Summary

Thinking of his own calculations, Li Cheng even felt a little embarrassed.

He took a deep breath and said, "Senior Brother Deng, I won't hide it from you either. Zhou Fei is Blood Butcher Xiong Zhen's disciple. Delivering his head to the county yamen will definitely be no small merit. Have you thought this through?"

Deng Qing patted his arm. "Keep nagging, and I'll change my mind."

With that, he turned and pushed aside the thatch, heading toward the stone cave.

Before long, Deng Qing emerged carrying Monk Tang's monk's staff.

When Li Cheng saw the staff, a strange glint flashed through his eyes, but he did not ask any questions.

He turned and crouched beside Zhou Fei, using the tip of his blade to lift Zhou Fei's outer garments and cover his head.

The next instant, his long saber swung.

A flash of cold light, and Zhou Fei's head fell at the blow.

Night hung heavy. There were no lamps in the small courtyard; only moonlight spilled over the wall.

Deng Qing stood in the courtyard with the Blacksteel Soft Sword in hand. The next moment, sword light erupted.

The Blacksteel Soft Sword had always been supple and resilient. In his hands now, it resembled a nimble serpent.

At times, it shot straight out; at others, it bent along his side before springing forth from the most impossible angle.

Where the sword edge passed, there was no howling wind—only streaks of cold light that flashed beneath the moon and vanished in an instant.

Deng Qing shifted and darted, his sword momentum growing faster and faster. Suddenly, he thrust. Then he abruptly withdrew the move, the sword tip brushing past a wooden post without touching it in the slightest.

The next instant, the sword edge turned and drilled out from the other side.

After practicing for another half hour, Deng Qing flicked his wrist. The Blacksteel Soft Sword trembled lightly and coiled back around his waist.

Deng Qing steadied his breathing. With a thought, a 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 stared at the clear radiance for a while, quite satisfied.

By now, more than twenty days had passed since the great battle at the Mountain God Temple.

After that battle, he had truly made a fortune.

He had stripped Zhou Fei of nine taels and three qian worth of gold beans, which exchanged for more than one hundred and three taels of silver.

Monk Tang's monk's staff had also sold for more than twenty-five taels.

On top of that, the county yamen had issued a reward of a full fifty taels for killing Monk Tang.

Deng Qing clearly remembered that the bounty posted by the county yamen for killing an evil disciple at Skin Refining Second Layer was only thirty taels.

Clearly, Monk Tang carried far more weight than an ordinary Skin Refining Second Layer martial artist.

Adding it all together, Deng Qing had earned nearly one hundred and eighty taels of silver from the battle at the Mountain God Temple.

And after that great battle, he had also received a rare chance to catch his breath.

Celebration Hall had even given all its disciples leave. Naturally, Deng Qing would not waste such an opportunity.

These past days, he had barely gone outside.

Every day, he ate meat and practiced his swordsmanship—seven meals a day.

At every meal, more than ten jin of meat went down his throat.

If anyone else ate like this, their stomach and intestines would have burst long ago.

Yet under the circulation of the Violet Palace Method, the meat entering his belly was slowly digested clean, transformed into qi and blood that replenished his body.

Silver flowed away like water, while his qi and blood continued to rise.

The progress of the "Seven Forms of Settling Solitude" advanced faster with each passing day.

Now that Deng Qing had finished practicing his sword, he returned to his room, lit an oil lamp, took a charcoal pencil and paper from the table, and began to tally his accounts.

What he wanted to calculate was exactly how much silver's worth of qi and blood he had replenished since breaking through to Skin Refining Second Layer.

First, while studying the "Seven Forms of Settling Solitude," he had eaten meat at Li Cheng's home for some time.

Later, when he went to Tianshun Apothecary to watch the medicine furnace, he had opened his stomach and eaten heartily for several days.

Then there were the leftover scraps from Elder Wu's Medicinal Bath, the medicinal dregs left after refining Ginseng Pills, and the pig offal Wu Yun delivered every day.

After thinking it over, Deng Qing wrote down an estimate on the paper: sixty taels.

After that, while watching the medicine furnace at Tianshun Apothecary, he had actually received fifty-six taels of silver.

