Jichuntang Hall was the largest pharmacy on East Street in Dingshan County.
Its storefront spanned three bays. The three gilded characters for "Jichuntang Hall" on its black-lacquered signboard were said to have been written by a provincial examination graduate of the previous dynasty.
An L-shaped counter greeted anyone entering, its lacquer worn through to the wood beneath. Behind it stood an entire wall of medicine cabinets, with well over a hundred drawers. Each drawer bore the name of an herb in tiny, meticulous script, from "ginseng" to "plantain seed," packed together like a silent dictionary.
Farther inside, beyond a floral pendant gate, the space opened up abruptly. The rear courtyard was much larger than the shop out front.
Reed-mat awnings stood over the flagstone paving, dividing the space beneath into several sections: to the west were the herb-washing pools, three stone troughs in a row with clear water running continuously; to the east were the cutting benches, lined with chopping blades, knives, and grinding troughs, where several laborers bent over slicing astragalus; to the south was the drying yard, its open ground covered with bamboo trays spread with white peony root, angelica, and Sichuan lovage, the medicinal fragrance so thick it seemed impossible to dissolve; in the northern corner stood the drying room, where rehmannia baked on heated earthen platforms, waves of heat carrying bitterness outside.
Chen Chong's group of laborers handled the preparation of medicinal herbs.
Preparation meant the rough processing before the herbs went into the drawers: sorting, washing, moistening, cutting, sun-drying, and baking. Sorting removed impurities and moldy pieces, washing cleared away dirt and sand, and moistening softened the herbs with sprays of water. Cutting reduced them to different shapes according to their properties: thick slices, thin slices, diagonal slices, shreds, chunks, and segments.
Astragalus, for example, had to be cut diagonally, poria into cubes, licorice into round slices, and dried tangerine peel into shreds.
The cut herbs still had to be dried, either in shade or direct sunlight. Roots and rhizomes were mostly dried in the sun, while flowers and leaves were mostly dried in shade. Chen Chong had already mastered this entire process.
There were a dozen or so apprentice laborers, most from poor families.
They earned only a few copper coins a month, but food and lodging were provided, and they could learn something about medicinal herbs—a trade they could use after leaving. Everyone therefore worked hard. The rustle of slicing herbs, the rumble of grinding troughs, and the rattle of herb sieves rose and fell throughout the courtyard.
Wang Yu was the sole exception.
Wang Yu belonged to the same crew, but he was a distant relative of Steward Wang and always considered himself a cut above the others.
While others cut herbs, he strolled beside them with his hands behind his back; while others laid herbs out to dry, he picked his teeth with a bamboo skewer.
At the slightest displeasure, he would point at someone's nose and curse, "Are you blind? This astragalus looks like a donkey chewed it!" Or, "You're not turning the herbs over? Are you just here to eat for free?"
The apprentice laborers all endured it. For people from poor families, finding work was difficult, and no one wanted to lose their rice bowl over a few words. No matter how foul Wang Yu's insults became, they merely kept their heads down and their hands working.
When Chen Chong first arrived, Wang Yu had tried to push him around as usual.
"New here? Go clean the heated platforms in the drying room. The ash is three inches thick." Wang Yu eyed him sidelong.
Chen Chong ignored him.
The original owner of his body had come from a wealthy family. Although the family had later fallen on hard times, that young master's temper remained in his bones.
When he first arrived at the pharmacy, he barely responded to anyone who spoke to him. When Wang Yu ordered him around, he did not even lift his eyelids.
When had Wang Yu ever suffered such treatment? A mere laborer dared disregard him? From then on, Wang Yu held a grudge against Chen Chong and found fault with him every few days.
But today, when Wang Yu passed Chen Chong, he merely gave him a cold glance. Surprisingly, he did not cause trouble as usual.
Chen Chong knew why. Two days earlier, Wang Yu had accused him of stealing blood-seen sorrow, but a search of his person turned up nothing. Steward Wang's face had darkened enough to drip water.
