The Ascension Pill Was Finally Refined

"Great-Grandma, sit tight. We're going home."

Qin Zhong carefully lifted the old woman into the Rickshaw seat.

His large hands, calloused from years of pulling the rickshaw and strong enough to crush walnuts, were as gentle as if they held a fragile porcelain figurine.

He carefully lowered the canopy curtain to block the harsh midday sun, then spread the blue-flowered cloth over the old woman's thin legs.

"Zhong, don't run too fast. There's no hurry." The old woman leaned against the cushion, her cloudy eyes fixed on her only great-grandson, her face full of affection.

"Don't you worry. It'll be as steady as riding in a sedan chair."

Qin Zhong grinned, took hold of the shafts, and waved back at Li Xiang. "I'll take Great-Grandma home first. See you at boxing practice this afternoon."

"Go on. Be careful out there."

Li Xiang stood on the stone steps outside the martial hall and watched the two of them go.

In the sunlight, Qin Zhong's ox-strong figure ran with the Rickshaw, brimming with life and strength. The old woman inside had shrunk into a tiny bundle that looked as though the wind might scatter her at any moment.

"A grandson too tough for death, an ancestor said to doom her kin... For those two to have survived together this long is a wonder in these chaotic times."

Li Xiang shook his head and looked away.

He did not hurry back inside. Instead, he straightened his long gown, felt the silver dollars in his pocket, and prepared to visit the antique street Qin Zhong had mentioned.

He had just stepped off the stairs when he paused.

Across from Shocking Heron Martial Hall stood a dilapidated house that had been abandoned for years. Rain had washed the seals on its doors nearly white.

Today, though, the place was bustling.

"One, two, lift!"

A dozen or so masons worked on scaffolding, repairing the outer walls. Handcarts piled with red bricks and cement rolled in and out, kicking up dust.

"This isn't the Great Xin Dynasty's style of renovation..."

In this era, anyone who could afford Western iron gates and walls painted white from top to bottom had a formidable background.

And the location was well chosen: directly opposite Shocking Heron Martial Hall, the talk of the entire city. It looked rather like a challenge.

"Riverside County is getting livelier by the day."

Li Xiang did not linger. He turned toward the street corner.

"Papers! Papers! Fresh-off-the-press Beiyang Daily!"

"Extra! Extra! The Great Xin Dynasty's first 'heart replacement' surgery succeeds!"

A newsboy in suspenders and a flat cap waved a newspaper as he threaded through the crowd, his clear voice carrying far.

"Heart replacement?" Li Xiang's interest stirred.

"Kid, one copy."

Li Xiang beckoned him over and handed him a copper coin.

"Here you go, sir!" The quick-witted boy pulled out a paper and handed it to Li Xiang, then darted off like a gust of wind.

Li Xiang stood by the roadside and hailed a Rickshaw.

"To the antique street."

"Right away, sir!"

The driver was an honest-looking middle-aged man. He lowered the shafts and set off smoothly.

As the wheels rolled on, Li Xiang leaned back and opened the newspaper, which smelled of fresh ink.

The front-page headline was not about warlords fighting, but accompanied a huge black-and-white photograph.

The photograph showed a Western woman in a spotless white coat.

Her long hair fell in waves, and even in black and white, the cold pride in her eyes was plain to see.

Beside the photograph ran a bold headline.

[Miracle of Human Medicine: Great Xin Dynasty's First Heart Transplant a Complete Success!]

The article was written to stir its readers.

"This is a triumph of science, a milestone in the history of medicine in the Great Xin Dynasty. With hands kissed by God, Dr. Sophia transplanted a strong, living heart into a woman born with a heart condition..."

"This achievement marks the Great Xin Dynasty's official entry into a new age of science!"

"Sophia..." Li Xiang tapped his fingers lightly against his knee.

For some reason, he thought of the coffin Wang Shuo had risked his life to transport, and the Female Jiangshi inside whom they called the Eighteenth Concubine.

The timing matched.

So did the place.

They dug out that Female Jiangshi's heart?!

Li Xiang made the guess silently.

This was less medicine than bodily modification.

The Western [Doctor] Profession followed a simple approach: if a body part failed, replace it.

Li Xiang read on.

The lower half of the page carried a report on the situation in the north and south.

[Peace Talks Collapse: Southern New Government Delegates Storm Out, Condemn Beiyang Warlords as "Tyrants and Traitors"!]

The report was brief, but every line reeked of gunpowder.

"Just as expected."

Li Xiang glanced at it and moved on.

The idealists in the south wanted a presidential system and new learning. The warlords in the north held the guns and had feudal emperors on their minds. How could they possibly reach an agreement?

If they did, the chaos would end. Where would that leave room for all those ambitious men?

Li Xiang kept reading, skipping the political stories that meant nothing to him. At last, his gaze stopped on a report in the bottom right corner.

Its type was smaller than the front-page headline, but the blood-red title was shocking.

[Horrific Tragedy: Blackwater Passenger Ship Angers Dragon King, Sinks on Return Voyage; Hundreds of Souls Buried in Fishes' Bellies!]

