Chapter 77: Do Not Stand Beneath a Leaning Wall

Bang!

His five fingers curled like an eagle’s talons; the hard rock fragments shattered piece by piece in Li Rui’s hands, finally cracking into a pile of powder.

“A thousand catties of strength.”

Now he could truly smash bricks with ease.

Li Rui estimated that after reaching Golden Bone, his strength had finally crossed the threshold of a thousand catties.

His qi power had doubled.

This was a sign of perfected Copper Bone.

Most martial masters at this stage would attempt to break through to Willow Tendon Realm, but for Li Rui, who bore martial bones, this was far from enough.

Now he had ample resources, superior bones, and a suitable scripture—he must attain Jade Bone Realm.

A solid foundation in the early stages allows one to go farther.

To settle for merely a seventh-rank level would be to waste a divine gift; such martial bones given to him would be squandered.

Even the finest talent cannot be achieved overnight—it demands relentless training.

Li Rui stared at the empty wooden box.

He had just consumed the last Strength-Bone Pill to break through to Golden Bone.

He had expected it to last at least two months, yet it was all gone in just seven days.

Of course, the progress was highly encouraging.

“I need more pills.”

Alchemy Chamber.

Beneath the alchemy furnace, crimson flames hissed as if cracking with burning resin and wood fat, a scene of intense heat.

Li Rui and Jiang Cheng watched the furnace with tense expressions.

“Wait, just a little longer.”

“Ten.”

“Nine.”

“One.”

“Done!”

Almost the instant Li Rui spoke, Jiang Cheng rushed to the furnace, lifted the lid, and pulled out the pills inside.

Instantly, the aroma of the pills filled the air.

“The medicinal potency has increased by at least forty percent—nearly seventh-rank pill quality.”

After confirming the pill’s grade, Jiang Cheng himself found it unbelievable.

His alchemy skills had surged during this period.

It was inseparable from Li Rui’s exquisite control over the fire.

“Here’s your share of the pills.”

Jiang Cheng selected seven pills from the dozen and handed them to Li Rui.

Their cooperation model had improved.

Li Rui provided some herbs bought from the black market, helped Jiang Cheng refine the pills, and after completion, took pills of equivalent value, leaving the rest at the pharmacy.

In this way,

Li Rui obtained a wider variety and higher-grade pills, while Jiang Cheng could find more pill formulas for Li Rui to refine the fire control.

A win-win.

Li Rui received the pills, delighted, and prepared to leave.

But Jiang Cheng showed no sign of leaving—he had already started another furnace of ordinary pills.

After this period of exposure,

Li Rui had gained some understanding of pill formulas; from a quick listen, this one seemed to be for treating sword wounds.

This was already the third furnace today.

He sensed something odd.

While healing pills for sword wounds were commonly used in the Heaven and Earth Alliance, where fighting was frequent, today’s quantity was excessive.

“The branch must be facing some trouble—otherwise, why suddenly stockpile so many healing pills?”

Li Rui probed: “Little Jiang, who requested these pills?”

Jiang Cheng, obsessed with alchemy and simple-minded, answered without hesitation: “Commander Dao himself ordered them—he said we’re about to strike the Ghost Ming Sect, and they’ll be needed soon.”

“As expected.”

Li Rui’s eyes narrowed slightly.

He had previously heard rumors that County Magistrate Zhang had summoned all major figures in Qinghe for a meeting to jointly confront the Ghost Ming Sect.

It seemed an attack was imminent.

“Should I pretend to be sick again?”

Li Rui pondered.

Previously, due to his advanced age, Commander Dao had not included him in operations against the Ghost Ming Sect.

But with manpower shortages, they might revive the idea.

“They won’t send an old, sick man into battle.”

Li Rui fell ill.

He caught a cold and lay in bed for several days.

During this time, Wu Tu and Zhang Yang both visited—he was clearly suffering from a cold.

Martial artists have strong bodies, but that doesn’t mean they’re immune to illness; in this world, they still fall sick, and without treatment, they die just like anyone else—eighth-rank was far from invulnerable to all evils.

Pretending to be sick would eventually be discovered.

If word reached Commander Dao—or even Tang Sheng—the situation would become very troublesome.

To catch a cold,

Li Rui had stayed in the ice cellar for four full days and nights before succeeding.

A little physical discomfort could spare him from danger.

He thought it well worth it.

As expected,

Just days after he fell ill, Commander Dao summoned the Qinghe branch of the Heaven and Earth Alliance to launch a raid on the Ghost Ming Sect—this time, all supervisors and hall masters were deployed.

Li Rui had originally been on the list.

But upon hearing Li Rui was ill, Commander Dao personally came to Li’s residence to check.

He then considered that Li Rui was indeed elderly and sick, making him unsuitable.

Moreover, upon reflection, the raid on the Ghost Ming Sect was top secret, known to very few; Li Rui couldn’t possibly have timed his illness so precisely.

So he let it drop.

Li Rui understood clearly: Commander Dao’s visit was ostensibly to check on him, but in truth, to confirm whether he was faking illness.

And if he were young and strong, even a real cold wouldn’t have saved him.

This was the combined effect of both factors.

“Being old does come with privileges.”

That night,

The Qinghe branch of the Heaven and Earth Alliance moved.

The Tianyi Hall had too few personnel—Liang He and Zhou Shulin didn’t go—but the black market contributed many.

Li’s residence, room.

“Old Li, you’re so old now—stop running around all day. Our bodies aren’t what they used to be.”

Yang Yong entered carrying a bowl of hot soup.

“Quick, drink it.”

Li Rui took the hot soup and sipped from the rim.

He had told no one about faking illness, so Yang Yong and Wang Zhao knew nothing of the truth; for an elderly man to fall ill was perfectly normal—Li Rui’s previous vigor was the exception.

Yang Yong looked deeply worried.

He genuinely feared Li Rui would die before him, leaving him the last person left to talk to.

As one grows old, loneliness is the greatest fear.

“Where’s Xiao Zhao?”

Li Rui asked.

He hadn’t seen Wang Zhao for half a day.

Yang Yong: “He’s in the kitchen—he boiled this soup for five straight hours, never closing his eyes.”

“He’s a thoughtful boy.”

Li Rui smiled faintly.

Though Wang Zhao wasn’t clever, he was sincere and willing to endure hardship—who wouldn’t like such a child?

Li Rui drank the medicine.

He picked up the nearby Great Void True Scripture and began flipping through it.

Practicing martial arts right after falling ill would be too conspicuous—reading Daoist scriptures was better.

He spent the night reading books.

The dim candlelight flickered, but Li Rui now had no shortage of money for oil, otherwise the long night would have been unbearable.

Without realizing it,

he fell into a drowsy sleep.

It felt like a dream, yet unreal.

Before him stretched an undispelling thick white mist; in the distance, he glimpsed a corner of a palace’s upturned eaves, where dragons and phoenixes seemed to dance amid the clouds, and the joyful cries of celestial birds and spiritual beasts reached his ears.

Thin blue smoke rose, settling before a bamboo platform strung with strings.

What a magnificent immortal mountain scene.

An old Daoist softly chanted:

“Rest the essence, still the qi, nourish the spirit; essence nourishes the dantian, qi nourishes the body.

Whoever learns this art becomes immortal, free from death.”

(End of Chapter)