Days passed quickly. In the blink of an eye, half a month had gone by.
In the old house on Tanlong Alley, Master Xin's stifled cough was gone, replaced by the dull thuds and rushes of air from martial practice.
Qin Geng had made up his mind: this place would be his den from now on, his roots in Tianjin.
Every day before dawn, Qin Geng rose and went through a Xingyi routine until steam rose from his whole body.
In the morning, he went to the Ye Residence to chop firewood, eat meat, and get thrown around. In the afternoon, he plunged into the bone-chilling Xun River and wrestled with its swift current.
The days seemed monotonous, but this was the proper path of cultivation.
The first day of the second month.
Qin Geng returned from Origin Mountain.
He had made three trips there in the past half month.
That place truly was strange.
Lu Xingmin had been right: the paths through the mountain were alive.
The first time, he had entered by the old path overgrown with wild jujube bushes.
The second time, a heap of rocks had blocked it. He had needed Old Horse Knows the Way and the soles of his feet sensing the Earth Veins to circle two ridges before finding the place.
Today had been his third visit.
Qin Geng added earth to Master Xin's grave, burned paper offerings, and stood there for a long while.
All around him, the only sound was wind rustling through the pines. He did not see so much as a wild rabbit.
The grave mound was intact. No one had touched it, and there was not even a ghostly shadow in sight.
Only after confirming that did Qin Geng feel at ease.
Back in town, he passed a