Sect—what sort of place was that? A den of madmen. Back then, when we went to exterminate those demonic cult fiends, how many good men did our Linyuan Prefecture Fengtian Division lose? Your father was already at the peak of the Body Tempering Second Layer then, only one step away from entering the Third Layer. With his merits, if he hadn't damaged his foundation, he would certainly have held a position as the Chief Constable of this Southern District Substation by now."
Chief Constable. Body Tempering Triple Layer.
Those few words fell into Ye Qingxuan's heart like stones dropped into a lake.
He thought of Zhang Lingxiao, surrounded by everyone in the rear courtyard that day, and of the authority Chief Constable Yan possessed to alter the rules with a single sentence. So that kind of position required Body Tempering Triple Layer cultivation to occupy.
"What a pity." Hong Qingshan sighed again and drained the tea from his bowl. "Martial cultivation is like rowing against the current: if you do not advance, you retreat. After that injury, his qi and blood withered. Forget about making progress—even preserving his original Realm was difficult. That was fate."
The old constable raised his own hands, covered in calluses and scars, and looked at them before his eyes.
"I'm old too. I'm fifty-eight this year, and my qi and blood weaken with every passing year. The hidden injuries I accumulated when I was young flare up whenever the weather turns damp. I'm afraid this Body Tempering Second Layer cultivation of mine won't last more than a few years. In another three to five years, I'll have to take off this constable's uniform and go home to hold my grandchildren."
His words carried an indescribable desolation and helplessness.
When a martial artist grew old and his strength waned, the martial arts honed through a thousand hammerings flowed away together with his qi and blood. The resulting loss and unwillingness were feelings outsiders could hardly understand.
Ye Qingxuan finished the bitter tea remaining in his bowl, stood, and gave Hong Qingshan a solemn bow.
"Thank you for your guidance, Chief Qin."
Hong Qingshan waved his hand. A trace of light seemed to appear in his murky eyes.
"Your father was a true man. Don't bring shame upon him."
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