Disguise and Changing Faces, Asking Directions at the Pharmacy

Chen Ping sat cross-legged on the ornate bed Wang Meng had left behind, pinching a yellowed sheet of thin paper between his fingers, his brows tightly furrowed.

This was the "Iron Bone Soup" prescription he had pried from the hidden layer inside the back cover of Shattered Stone Palm.

"Three qian of Tiger Bone, five qian of safflower, two qian each of angelica root and Sichuan lovage, simmered with strong liquor..."

Chen Ping muttered under his breath, his fingers unconsciously tapping against the bedframe.

Safflower and angelica root were manageable; if he gritted his teeth, he could still buy them. But the words "Tiger Bone" were practically enough to suck the marrow from his bones.

Though Great Liang's laws did not explicitly prohibit the trade of Tiger Bone, it was scarce. Only hunters deep in the mountains and old forests occasionally obtained it, and its price had remained sky-high for years.

"This was what they meant by poor scholars and rich martial artists."

Chen Ping looked at the few dozen taels of silver he had only just warmed in his hands. Before he could enjoy the thrill of sudden wealth, he had to watch it drain away. The ache in his heart hurt even worse than botching his breathing during cultivation.

But he could not afford not to train.

Shattered Stone Palm was fierce and tyrannical. Every session left his palms red, swollen, and congested with blood. Without soaking them in this medicinal broth to disperse stasis, strengthen sinews, and reinforce bones, he feared that before he forged iron palms, his hands would be crippled first.

"Money is a bastard. Spend it, then earn more. You only get one life. If I train myself crippled, there's nowhere to buy regret medicine."

Chen Ping folded the prescription and tucked it into the inner pocket of his clothes, his gaze turning resolute once more.

The next day happened to be his day off.

Chen Ping rose early, but he did not hurry out.

He shut the doors and windows tight, drew the curtains, scooped a handful of fine stove ash from the hearth, then fetched half a block of yellow wax that had melted the night before.

Facing the bronze mirror, he mixed the stove ash with the yellow wax and slowly smeared it over his face.

His originally fair and refined face gradually turned waxy yellow and withered. He deliberately deepened the shadows around his eye sockets, making himself look like a sickly wreck whose body had been hollowed out by wine and women.

Next, he found an old, oversized gray robe Wang Meng had discarded in a corner and put it on. He stuffed some torn cloth inside, making his figure appear bloated and hunched.

The cleverest part was his shoes.

He padded the sole of his left shoe with two thick layers of cloth, while leaving the right one unpadded.

Chen Ping walked two laps around the room. His body rose and dipped with each step, swaying unsteadily as he walked. Every so often, he had to cough twice and clutch his chest as he gasped for breath.

Looking at the waxy-faced, muddle-eyed sickly middle-aged man in the mirror, Chen Ping nodded in satisfaction.

In these troubled times, buying such costly medicinal ingredients in his true appearance was like a child carrying gold through a crowded market.

Lin Manor might have a formidable reputation, but he was only a servant. Once he stepped outside its gates, who would recognize him?

This appearance of a man on the verge of death, on the other hand, was both inconspicuous and gave people a reasonable explanation for buying medicine: he was trying to prolong his life.

Once he was ready, Chen Ping slipped out through the back gate. He chose only secluded alleys and made his way south through the city.

The south side of the city was nothing like the wealthy east side. People from all walks of life mixed here, fish and dragons jumbled together. Yet precisely because of that, the Black Market and pharmacies here often carried things that could not bear the light of day.

"Renxin Pharmacy."

The signboard looked old enough that more than half its paint had peeled away. It hung deep within a gloomy alley.

Chen Ping lowered his conical hat and pushed open the door.

The pharmacy was dimly lit, thick with the smells of Chinese medicine and mildew.

Behind the counter, a gaunt old man with a goatee was dozing with narrowed eyes.

"Shopkeeper, I need medicine."

Chen Ping walked to the counter, deliberately lowering his voice into a hoarse rasp, as though thick phlegm were lodged in his throat.

The old man did not even raise his eyelids. He lazily extended a withered hand. "Prescription."

Chen Ping did not hand over the prescription. It was his trump card.

He merely listed several medicinal ingredients, then paused before lowering his voice further. "And three qian of Tiger Bone. Aged."

At the words "Tiger Bone," the old man's cloudy eyes snapped open, a flash of sharp light passing through them.

He sized Chen Ping up and down, his gaze lingering briefly on Chen Ping's wax-yellowed face and deliberately elevated shoe. Then the corners of his mouth curled into a knowing smile.

"You know your stuff, sir."

The old man did not expose Chen Ping's disguise. Instead, he turned and took down a black-lacquered wooden box from the highest shelf of the medicine cabinet behind him. He opened it a crack, revealing a section of gray-white bone as a faintly fishy, rank smell wafted out.

"Genuine Southern Mountain White-browed Tiger. Just acquired it a few days ago. Three qian, fifteen taels of silver. Take it or leave it."

Chen Ping's heart sank.

Fifteen taels!

This was outright robbery!

At the normal market rate, it should have cost no more than a little over ten taels.

The old bastard had clearly seen through his disguise and knew he did not want to make a scene, so he was deliberately cutting him open for an extra slice.

"Shopkeeper, that's a bit too—"

Chen Ping put on a pained expression and tried to haggle.

"Buy it or don't."

With a smack, the old man shut the lid and made as if to put it away.

"These days, good goods never lack buyers. Walk out that door and ask elsewhere. See if anyone has stock of this quality."

Chen Ping's fist clenched beneath his sleeve, then finally loosened.

Arguing over a few taels now and drawing attention would cost him more than it gained him.

"Fine. I'll take it."

