On the first day of the tenth month, the waning moon hung like a hook.
After finishing his last fare, Qin Geng headed to his usual braised-offal stall in South City as dusk fell. "Boss, the usual!" he called.
"Coming right up!"
The burly proprietor answered cheerfully and deftly fished lung, pork intestines, and more from the bubbling broth.
Before long, a heaping bowl of braised offal and five flatbreads soaked through with broth sat before Qin Geng.
These days, he needed a full pound and a half of meat in a single meal just to meet the demands of his training.
The thought weighed on him like a millstone.
He was anxious about money.
In just one month, his appetite had grown from a pound to a pound and a half.
His stomach had become a bottomless pit.
I need to earn more.
As Qin Geng wolfed down his food, he rapidly calculated the past month's income and expenses.
At the next table, Master Zhu Xin was chatting with a few men in the same line of work, spittle flying.
Qin Geng did not join them. His mind was on his accounts.
Thanks to the new rickshaw, this month's takings really have been good.
I've run until my calves cramped every day. After the sixty wen owed to the rickshaw yard, I've cleared at least fifty wen, sometimes seventy. Averaged out, that's a steady sixty a day.
Over thirty days, that's eighteen hundred wen—more than double what I made pulling that battered handcart last month.
Divine Stride and Endless Breath deserve some of the credit.
Qin Geng knew perfectly well that without his speed and stamina, he could never have earned that much.
Other men were exhausted after seven or eight fares. He could run fifteen without a change in expression.
Among Carriage Drivers, Qin Geng now counted as one of the very best.
But the cost of feeding myself has risen right along with my earnings.
His accounts did not bear close scrutiny.
Qin Geng earned plenty, but the money slipped away just as fast.
At first, a pound of braised offal a day had barely sufficed.
But after he had trained the Martial Artist profession in the Book of a Hundred Trades to level three, his body had become a furnace with its doors flung open. However much fuel he fed it, it burned through everything in an instant.
Especially after his Martial Artist level rose a few days ago, hunger seeping from the depths of his marrow had begun waking him in the middle of the night.
Now, without at least a pound and a half of braised offal at a meal, he lacked even the strength to practice his stance.
Food alone was costing him nearly a hundred and seventy wen a day.
Earn sixty, eat a hundred and seventy.
Qin Geng gave a rueful smile and drained the last of his broth.
Over the month, not one coin of the eighteen hundred wen he had worked so hard to earn had stayed in his pocket. He had eaten into his savings as well.
Of the six silver dollars he had once carried, nearly three had gone on food alone that month.
Repairs to his rickshaw, patched tires, a few books, and other odds and ends had cost another three hundred-odd wen.
When he tallied it all, he had saved nothing. Instead, he had spent more than another silver dollar from his savings.
Five dollars had come from Shopkeeper Lu, one from Lai Tou, and he had saved six hundred wen the previous month. After buying a watch, paper, brushes, and ink, he had been left with five silver dollars and a few hundred wen.
Now he had only four silver dollars and a small, jingling pouch of copper coins—some four hundred wen.
At this rate, I'll be out of money by the end of the month.
Qin Geng's brows drew into a knot.
And this was only the beginning.
If his Martial Artist level rose further, two meals a day would probably no longer be enough. He would have to add a third.
What was more, according to Xingyi Dragon and Tiger, he would soon need Bone-Strengthening Powder to nourish his blood and vitality.
That stuff was not priced in wen.
What if I haul cargo at the Grain Transport Gang's docks?
The idea surfaced in Qin Geng's mind.
Work as a Porter, carry heavy loads, get paid by the piece.
If I'm willing to work, I've got the strength of three men. The pay should be good.
And who knows? Maybe Porter will count as a new profession in the Book of a Hundred Trades. If it gives me two more talents, I'll have struck gold.
His thoughts began to race.
But I can't give up being a Carriage Driver.
That's my foundation. The better my professional talents, the stronger I'll become at martial arts.
Qin Geng made up his mind. He needed another way to earn money.
He focused inward and summoned the Book of a Hundred Trades in his mind.
A panel appeared in his consciousness, its lettering clear.