Then the battle at the Mountain God Temple had brought in nearly one hundred and eighty taels more.

He had heard Fan Sheng say that breaking through from Skin Refining Second Layer to Skin Tempering Third Layer required, whether through Ginseng Pills, medicinal wine, Medicinal Baths, or meat, at least more than four hundred taels' worth of qi and blood in total.

Everyone's physique and absorption differed, so there might be some variation, but the figure would not be far off.

Deng Qing reckoned that since he had an internal cultivation method, his absorption efficiency should be better. Four hundred taels should be about right.

Even with a generous estimate, he felt that he was still short by around one hundred taels' worth of qi and blood before reaching Skin Tempering Third Layer.

Deng Qing set down the charcoal pencil, stared at the number one hundred and eighty on the paper, and could not help sighing.

No wonder Senior Brother Tu had taken on missions despite knowing they were dangerous.

Sure enough, murder and arson brought golden belts; war made money even faster.

If there were another great battle like the one at the Mountain God Temple...

The moment the thought surfaced, Deng Qing himself froze.

He was actually looking forward to the next battle coming sooner.

Deng Qing slapped his face and silently warned himself: Forget war and danger is certain; delight in war and ruin is certain. You have a cheat—what the hell are you in such a rush for? If you don't lie low, who will?

Just then, someone suddenly knocked on the courtyard gate.

Deng Qing rose and went to the gate. When he pulled it open, he could not help but stare. "Senior Brother Fan?"

The one standing outside was none other than Fan Sheng.

The injury on his shoulder had healed for the most part. At least it was no longer wrapped in thick white bandages, though his face was full of exhaustion.

Deng Qing hurriedly invited him inside, poured him a bowl of water, and asked, "Senior Brother, is something happening at the hall for you to come so late?"

Fan Sheng lifted the bowl and took a sip, getting straight to the point. "Master will be back soon."

Deng Qing's spirits lifted. "Master is coming back? Where exactly has he been all this time?"

"Liangshan."

Fan Sheng set down the bowl, a faint smile appearing on his face. "Master rendered meritorious service in the Battle of Liangshan. The court has granted him the title of Ninth-Rank Commandant, and the news has already reached us. He should arrive in a few more days."

"Ninth-Rank Commandant?"

Deng Qing was taken aback.

Fan Sheng lowered his voice. "From now on, the signboard of our Celebration Hall will stand firm."

Deng Qing nodded excitedly. He had truly chosen the right temple gate to bow beneath.

A Ninth-Rank Commandant was still an official position formally recognized by the court.

With Li Dashan possessing such an identity, Celebration Hall would naturally be different from before.

Fan Sheng added, "I've heard some rumors. When Master returns this time, he may have something major to announce."

"What major matter?"

"It's still unclear."

Fan Sheng shook his head. "You should stay sharp as well. Hurry and improve your strength. Otherwise, even if good fortune comes your way, you won't be able to hold it."

Deng Qing nodded thoughtfully. "I'll do my best."

Fan Sheng suddenly reached into his robes, took out a banknote, and placed it on the table.

Deng Qing looked down. Thirty taels.

He immediately froze. "Senior Brother, this is..."

"Take it."

"I can't accept it."

Deng Qing immediately pushed it back.

But Fan Sheng did not take it, merely saying, "Who said I was giving it to you?"

Deng Qing was startled.

Fan Sheng smiled. "I'm lending it to you. You're short on silver right now, so take it and replenish your qi and blood first.

When your purse is fuller later, pay me back."

Fan Sheng and Deng Qing had always been on good terms. After hearing that Deng Qing had killed Monk Tang, Fan Sheng placed even greater importance on him.

By lending him money now, he both hoped Deng Qing could rapidly build up his qi and blood and raise his cultivation another step, and intended to place a wager on the future.

Deng Qing did not refuse again and put away the banknote.

Fan Sheng patted Deng Qing on the shoulder. "All right, I've delivered the message, so I won't stay any longer. I need to go back and work hard too."

Deng Qing saw him out through the courtyard gate. The sense of urgency in his heart grew heavier, but where was he supposed to gather the remaining seventy taels?