Chapter 88: The Blood River Cart

Tap!

Chu Tianshu caught the knife, didn’t bother with politeness, drew it fully, and examined it closely.

The blade’s back was straight; the tip formed a sharp angle, and the edge had a slight inward curve.

The entire blade glowed with a dull silver hue, marked by numerous scratches, yet still radiated solidity and razor-sharpness.

The guard was brass, gleaming brightly; the wrapped cord on the hilt was aged, turned a deep red-black, fused so tightly with the wooden hilt they seemed one.

Chu Tianshu swung it lightly sideways—it felt perfect.

The center of gravity was just right; when swung, all force flowed perfectly to the edge without the tip feeling too heavy or hindering agility.

A Tang blade forged by a thousand hammerings, it carried in hand the cruel, murderous aura of a weapon meant to pierce armor.

The Three Seven Divine Sword was a magical artifact; in pure feel, it simply couldn’t match the raw, martial brutality of this blade.

But the most important thing about this knife was its spirit.

Chu Tianshu activated his Spirit Sight and studied it closely.

The blade spirit had no defined shape—it flowed from hilt to tip like a stream of blood, like a somber autumn mood.

But when it reached the tip and suddenly reversed back toward the hilt,

it became like a sudden chill wind piercing through a window in the dead of night.

In melancholy, it pulsed with vitality; in coldness, it seemed utterly heartless.

“This is the blade spirit…”

Chu Tianshu pondered.

The spirit’s nature mirrored its master, Blind Cheng, very closely.

But humans are complex—even with a unique aura, they don’t grow horns that everyone can see at all times.

Extraordinary people, most of the time, seem ordinary in daily life.

The blade spirit was different.

Though born from a person, it was purer than any human.

Like extracting the most exceptional traits of Blind Cheng’s character, isolating them, and leaving them bare.

Thus, to anyone who could perceive the blade spirit, from any angle, at any moment, it remained strikingly distinct.

Yet precisely because of this purity, the blade spirit could not sustain itself—it relied entirely on its master’s cultivation.

If the master died, the blade spirit became a tree without roots, and would not last long.

“If the relationship between blade spirit and master is like this,”

Chu Tianshu said, “then the blade spirit doesn’t necessarily vanish immediately after the master’s death…”

Blind Cheng said: “Correct. On a battlefield, if multiple soldier spirits compete, and the bloodlust and battle intent are strong enough,”

“Even if their masters are dead, some half-dissolved soldier spirits may absorb the essence of other spirits and battlefield blood, survive in a twisted form, and become a demonic weapon.”

“Daoists and monks call such demonic weapons Wild Soldier Spirits.”

“Wild Soldier Spirits choose someone, exerting an unnatural attraction, turning them into puppets to kill and draw blood for them.”

Blind Cheng took a sip of wine.

“These puppets have a name too—Knife Ghosts. I’ve encountered many. Some could even wield the original master’s sword techniques.”

Chu Tianshu hummed.

So there were soldier spirits that survived this way.

But that wasn’t what he meant to say.

He meant: if, right after the master’s death, the soldier spirit encountered someone whose temperament, aura, and physical strength matched the original by ninety percent,

and if that second person performed the same Blood Refining Art, perhaps the spirit could bond with them and endure.

But the probability was extremely low.

“You seem different today. I’ll just say it outright.”

Chu Tianshu sheathed the knife and returned it to Blind Cheng. “I want to learn your Blood Refining Art. I’ll pay in gold, or exchange it for a superior method of strengthening qi and strength.”

Blind Cheng took the knife, frowning. “Why do you want this? Your Fangshu practitioners lack pure essence—you can’t cultivate a soldier spirit at all… Wait!”

He paused suddenly.

“Back at the temple, I thought you used Fangshu, so I assumed you were just a Fangshu practitioner.”

“But now I think—could you be one of the rare few who can cultivate both Fangshu and martial arts?”

Chu Tianshu smiled. “Yes.”

Blind Cheng clicked his tongue. “So that’s why? My Blood Refining Art was taught by the Tang Army to its elite. It’s called a secret technique, but many have learned it.”