[System Name: Book of a Hundred Trades] [Core Principle: Everyone in this world has a trade; through diligence, a trade can be perfected to command even ghosts and gods] [Activated Profession 1: Carriage Driver (Level 19)] [Experience: 11/190] [Talents: Divine Stride (Level 2), Endless Breath (Level 1)] [Activated Profession 2: Martial Artist (Level 3)] [Experience: 12/30] [Talent Available at Level 5: Dragon Spine Through the Back (Level 1)] [Shelved Profession: Beggar (Level 1)]
Looking at the panel, Qin Geng felt more certain of his plans.
Carriage Driver was already level nineteen, with level twenty just ahead.
When he reached it, he would get another chance to improve a talent.
This time, he had decided to raise Endless Breath.
Greater stamina meant he could practice his stance longer and recover faster.
As for Martial Artist, a month of hard training through wind and rain had brought it to level three.
Each evening's stance practice now earned him at least two experience points, or three when he was in good form.
At this rate, level five and Dragon Spine Through the Back were not far away.
Qin Geng finished the last of the broth in a few gulps, wiped his mouth, and returned the empty bowl to the stall owner.
"You've taken up martial arts, haven't you, Xiao Wu?"
Master Zhu Xin, who had been silent until now, spoke with a smile over his teacup.
The other men at his table all turned to look.
Those know-it-alls spent their days at this stall drinking tea, playing chess, and chatting. They knew everything that went on in the neighborhood.
They had long noticed Qin Geng coming here without fail for braised offal every day, his appetite swelling like a balloon.
"Nothing gets past you, Master Zhu Xin."
Qin Geng smiled and did not deny it.
In Tianjin, hiding things sometimes made people more suspicious.
Admitting it openly made him look forthright.
"A good thing. A very good thing."
Master Zhu Xin did not ask whom he was learning from or what he was practicing. He merely sighed. "The world's getting more troubled by the day. Knowing a few fighting moves might save your life when it matters. That's the truth of it."
"What do you mean?"
Qin Geng's interest stirred. He remembered the two Grain Transport Gang men who had spoken of a Water Ghost's corpse transforming during a ride, and the scattered rumors of hauntings and demons he had heard from passengers over the past month. He took the chance to ask.
He pulled thirty wen from his money pouch and slapped it on the table.
"Boss, bring Master Zhu Xin's table a pot of good wine!"
"Coming right up!"
The stall owner answered loudly.
A glint of approval passed through Master Zhu Xin's cloudy eyes as he raised his teacup for a sip.
Qin Geng had shown him plenty of respect.
"Hahaha! You know how things are done, lad."
The warmed wine soon arrived. Master Zhu Xin filled his cup and spoke unhurriedly. "Lad, remember what I told you last time? Tianjin is the emperor's gateway, the Nine Rivers' Lower Reaches, where the Dragon Vein converges. Since ancient times, evil has never gained a foothold here. Tianjin, like Capital City, is pure ground. Any demon or ghost that comes here has to lie low."
"I remember."
Qin Geng nodded and sat on a nearby stool.
"The Dragon Vein does more than suppress evil."
Master Zhu Xin lowered his voice, his expression turning grave. "It symbolizes the nation's fortune. It's the root of our Great Xin Dynasty, and the foundation that lets people of every trade and station live securely. When the Dragon Vein thrives, the nation prospers and every trade flourishes. But if something happens to it..."
He stopped there, dipped a chopstick in wine, and drew a cross on the table.
"Those Westerners are as cunning as ghosts."
"They know foreign guns and cannons won't be enough to truly break into our Great Xin Dynasty. They have to strike at the root first—sever our Dragon Vein and extinguish the nation's fortune. Once people's hearts descend into chaos and the country can no longer hold together, they'll sweep in as though no one stands in their way."
"All these strange happenings in and outside the city lately are signs. My guess is that something terrible has already happened beneath the Tianjin River and in the Seven Mountains of Tianjin..."
Master Zhu Xin drained his cup and smacked his lips. "As for these old bones of mine, the earth's already up to my neck, so it hardly matters. But you young people have a hard road ahead."
"Come now, look at you. You're still hale and hearty!"
Qin Geng offered him a compliment.
