Awakening Strength by the Well, Constable Hong Laments Past Events

The public well at the entrance of the alley in the Southern District still had a few figures around it at night.

By the well's edge, several women were washing clothes. Under the moonlight, they beat the clothes in their basins while chatting in hushed tones. The sound of water, the thudding of mallets, and the whispers mingled, creating a unique scene in the bustling night market.

"Did you hear? Old Gao's sister's nephew made a fortune," a plump woman said mysteriously, draping her wrung-out clothes on the edge of her basin.

"Which nephew? Isn't her family dirt poor?"

"The one who always travels by boat. They say he followed some important person on a trip up north for some business, and when he came back, he brought several hundred taels in bank notes. Yesterday, he gave Old Gao's sister twenty taels and even bought new quilts."

"Oh my, he's really struck it rich!"

Ye Qingxuan placed his carrying pole and wooden buckets aside, ignoring the neighborhood gossip. He rolled up his sleeves, grabbed the public wooden bucket by the well, and tossed it down.

With a "plop," the bucket hit the water's surface. He gripped the well rope with both hands, lowered his waist, and exerted force with his arms to pull the water up.

But as he exerted force, he pulled up nothing.

The water-filled wooden bucket, weighing at least thirty to forty pounds, was easily lifted from the water by him. It shot up the well wall with a "whoosh." In just two or three pulls, the full bucket of water was at the well's mouth, almost hitting the edge due to the excessive force.

Ye Qingxuan himself was slightly stunned.

He poured the well water into his own bucket and threw the empty bucket down again. This time, he was careful, using only half the force he normally would. The well rope tightened, and with a flick of his wrist, the bucket steadily rose.

Only then did he truly understand how much his strength had increased.

This hundred-plus pounds of water felt less than half as heavy in his hands as before!

He silently filled two large buckets, put on the lids, and slung the carrying pole over his shoulder. He took a deep breath, bent his knees slightly, sank his qi to his dantian, and straightened up abruptly.

The hundred-plus pounds of weight were steadily balanced on his shoulders.

He took a step forward and headed towards his small courtyard.

Previously, when carrying this load of water, he had to hunch his back, grit his teeth, and walk cautiously with every step, afraid of sloshing the water out. The short distance from the well to his doorstep required him to rest at least twice.

But today, although the carrying pole still had weight on his shoulders, it was no longer an unbearable burden. His back was straight, his steps were fast and steady, and the buckets on his shoulders swayed slightly with his gait, yet the water surface inside remained as calm as a mirror, without a ripple.

He walked all the way from the well to his yard entrance in one go, without breaking a sweat, his breathing only slightly heavier.

After pouring the water into the vat and watching it fill more than half the container in an instant, an indescribable sense of exhilaration surged through him.

This was Body Tempering, First Level.

This was strength.

He bolted the courtyard gate, returned to the outer room, and without a moment's pause, began another round of cultivation.

He took off his upper garment, sat down cross-legged, and wrapped the old inner shirt around his hand, pressing it against his left arm.

The burning pain returned.

His flesh had become tough, but the pain seemed to penetrate even deeper into his bones. Sweat dripped down his back, but he continued his movements, meticulously performing the entire set of techniques.

When his strength was exhausted and his arm was too sore to lift, the scroll in his mind appeared as expected.

[Merit: +1]

A warm current flowed through his body, repairing the damage to his flesh and the fatigue in his body.

He looked at the text on the scroll.

[Merit: 3/15]

He exhaled a breath of stale air, his mind made up.

Twice a night, once in the early morning. That's three points of merit a day.

In just five days, he would have enough merit again to advance the Indestructible Vajra Body by another inch.

The deadline given by the Fierce Tiger Hall was ten days.

There was more than enough time.

From then on, Ye Qingxuan's life fell into a fixed rhythm.

In the early morning, before dawn, he would get up and practice once, accumulating some merit.

During the day, he would report to the Fengtian Division, patrol the streets with the team, exercise his muscles, and circulate his blood, which also served as a form of physical conditioning.

