Chapter 7

Han Li slowly drew the energy flowing through his meridians back into his dantian—it was the seventh major circulation he had completed today. He knew his body had reached its limit; if he attempted another major circulation, his meridians would almost certainly rupture again, and he would once more endure that agony worse than death. Just thinking of the pain as his meridians slowly tore apart, even a bold man like him felt a chill sweat break out along his spine.

It had been over half a year since Han Li entered the sect, and the formal entrance examination for registered disciples had ended more than two months ago.

Only a small fraction of the registered disciples passed and were admitted into the inner sect; most failed the test and had to pack their bags and leave the mountain to become outer sect disciples.

These failed boys were typically assigned to the Treasure Gathering Hall or the Flying Bird Hall. The more outstanding among them might receive further training and possibly be recruited into the better-paid Outer Blade Hall. Yet the best treatment in the outer sect was the Four Seas Hall—unfortunately, it accepted only renowned martial artists, and without at least a couple of impressive skills, there was no chance at all, let alone for these “milk-stinking” boys.

Just recalling what the other registered disciples had endured during their examination two months ago, Han Li still felt a shiver run down his spine.

They had to run a full circuit around the colorful cloud-covered mountains spanning over ten li, then pair up and fight each other in a sparsely populated forest, and finally withstand a set number of attacks from the fierce assaults of their martially skilled senior brothers. All these tests made Han Li secretly feel a touch of schadenfreude.

Han Li and Zhang Tie had not participated in those terrifying tests. As Master Mo himself had said, they were merely assessed on their progress with the secret oral formula. But this test was far from as easy as Han Li had imagined. Even now, he remembered every detail of that cultivation session.

According to Master Mo, this unnamed oral formula consisted of several layers. Han Li and Zhang Tie had received only the first layer’s cultivation method—meaning that if they could achieve progress in the first layer within half a year, Master Mo would deem them qualified and admit them as his formal disciples, granting them the same benefits as other inner sect disciples of the Seven Mysteries Sect.

Ever since Han Li learned from others about the vast difference in treatment between inner and outer sect disciples, he had completely abandoned his earlier thought of barely getting through the half-year period and becoming an outer sect disciple so he could return home. To him at that time, nothing mattered more than receiving more silver from the Seven Mysteries Sect to send back home, for he had suffered too much poverty at home—he knew every additional silver tael meant his parents and siblings’ lives improved just a little more.

After receiving the oral formula from Master Mo, Han Li stopped leaving his room and began cultivating day and night, devoting every spare moment to it. Since Master Mo gave them no guidance whatsoever, Han Li had to explore on his own, observing how other boys practiced the Seven Mysteries Sect’s basic internal skill, “Zhengyang Jin,” and trying to deduce his own method.

Following this method, after three months of grueling cultivation, Han Li was stunned: his progress with this formula was terrifyingly slow. Despite immense effort, he could produce only a faint, cool stream of energy within his body—so subtle and elusive that unless he performed deep inner observation, he could not even detect it.

This must be what the instructors called internal true qi, Han Li naturally assumed.

But other boys practicing the Seven Mysteries Sect’s “Zhengyang Jin” said their true qi was a distinct, warm flow. His own energy, by contrast, was cold—and the difference in effects between the two was even greater.

Other boys, after activating their “Zhengyang Jin,” could shatter saplings as thick as a bowl with a single punch and leap over ten feet high. But after activating his strange energy, Han Li felt almost no change at all. The only difference was that his spirit seemed more vigorous than before, and his appetite had improved greatly since coming up the mountain—but what good did that do? Watching his fellow boys who had arrived with him display their martial prowess before his eyes, Han Li sank into despair.

This unexpected discovery nearly made Han Li abandon all his months of effort. He believed his talent was too poor to pass Master Mo’s test in the remaining time, and he even prepared himself to leave the mountain.

One day by chance, Han Li learned from Zhang Tie, his cultivation partner, that Zhang Tie had experienced absolutely no change since beginning the formula—no true qi, no effect whatsoever, not even the faintest trace like Han Li had.

This accidental discovery restored some of Han Li’s lost confidence, and in the remaining days, he resumed his previous arduous cultivation.

No—he pushed himself harder, more desperately than ever before.

Han Li now devoted every minute to seated meditation and cultivation. Even while sleeping at night, he maintained his cultivation posture, hoping to gain even a little more progress. Of course, this insane practice lasted only a few days before he abandoned it—he could not maintain his daytime cultivation efficiency due to sleep deprivation.

What puzzled Han Li was that since teaching them the formula, Master Mo had ignored them completely, never asking about their progress or addressing any cultivation problems—as if he had entirely forgotten their existence.

Every day, Master Mo spent his entire time poring over a book with a black-covered spine bearing three characters, as if the book contained beautiful women and golden houses within its pages. At first, Han Li and Zhang Tie even thought Master Mo had given up being a healer and was studying hard to become a licentiate. Later, after learning to read, they recognized the three characters as “Changsheng Jing”—a book on how to cultivate one’s nature and prolong life.

Only then did they realize: Master Mo was not aiming to become a licentiate—he wanted to live as long as the turtles in the river, to survive for thousands upon thousands of years.

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