Breaking Through

The morning light pierced through the mist, gilding the bluestone-paved streets. Ye Yun and a few colleagues, stepping through the damp morning dew, passed through the still-sleeping alleys and arrived at a secluded courtyard in the east of the city. The ivy on the courtyard walls swayed gently in the breeze, and dewdrops rolled off the leaves, shimmering with crystalline brilliance in the morning sun.

Creak—Pushing open the old courtyard gate, a peculiar scent, a mixture of medicinal aroma and the smell of blood, assailed them. Ye Yun keenly noticed that the medicinal furnace in the corner of the yard was emitting wisps of smoke, and under the glow of the furnace fire, Chen Qingzhou sat on a stone stool, the bandage wrapped around his left shoulder stained with a faint trace of blood.

"Boss, your complexion..." Wang Tiezhu's bell-like eyes widened, nearly dropping the fruit basket in his hand. Chen Qingzhou's face was ruddy, and his eyes were bright and spirited, showing no signs of someone who had just recovered from a serious injury.

Chen Qingzhou put down his teacup, the ceramic cup clinking crisply against the stone table. He stretched his limbs, his joints cracking audibly: "Thanks to all of you, this injury has actually allowed me to touch the threshold of the eighth rank. His voice was full of vigor, echoing in the courtyard.

Ye Yun's pupils contracted. With his current keen senses, he could clearly see the circulation of Chen Qingzhou's vital energy and blood, flowing like molten mercury. Every breath caused the surrounding air to tremble slightly, with faint sounds of wind and thunder. This was clearly a sign of an imminent breakthrough to the eighth-rank martial artist!

"Congratulations, Boss!" Yan Xiao Liu sprang forward, his eyes flashing with envy as he clasped his hands in greeting. He deliberately straightened his back, making the surge of his vital energy and blood more apparent: "It's quite a coincidence, but I've also faintly sensed the primal energy recently. I believe I'll be able to enter the ranks soon."

These words were like a stone dropped into a calm lake, creating ripples. Zhang Fatty nudged Yan Xiao Liu's shoulder with a wink and said in a gruff voice, "Good lad, you're about to enter the ranks without a sound?" He turned to the crowd and shouted, "Did you hear that? Once Little Six enters the ranks, we'll have to make him treat us to a good meal at the Drunken Immortal Restaurant!"

Ye Yun stood at the edge of the crowd, a perfectly fitting smile on his lips, but his gaze was as sharp as a falcon's. He could clearly see that Yan Xiao Liu's vital energy and blood circulation was indeed more vigorous than that of ordinary people, but the flow of primal energy in his meridians was intermittent, still a step away from truly entering the ranks.

The sun rose higher, and the shadows of the courtyard walls gradually shortened. After some pleasantries, everyone bid farewell and left. Ye Yun was the last to leave. As he was about to step out, he glanced back and happened to see Chen Qingzhou ushering Yan Xiao Liu into the inner room through the half-open door. He gently closed the courtyard gate, the wooden door making a soft sound, and turned to walk towards the west of the city.

Thick black smoke billowed from the chimney of the blacksmith shop in the west of the city, and the sound of hammering could be heard two streets away. Ye Yun lifted the heavy leather curtain, and waves of heat mixed with coal ash rushed towards him, making him squint. The blacksmith, Old Zhou, was swinging a heavy hammer, his bronze arms crisscrossed with veins like coiled dragons, sweat glistening under the firelight.

"Master Zhou." Ye Yun cleared his throat and took out a meticulously drawn blueprint from his embrace. "I'd like to commission a few throwing knives."

Old Zhou put down his hammer and wiped his face with the towel hanging around his neck. He squinted his eyes, reddened by the furnace fire, and examined the blueprint carefully: "Five inches long, thin as cicada wings, and with a blood groove?" His rough fingers traced the blueprint. "Guest, what are these for? Crafting such throwing knives is no simple matter."

Ye Yun calmly produced a few pieces of excellent quality silver from his sleeve. The silver clinked crisply on the counter: "For bandit suppression. The sooner, the better."

