Chapter 337

Silver scales rippled on the Black Water River; the russet military banners flapped listlessly in the soft breeze.

Qiu Gong Di encampment.

The flood had receded; the craftsmen no longer rushed as they had in recent days, and under the sunlight, a harmonious relaxation settled over them.

The sound of hooves approached.

The bare-chested martial artist set down the stone slab and turned toward the north.

The silhouette of a galloping horse was cast upon the ground, black and white interwoven, making it hard to tell whether it was a white or black steed.

Water sprayed from iron hooves as the horse leapt through the fence; Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi, clad in blue official robes, reined in, dismounted, and handed the reins to a groom to lead the horse into the stable.

"Master Magistrate Jian!"

"Master Magistrate Jian, may you be well."

"Master Magistrate Jian, you've worked hard."

The officials on the road bowed respectfully in greeting.

After Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi entered the tent, the crowd naturally gathered in small groups.

"Master Magistrate Jian truly embodies righteousness—he donated eight thousand taels of silver, and every day he leaves before dawn to help settle refugees, distribute porridge, and returns only when night falls. He is truly a model for us all."

The cook, puzzled, asked: "Isn't Master Magistrate Jian the County Magistrate of Pingyang? Why has he come here to Huazhu County to suffer?"

"What do you know? Pingyang County will soon become Pingyang Prefecture—it's inevitable. Will Huaiyin Prefecture ignore Huazhu County's great flood? Same logic!"

"In my view, Master Magistrate Jian acts without self-interest, driven by great righteousness. How could he remain unmoved in the face of such disaster?"

The groom returned from the stable and, hearing their discussion, chimed in: "Hey, have you noticed? Before, Master Magistrate Jian always replied to greetings, but today his brow is furrowed, his mind heavy—could he be in low spirits?"

"Really?"

"Come to think of it, yes—he came back before dusk today…"

"He must have run into trouble. I hope Master Magistrate Jian can get through it."

Inside the tent.

Sunlight filtered through the oiled cloth, casting a hazy golden glow.

Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi sat behind the desk, loosened his collar, and pulled from his chest a transparent jade bowl inlaid with gold.

Inside the magic bowl, black mist coiled and tangled, radiating a pure, crystalline evil.

Yet no matter how Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi urged the bowl, the black vapor remained misty, showing not the slightest sign of condensing into a thread.

"Has substance but no quantity… how could this be?"

According to plan, this trip to Huazhu County should have gathered at least one or even two threads of 'Calamity Qi.'

Yet now the flood had receded, and despite exhaustive searches, progress had barely reached three-quarters—hardly a single thread.

Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi's brow knotted into the shape of a " Ji."

Those who eat meat are brave and fierce; those who eat grains are wise and clever; those who eat qi are divine and long-lived.

The Magistrate Jian family has three Masters; Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi knew better than anyone how to walk the path toward Mastery.

To become a Master, beyond the painstaking cultivation to open the Mystic Light and refine a hundred scriptures, the hardest and most crucial step lies in "eating qi."

Only with the support of heaven's and earth's long qi can one manifest ultimate arts, evolve Master-level abilities, and take a solid step toward a lifespan of three hundred years.

Yet eating qi has five difficulties.

First, it is hard to find.

Qi exists in all things under heaven—mountains, rivers, lakes—but its energy is too faint, shallow, and invisible to extract or refine. Only under special circumstances, pivotal moments, or specific times can it be found.

Second, it is hard to collect.

Qi is ethereal; ordinary people cannot catch it, cannot even see or touch it. Only with specific containers can it be gathered and stored.

Third, it is hard to consume.

Obtaining qi does not mean a martial artist can absorb or swallow it. Different types of qi require different "mediums" to guide them; otherwise, the body cannot make contact.

If contact is impossible, how can one "eat qi"?

Fourth, it is hard to harmonize.

Qi has affinity with the human body; evil qi resists righteous qi, and righteous qi resists evil qi. If the affinities clash, the consequences are unpredictable.

Fifth, it is hard to balance.

Qi varies in quality; the higher the quality, the greater the power of the Master's abilities.

If one uses low-grade qi to cultivate into Mastery, the hardships ahead are nearly certain.

These five difficulties of eating qi have stymied countless heroes, leaving them dead before reaching a hundred years.

The imperial court's Xuanhuang Qi is hailed as the most balanced and harmonious qi in the world, nearly free of affinity issues, and comes with a complete collection process, often granted as reward to meritorious officials.

Hence, most Masters come from the imperial court.

Unfortunately, Xuanhuang Qi is only mid-grade qi.

Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi knew his own talent was limited; compared to ordinary people, he was exceptional—the Magistrate Jian family's prodigy.

But compared to a Wu Sheng, the gap was like a chasm.

Without obtaining high-grade qi to enter Mastery from a high starting point, Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi's future path was already visible—he would end up like the three ancestral Elders.

The strange, evil, and mysterious treasures hidden in the Great Snow Mountains opened for Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi an alternative path to transcendence.

But that evil monk overestimated himself.

Using does not mean believing.

Iron folded ten thousand times need not be weaker than fine gold.

A Grand Martialist's skull, forged through countless hammerings, need not be inferior to innate martial bones, let alone one steeped in Buddhist teachings for so long, possessing subtle mysteries beyond the mundane.

It's unlikely to be the bowl's fault.

Could it be that I arrived too late? Or that my governance was too effective?

Magistrate Jian Magistrate Jian Zhongyi stared into the bowl's "Calamity Qi," lost in deep thought.

Liang Qu was carefully exploring the "Withered Tree Blooms Again" within the Ze Ding, attempting to learn more through it.

Faint light scattered.

Information flooded into Liang Qu's mind one after another; his gaze grew brighter.

Extends life by sixty years, regardless of realm—whether Wu Sheng or Master, all gain sixty years.

This is a blessing bestowed by heaven.

Resurrection is real, but not without conditions.

First, time of death: if more than twelve hours have passed, revival depends on the body's vital energy and will to live.

If death is too prolonged, vital energy completely extinguished, or no will to live remains, "Withered Tree Blooms Again" cannot help.

Second, state of death: the body must not be reduced to powder—something too fragmented to reassemble is useless.

Amazing!

Liang Qu cast aside all thoughts of elevation and divine favor.

Such a precious item must be kept as a final trump card—how could it be wasted on elevation and divine favor?

Yet whether used directly or for elevation and divine favor, ten thousand units of Water Essence cannot be omitted.

Expenses are growing ever larger.

"If 'Withered Tree Blooms Again' is this powerful, what about Red Qi?"

Liang Qu tried to learn more uses of Red Qi, but after half a day, he only learned it could be used for elevation and divine favor.

All were qi—Red Qi's value, compared to "Withered Tree Blooms Again," seemed like mere expendable material.

Doesn't matter. Contentment brings joy!

Liang Qu straightened his back, radiant and alert, gazing across Huazhu County's splendid landscape, his heart wide open.

Worth it. Absolutely worth it!

Staying so long in Huazhu County—entirely repaid by one thread of "Withered Tree Blooms Again!"

On the village mud path, children clutched twigs, swishing them back and forth; a yellow dog trotted behind, carrying two sticks in its mouth.

Young men mixed yellow mud to build flat houses; elders wielded sickles to climb hills and cut grass to feed cattle and sheep.

Liang Qu believed it wasn't only due to his own water-calming and disease-repelling.

But now was no time to reflect or summarize.

According to the old man he'd spoken to earlier, there seemed to be a nearby ritual celebration worth joining.