The report was short, but a sinister chill seeped through every word.

"According to this paper, three nights ago, the famed passenger ship Blackwater, which sailed between Linjiang County and Blackwater Ancient Town, encountered a strange storm unseen in a century during its return voyage."

"Witnesses said black mist covered the river and the faint cry of a dragon could be heard. The ship was suspected of angering the Blackwater River Dragon King as he went to fetch his bride."

"The entire ship capsized and sank in the time it takes one stick of incense to burn. More than three hundred passengers and dozens of sailors are missing, with little hope of survival."

"The sole survivor was the Blackwater's old captain, who miraculously survived the raging waves in a lifeboat. When fishermen downstream rescued him, he was dazed and kept muttering deliriously about 'offerings' and 'offending the Dragon King'..."

"Hah..."

Li Xiang let out a long breath and felt a chill run down his back.

Angering the Dragon King? A dazed expression?

The old captain had plainly completed the final ritual to advance the [Ferryman] Profession to Grandmaster rank—the death sacrifice.

Lin Xuanshu's words had come true.

"That old bastard really did sacrifice a whole ship full of people."

Li Xiang closed his eyes. He saw the old captain at the docks that day, watching corpse after corpse carried off the ship, a satisfied, greedy smile on his face.

He had looked like a demon counting his harvest.

The sinking on the return voyage had merely been the final kick he needed to break through his bottleneck.

To him, those three hundred lives were nothing more than stepping-stones to the pinnacle of power.

"Only the captain survived..." Li Xiang crumpled the newspaper into a ball. "That wasn't survival. He refined his advancement pill."

This world was more absurd than he had imagined.

"Sir, we're at the antique street."

The driver's call broke Li Xiang's train of thought.

"Mm."

Li Xiang folded the newspaper, tucked it away, got out, and paid the fare.

Riverside County's antique street lay in an old lane in the south of the city.

Most storefronts on either side were weathered and bore all sorts of signs. Some sold calligraphy and paintings, others jade. Still others simply spread a cloth on the ground and piled it with junk dug from who knew what hole.

All sorts mingled here.

Genuine wares and fakes sat side by side. Telling them apart came down to one's eye.

Li Xiang passed the roadside stalls without stopping and followed Qin Zhong's directions to the end of the street.

A two-story wooden building came into view.

It had stood there for years, with black tiles and red pillars. Above the door hung a plaque with gold characters on a black background: Ink Fragrance Studio.

Before he even entered, Li Xiang's nose twitched.

A familiar smell.

It was neither ink nor paper.

It was corpse qi, a blend of old, rotting earth and the scent peculiar to a dried corpse.

It was not the bloody smell of someone newly dead. It was the stench of something buried for centuries, even a thousand years, fermented by time and mingled with soil, preserving mercury, and the rot of coffin wood.

Ordinary people could not detect it. At most, they would think the place smelled musty.

But to Li Xiang, who dealt with corpses every day, the smell stood out like a lighthouse in the dark.

"That's a strong smell of grave dirt."

Li Xiang glanced at the bronze vessels and porcelain vases displayed in the shops on either side of Ink Fragrance Studio and sighed inwardly.

Eight out of ten of these so-called antiques still carried the earthy smell of a fresh excavation. Tomb raiders had plainly just snatched them from the hands of the dead.

In an age when rites had crumbled and music had fallen silent, the possessions of the dead had become treasures the living fought over.

Looks like grave robbers do better business than anyone in these chaotic times.

They've barely dug these things out of the ground, and the corpse qi hasn't even faded. Yet they dare sell them in plain sight. Aren't they afraid of attracting something unclean?

He straightened his long gown and stepped inside.

The shop was dim, lit only by an oil lamp at the counter.

A young clerk in a short blue cloth jacket was dozing over the counter. At the sound of footsteps, he jolted awake, wiped drool from his mouth, and looked Li Xiang over. Seeing that he was respectably dressed, he put on a smile.

"Ah, welcome, sir! Take your time looking around. Everything at Ink Fragrance Studio is genuine. If anything catches your eye—"

"I'm looking for brushes and ink."

Li Xiang cut off the sales pitch. His gaze did not linger on the so-called antiques; he looked straight at the clerk.

"The finest wolf-hair brush, aged cinnabar, and..." Li Xiang lowered his voice. "The kind of yellow paper used to draw talismans."

He did not need them for the [Painter] Profession, but to perform the ritual that would unlock [Paper Effigy Maker].

By his calculations, the ninth day of next month would be a yin day in a yin month of a yin year.

For now, besides [Boxer], he needed to focus on unlocking and advancing [Painter].

"That's a rather unusual request, sir." The clerk was unsure what to make of it and was about to ask more.

"Jingui, mind your manners."

A slightly hoarse voice came from the staircase.

A middle-aged man in a traditional jacket descended slowly.

He was thin, with sunken eyes. Though those eyes were small, they gleamed with shrewdness.

More importantly, he had tried to cover the smell of grave dirt clinging to him with strong agarwood incense. It still could not fool Li Xiang's nose.

This shopkeeper went down into tombs often.