Gateway of Immortality

At that moment, Qin Sang suddenly heard the chirping of birds outside. Turning his head, he noticed that the sky was faintly lit—it was already dawn.

Qin Sang was secretly astonished. He had been so focused on his cultivation that he had only completed a few cycles of the cosmic orbit, which felt like it took no more than an hour. Yet, the entire night had passed.

Hearing footsteps and soft voices outside, Qin Sang dared not continue cultivating. He lay down in his clothes and soon fell into a deep sleep.

After several days of experimentation, Qin Sang gradually grasped the patterns of the Netherworld Scripture. At most, he could now circulate the qi within his body for nine cosmic orbits before the excruciating pain would interrupt him.

If he forced it further, it felt as if his meridians were being torn apart, with the pain piercing deep into his bones.

Given this, Qin Sang could only hope to break through to the second stage of the cultivation method. However, after a month, the energy within him had only grown slightly stronger, leaving him uncertain of when he would finally make a breakthrough.

What frustrated Qin Sang even more was that this energy seemed to do nothing to enhance his martial arts. Even when he struck with all his might, the force was about the same as before; he couldn’t even break a wooden stake.

However, over the past month, Qin Sang noticed subtle changes in his body. These changes were so gradual that he hadn’t realized them at first.

A few days ago, he had caught a wild bird with a trap and intended to roast it over a fire. But while untying the rope, he accidentally let it escape.

The bird took off into the sky, and Qin Sang instinctively grabbed a stone and threw it. To his surprise, the stone hit its mark perfectly.

Qin Sang was startled by his own accuracy, standing there in a daze.

He had been able to clearly see the bird’s flight path, and it seemed as though the bird’s speed had slowed down in his eyes. He could instantly judge the direction it would fly next, something he had never been able to do before.

This incident made Qin Sang reflect on the various changes in his body.

Improved digestion and increased appetite were just the beginning.

Not only had his eyesight improved, but his hearing had also become more acute. He could hear even the faintest sounds from far away.

As part of his martial arts training, he and Ming Yue often exercised with stone hammers and wooden stakes. Despite being careful, injuries were inevitable, especially in vulnerable areas like joints and the lower back, which were difficult to heal and would often flare up as a reminder.

However, during this time, Qin Sang’s old injuries seemed to have vanished, and they hadn’t troubled him for a long while.

Moreover, he now found himself able to effortlessly execute even the most complex moves of the Tiger Subduing Long Fist. His body’s flexibility was gradually improving, and his martial arts were advancing rapidly.

Reflecting on all these changes, Qin Sang finally realized how much the Netherworld Scripture had benefited him.

If this improvement continued, his physical abilities would surely surpass those of ordinary people.

With such miraculous effects, even if the cultivation speed of the Netherworld Scripture is slow, I must continue practicing it.

Qin Sang thought to himself, humming a tune as he led his donkey along.

The donkey carried a sack of coarse grain. Ever since the temple had taken in a few disaster victims, the old Daoist monk had been sharing the temple’s food with them. The temple’s grain supply was dwindling rapidly, and with the price of grain skyrocketing outside, Qin Sang felt that the few taels of silver he had left would soon be spent.

As he led the donkey into the temple, Qin Sang asked, "Ming Yue, why are you dragging out that broken jar?"

"Senior Brother, come help me!"

Ming Yue shouted breathlessly, as if seeing a savior. "Master told me to move the jar from the woodshed to Qingyang Hall. He said it would be needed tonight."

Since it was an order from Daoist Jixin, Qin Sang quickly tied up the donkey and went to help Ming Yue.

The clay jar was large enough for a person to sit inside. Even though Ming Yue had become stronger from practicing martial arts and eating meat, moving it was still a struggle.

It was said that when Qingyang Temple was prosperous, this jar had been used to store sesame oil. Now that the temple had fallen into disrepair, there was no longer enough oil to fill it, so it had been left in the woodshed, filled with pine needles for kindling.

Ming Yue had already cleared out the pine needles and cleaned the jar, but he had no idea what the old Daoist planned to do with it.

When Qin Sang asked Ming Yue, he was just as puzzled. Ming Yue only said that their master had gone up the mountain to gather herbs and had given these instructions before leaving.

Together, they struggled to move the large jar into Qingyang Hall. Following Daoist Jixin’s instructions, they set the jar on a base made of two stones.

Qin Sang wondered if the old Daoist intended to use the jar to brew medicinal herbs.

With such a large jar, it was fortunate that he had used bamboo pipes to draw water down; otherwise, carrying water would have exhausted Ming Yue.

By dusk, Daoist Jixin returned with herbs, his basket only half full. He instructed Ming Yue to close the front and back doors of Qingyang Hall and then set to work.

Qin Sang crouched nearby, sorting the herbs. He noticed that most of them were unfamiliar to him, and they were all valuable and rare medicinal herbs.

The ailments Daoist Jixin typically treated were minor ones like bruises, colds, and damp-heat conditions, using a fixed set of about a dozen herbs. Qin Sang had accompanied the old Daoist several times to gather those same herbs, but this time, all the herbs were new.

After the herbs were sorted, Daoist Jixin sat behind a long table and wrote out a prescription, handing it to Ming Yue to gather the herbs. Qin Sang leaned over to take a look. The prescription was new and incredibly complex, far beyond his rudimentary understanding of medicine.

"Daoist Master, what is this prescription for?"

Seeing Qin Sang\'s confusion, Daoist Jixin explained, "Though I am not skilled in martial arts, I do understand that the pursuit of scholarly arts requires modest means, while martial arts demand wealth. You and Ming Yue practice martial arts daily, which consumes a great deal of energy. No matter how much wild game you eat, it’s difficult to fully replenish the lost vital energy, which may leave hidden dangers in your bodies. This formula was passed down by my master during his time as an imperial physician; it is an ancient recipe that fortifies the foundation and replenishes vitality—perfect for martial artists like you. However, this formula is for a herbal bath and must not be ingested. Follow the prescription carefully, fill the large jar with water, and boil it down to seventy percent. Once the water cools slightly, soak in it for half an hour, twice daily—morning and evening. Keep adding water as needed, and you can use the same herbs for seven days before replacing them with fresh ones."

Hearing of such a beneficial treatment, Qin Sang naturally accepted without hesitation, committing the prescription to memory. He couldn’t help but marvel, "Daoist Master, just how many hidden treasures do you have?"

Daoist Jixin closed his eyes to rest.

Qin Sang and Ming Yue quickly prepared the herbs, filled the jar with water, and brewed the herbal bath as instructed. As soon as the water cooled down a bit, they eagerly jumped in.

"Ah!"

For the first time in his life, Qin Sang experienced the luxury of a hot bath. Submerging himself from the neck down in the steaming herbal water, he felt an overwhelming sense of comfort, and all his fatigue instantly melted away, prompting a groan of pleasure.

Ming Yue wasn’t as tolerant of the heat as Qin Sang and hesitated to enter, but seeing the look of pure bliss on Qin Sang’s face, he endured the heat and quickly joined him.

Ming Yue was small in stature, so the two of them didn’t feel cramped in the jar.

With the early spring air still chilly, soaking in the hot herbal bath was pure indulgence. Qin Sang leaned his head back against the rim of the jar, feeling as though he could drift off to sleep at any moment.