"Hah! Don't try to sweet-talk me."
Master Zhu Xin waved a hand, though he was plainly pleased. "If I still couldn't see life and death for what they are, I'd have spent all these decades in Tianjin for nothing."
After a moment's thought, Qin Geng asked the question that mattered most to him. "Master Zhu Xin, then how does someone... sever a Dragon Vein?"
The atmosphere at the table froze.
Master Zhu Xin's smile faded. He narrowed his eyes and studied Qin Geng before smiling again. "Hahaha, lad, that question could cost you your head. How would a streetwise old fellow like me know a secret that concerns the fate of the realm?"
Qin Geng realized he was right.
Such knowledge was tantamount to treason.
If everyone knew how to sever the Dragon Vein and shake the nation's fortune, the Great Xin Dynasty would have been overturned long ago.
He asked no more and rose, cupping his fists.
"Thank you, Master Zhu Xin. I won't keep you from your wine. Please enjoy it."
"Off you go."
Qin Geng turned and disappeared into the deepening night.
Back at Xu Jin's Shanty, Qin Geng greeted a few older men he knew, then headed deep into the lanes to the abandoned threshing ground he had long since claimed as his personal training ground.
The night was still, broken only by autumn insects shrilling in the grass.
He took off his shirt, drew a deep breath of cold night air, and settled into the Three-Body Stance.
After a month, he knew the posture by heart and could hold it precisely.
As he practiced the Six Harmonies Breathing Method, the nourishment from the meat he had eaten that day swiftly turned into surging heat. It flowed through his limbs and bones, washing over and nourishing every inch of muscle, sinew, bone, and skin.
After two hours of hard training, sweat had soaked his trouser legs, and every muscle hovered on the edge of aching and trembling.
[Ding!] [Profession: Martial Artist (Level 3), Experience +2]
When Qin Geng finished, comfort spread through his whole body. Even the day's anxiety seemed to have left him with his sweat.
The month had passed without incident.
Nothing more seemed to have come of Boss Lin's decision to return his rickshaw.
After the people from Yi He Shantytown blocked the road with a huge stone, they had caused no further trouble.
Everything seemed almost too peaceful.
In the blink of an eye, the third day of the tenth month arrived.
Dawn had yet to break, and the hour of the Hare had not begun. All of Ping'an County Town was still sunk in deep sleep.
But Qin Geng had already pulled his rickshaw silently to the foot of Bell Mountain on the outskirts, outside Heaven-Reaching Gate.
This was the day he and Shopkeeper Lu had agreed upon.
The late-autumn woods were far colder than the town.
Gusts of chilling wind blew out of the trees and swept fallen leaves across the ground. Their rustling sounded like countless feet walking in the dark.
Qin Geng was even more nervous than on his first visit.
He tightened his grip on the rickshaw handles without thinking. His palms were slick with cold sweat.
He might be a level-three Martial Artist now, but the Zombie he had encountered last time could leap through the air and possessed Infinite Strength. Someone who had not even reached the threshold of Bright Force could never deal with it.
He had made up his mind: the instant he saw Shopkeeper Lu, he would pick him up, turn around, and run. He would not stay a moment longer.
The shadows of the trees swayed in the wind, baring claws and fangs.
The wind howled, now weeping, now murmuring. It poured into his ears and made his scalp prickle.
Just then, a faint stirring of leaves and grass came from the woods to the east.
A weak, familiar voice drifted to him on the wind.
"Xiao Wu, give me a hand."
It was Shopkeeper Lu's voice!
Qin Geng's spirits lifted, and he looked toward the sound.
Deep in the woods to the east, the sky was too dark to see clearly. All Qin Geng could make out was the faint outline of a swaying figure.
Qin Geng was about to pull the rickshaw over to help when something changed!
From the west, the exact opposite direction, came the rustle of swaying brush.
Then an identical voice rang out.
"Brother Xiao Wu, give me a hand."
Qin Geng froze. A chill shot from the soles of his feet to the crown of his head.
He whipped his head toward the west. There, too, stood a blurred human shape, moving almost exactly like the one in the east.
Both voices matched Shopkeeper Lu's pitch and tone to perfection. There was no telling which was real.
