Chapter 51

Xu Henshui’s body trembled, and he reluctantly placed the few herbs into the medicine cabinet. But Ji Liuli was still unsatisfied, and nodded toward another empty medicine cabinet.

Xu Henshui pulled a delicate small box from his inner pocket; the box was painted all over with orchids. He opened the lid, revealing a few tiny, pitch-black particles no larger than rice grains—unknown what kind of herb they were. But from his trembling lips, it was clear these unassuming specks were anything but ordinary. Suddenly, he turned his head and fixed Ji Liuli with a gaze full of fury.

This was the first time Wei Yuan had seen Xu Henshui’s face—a face more refined than most women’s, and when angry, radiating an intoxicating allure, truly a person embodying the Dao Foundation.

Xu Henshui gritted his teeth: “You’re pushing too far!”

“I… push… too… far?” Ji Liuli peeled off one petal at a time with each word, finally pinching the flower’s core and rubbing it gently.

“Ahh~~~” Xu Henshui’s body went limp, nearly collapsing. He clung to the medicine cabinet, biting his lip: “...You’re ruthless!”

Seeing Xu Henshui place the particles into the cabinet, Ji Liuli finally seemed satisfied, and the orchid in her hand vanished. Watching Xu Henshui’s furious expression, she shrugged indifferently: “So stingy. I’m not withholding payment!”

Xu Henshui, furious, snapped: “Is this something money can buy? If so, I’ll give you money—go buy some back for me? And what you give? Do you even call that payment?”

Ji Liuli looked slightly embarrassed, defending herself: “It’s not my fault—Qing Tian Palace still owes us!”

Xu Henshui snorted, swept his sleeve, and said: “What a mess you two have gotten yourselves into—why drag me into it?”

Ji Liuli smiled: “Because we’re destined to be connected!”

“Pfft! Who wants to be connected to you!” Xu Henshui didn’t want to stay another moment—he bolted for the door.

As he passed Wei Yuan, he deliberately studied Wei Yuan’s face and said: “Just like your master—a promising seed. Too bad it’s planted in Qing Tian Palace’s pile of cow dung!”

Wei Yuan was baffled by the insult. He had no idea what Qing Tian Palace had done, yet everyone kept slandering it? Fine, slander away—but everyone only spoke half-truths, never explaining clearly.

Ji Liuli glanced at Wei Yuan, delighted, and smiled: “Perfect—the herbs are all here. Today, we’re going all out!”

Wei Yuan instinctively shuddered.

In the past, there had been several “all outs”—each time leaving him barely alive. But Senior Sister Liuli wasn’t asking; she was informing.

Seeing Ji Liuli set up the wooden tub, Wei Yuan stripped off his clothes. Over the years, this motion had become instinct—he’d rather undress himself than let Senior Sister force him. There was a Dao technique called “Undressing Spell,” seemingly a heretical art, but in practice, much the same: used in combat to strip opponents’ robes, armor, and hidden talismans. Yet Senior Sister didn’t seem to know it—she preferred doing it herself.

The past year had added a little height to Wei Yuan; now, standing before Ji Liuli, he was nearly her equal in stature. She, as always, kneaded pills between her palms, and in moments, had prepared a basin of medicinal broth.

As soon as Wei Yuan stepped into the tub, he knew it was truly “all out.” His entire body burned as if immersed in earthfire lava; threads of heat pierced his skin like needles, coursing through every inch, triggering subtle changes in his flesh, accelerating growth dozens of times over.

Wei Yuan felt unbearable itching and prickling, as if ten thousand ants crawled over him, while a scorching, stifling heat gathered in his chest, with no outlet. Gradually, he grew hotter and hotter, desperate to smash something, or even go fight those people from Zhi Gu Sect again—let their fists and kicks pound him, that would relieve the fire.

After an hour passed, the medicinal broth had turned clear water. Wei Yuan struggled out of the tub—and realized, to his shock, he had grown nearly an inch taller!

As usual, Ji Liuli inspected Wei Yuan’s entire body to adjust the next formula. This time’s purification was exceptional—even she was highly satisfied. But as her gaze swept over his lower abdomen, she noticed a thin black line beneath his navel. She rubbed it—couldn’t wipe it off. No spiritual energy response. It looked like a natural birthmark.

Yet for a cultivator of her level, perfect recall was instinct. She distinctly remembered that last time, Wei Yuan had no such black line. Its sudden appearance could not be trivial.

Lost in thought, Ji Liuli’s peripheral vision caught a half-dead little bird. She’d seen this bird many times over the past years, and now found it annoying—she flicked her finger casually.

The bird’s head snapped from the flick, suddenly enraged. It flapped its wings, raised its head—and transformed into a golden eagle!

Both froze.

Senior Sister, experienced and composed, rose as if nothing had happened, tossed clothes to Wei Yuan. His mind went blank; he mechanically dressed himself. But even after he was fully clothed, the eagle refused to retreat—it was stubborn, too.

After leaving the Administrative Hall, Wei Yuan didn’t head home. Instead, he went to Bosi Hall.

He stammered, unable to articulate his meaning clearly. Fortunately, the Bosi Hall seniors were well-traveled; from fragments, they understood. They entered the inner chamber and soon returned with a thick stack of jade scrolls—all on Yin-Yang Dao, secret methods of dual cultivation.

Wei Yuan hesitated whether to take them. The senior gave him a knowing look, shoved the entire pile into his hands, and even waived half his borrowing fee—thoughtfully generous.

Such kindness couldn’t be refused. Wei Yuan hid the jade scrolls and returned to his small courtyard. But now came another problem: where to store them?

He couldn’t leave them out in the open—they were borrowed, and couldn’t be destroyed after reading. So Wei Yuan scrutinized every corner of his courtyard: rafters, under the bed, stove, latrine—he examined them all.

He even considered placing them on the bookshelf—but that was too risky. What if Zhang Sheng picked one up and flipped through it? He had that habit.

After much deliberation, he scattered the scrolls into corners Zhang Sheng would never touch. When done, Wei Yuan was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding wildly.

From then on, besides absorbing moonlight daily, Wei Yuan had secret texts to study. He read for days, yet understood only half—and barely at that. He couldn’t help but marvel: the Yin-Yang Dao was truly profound and obscure. No wonder just Yin and Yang Qi could qualify as a Foundation.

Giving up at the first difficulty wasn’t Wei Yuan’s style. The harder it was, the more he had to read. He didn’t fear hardship.

That night, Wei Yuan took out the jade scrolls to practice, when a hand reached over his shoulder and snatched them away. Zhang Sheng

(End of chapter)