“When the Six Zhao merged, the Southern Zhao army learned this method too. With your skill and medical knowledge, just walk into any city, become a guest of some Southern Zhao official, and you’ll get it easily.”

Chu Tianshu shifted into a relaxed posture, holding his cup, sipping slowly.

“I’m too lazy to go.”

He said, “You’re right here. Why go far when you’re nearby?”

Blind Cheng coldly replied: “My price is high. If you insist on buying from me, ten taels of gold.”

Chu Tianshu gasped. “That’ll take me ages to save up. Can I pay on credit?”

Blind Cheng rolled his eyes and downed two more bottles of wine.

Drinking that much at once made Chu Tianshu wince in sympathy.

“Then I’ll recite it.”

After finishing the two bottles, Blind Cheng closed his eyes. “Listen first. How much you absorb is up to you.”

Chu Tianshu sat upright, focused.

The hall was nearly empty; Blind Cheng didn’t move.

His voice was low, but his enunciation was clear, not rushed.

This cultivation method for nurturing soldier spirits is called The Blood River Cart.

River Cart is a Daoist term.

The Han-era Zhouyi Cantongqi says: “The master of the five metals, the northern River Cart.”

Since the Wei and Jin dynasties, Daoist masters have written many commentaries, each developing unique theories, yet one consensus remains.

The River Cart refers to the circulation of one’s qi and blood. Blood has true blood, ordinary blood, and mixed blood.

Mixed blood flows still as a stream; ordinary blood surges like a river.

True blood is the purest and finest. When one first circulates qi and blood, one must make true blood move like a cart along a river—circulating, carving channels, reinforcing the riverbed.

Until mixed and ordinary blood transform into true blood, the body gradually transcends the mundane.

Operating the River Cart has three gates: First, the Tailbone Gate, at the end of the spine.

Second, the Spinal Gate, located at the lower back, including part of the thoracic vertebrae.

Third, the Jade Pillow Gate, behind the head, just below the acupuncture point known as Jade Pillow.

The entry standard for martial artists learning Blood Refining Art is to first strengthen strength and bodily coordination, and feel the presence of the Tailbone Gate.

The Blood River Cart includes the Sheep Cart, Deer Cart, and Ox Cart—three stages corresponding to cleansing the three gates.

First stage: Use intention and breath lightly and meticulously, like a sheep pulling a cart—small, fine, gentle, steady steps, paired with kidney massage to fill the body with vigor.

Second stage: Be as agile as a deer—long strides, swift running, paired with visualization and breath. Let the lungs and heart flow freely; the breath should sound like a deer’s mournful cry—soft yet carrying far.

Third stage: Like a green ox pulling a cart—fierce yet grounded. The green ox bore the Sage out of the Hangu Pass; on its horns hung the five thousand characters recorded by Guan Yinzi, spoken by the Sage.

This stage is no longer just about physical strength—it demands depth of character and life experience.

The blood-collection rituals for each stage also differ.

In the Sheep Cart stage, blood is drawn with small pricks on the waist and legs.

In the Deer Cart stage, blood is drawn alternately from the tips of the ten fingers.

In the Ox Cart stage, blood is drawn from the neck, earlobes, forehead, or third eye.

In truth, if one cultivates the Sheep Cart stage for several years, one may cultivate a soldier spirit.

Those who reach the Deer Cart stage already have clear mutual resonance with their spirit; during rituals, the timing of blood collection, the patterns applied, visualization, and breath need not strictly follow fixed forms.

Simply follow the spirit’s feedback—this is the most suitable method for one’s own spirit.

As for those who reach the Ox Cart stage—or beyond—

Their weapon outside radiates terrifying might, like the master of the five metals.

Their inner vitality flows vast and enduring, like the ruler of the north.

Then they truly reach the transcendent state described in the Zhouyi Cantongqi.

Chu Tianshu listened as Blind Cheng traced patterns on the table with his finger dipped in wine.

The complexity of The Blood River Cart far surpassed The Golden Toad Taiji Fist.

Especially the visualization patterns—there were nearly as many as in the Ghost Gate Witch Doctor’s Annotations.

