5: Chapter 5 Nighttime Cultivation in the Desolate Manor: A New Mission Begins

It was not yet fully light when the two left the dilapidated temple. Yang Yuan walked in front, a single-blade saber tucked behind his waist and a short sword hidden in his chest. Cheng Ying followed behind, carrying a bundle; one hand supported her stomach, while the other gripped the tree trunks along the road. The mountain path was difficult to traverse. It had rained last night, leaving the soil soft and slippery underfoot.

After walking for about an hour, Cheng Ying's footsteps began to falter. Her face was pale, her forehead covered in sweat, her lips cracked and peeling, and her breathing was rapid. "Let's rest for a while." Cheng Ying did not try to be brave; she sat down against an old locust tree by the side of the road, closing her eyes to catch her breath. Yang Yuan handed her the water skin. She took two sips and handed it back. "How much further?" "Once we cross this mountain and head down for thirty li, there is a town." Yang Yuan squatted by the roadside, using his firewood knife to draw on the ground, "We will rest there first, then figure out how to get to Jiaxing." "Jiaxing?" "It is far. But Li Mochou's reach cannot extend that far." Yang Yuan put away the firewood knife. Cheng Ying nodded and did not ask further. After resting for a quarter of an hour, the two continued on their way.

By noon, they reached a fork in the road within a mountain pass. By the side of the road stood a blue stone stele; the characters on it had long been eroded by wind and rain, leaving only a few shallow grooves. Two men were squatting beside the stele, wearing tattered short jackets, with choppers tucked at their waists and two empty cloth bags on the ground. Bandits! Yang Yuan's footsteps paused. The two men saw them as well; they stood up and sized them up. Their gazes lingered for a moment on Cheng Ying's stomach, then swept over the single-blade saber behind Yang Yuan's waist, and they exchanged a look. "Brother, lend us some travel money." The one on the left grinned, revealing a missing front tooth. Yang Yuan reached behind his waist, his hand finding the hilt of his saber. The grin of the man with the missing tooth stiffened. He saw something in the depths of Yang Yuan's eyes—it was not the ferocity used to intimidate people, but the silence of someone who had truly killed before. "Let's go." The one on the right pulled the one with the missing tooth, lowering his voice, "This kid is not right." The man with the missing tooth hesitated, glanced at Cheng Ying again, swallowed, and was dragged away by his companion. Yang Yuan stared at their backs until they disappeared into the woods before letting go of the hilt. His palms were full of sweat.

"Let's go." Cheng Ying caught up to him. After walking for a short distance, she suddenly spoke: "The two people from last night, did you really kill them?" "Hmm." She was silent for a moment: "...Are you afraid?" "Afraid." Yang Yuan said, "But there was no other way." Cheng Ying did not ask again. As she walked past him, she reached out and grasped his arm—just for a moment, then let go, and continued walking.

The afternoon path was even harder to walk. The mountain road narrowed, with thick, dense bushes on both sides, their branches whipping against their faces with a stinging pain. Cheng Ying's steps became slower and slower; several times she nearly fell, only to be caught by Yang Yuan turning back. He extended his hand, and Cheng Ying grasped it. Her hand was cold, her fingers slender. Yang Yuan gripped it tighter, pulling her forward. Neither of them spoke.

By dusk, they finally descended the mountain. At the foot of the mountain was an open field, with scattered lights shining in the distance. Yang Yuan did not head toward the village. He walked west along the field ridges, and after about the time it takes to burn an incense stick, he spotted an abandoned manor by the side of the road. Half of the surrounding wall had collapsed, weeds in the courtyard had grown half a person high, the doors and windows of the main house were broken, and roof tiles were scattered everywhere. Yang Yuan went in to check first, and after confirming no one was there, he led Cheng Ying inside. "We will make do for tonight." He cleared the floor of the main house and spread out some dry grass, "We will figure out a plan tomorrow." Cheng Ying sat down, placing her bundle beside her. She watched Yang Yuan busy himself back and forth—moving stones to block the door, gathering firewood to start a fire, and using a broken clay pot to fetch water from the stream. She watched for a while: "Was it like this for you before, too?" Yang Yuan did not stop his hands: "What?" "Hiding everywhere, looking for places to sleep everywhere." "Hmm. I am used to it." Cheng Ying did not reply further. She leaned against the wall, watching the fire.