Wang Yu had probably caught a scolding from Steward Wang and had behaved himself much better these past two days.
Chen Chong thought no more of it and lowered his head to continue cutting herbs. His blade rose and fell, producing astragalus slices as thin as cicada wings, which he arranged neatly on a bamboo tray. His mind, however, sank into his sea of consciousness.
The panel floated silently—
[Technique: Green Mountain Breathing Method (Absolute mastery)] [Realm: Martial Initiate (78/100)]
His breathing method had reached absolute mastery.
As the senior disciples at the academy put it, "The breathing method is easy to begin, difficult to gain minor mastery in, and rarely reaches major mastery. Perfection? That takes the founding master manifesting his spirit."
Li Qingshan, the founder of the Green Mountain Martial Academy, had entered the Skin Tempering Realm through absolute mastery of the breathing method. He then created the Green Mountain Five Forms and established himself in Dingshan County.
Over the following decades, countless disciples had trained at the academy. Those who reached absolute mastery of the breathing method could supposedly be counted on one hand. Apart from Li Qingshan himself, there had never been another.
Yet with the panel simplifying it to the single word "breathing," Chen Chong had reached, within a week, a threshold others could never even touch in their lifetimes.
The benefits of absolute mastery were tangible. Once the Green Mountain Breathing Method reached perfection, the circulation of blood and qi throughout his body formed a lesser celestial circuit of its own, nourishing his skin every moment. His progress toward the Skin Tempering Realm therefore became considerably faster.
Another week passed, and Chen Chong's body changed dramatically.
His once scrawny frame now had broad shoulders and a wide back, with sharply defined muscles on his arms. He had also shot up in height. Previously half a head shorter than others, he was now of average stature.
Most striking was his skin. No longer pale and thin, it carried a faint sheen almost like glaze. Pressed with a finger, it felt taut and springy, like a thin layer of cowhide.
The Skin Tempering Realm.
His skin was tough, difficult for an ordinary blade to cut, while punches and kicks landed as though striking worn cotton wadding. His five senses had sharpened greatly as well; he could clearly hear insects beating their wings ten paces away. This was the first great barrier in martial training. Only after crossing it could someone truly stand apart from ordinary people.
The people at the pharmacy, however, thought little of it.
Everyone there knew Chen Chong had damaged his health through martial training some time earlier. Back then, his face had been waxy yellow, and he swayed even when walking.
Chen Chong said he had bought some nourishing food, and everyone believed him. After all, he had grown taller and looked sturdier, so they simply assumed he had recovered through better meals.
"Chen Chong, you're looking healthier." Uncle Zhang glanced up from cutting herbs.
"Yes, I bought some bones to make soup," Chen Chong said, following his lead.
"Young people should eat more." Uncle Zhang lowered his head and resumed cutting.
Near the end of the workday, Steward Wang came from the front and clapped his hands. "Everyone, stop for a moment. Tomorrow, the pharmacy is sending people up the mountain to gather herbs. All laborers are going. Mount Dingjun, departure at the hour of the Hare. Bring your own provisions."
Everyone answered, feeling rather pleased. Spending all their time in the pharmacy had left them steeped in the smell of herbs, practically pickled through with it. Going up the mountain still meant work, but getting some fresh air was good all the same.
The next day, just after the hour of the Hare began, the horizon turned pale.
Mount Dingjun lay northwest of the county town. It was not particularly high, but its ridges stretched for dozens of li from east to west, like an old dragon lying upon the earth.
Many years ago, this had been a dynasty's frontier. Rammed-earth platforms from beacon towers still remained along the ridges, weathered down to low stumps.
It was said that many battles had been fought here, with lives lost and bones buried. But times had changed. Dingshan County was now far from the frontier, the border having long since been pushed a thousand li away.
With a bamboo basket on his back and a sickle in his hand, Chen Chong threaded through the brush halfway up the mountain.
