The thought of his own calculations made Li Cheng feel a little embarrassed.
He took a deep breath. "Senior Brother Deng, I won't hide it from you. Zhou Fei was Blood Butcher Xiong Zhen's disciple. Turning in his head to the County Yamen will earn no small reward. Are you sure about this?"
Deng Qing patted his arm. "Keep nagging, and I might change my mind."
With that, he turned, parted the thatch, and headed toward the stone cave.
Before long, Deng Qing came out carrying Monk Tang's Buddhist Staff.
Li Cheng's eyes flickered at the sight of the staff, but he asked no questions.
He crouched beside Zhou Fei and used the tip of his blade to pull Zhou Fei's outer robe over his head.
A moment later, the long blade swung.
Cold light flashed, and Zhou Fei's head fell.
Night lay heavy over the little courtyard. No lamp burned; only moonlight spilled over the wall.
Deng Qing stood in the courtyard with the Blacksteel Soft Sword in hand. A moment later, swordlight burst forth.
The Blacksteel Soft Sword was supple by nature, and in his hand it moved like a spirit snake.
At one moment it thrust straight ahead; at the next it bent close against his side, then sprang out from the most unlikely angle.
No wind whistled in the blade's wake. Only streaks of cold light flashed beneath the moon and vanished.
Deng Qing shifted and darted, his swordplay growing faster and faster. Suddenly, he thrust, then checked the stroke. The tip skimmed past a wooden post without touching it.
The next instant, the blade turned and darted out from the other side.
After another half hour of practice, Deng Qing flicked his wrist. The Blacksteel Soft Sword quivered and coiled around his waist.
Deng Qing steadied his breathing. At a thought, Clear Radiance appeared.
[Heaven Helps Those Who Help Themselves, No Effort Is Wasted] [Tiger-Subduing Fist: 75% (Grand Mastery)] [Violet Palace Method: 43% (Minor Mastery)] [Seven Forms of Settling Solitude: 47% (Minor Mastery)]
Deng Qing studied the Clear Radiance for a while, quite pleased.
More than twenty days had passed since the battle at the Mountain God Temple.
He had made a tidy fortune from that fight.
He had searched Zhou Fei and found gold beans worth nine taels and three mace. Exchanged for silver, they came to more than 103 taels.
Monk Tang's Buddhist Staff had sold for over twenty-five taels.
On top of that, the County Yamen had paid a full fifty taels in silver for killing Monk Tang.
Deng Qing distinctly remembered that the County Yamen's posted reward had offered only thirty taels for killing a Skin Refining Second Layer heretic.
Clearly, Monk Tang had been worth far more than an ordinary fighter at that level.
All told, the battle at the Mountain God Temple had brought Deng Qing nearly 180 taels of silver.
After the battle, he had also gained a rare chance to catch his breath.
Celebration Hall had even given its disciples time off. Deng Qing naturally wasn't going to waste it.
He had barely left home these past few days.
Every day, he ate meat and practiced his sword, fitting in seven meals.
At each meal, he put away more than ten catties of meat.
Anyone else eating like that would long since have ruined their stomach.
But as the Violet Palace Method circulated, the meat in his belly was gradually digested down to the last morsel and transformed into Qi-Blood to replenish his body.
Silver poured out like water, and his Qi-Blood kept rising with it.
His progress in the Seven Forms of Settling Solitude grew faster by the day.
Now, with his sword practice finished, Deng Qing returned indoors, lit the oil lamp, and took a Charcoal Pencil and paper from the table to tally his accounts.
He wanted to work out just how many taels' worth of Qi-Blood he had taken in since breaking through to the Skin Refining Second Layer.
First, while studying the Seven Forms of Settling Solitude, he had eaten meat at Li Cheng's home for a while.
Later, when he had tended the medicine furnace at Tianshun Apothecary, he had eaten his fill for several more days.
Then there were the leftover medicinal bath ingredients Elder Wu had given him, the dregs from refining the Ginseng Pills, and the pig offal Wu Yun brought him every day.