Old Zhou picked up the silver and weighed it in his hand, then bit it with his teeth. The wrinkles on his face relaxed. "If it's urgent..." He counted on his fingers and said, "Come back at noon in three days." He then lowered his voice and reminded, "But let me be clear, such thin blades are prone to chipping. If you really want to draw blood and seal a throat, it depends on your technique. If the technique is wrong, you might end up hurting yourself."

Leaving the blacksmith shop, Ye Yun walked through the bustling streets. The cries of vendors and the sounds of bargaining filled the air, but his mind had already wandered far away. The scene of his encounter with the Second-in-Command replayed in his mind: the whistling sound of the elusive throwing knives cutting through the air, the extremely tricky angles, and the ferocious, twisted face of the opponent before death... These images clung to him like a persistent disease, refusing to fade.

"Strength... still not enough." Ye Yun muttered to himself, his right hand unconsciously touching the scar on his ribs. The battle against the bandits had made him deeply realize that even the most exquisite martial arts required tempering through actual combat. The ruthlessness and decisiveness of the Second-in-Command, honed in a sea of corpses, could never be achieved by staying behind closed doors.

Turning a street corner, Ye Yun entered an old pharmacy with a plaque bearing the name Hundred Herbs Hall. The shopkeeper, a lean middle-aged man, immediately put on a smile as he saw Ye Yun, who was dressed as an officer:

"What does the officer need? Our shop has just received a batch of fine..."

"Thirty-year-old ginseng, Reishi mushroom spore powder, and..." Ye Yun paused and lowered his voice, "Dragon's Blood Resin."

The shopkeeper's smile froze, and his eyebrows twitched involuntarily. "What the guest is asking for is not cheap. Especially the Dragon's Blood Resin, that is..."

Ye Yun said no more and directly pulled out a banknote bearing the seal of Da Zhou Bank and placed it on the counter. The "One Thousand Liang" on the banknote was particularly striking in the sunlight. "Is this enough?"

The shopkeeper's eyes immediately lit up, and he nodded and bowed repeatedly. "Enough! Enough! I'll pack it for you right away." As he turned, he couldn't help but glance back at Ye Yun, clearly wondering why this young constable needed such precious medicinal ingredients.

Carrying bags of medicine on his way home, Ye Yun's mind was already planning his cultivation schedule. The ten thousand taels of silver obtained from the Second-in-Command were enough for him to purchase a large amount of cultivation resources. But what he lacked most was time—he had to increase his strength as quickly as possible before the enemy discovered him.

For the next three days, Ye Yun remained shut in. The courtyard was filled with the aroma of medicine, and the clay pot for decocting herbs emitted heat day and night. He meditated and practiced the cultivation technique recorded in the Flying Feather Knife, while also taking various tonics on time. His vital energy and blood grew at an astonishing rate.

On the first day of cultivation, he felt as if millions of ants were crawling in his meridians. The tingling, stinging sensation made him almost unable to sit still. Sweat soaked through his clothes, pooling beneath him.

By the second day, the situation began to improve. Ye Yun found that black grime was constantly being expelled from the pores of his body. He washed, and it reappeared; it reappeared, and he washed again. But with this came an extraordinary sensitivity of his five senses—he could hear hushed whispers in the neighboring courtyard, see the texture of leaves on trees twenty feet away, and even smell the various scents mixed in 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 light sounds from within his body, like a frozen river gradually melting under the warm spring sun. Immediately after, a warm current surged from his dantian, rushing to his limbs and bones like a breached dam. Where it passed, his bones and muscles chimed, and his vital energy and blood surged like mercury, making a rushing sound like flowing water in his meridians.

"This is... the eighth rank!" Ye Yun suddenly opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing within them, like two cold stars in the darkness. He tried to throw a punch forward, and the air actually let out a popping sound, the force of his punch making the candlelight flicker violently. He then casually picked up a copper coin and crushed it into a thin, cicada-wing-like piece between his fingers with a little force.

Pushing open the window, the eastern sky had already turned a fish-belly white. The morning breeze, carrying the freshness of dew, brushed against his face, and the first rooster crow sounded in the distance. Ye Yun took a deep breath, feeling the surging power within him. An eighth-rank martial artist was already considered a top expert in this small county town.