The improvement in stamina brought by the Skin Tempering Realm was unmistakable. Others were panting after half an hour of climbing, while he walked for an hour with steady breathing and light steps.
His senses were keen. A glance told him which tree had astragalus beneath it and which rocky crevice held dendrobium. Gathering herbs went smoothly, and his basket was already half full before noon.
Although Mount Dingjun saw plenty of visitors and had few large wild beasts, it had no shortage of venomous insects and snakes.
Chen Chong was especially careful. Before every step, he parted the grass with his sickle to check for coiled snakes. He had seen a herb gatherer bitten by a pit viper whose entire arm swelled like a winter melon. The man had nearly died.
As he bent to gather a stalk of bupleurum, Chen Chong suddenly lunged forward.
Whoosh—
An arrow buried itself where he had just stood, its shaft sinking three inches into the earth and its tail buzzing.
Chen Chong rolled across the ground and ducked between several large trees ahead. With his back against a thick trunk and his sickle in hand, he broke out in a cold sweat.
Fortunately, having reached the Skin Tempering Realm, his sharpened senses had caught the arrow's whistle a fraction earlier than an ordinary person would have. His defenses were strong, but an arrow could still injure him. Arrows had tremendous penetrating power; skin that could resist a slash might not withstand a powerful bow.
Two figures emerged from behind the brush.
Wang Yu. The other man was tall and burly, with a vicious-looking face, a hunting bow on his back, and a hunting knife at his waist. He was Li Hu, a hunter from the foot of Mount Dingjun and a close friend of Wang Yu's. The two shared the same foul tastes and often drank together.
"Fuck, he dodged that?" Wang Yu cursed, holding a herb-gathering sickle. "Chen Chong trained at the martial academy for a couple of days too. He probably just got lucky."
Li Hu nodded, drew his hunting knife, and scanned their surroundings. Something faintly troubled him. He had aimed that arrow at Chen Chong's back, directly over the heart—a shot he had been certain would hit. How could a pharmacy laborer react the instant the arrow left the bowstring?
But he did not dwell on it. Chen Chong had entered the Skin Tempering Realm? Impossible. Almost everyone practiced martial arts, but that path required both talent and money. For commoners like them, entering a realm was a tale from the Arabian Nights.
Hidden behind the tree, Chen Chong's feelings were complicated.
All along, he had never taken the original owner's conflict with Wang Yu seriously. By the logic of his previous life, it was merely a quarrel. At worst, they would have a fight—what blood feud could there possibly be? He had never imagined Wang Yu would find someone to kill him.
Only now did he realize that this was a world of martial arts. Human lives were not worth that much.
Chen Chong lifted his sickle slightly and drew a deep breath.
He charged out.
His blade slashed down.
The speed and strength of the Skin Tempering Realm exceeded anything Li Hu had imagined. His pupils contracted sharply, and he hurriedly raised his knife to block.
Clang!
The web of his hand went numb, and his hunting knife nearly flew from his grip. Before he could react, Chen Chong kicked him in the chest. Li Hu's burly body flew backward and slammed into the ground.
Only then did Wang Yu react, swinging his sickle at Chen Chong.
But although Chen Chong's sickle moved later, it arrived first. A cold gleam swept past, and Wang Yu's head soared into the air, spraying blood across Li Hu's face.
Scared out of his wits, Li Hu scrambled backward on his hands and feet. "A misunderstanding! A misunderstanding! It was Wang Yu! Wang Yu told me to—"
He never finished.
Chen Chong ended him with a single slash.
The mountain woods fell quiet. Only the rustle of wind through leaves and the calls of unknown birds in the distance remained.
Chen Chong crouched and searched their belongings. There were only a few copper coins: thirty-odd wen on Wang Yu and around fifty on Li Hu, less than a hundred wen altogether.
He stood, wiped the blood from his sickle, and shouldered his bamboo basket again. Inside, the bupleurum, astragalus, and dendrobium lay quietly, giving off a faint medicinal fragrance.