Deng Qing thought it over and wrote an estimate on the paper: sixty taels.
After that, tending the medicine furnace at Tianshun Apothecary had earned him fifty-six taels of silver.
The battle at the Mountain God Temple had brought in nearly another 180 taels.
Fan Sheng had told him that breaking through from the Skin Refining Second Layer to the Skin Tempering Third Layer required, whether one used Ginseng Pills, medicinal wine, medicinal baths, or meat, a total Qi-Blood supply worth at least 400-odd taels.
Individual constitutions and absorption rates differed, so the figure might vary, but it would be somewhere around that number.
Deng Qing reckoned that, with an Internal Cultivation Method, he should absorb it more efficiently. Four hundred taels seemed a fair figure for him.
Leaving himself some leeway in the tally, he figured he was still about a hundred taels' worth of Qi-Blood short of the Skin Tempering Third Layer.
Deng Qing set down the Charcoal Pencil and stared at the figure of 180 on the paper. He couldn't help sighing.
No wonder Senior Brother Tu had taken that mission despite knowing how dangerous it was.
Sure enough, murder and arson filled a man's purse. War brought in money fastest.
If there were another battle like the one at the Mountain God Temple...
The thought had barely surfaced when Deng Qing startled himself.
He was actually looking forward to the next fight.
He patted his cheeks and warned himself silently: Forget war and you court danger; crave war and you court destruction. You've got an advantage, so what's the rush? If you won't lie low, who will?
Just then, someone knocked on the courtyard gate.
Deng Qing rose and opened it. He stopped short. "Senior Brother Fan?"
The man outside was Fan Sheng.
The wound on his shoulder had mostly healed; at least it was no longer wrapped in thick white cloth. But exhaustion was written all over his face.
Deng Qing hurried him inside, poured him a bowl of water, and asked, "Senior Brother, has something happened at the hall for you to come so late?"
Fan Sheng took a drink and came straight to the point. "Master will be back soon."
Deng Qing perked up. "Master's coming back? Where has he been all this time?"
"Liangshan."
Fan Sheng set down the bowl, a faint smile on his face. "Master distinguished himself in the Battle of Liangshan. The court has appointed him a Ninth-Rank Commandant. Word has already reached us, and he should be here in a few days."
"A Ninth-Rank Commandant?"
Deng Qing was taken aback.
Fan Sheng lowered his voice. "Celebration Hall's name will carry weight from now on."
Deng Qing nodded excitedly. He had chosen the right master after all.
A Ninth-Rank Commandant was a court official, however low the rank.
With that title, Li Dashan would give Celebration Hall a standing it had never had before.
Fan Sheng added, "I've heard whispers that Master may have something important to announce when he returns."
"What is it?"
"I don't know yet."
Fan Sheng shook his head. "Stay sharp and build your strength while you can. Otherwise, when an opportunity comes, you won't be able to seize it."
Deng Qing looked thoughtful. "I'll do my best."
Fan Sheng suddenly reached into his robe, took out a banknote, and laid it on the table.
Deng Qing glanced down. Thirty taels.
He froze. "Senior Brother, what's this...?"
"Take it."
"I can't."
Deng Qing pushed it straight back.
Fan Sheng did not take it. "Who said I was giving it to you?"
Deng Qing blinked.
Fan Sheng smiled. "I'm lending it to you. You're short of silver right now, so use it to replenish your Qi-Blood.
Pay me back when you have money to spare."
Fan Sheng and Deng Qing had always got along well. After hearing that Deng Qing had killed Monk Tang, Fan Sheng had come to regard him as someone of considerable importance.
By offering the loan now, he hoped to help Deng Qing build his Qi-Blood quickly and advance his cultivation another step. He was also placing a wager on Deng Qing's future.
Deng Qing did not refuse again. He put the banknote away.
Fan Sheng patted his shoulder. "All right, I've passed on the news. I won't stay any longer. I need to get back to training too."
Deng Qing saw him out through the courtyard gate, feeling the pressure to advance more keenly than ever. But where was he going to find the remaining seventy taels?