But mental power opens outward; martial artists open inward.

The purpose of The Blood River Cart’s patterns seemed mainly to guide the body’s qi and blood.

Yet beyond qi circulation and visualization,

this secret art contained many ritual steps.

Chu Tianshu didn’t fully understand this part, but it took up a large portion.

Fortunately, at his stage of dual cultivation of life and spirit, his energy was immense, and his vision, hearing, and memory had naturally strengthened.

Like in school, some students competed to memorize quickly.

They could recite a passage after reading it once or twice—but might forget it by the next day.

But Chu Tianshu’s current recall could, for at least three or four days, reproduce every word and every diagram of Blind Cheng’s lengthy description without error.

With that much time, it was more than enough for him to commit what he remembered to paper.

“That’s all there is to the Blood River Cart technique.”

After speaking, Blind Cheng drank another bottle of wine to quench his thirst.

Chu Tianshu closed his eyes and reviewed it once more, then summoned the token’s screen.

In the cultivation technique materials section, the “Blood River Cart” indeed appeared.

It really could be called Wu Gong!

Chu Tianshu felt joy in his heart, picked up the wine bottle, and prepared to pour Blind Cheng another cup.

Blind Cheng suddenly rose, gripping his knife like a cane, tapping it lightly on the ground as he walked toward the guest room.

Madame Wenjing stepped out from behind, now wearing a blue cotton jacket with white floral embroidery.

She smiled warmly, but saw Blind Cheng trudging straight ahead without looking up, and asked, “Why did you finish eating so early today?”

“I drank too fast today.”

Blind Cheng paused briefly. “Madame Wenjing, your cooking is excellent, but your winemaking is truly poor. If you want your business to thrive, you’d better hire a proper winemaker.”

Madame Wenjing’s face darkened. “You blind bastard, go sleep off your drunkenness!”

Blind Cheng shook his head, a faint smile on his lips, and continued walking.

Madame Wenjing stormed over to face Chu Tianshu, her cheeks flushed with anger, her almond eyes and peachy cheeks more naturally beautiful than any makeup.

“Master Chu, have I ever offended him? I even changed into this outfit Teyi …”

She sat down angrily, then suddenly realized and mocked herself: “I really did this for the blind man!”

Chu Tianshu poured half a cup of wine and sipped slowly. “You didn’t offend him—it seems I did.”

Madame Wenjing frowned. “Huh?”

“He was already off today. After drinking with me, his mood worsened—but after talking with you, it improved a little.”

Chu Tianshu smiled. “In short, he wasn’t trying to annoy you. Just let it go.”

Madame Wenjing felt a little embarrassed, picked up the cup to cover her discomfort, then remembered it was Blind Cheng’s cup, and hastily stood up. “I still have things to attend to in the kitchen—excuse me.”

Chu Tianshu’s face was full of amusement.

The landlady was over twenty, ran a tavern, and usually carried herself with poise and ease.

Yet why, when it came to the blind man, did she act like a girl newly awakened to love?

How delightful.

Chu Tianshu ate his dinner slowly, then asked for paper and brush and retired to his room.

Night deepened; he did not light a lamp, sitting by the paper window, writing by moonlight.

The shadow of the curtain fell upon him, his expression as still as an ancient well, moonlight frosting the edges of his robes.

Only his hand holding the brush moved, as if nothing else in the world mattered except the words flowing from his pen.

Yet when the first watch ended and the night watchman’s drum faded into the distance,

Chu Tianshu’s ears twitched slightly, his expression confirming what he had expected.

He set down his brush, blew on the ink to dry it, neatly arranged the papers, and placed them under his pillow.

When he finished, the paper window suddenly lifted—he flashed out the window, caught the edge with his right hand, and slowly closed it.

The next instant, Chu Tianshu’s toes touched the outer wall of the tavern, gazing into the distance.

Twenty zhang away, Blind Cheng moved through the narrow alleys like a wildcat.

He exploited every shadow cast by eaves and corners with near-perfect precision.

He seemed to vanish from one spot and reappear in another without warning.

(End of Chapter)