C8 Zhao Qi

"I've discovered that Chen Xiaozhi has purchased a large estate in the eastern part of the city. Just last night, he bought an entire cartload of medicinal herbs from the marketplace, all by himself. Oddly enough, the herbs he selected are quite common and seemingly useless," Dong Qing'an remarked with an even tone as she listened to her servant's report in the Hidden Dragon Institute.

"Let him be. The Sage King departs tomorrow at noon." With a fluid motion, Dong Qing'an transformed her hand into a blade and deftly sliced a budding flower from its stem.

Just one more day to endure.

To Dong Qing'an, Chen Xiaozhi was merely an ordinary martial artist in the Copper Skin Realm, his strength not even on par with some martial club apprentices. If it weren't for his royal lineage, he would be as insignificant as an ant.

Meanwhile, Chen Xiaozhi, having recognized the potency of the medicinal concoction, had finished his breakfast and heated a large basin of water. He poured in more than ten packets of wind meridian powder and began his medicinal bath. The scalding water turned his skin a lobster red as he plunged in, wearing nothing but his underpants. The pain was excruciating, yet he clenched his teeth and persevered.

As the medicinal water seeped into his body through his pores, the aromatic steam cleared his mind, and he began to practice his punches.

"Ah, I see." The wind meridian powder, a product of the system, was impressively effective, particularly in its soothing properties. Recalling the moves of the White Sky and the White Wave boxing technique, he experienced a moment of clarity. The technique demanded sustained power, like relentless waves, requiring utmost precision in controlling one's strength.

He continued to ponder over the boxing moves.

Ideally, he would have consumed all of the large tonifying pills, but with too few acupoints in his body, he couldn't fully process the immense potency quickly enough, and much of the medicinal effect was wasted. The wind meridian powder, however, could be applied externally to refine the body. Acupoints are crucial for a martial artist's foundation, functioning like organs that digest and absorb external forces to fortify the body. Simply put, where others could fully absorb a medicine, he could only assimilate half, slowing his cultivation pace considerably.

But Chen Xiaozhi was not discouraged; he knew that diligence could compensate for his shortcomings.

His fists moved with increasing speed, and the once milky concoction in the basin grew clear. As his movements accelerated, wisps of white vapor danced around him.

With a powerful punch, a burst of white mist shot from his arm, traveling two meters before curling upwards, accompanied by a strong gust. "Yes!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his excitement.

In just a short while, he had achieved a minor mastery of the boxing technique, even managing to summon a Hidden Strength.

Now, as the medicinal bath cooled, Chen Xiaozhi noticed his skin had become softer and more supple. Clenching his fist, he felt a surge of power greater than before.

"The combination of the large tonifying pill and wind meridian powder is perfect for my current cultivation needs," Chen Xiaozhi mused, realizing he needed to visit the market for more herbs. Dressed and ready, he and Xiaocao stepped out into the lively streets of Crowfield. Xiaocao scampered about, taking in the sights; it was their first real glimpse of the city after years confined to the Hidden Dragon Institute.

"Stop, thief! How dare you steal! I'll give you a beating before taking you to the officials!"

Walking towards the market, Chen Xiaozhi witnessed a scrawny figure hurled from a medical clinic, landing right before him, narrowly missing Xiaocao. A group of men burst from the clinic, raining kicks upon the fallen person.

Pleading amidst a barrage of blows, the victim cried, "Please, my mother is gravely ill. She won't last without these medicines. I swear I'll repay you for them..." Chen Xiaozhi, with a bystander's detachment, pulled Xiaocao aside, while onlookers whispered and moved on. In a city as bustling as Crowfield, daily dramas unfolded, and few spared the time to intervene.

Chen Xiaozhi's thoughts drifted to the enigmatic, wild-looking expert he'd encountered. It reminded him of the previous night's encounter with the Green Bamboo Gang, and how being in a crowded place had been his saving grace.

"Huh? Brother, that looks like Zhao Qi," Xiaocao exclaimed, recognizing the beaten figure on the ground.

"Zhao Qi?" The name conjured the image of a gaunt, kind-hearted youth who had once secretly brought him food at the Hidden Dragon Institute.

"Stop!" Chen Xiaozhi called out, stepping forward. "I'll cover the medicine costs." The assailants ceased their attack, one remarking with a surprised chuckle, "Well, aren't you the charitable one?" He sneered at Zhao Qi's battered form, "Lucky for you!" He seemed to think Chen Xiaozhi a fool.

After collecting thirty silver leaves from Chen Xiaozhi, the men retreated to their shop. The stolen herbs must have been quite valuable to warrant such a price.

