Breaking Through

The morning light pierced the thin mist, gilding the bluestone-paved streets. Ye Yun and several of his colleagues walked through the sleeping alleys, morning dew damp beneath their feet, until they reached a secluded residence in the eastern part of the city. The ivy on the courtyard wall swayed gently in the breeze. Dewdrops rolled from its leaves, sparkling in the morning light.

Creak— The old courtyard gate swung open, and a peculiar scent of medicine mingled with blood hit them. Ye Yun keenly noticed wisps of green smoke rising from the medicine furnace in the corner. In its glow, Chen Qingzhou sat upright on a stone stool, the bandage around his left shoulder stained a faint red.

"Chief, your complexion..." Wang Tiezhu's eyes widened like copper bells, and the basket of fruit in his hands nearly slipped. Chen Qingzhou's face was ruddy, his eyes bright and alert—nothing like someone who had only just recovered from a serious injury.

Chen Qingzhou set down his teacup. The porcelain clinked crisply against the stone table. He stretched his limbs, and his joints crackled. "Thanks to all of you, this injury actually let me feel my way to the threshold of the 8th Rank." His voice was strong and full, echoing through the courtyard.

Ye Yun's pupils narrowed. With his heightened senses, he could clearly see Chen Qingzhou's qi and blood coursing around him like flowing mercury. Every breath stirred the surrounding air, and faint sounds of wind and thunder seemed to rumble within. These were unmistakable signs that he was on the verge of breaking through to become an 8th Rank martial artist!

"Congratulations, Chief!" Yan Xiao Liu strode forward and clasped his hands in salute, envy shining in his eyes. He deliberately straightened his back, making the flow of qi and blood throughout his body more apparent. "As it happens, I've recently begun to sense Essence Qi too. I'm sure I'll enter the ranks soon."

His words were like a stone cast into a still lake, sending ripples across the courtyard. Fatty Zhang nudged Yan Xiao Liu in the shoulder with a wink. "Well, look at you, kid! You're about to enter the ranks without saying a word?" He turned and called to the others, "Did you hear that? Once Xiao Liu makes it, we'll have to make him treat us to a proper feast at Drunken Immortal Tower!"

Ye Yun stood at the edge of the crowd, the right smile on his lips, but his gaze was sharp as a hawk's. He could clearly see that Yan Xiao Liu's qi and blood were indeed more vigorous than an ordinary person's, but the Essence Qi in his meridians flowed fitfully. He was still one final step away from truly entering the ranks.

The sun climbed higher, and the shadows cast by the courtyard walls slowly shrank. After exchanging pleasantries, the others took their leave one by one. Ye Yun was the last to go. Just before stepping out, he glanced back and happened to see Chen Qingzhou usher Yan Xiao Liu into the inner room through the half-open door. He gently shut the gate. The wooden door gave a soft creak, and he turned toward the western part of the city.

The chimney of a Blacksmith Shop in the western part of the city belched thick black smoke, and the clang of hammering could be heard two streets away. Ye Yun lifted the heavy leather curtain. A wave of heat mixed with coal dust washed over him, making him squint. Old Zhou the blacksmith was swinging a heavy hammer. The muscles of his bronze-colored arms stood out like coiling dragons, and sweat glistened in the firelight.

"Master Zhou." Ye Yun cleared his throat and took a carefully drawn diagram from his robe. "I'd like to commission a few flying knives."

Old Zhou put down his hammer and wiped his face with the towel around his neck. Squinting through eyes reddened by the furnace, he studied the diagram closely. "Five inches long, thin as a cicada's wing, and with blood grooves?" His rough fingers rubbed over the drawing. "What do you need these for, sir? Knives like these aren't easy to make."

Without changing expression, Ye Yun laid several pieces of fine-quality silver on the counter. The coins clinked crisply against it. "For hunting bandits. The sooner, the better."

Old Zhou hefted the silver in his hand, then tested it with his teeth. The wrinkles on his face relaxed. "If you need them in a hurry..." He counted on his fingers. "Come back at noon in three days." Then he lowered his voice to offer a warning. "But let me say this upfront: a blade this thin will bend easily. Whether it can draw blood with a single strike depends on your technique. Use it wrong, and you might hurt yourself instead."

