Chapter Seventeen: The Beginning of Cultivation

As soon as the storage pouch was in hand, Hu Dequan didn’t even have time to speak; he turned and bolted. The absence of Hu Dequan made little difference to the battlefield. The senior disciples behind the human wall watched his retreating figure with deep disappointment, their frustration vented upon the new disciples blocking their way.

As they fought, they shouted, “Run while you can! When Instructor Hong enters seclusion in half a year, let’s see how you’ll keep your storage pouch safe!”

Lin Xiaobao had already slipped away when the storage pouch changed hands, taking advantage of everyone’s distraction to sneak off the battlefield and avoid a beating.

Halfway up the mountain, the young woman from the Mission Hall laughed so hard at Lin Xiaobao’s sneaky retreat that she nearly doubled over.

“My lady, you should return now. Elder Cen is searching for you everywhere!” At some point, a girl wearing the personal disciple’s robes appeared behind her.

“Sister Nie, I understand!” The young lady stuck out her tongue, glanced wistfully down the mountain one last time, and reluctantly prepared to leave, knowing her escapade was over.

The triumphant cheers shook the very rafters of Hongwu Hall. Though the new disciples were all bruised and battered, the fact that they’d managed to preserve their resources from the older disciples was a rare and precious victory.

Hu Dequan handed the storage pouch to Lin Xiaobao, his lips moving as if to speak, but in the end, he held his tongue.

“It’s time to divide the resources!” Lin Xiaobao’s resounding call drew everyone’s attention as he emptied the pouch, letting a pile of resources tumble out. Despite expecting it, the disciples remained curious about the contents.

Lin Xiaobao quickly put the pouch away. “Enough staring—it’s on loan from a senior sister in the Mission Hall. I’ll have to return it later!” As he spoke, the image of the young woman flashed through his mind, especially her ever-darting eyes.

They began distributing the resources according to the records each person had made: herbs, manuals, cinnabar...

With what they needed in hand, many disciples quietly withdrew to begin their training. After all, a year was short, and to remain in the Hall of Wind and Snow, they would have to give everything they had.

Hu Dequan, the browless youth, and the young woman lingered behind.

“We made it through by luck this time,” said the browless youth, worry flickering across his face. He saw further than the rest. “But next time won’t be so easy. In half a year, they’ll come for your storage pouch again, and that could be troublesome.”

“I find it odd—why wait half a year?” Lin Xiaobao asked in confusion.

The browless youth shook his head. “I used to wonder why seniors were placed on the rear peaks and us newcomers on the front. Now I see—it’s to protect us. But in half a year, Instructor Hong follows his yearly custom and enters seclusion. Then, when they come again, we’ll have to defend ourselves.”

“Defend ourselves?” Hu Dequan frowned. “Those people today were at least seventh-rank martial artists, and probably not the strongest among the seniors. How will we hold out?”

“With my level, I’ll stay out of your important discussions. Next time you need a runner, call for me!” Having gotten his share, Lin Xiaobao was quick to slip away, unconcerned about what might happen in six months. Traveling alone, he could always find a place to hide.

Watching him go, the browless youth could only shake his head helplessly, turning to confer with the other two about the challenges ahead.

Returning to his quarters, Lin Xiaobao was greeted by a wave of rich fragrance as soon as he opened the door. He quickly closed it behind him.

“One, two, three... seven!” Sure enough—seven-leaf clover. Comparing the matured plants before him with the illustrations in the Hall of Wind and Snow’s primary manual, Lin Xiaobao confirmed their identity.

Remarkable! In just eight days, including the seven he’d spent unconscious, these herbs were fully grown. Lin Xiaobao’s anticipation for Master Wu’s formations grew even stronger.

“Now that the herbs are ripe, fill the water vat!” Master Mo’s tone was utterly devoid of emotion.

“All right!” Though unsure of Mo’s intentions, Lin Xiaobao trusted he meant no harm. In no time, he filled the vat to the brim.

Following Mo’s instructions, he harvested leaves here, roots there, tossing the various parts of the roomful of herbs into the vat.

The water darkened to inky black as each herb was added, then shifted to pale blue with the next. After a series of color changes, when the last plant was added, the liquid finally turned clear again.

“Is this for cleansing the marrow and washing the meridians?” Lin Xiaobao asked cautiously. He’d seen this scene in countless films and novels—many masters were made in such baths.

“Dream on! You think such trash herbs could cleanse your marrow and meridians? If that were the case, there’d be no weaklings in the world! This decoction merely stimulates and expands your meridians. As for the benefits of that, you’ll understand in time,” Master Wu replied gruffly, already questioning whether he and Old Wu had made the right choice in taking on this bargain-hunting fellow.

“So, can I bathe first?” Although scolded, Lin Xiaobao was filled with anticipation for the vat of crystal liquid.

“Go ahead,” Mo replied, a sly smile playing about his lips.

Eager to try, Lin Xiaobao failed to notice the hint of mischief. He quickly stripped and leapt into the vat—only to let out a pig-killing scream that would have been heard for miles, were it not for Old Wu’s sealing formation.

He leapt out, shivering uncontrollably, his face ashen, lips quivering. The sensation was as if countless fine needles had pierced his body, the pain stabbing deep into his heart.

“To stimulate your meridians without harming your body, there’s no other way with the resources we have. You must endure,” Master Mo said seriously.

“But—” Lin Xiaobao began, only to be cut off.

“No buts. If you want to be a top master, you must pay a higher price than others,” Mo said sternly.

“There really isn’t another way?” Lin Xiaobao licked his lips.

“None,” Mo replied with certainty.

Lin Xiaobao pondered for a moment, then drew a deep breath and lowered himself into the vat once more. Though often carefree, when it came to critical choices, he would always pick the path best suited for himself.

The pain, though sharp, would pass. In this world, without strength, suffering would be a lifelong companion. After witnessing the seniors’ attitude toward the newcomers and the Hall of Wind and Snow’s stance, Lin Xiaobao understood more clearly than ever: to live well, he must grow strong—very strong.