"Young Master Chen," Zhao Qi, his face bruised and dark as a shadow, struggled to his feet. Recognizing Chen Xiaozhi, he wiped away his tears and snot, and without a word, began to kowtow in gratitude. "Thank you, Young Master Chen. I'll work like an ox to repay this kindness!" Despite his injuries, he clutched the medicine packets as if they were his most prized possessions.

"Stand up and talk," Chen Xiaozhi urged, helping him to his feet. "What happened to you?"

Zhao Qi's eyes were downcast, his voice choked with emotion as he recounted the events. Many of the servants at the Hidden Dragon Institute were bound by life contracts signed with the city, including Zhao Qi's father, who had been a bonded servant. When Zhao Qi was ten, his father succumbed to illness, and he was sent to the Institute to continue in servitude—a tenure that lasted seven years. He grew up in the impoverished southern part of the city, where living conditions were dire, and now only his ailing elderly mother remained at home. Recently, her health took a turn for the worse, and although the doctor prescribed a remedy that could cure her, the required herbs were rare and expensive, far beyond Zhao Qi's means. Desperate as his mother's illness progressed, Zhao Qi resorted to the misdeeds that led to today's incident.

At this point, Zhao Qi seemed on the verge of adding more but hesitated.

His years at the Hidden Dragon Institute had given him insight into its workings. While the servants were unaware of the disciples' true identities, they recognized that individuals like Chen Xiaozhi and, in particular, Dung Qing'an, came from influential backgrounds. It was out of compassion for Chen Xiaozhi, who he had seen suffer at the hands of bullies, that Zhao Qi had risked Dung Qing'an's wrath to secretly bring him food one night.

Chen Xiaozhi's intervention today was clearly an act of gratitude for that kindness.

"Young Master Chen, you should... you should stay out of sight. I've heard that Dung Qing'an and his group are plotting against you..." Zhao Qi couldn't contain his concern.

The servants within the Institute were always the first to catch wind of any rumors.

"Come on, let's head to your place," Chen Xiaozhi said with a calm smile, unfazed by the warning.

Having lived two lifetimes, Chen Xiaozhi was well-prepared for such eventualities; otherwise, he joked, he might as well end it all with a block of tofu.

Chen Xiaozhi appreciated Zhao Qi's genuine nature. By aiding him, he had effectively gained an informant within the Institute, someone who could provide timely updates on any developments. As they made their way toward the city's southern district, Chen Xiaozhi was warm and engaging, sharing jokes and stories with Zhao Qi, who, despite the friendly interaction, maintained a respectful distance. In Zhao Qi's eyes, regardless of Chen Xiaozhi's previous misfortunes, the matter was between Chen Xiaozhi and Dung Qing'an alone.

After all, Chen Xiaozhi was still his superior, and now he owed him a debt of gratitude. Their social standings were inherently different.

The deeper they ventured into the southern city, the more constricted the streets became, the crowds thinned, and an unpleasant odor filled the air. They passed by murky waterways and dilapidated houses, causing Chen Xiaozhi to slightly furrow his brow.

Moreover, he noticed several gaunt figures with sallow complexions and sinister gazes stealthily watching him.

This place...

Zhao Qi felt that someone of Chen Xiaozhi's stature had no business in such a squalid area, yet Chen Xiaozhi insisted on accompanying him home. His demeanor was solemn, showing not a trace of revulsion, which deeply moved Zhao Qi.

Zhao Qi's home was a simple enclosure: a mud wall just over a meter high enclosing a forty-square-meter space overrun with wild grass. The decaying thatched roof had been patched with wooden boards in several places. Inside, there was nothing but a plank bed where a white-haired woman lay, her body wracked with violent coughs. Next to her, a small iron basin sat, and her patched clothing was stained with blood-tinged saliva.

"Mother, I'm home!" Zhao Qi rushed forward in a swift motion, propping up his ailing mother, his eyes brimming with tears. Holding up a packet of medicine, he beamed, "Mother, we can treat your illness now. Look, I've brought the medicine back!"

"Where did you get the money for this? You didn't do anything wrong, did you?" his mother asked, her eyes clouded with concern as she took in the sight of her son's battered face, her voice frail yet filled with worry.

"Auntie, I'm Zhao Qi's friend, Chen Xiaozhi. Rest assured, this medicine was acquired legitimately. Just focus on getting better," Xiaozhi reassured her with a warm smile.

With that, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work, quickly setting up a small stove to start brewing the medicine.

Xiaocao pitched in to help as well.