When the night was deep and quiet, he would practice twice more, accumulating another two points of merit.

Days passed, his appetite grew more astonishing, but his physique did not become obese; instead, it became more robust. The faded uniform he wore began to fit him snugly.

One afternoon, he was patrolling a small alley with Wei Datong and Xiong Tiezhu. At the alley entrance, there was a tea stall with several wooden tables and benches, doing decent business.

A familiar figure was sitting at one of the tables, slowly sipping from a rough porcelain tea bowl.

It was Hong Qingshan.

The old constable also saw him and beckoned him over.

"Captain Qin," Ye Qingxuan approached and clasped his fists.

"Sit," Hong Qingshan pointed to a long bench opposite him. "You must be tired from patrolling. Have a bowl of tea and rest your feet."

He turned to Wei Datong and the other man. "You two come and sit too. Tea's on me."

Wei Datong and Xiong Tiezhu exchanged glances and quickly waved their hands, saying they wouldn't dare. They went to patrol at the other end of the alley. There was an invisible wall between temporary constables like them and official constables like Hong Qingshan.

Ye Qingxuan sat down as instructed. The tea stall owner served a bowl of hot tea, the cheapest coarse tea from the street, bitter to the taste but with a few moments of thirst-quenching aftertaste.

Hong Qingshan took a sip of tea, his cloudy gaze falling on Ye Qingxuan as he sized him up.

"Kid, you've been looking well lately. Your build seems sturdier than before."

"I've been running the streets every day, my legs have gotten stronger," Ye Qingxuan replied.

Hong Qingshan chuckled, a smile that held the understanding of someone who had been through it all. He put down his tea bowl and sighed.

"A few days ago, I went to your father's grave and burned some paper money for him."

Ye Qingxuan's hand, holding the tea bowl, paused.

"Old Ye was a stubborn man. I advised him back then, that assignment was dangerous, best to avoid it if possible. But he wouldn't listen, said there's no room for picking and choosing when it comes to a task from the Fengtian Division." Hong Qingshan looked at the people coming and going on the street, his eyes distant. "And what happened? He came back, but he left half his life there."

Ye Qingxuan listened in silence.

"The Myriad Tribulation Sect, what kind of place is that? They're a bunch of lunatics. Back then, to wipe out those demonic cultists, how many good men did our Linyuan Prefecture Fengtian Division lose? Your father was already at the peak of Body Tempering second stage, just one step away from entering the third. With his contributions, if his foundation hadn't been damaged, he would definitely have a position as a chief constable in the Southern District branch by now."

Chief constable, Body Tempering third stage.

These words, like pebbles, dropped into the lake of Ye Qingxuan's heart.

He remembered Zhang Lingxiao, surrounded by everyone in the backyard that day, and the authority of Chief Constable Yan, who could change the rules with a single sentence. So, that kind of position required Body Tempering third stage cultivation.

"What a shame," Hong Qingshan sighed again, draining the tea in his bowl. "Martial Path cultivation is like rowing upstream; if you don't advance, you fall back. That injury of his, his vital energy declined. Forget advancing, it was hard even to maintain his original realm. That's fate."

The old constable extended his calloused and scarred hands, looking at them.

"I'm getting old too. Fifty-eight this year, my vital energy weakens with each passing year. The old injuries I accumulated when I was young flare up on rainy days. This Body Tempering second stage cultivation, I'm afraid I won't be able to maintain it for many more years. In another three to five years, I'll have to take off this constable uniform and go home to my grandchildren."

His words carried an unspeakable desolation and helplessness.

For a martial artist, as strength fades with age, his hard-earned martial arts skills vanish along with his vital energy. The sense of loss and unwillingness is something outsiders can hardly comprehend.

Ye Qingxuan finished the remaining bitter tea in his bowl, stood up, and bowed solemnly to Hong Qingshan.

"Thank you for your guidance, Constable Qin."

Hong Qingshan waved his hand, and a glimmer of light seemed to appear in his cloudy eyes.

"Your father was a good man. You, don't shame him."