At night, the fire crackled. Yang Yuan sat by the fire, eyes closed, circulating his energy. The flow of warmth from the Qi Cultivation Method was smoother than last night. It started from the Dantian, traveled up along the Ren Meridian, passed through the Tanzhong acupoint, circled the Jianjing acupoint, slid down the outer side of both arms to the fingertips, then turned back from the fingertips, traveling along the inner side to return to the Dantian. One cycle. Two cycles. Three cycles. With every cycle, his Internal Energy became a fraction stronger. When he reached the twelfth cycle, he felt the scattered True Qi in his Dantian condense into a small core, weighing heavily in his lower abdomen. He opened his eyes and looked down at his own hands. He made a fist and exerted force. A surge of strength welled up in his palm, more solid and thicker than yesterday. He casually pressed against the wooden pillar beside him—a shallow fingerprint indentation sank into the surface of the pillar. Yang Yuan stared at the mark, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. Still a long way to go. But at least he was no longer powerless.

Cheng Ying leaned against the wall, half-asleep and half-awake. She had a dream. She dreamt she was still on Peach Blossom Island, and her Master was teaching her to play the flute; the melody was very beautiful. The wind blew, and the whole island was filled with peach blossom petals, covering her. Then the peach blossoms turned into blood. Her Master was gone, and she was the only one left on the island, kneeling in a pool of blood. She woke up with a start, breaking out in a cold sweat. Yang Yuan was still by the fire. The firelight illuminated his profile. She watched him, and her heartbeat slowly steadied. She was no longer all alone. She placed her hand on her stomach and felt the little thing move again, as if it had turned over. Cheng Ying closed her eyes; this time, she truly fell asleep.

Early the next morning, Yang Yuan went out for a while. When he returned, he was carrying two coarse flour steamed buns and a small packet of salt. Cheng Ying took the buns, broke one in half, and handed it to him. Yang Yuan shook his head: "You eat." "You have to eat too." Cheng Ying stuffed the half bun into his hand, "If you are not full, what will you do if something happens?" Yang Yuan looked at her and did not refuse again. The two squatted in the courtyard, gnawing on the buns. The wind blew in from the collapsed wall, carrying the scent of moist soil from the fields. After Cheng Ying finished eating, she wiped the corners of her mouth with her sleeve. "How far is Jiaxing?" "If we take the official road, about ten days. If we take a detour to avoid towns, it might take half a month." "Is there enough silver?" "Not enough." Yang Yuan said, "When we get to Jiaxing, we have to find work first." Cheng Ying said nothing, looking down at her stomach. Yang Yuan stood up and brushed the dirt off his body: "Let's rest for a day today. We will set off early tomorrow morning." Cheng Ying nodded.

Just then, a line of text flashed before Yang Yuan's eyes— [Next phase task updated: Head to Jiaxing City, earn silver, purchase property, and provide shelter for wife and child.] [Task rewards: Medium Grade Cultivation Technique "Hunyuan Stake", 100 taels of silver, one set of housing blueprints.] Yang Yuan stared at the line of text, his brows relaxing slightly. He turned his head to look at Cheng Ying. She was sitting on the threshold basking in the sun, her hand resting on her stomach, her eyes slightly squinted. "I am going to find some dry rations and water. You stay here." "Hmm." The courtyard gate creaked shut behind him. Cheng Ying sat on the threshold, listening to his footsteps fading into the distance. She lowered her head and gently stroked her stomach; had the little one kicked again?