"Fuck!"
A chill raced up Qin Geng's spine to the top of his skull. His scalp prickled, and cold sweat instantly soaked through his shirt.
What the hell was this?
He clenched his fists, his mind in chaos. His first thought was to turn around and run.
To hell with those five silver dollars!
His life was worth more than money!
But just as he was about to turn the handlebars, a closer, more tangible voice came from the ground directly in front of him.
The man was covered in dirt, and one leg was twisted at an unnatural angle. It was clearly broken.
He struggled to raise his head, revealing a face smeared with blood.
It was Lu Xingmin!
"Brother Xiao Wu... give me a hand."
His voice was as faint as a drifting thread, nearly drowned out by the wind.
If Qin Geng hadn't been so close, he would never have heard him.
"I'm Lu Xingmin."
The moment Shopkeeper Lu finished speaking, the two uncanny voices in the woods to the east and west rang out again at the same time. Mimicking his tone, they repeated his words exactly:
"I'm Lu Xingmin..."
This time, Qin Geng saw a little more clearly.
The two figures were hopping forward!
He couldn't make out their faces, but that distinctive movement left no doubt. They were zombies!
Zombies...
They could imitate human speech now?!
Terror seized Qin Geng.
"Take me into town... to Hundred Herb Hall..."
Shopkeeper Lu used the last of his strength to point toward town.
"..."
For an instant, Qin Geng's mind went blank.
But in the next breath, his instinct to survive crushed every trace of fear.
He lunged forward, grabbed Shopkeeper Lu by the arm, and flung him into the back seat of the rickshaw like a sack.
"Hold on!"
With a roar, he gripped the handles and threw the strength of his back and waist into pulling.
Whoosh!
The rickshaw shot off like an arrow loosed from a bow.
Qin Geng ran faster than he ever had in his life. His legs spun like Wind-Fire Wheels, and only one thought filled his head—run!
He didn't dare look back or slow down. He barely dared draw a full breath. His eyes locked on the small patch of road ahead as he ran madly on.
The wind howled past his ears, and the scenery on either side flew backward.
From Heaven-Reaching Gate to the point where the outline of Ping'an County Town came into view normally took at least two hours on foot.
This time, he made it in just forty-five minutes.
Once inside town, he still didn't slow down. He tore through the empty streets toward Hundred Herb Hall, the largest pharmacy in Jinmen City.
Only when the signboard bearing the three gilded characters for "Hundred Herb Hall" appeared before him did Qin Geng come to a steady stop.
Dawn had barely broken. There wasn't a soul on the street, and Hundred Herb Hall's doors were still shut tight, without so much as a crack between the boards.
"Huff... huff..."
Qin Geng leaned on the rickshaw handles and gulped down air. His chest burned.
"He isn't dead, is he?"
Only after catching his breath for a while did he remember the man in the rickshaw. He slowly turned and looked into the seat.
One glance nearly frightened the soul out of his body.
There was no Shopkeeper Lu in the seat!
In his place sat a paper effigy!
A lifelike paper effigy dressed in burial clothes!
Its face was paper-white, but two jarring patches of rouge had been dabbed onto its cheeks in cinnabar. Its mouth stretched into a grotesque smile, and its lifeless, ink-dotted eyes stared straight at him.
Garish and sinister.
A buzz filled Qin Geng's head, and his mind went blank.
Back at the foot of the mountain, there had been three voices.
One had been right beside him. Two had been far away in the woods.
Had he been pulling this damned thing all along?
A chill spread across Qin Geng's back. A wave of dread and revulsion surged through him.
"Aah—!"
In that instant, utter terror turned into savage violence.
After a month of martial arts training, Qin Geng was no longer the carriage driver who could only hide when trouble came.
He was a Martial Artist who trained day and night and swallowed Blood Fare raw!
The blood and vitality within him erupted.
His Three-Body Stance came as naturally as breathing. He stepped wide, brought his waist and legs into one, and sent a shudder down the great dragon of his spine. Every ounce of strength gathered in his right fist.
"Fuck your mother!"
Boom!
Qin Geng swung his fist and smashed it toward the eerie paper effigy!
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