Chapter Four: News

In a flash, another month slipped by.

At the foot of the Azure Serenity Daoist Palace.

In a field of sweet potatoes.

Qin Yi and more than a dozen fellow disciples were busy harvesting sweet potatoes from the field.

A senior brother in charge of the granary glanced at the dug-up sweet potatoes, frowning. “Why is this year’s harvest so much less than previous years? Have any of you seen anyone sneaking in to steal sweet potatoes this past month?”

“No, Brother Wang—certainly not!” someone replied obsequiously.

This Brother Wang was a proper Daoist with an official registry; everyone treated him with great respect.

“Could it be that there are particularly many rats this year?” Brother Wang shook his head slightly, puzzled but not dwelling on it. He didn’t suspect his fellow disciples of pilfering. Though the Azure Serenity Daoist Palace provided no meat, there was always enough vegetarian food for everyone.

Once Brother Wang wandered off to inspect other fields, Qin Yi, buried in the group, let out a quiet sigh of relief and went back to digging up sweet potatoes.

Now that Brother Wang was out of sight, some of the others withdrew their envious glances.

One of them grumbled, “Sigh, after the sweet potatoes, we’ll have to harvest rice again. When will it ever end?”

“These days are truly hard to bear,” another lamented.

Most of those who had come to become Daoist initiates were not from farming families; after all, twenty taels of silver was not a sum a peasant household could easily muster.

“Brothers, it won’t be much longer,” said Zhang Dadao, waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially. “Yesterday, I went to the supervisors and heard that the county office will announce the results of our Daoist registry applications at year’s end. Once we have that, we can begin martial training—our lives won’t be so dull then.”

“Year’s end? That’s only two months away!”

“Dadao, there are two or three hundred of us applying for Daoist registry this year. How many spots does Azure Serenity Daoist Palace have? And what happens to those who don’t get in?” Qin Yi lowered his voice, suspecting Zhang Dadao might be a bit too naïve.

Everyone turned to look at Zhang Dadao.

“Well… I’m not sure. I tried to find out, but the supervising brothers wouldn’t say,” Zhang Dadao replied, flushing with embarrassment.

“If our application fails, will we be sent down the mountain? And what if there’s a conscription then?” someone voiced anxiously, and many faces turned pale at the mention.

They hadn’t come to the mountain to truly pursue the Dao—they were here to avoid being drafted.

“One of the supervisors said that if our application fails, we can pay another twenty taels of silver next July to apply again. So long as we’re in the application process, we can still avoid conscription!” Zhang Dadao hurried to explain.

At this, a few people sighed with relief, but soon grew tense again.

“What? We can’t reapply until next July? Doesn’t that mean if there’s a draft between January and July, we’ll be in serious trouble?”

“Exactly! Isn’t there any other way?”

“Even if there’s no draft in those months, my family had to scrape together the first twenty taels from all corners—how could we possibly afford another twenty taels in July?” a frail-looking youth exclaimed, his face flushed.

Qin Yi’s mood grew somber as well. Never mind whether he could come up with the money next July—what if the draft continued into the spring?

His father had naively believed that paying twenty taels would guarantee a Daoist registry, but now it seemed they and these other hundreds were little more than pigs to be fleeced.

“The war in the north has been going on for over a year now. I heard there was another draft just five days ago—we were lucky to escape it this time. But what if the war ends by the year’s end or next spring?” someone ventured hopefully.

“Let’s hope so…”

“You’re all afraid of dying? If I wanted to join the army, my father wouldn’t let me!” Zhang Dadao pouted with a sigh.

The group fell silent.

Qin Yi glanced at the boastful Zhang Dadao, but his heart grew heavier. “We can’t just keep being so passive.”

Several days later, with the sweet potatoes finally harvested, everyone could rest for a few days.

In the mountains behind the palace.

“System,” Qin Yi called out silently.

Qin Yi:
Five Energies Returning to Origin Fist: Proficient +
Energy: 2 (Energy points can be gained by offering food, meat, medicinal herbs, etc.)

He looked at the panel showing 2 energy points, with a plus sign now appearing after the Five Energies Returning to Origin Fist. Qin Yi thought to himself how hard-won those points were—it had taken a month of catching rats, stealing bird eggs, and secretly pilfering sweet potatoes from the fields to accumulate just these 2 points.

Glancing around to make sure he was alone, Qin Yi silently intoned, “Upgrade.”

A surge of heat exploded in his chest, sweeping through his organs, then spreading to his limbs and bones.

At first, the warmth was soothing, but after half a minute, pain began to radiate through his body, as though ants were biting at every muscle and sinew.

He could feel his muscles and tendons growing stronger! Qin Yi struggled to remain silent, sweat pouring from his brow.

In his mind’s eye, a shadowy figure practiced the Five Energies Returning to Origin Fist, the movements at first steady and measured, then growing ever faster and sharper, until the air itself seemed to crack with each strike.

Ten minutes passed before the soreness faded from his body, and Qin Yi finally let out a breath of relief.

He checked the panel again.

Qin Yi:
Five Energies Returning to Origin Fist: Minor Accomplishment
Energy: 0

“My strength feels enhanced, and my build seems more robust!” Qin Yi flexed his fists, clearly sensing the improvement. His muscles were now more defined—not overly so, but evenly developed.

He noticed, too, that he seemed to have grown taller—his clothes were just a bit shorter on him. From his original height of 178 centimeters, he must have grown at least two centimeters, reaching a full 180.

Wearing the loose Daoist robe, it shouldn’t be too noticeable.

“Let’s test my strength,” Qin Yi thought, walking up to an old pine tree.

He gathered his strength and threw a punch.

Bang!

His fist struck the tree, and though pain shot through his hand, it wasn’t unbearable.

Pulling his fist back, Qin Yi’s eyes widened—there was a faint imprint of his fist left on the pine’s bark.

“Could Uncle Master Qingsong have been lying to us?” Qin Yi muttered. The force required to leave a mark on a pine like that was tremendous!

Before, Uncle Master Qingsong had said the Five Energies Returning to Origin Fist was only for health and fitness.

But now, having reached minor accomplishment in the technique, Qin Yi found his speed and power had increased several times over—his strikes sharp and forceful. He even suspected that, used in combat, this fist technique would be formidable.

Had Uncle Master Qingsong lied? Was it really just a health exercise?

“I’ll have to find a chance to sound out Uncle Master Qingsong.”