Qi and Blood Capsules I

The next morning, when Chen Mo woke up, the sky was only beginning to lighten. The shadows of the plane trees outside the window flickered indistinctly in the faint dawn, while the air carried the coolness of night dew mixed with the subtle scent of noodles drifting over from a distant breakfast shop.

The bank card beneath his pillow felt like a small ember tucked away there, faintly hot. Even through two layers of fabric, he could clearly sense its presence. The scene of his parents solemnly handing it over last night replayed over and over in his mind—when his father, Chen Jianguo, passed him the card with his rough palm, the calluses on his fingertips rubbing against its surface, his eyes full of barely suppressed anticipation and unease; his mother, Chen Yaqin, standing beside him as if she wanted to say something, yet in the end only repeatedly reminding him, "Spend carefully. Take good care of yourself." One hundred thousand yuan was no small sum in this world, where prices were comparable to those of the 2020s in his previous life. The average monthly salary in Huihe City was only a little over four thousand yuan. This money was equivalent to two years of savings for an ordinary family—enough to replace all the appliances at home, or cover his tuition and living expenses through all of Third Year of Senior High. But Chen Mo knew better than anyone that if it were truly spent on martial arts training—especially on those expensive supplementary resources—it probably would not last long.

I have to budget carefully and spend this money where it counts. As Chen Mo twisted open a towel and wiped his face, the icy tap water instantly clearing his head, he calculated inwardly, First, I'll try those Qi and Blood Capsules.

The pale blue pills Zhao Peng had taken between classes were imprinted in his memory. They were the "commoner's supplement" of this world, essentially a version of the Basic Qi and Blood Pill diluted over and over again. Chen Mo had seen an introduction to them in his Martial Arts Class textbook: true "Basic Qi and Blood Pills," even the lowest first-grade kind, were strictly controlled medicines. Buyers had to possess an official Martial Artist qualification certificate or hold a special diagnosis of severe qi and blood deficiency issued by a top-tier hospital. The procedures were so complicated they could run a person ragged. Their price was even more staggering—often tens of thousands of yuan per pill—and they were usually unavailable even at that price. Only descendants of martial arts families or wealthy households could use them regularly. As for higher-grade second-grade Qi and Blood Pills and third-grade Foundation Nurturing Pills, they were legends beyond the reach of ordinary families, only occasionally appearing on advertisement pages in martial arts magazines.

By comparison, these "Qi and Blood Capsules," available at legitimate chain pharmacies, were undoubtedly much more affordable. Their main ingredient was Basic Qi and Blood Pill dissolved and diluted, then mixed in proportion with extracts of various mild nourishing herbs such as angelica root, astragalus, and codonopsis, before being encapsulated after low-temperature extraction. Naturally, their effects were nowhere near even one-tenth of the original Basic Qi and Blood Pill. They could not directly raise one's upper limit of qi and blood, but for trainees who had not yet officially crossed the threshold into becoming Martial Artists, they could replenish qi and blood depleted after high-intensity training to a certain extent, ease muscle soreness and the feeling of qi and blood deficiency caused by rapid exercise, and, with long-term use, slightly strengthen one's foundation and reduce the risk of hidden injuries during training. Most importantly, they were safe and legal. Buyers only had to register their identity information and the purpose of purchase at the pharmacy, usually simply selecting "daily assistance for martial arts trainees." Their prices were also uniform and transparent—this was a regulatory policy implemented by the East Asia Federation to popularize the foundations of martial arts, improve the physical fitness of the population, and prevent training resources from being completely monopolized by a privileged few. It was also one of the few benefits available to martial arts trainees from the lower classes.

Of course, "affordable" was relative. Lying in bed last night, Chen Mo had secretly checked the listed prices at several major chain pharmacies in Huihe City on his phone. The results were surprisingly consistent: 500 yuan per capsule.

Five hundred yuan. The number weighed on Chen Mo's heart like a stone. He knew all too well what that money meant—it was equivalent to his mother Chen Yaqin working ten hours a day at the electronics component factory for three or four exhausting days straight. It could also cover several days of meals for their family of four, with meat and vegetables at every meal. And now, it might only be enough to support one or two days of his rapid training expenditure.

"I'll buy two first and see how effective they are." Chen Mo spoke softly to his reflection in the mirror, his gaze gradually firming. If the effects were obvious, if they could truly increase training efficiency and shorten the time needed to break through, then the investment would be worth it. But if they were merely a token psychological comfort, he would need to make other plans afterward. He could not waste his parents' hard-earned money for nothing.

Instead of cycling directly to school as usual, he bought two meat buns and a cup of soy milk from a breakfast shop. Eating as he rode, he made a detour toward the Hundred Herbs Pavilion chain pharmacy three kilometers from his home. It was one of the largest pharmaceutical chain brands in the East Asia Federation, with over ten thousand branches nationwide. It was known for its comprehensive selection and reliable quality—though its prices were correspondingly firm, and it rarely offered discounts or promotions.

At seven-thirty in the morning, the pharmacy had only just opened, and the staff were still cleaning before business began. The moment he pushed open the door, a faint herbal fragrance mixed with the scent of disinfectant washed over him, instantly dispelling the chill from his body. The store was spacious and bright, its shelves neatly arranged, with all kinds of medicine placed in sections according to category and clearly labeled. Near the back stood a particularly conspicuous separate glass counter. Above it hung a golden sign reading "Martial Arts Supplement Section," while an assortment of bottles and jars filled the display case, from the cheapest Qi and Blood Capsules to the costly Body-Tempering Paste. Compared to the other bustling counters, this area was much quieter. After all, not many students came to buy such "luxuries" early in the morning.

Chen Mo walked straight to the counter. Behind it was a female pharmacist in her forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a crisp short haircut. Dressed in a white pharmacist's uniform, she looked highly capable. She glanced up at Chen Mo, her gaze lingering for a moment on his School Uniform, washed so many times it had faded white and with a stitch still visible at the cuff. Yet she showed no unusual expression and asked no unnecessary questions. She merely spoke in a routine tone, "Student, what do you need?"

"Hello, I'd like to buy Qi and Blood Capsules." Chen Mo tried his best to keep his voice calm and natural, avoiding any sign of nervousness or discomfort. He could feel the occasional glances from two employees cleaning nearby. There was no malice in their eyes, but it still made him uncomfortable—it felt like walking into a luxury store in cheap clothes in his previous life.

"Qi and Blood Capsules are 500 yuan each. How many would you like? You'll need to register your identity information." As she spoke, the pharmacist took out a tablet and a red registration ledger from beneath the counter, her movements practiced and professional.

"Two for now." Chen Mo took a deep breath and carefully pulled out the bank card that still seemed to carry his father's warmth from his backpack. It was an ordinary blue debit card, its edges already somewhat smooth from repeated handling. This was the first time in his life he had used a card for such a "luxurious" purchase. When his fingertips touched the cold surface of the card, his heart still could not help trembling slightly. One thousand yuan—just like that, gone. It was enough to buy his younger sister Chen Yue a complete set of study materials she had been talking about for a long time, or to get his parents two padded winter coats.