Chen Ping took out his silver, counted fifteen taels, then added the cost of the other ingredients. Eighteen taels in all landed heavily on the counter.

Watching that shining silver disappear into the old man's cashbox, Chen Ping felt as if his heart were bleeding.

A single trip had eaten up nearly half of Wang Meng's windfall.

With the medicine parcel in hand, Chen Ping did not linger. He turned and left, his retreating figure especially hurried.

The old man watched Chen Ping leave, gave a raspy chuckle, and took two puffs from his dry tobacco pipe before shouting toward the inner room.

"Rat, there's a fat sheep. Keep an eye on him. Don't do anything at our doorstep and break the rules."

After leaving the pharmacy, Chen Ping did not return directly to Lin Manor. Instead, he twisted and turned through the alleys.

His hearing had been enhanced by Longevity of Pine and Crane, far surpassing that of ordinary people.

The two unhurried sets of footsteps behind him had followed him not long after he left the pharmacy.

Two people.

Their breathing was heavy and their steps unsteady. They were probably street scum who had spent years loafing about. Seeing that he could afford Tiger Bone, they had developed evil intentions.

Chen Ping's gaze turned cold.

He did not want trouble, but in this world, trouble always came looking for you.

Since he could not avoid it, he would settle it.

Chen Ping turned on his heel and entered a dead-end alley piled with junk.

At the end of the alley stood a high wall, with rotten wood and broken baskets heaped at its base.

Chen Ping stopped, turned around, and leaned against the wall. His body trembled as he clutched the medicine parcel to his chest, looking utterly terrified.

"Hehe, old sick ghost, you ran pretty fast."

Two shifty young men blocked the alley entrance. They toyed with a pair of rusty daggers, cruel smiles on their faces like cats playing with mice.

"Y-you two heroes, this is only life-saving medicine. I don't have any money left on me..."

Chen Ping's voice shook, carrying a sobbing lilt.

"No money? I saw you pull out silver at that shop just now, and you were plenty generous with it."

The lead thug spat and stepped closer.

"Strip off your clothes and let me see whether you've got anything in your pockets! If you don't, these medicinal ingredients can still fetch a few coins!"

As he spoke, the thug reached out to grab Chen Ping by the collar.

Just as that filthy hand was about to touch Chen Ping's collar—

Chen Ping's formerly hunched body suddenly straightened!

The transformation was like the string of a fully drawn powerful bow snapping without warning.

He did not use Shattered Stone Palm. That martial art belonged to the Lin Family and could easily leave traces behind.

He casually seized a wrist-thick rotten wooden stick from beside the wall. With the fierce explosive force granted by the first level of Longevity of Pine and Crane, he swung it in a full arc!

Whoosh—

The wooden stick tore through the air with a dull howl.

Bang!

A muffled impact that made teeth ache rang out.

The lead thug did not even see Chen Ping move before his head burst like a watermelon struck by an iron hammer. His whole body flew sideways and crashed heavily into the wall. He did not even manage a scream before passing out cold.

The remaining thug froze.

He held up his dagger and stared at the "sickly wreck" who had been meek and submissive just moments ago. Now Chen Ping stood perfectly straight, his eyes so cold that they seemed to be looking at two corpses.

"You..."

Bang!

Before he could utter a second word, the half-broken stick in Chen Ping's hand shot out like a venomous snake leaving its hole, striking him squarely in the lower abdomen.

The blow penetrated deep into his organs.

The thug's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. His body folded like a giant shrimp as he clutched his stomach and dropped to his knees, froth spilling from his mouth while he convulsed.

From the first strike to the end, only two breaths had passed.

Chen Ping tossed away the rotten wood and dusted off his hands. There was not the slightest trace of fear left on his face.

He crouched and searched the two unconscious thugs.

Aside from the two rusty daggers, he found only a few dozen copper coins and half an uneaten flatbread.

"Poor ghosts."

Chen Ping stuffed the copper coins into his clothes in disgust and tossed the half-eaten flatbread straight into the reeking gutter.

He rose to his feet without giving the men on the ground another glance. Pulling his hat lower, he flashed away and swiftly vanished at the far end of the alley.

By the time he returned to Lin Manor, the sky had already darkened.

Chen Ping slipped into his little room, fetched a basin of cold water, and carefully washed away the stove ash and yellow wax from his face.

Looking at the youth with refined features restored in the bronze mirror, Chen Ping let out a long breath.

This feeling of drifting between two identities gave him both a secret thrill and a deep exhaustion.

By day, he was a meek and submissive household servant. In secret, he was a decisive martial artist who killed without hesitation.

When would these days ever end...?

Chen Ping shook the droplets from his hands, his gaze falling on the expensive parcel of medicinal ingredients on the table.

"Only by becoming stronger."

He dragged out a large wooden tub he had prepared long ago from beneath the bed, then set up a small red clay stove.

He crushed the Tiger Bone, kneaded the safflower to pulp, and threw everything into a clay pot. After pouring in strong liquor and water, he began to simmer it.

Half an hour later.

Glug, glug...

The medicinal broth in the clay pot boiled and turned a bizarre dark red. A pungent yet strangely fragrant scent immediately filled the sealed little room.

Chen Ping poured the scalding broth into the wooden tub and added some hot water, but the temperature was still terrifyingly high.

According to the records in Shattered Stone Palm, one had to take the first medicinal bath while it was hot, using the heat to force the medicine's properties into the marrow.

Chen Ping stripped naked and looked at the steaming dark-red medicine water, his Adam's apple bobbing.

But he did not hesitate.

This broth had been brewed from eighteen taels of silver. Even if it were lava, he had to jump in.

Chen Ping clenched his teeth, his eyes resolute. He raised one foot and viciously stepped into the scalding medicinal tub.

"Hiss—!!!"