After leaving the Blacksmith Shop, Ye Yun walked along the bustling street. Hawkers' cries and the haggling of customers rose and fell around him, but his thoughts had already drifted far away. The scene of his fight with the Second-in-Command kept flashing through his mind: the uncanny flying knives slicing through the air with their shrill whistle, their incredibly treacherous angles, and the enemy's face twisted in agony in his final moments... The images clung to him like a bone-deep curse, impossible to shake.

"My strength... still isn't enough." Ye Yun murmured to himself, his right hand unconsciously touching the scar beneath his ribs. The battle against the bandits had taught him that even the most exquisite martial arts had to be tempered again and again in real combat. The Second-in-Command's ruthlessness and decisiveness, forged through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, could never be learned behind closed doors.

Turning a street corner, Ye Yun entered an old apothecary bearing a sign that read Hundred Herbs Hall. The shopkeeper was a lean, middle-aged man. As soon as he saw Ye Yun dressed as an officer, he hurried over with a broad smile.

"What can I get for you, sir? We've just received a new batch of fine..."

"Thirty-year-old ginseng, reishi spore powder, and..." Ye Yun paused and lowered his voice. "Dragon's blood."

The shopkeeper's smile froze, and his eyebrows lifted involuntarily. "Those are all rather expensive, sir. Especially the dragon's blood. That's..."

Ye Yun said nothing more. He pulled a bank draft stamped by Da Zhou Bank from his robe and slapped it down on the counter. The words "one thousand taels" stood out under the sunlight. "Is that enough?"

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up at once, and he nodded and bowed hastily. "More than enough! More than enough! I'll wrap everything up for you right away." As he turned, he couldn't help looking back at Ye Yun, clearly wondering why a young constable needed such precious medicinal ingredients.

Walking home with bundles of medicine in hand, Ye Yun had already begun planning his cultivation. The ten thousand taels in bank drafts he had obtained from the Second-in-Command would be enough to buy a great many cultivation resources. But what he lacked most was time—he had to grow stronger as quickly as possible, before the enemy discovered him.

For the next three days, Ye Yun shut himself away. The small courtyard filled with the scent of medicine, and the clay pot simmered day and night, steaming without pause. He followed the breathing and meditation methods recorded in the Flying Feather Knife, while taking his tonics on schedule. His qi and blood grew at a startling pace.

During his first day of cultivation, he felt as though countless ants were crawling through his meridians. The prickling numbness was so unbearable that he could hardly sit still. Sweat soaked through his clothes and pooled beneath him.

By the second day, things began to improve. Ye Yun found black impurities constantly seeping from his pores. He washed them off, only for more to emerge; he washed again, and more appeared. At the same time, his five senses became extraordinarily sharp. He could hear whispers in the neighboring courtyard, make out the veins of leaves ten zhang away, and even distinguish the different scents carried on the wind.

Late on the third night, all was silent. Ye Yun sat cross-legged on his bed when he suddenly heard a series of faint cracks within his body, like a frozen river slowly thawing beneath the spring sun. Then a warm current gushed from his dantian, surging into his limbs and through every bone and sinew like water bursting through a dam. Wherever it passed, his bones and muscles rang out in unison. His qi and blood surged like mercury, rushing through his meridians with the sound of splashing water.

"This is... the 8th Rank!" Ye Yun's eyes flew open, and a brilliant light flashed in them. In the darkness, they gleamed like two cold stars. He tried throwing a punch, and the air erupted with a sharp crack. The force of the blow sent the candle flame whipping wildly. He casually picked up a copper coin and, with a little pressure, ground it between his fingers into a piece of copper as thin as a cicada's wing.

He pushed open the window. The eastern sky was already turning pale. The morning breeze, fresh with dew, brushed his face, and the first cockcrow sounded in the distance. Ye Yun took a deep breath, feeling the surging power within him. An 8th Rank martial artist was already considered a top master in a small county like this.