Chapter 139: Chapter 139

Shen Xiuhan crossed the front yard, followed the gallery corridor, and made his way to the rear.

The back courtyard was tranquil — a different world from the clamor out front.

A stand of green bamboo grew against one wall, leaves rustling softly in the breeze.

He hadn’t yet knocked when Mei Shuangfeng’s voice drifted through the door.

“Come in.”

Shen Xiuhan pushed the door open and entered.

Sandalwood incense coiled through the air.

Mei Shuangfeng sat in a chair, dressed in a moon-white gown with an ash-blue vest, hair loose over her shoulders. In her hands she held a hand-copied booklet.

The Golden Vulture Soaring Wind Art.

She was deep in study — brow slightly furrowed, fingertip tracing the page line by line, as though weighing every word and phrase.

Shen Xiuhan’s gaze flickered. He stepped forward, assumed an air of deep respect, and then proceeded to court disaster.

“Master, are there any passages you find unclear? Your disciple would be happy to offer what humble insight he can.”

Mei Shuangfeng paused. She slowly lowered the booklet, lifted her eyes, and stared at him with a perfectly wooden face.

Shen Xiuhan held the straight expression for a beat.

But meeting those clear, cold eyes — tinged with helpless resignation — he couldn’t hold it. A laugh broke through.

Mei Shuangfeng rolled her eyes. “Cheeky brat,” she muttered, without real heat.

She snapped the booklet shut with a SLAP, sat up straight, and smoothed her cuffs. Her composure reassembled itself.

“The stance art is brilliant, but it shares a common root with the Dark Eagle Stance. The underlying framework is connected. After several days of study, I’ve essentially grasped its entirety.”

Here she paused, and a gravity entered her eyes.

“Xiuhan, I intend to spend some time regulating my condition. And then…”

She drew a deep breath and spoke, word by deliberate word.

“I’m going to attempt the breakthrough to Transforming Strength.”

Transforming Strength!

At those two words, Shen Xiuhan’s expression turned solemn.

The leap from Hidden Strength to Transforming Strength was at least ten times more perilous than the jump from Manifest to Hidden.

Hidden Strength condensed qi-blood into the apertures, seeking to generate a penetrating force far beyond Manifest Strength — like steel needles piercing bone, like dark currents surging beneath still water.

Transforming Strength went further: it required “refining” the Hidden Strength force stored in all nine apertures into qi, distributing it throughout the five viscera and six bowels — achieving a state where “a feather cannot be added, a fly cannot alight.” The seamless, all-encompassing unity of force.

The danger was akin to detonating a barrel of gunpowder inside one’s own body.

The slightest misstep meant qi-blood reversal, meridians shattered inch by inch. In the best case, permanent crippling. In the worst — death on the spot.

Shen Xiuhan drew a deep breath and went straight to the heart of it.

“Master, how confident are you?”

“Originally, not at all.”

Mei Shuangfeng ran her fingers along the Golden Vulture Soaring Wind Art, her voice even but threaded with emotion.

“I’ve been stuck at Hidden Strength Perfection for years. Without a method to carry me further, I simply couldn’t advance. Wasted all this time.”

She paused, lifted her head. A restrained intensity burned in her gaze.

“But with this mental cultivation method in hand… I’d say sixty percent.”

Shen Xiuhan frowned. “Sixty percent… that’s low.”

“It’s enough.”

Mei Shuangfeng’s voice was certain. From her sleeve she produced a small porcelain vial and set it deliberately on the desk.

“Because Shuying has lent me this.”

“This is…?”

“It’s called the Five-Primes Qi-Refining Pill. A supreme treasure among pills — worth a thousand taels. It is immensely beneficial for a fighter crossing from Hidden Strength into Transforming Strength. It can refine the qi of the five viscera and harmonize the meridian backlash. With this pill… eighty percent.”

The Five-Primes Qi-Refining Pill!

Shen Xiuhan’s eyes stirred. Understanding clicked into place.

He remembered now.

This was the very pill that had been secretly entrusted to Ji Xue when he’d escorted the Ji sisters — hidden on her person by the Ji clan.

According to the Intelligence at the time, the pill had even been coveted by Qu Wu, a first-class Sea-Patrol Guard of the Zhenhai Marquis House, and had nearly sparked an incident.

He hadn’t expected…

Ji Shuying had given the pill to his master.

That was no small gesture of trust.

“Xiuhan, my seclusion may take two or three months…”

Mei Shuangfeng tucked the pill away with care, slipping it back into her robe. Her voice dropped, concern clouding her eyes.

“Since the feast, Mei Hall’s name has spread across every county. Applicants are pouring in. Qinghong is holding everything together on her own, but I worry she can’t keep the ship steady — and even more that someone with ill intentions might seize the chance to make trouble.”

“Master needn’t worry about that. Just focus on the breakthrough.”

Shen Xiuhan shook his head with a smile.

Then, under Mei Shuangfeng’s slightly puzzled gaze, he rested one hand on the hilt of Cold Granary at his waist. His five fingers tightened.

Inside the Taichong aperture —

Hidden Strength surged to life.

That steel-needle force flooded up his right arm, gathered in his palm, and poured into the sword-hilt.

The scabbard hummed, as though answering.

“Hm?”

Mei Shuangfeng’s gaze sharpened. Her pupils contracted. She shot to her feet — the grand chair skidding half an inch back with a piercing scrape.

She stared, hard, at the hand on the sword. Her voice trembled.

“That’s… Hidden Strength?!”

Shen Xiuhan let the corner of his mouth lift. Calm confidence filled his eyes.

“It is.”

In the next instant, the force withdrew. The scabbard fell silent.

Mei Shuangfeng was still for a long moment, then slowly sank back into her chair. Warmth like spring rain softened her lovely eyes.

She let out a long, slow breath and leaned against the chairback, her voice gentler than before.

“Good. Good!”

“I’d assumed that entering the blood pool would let you open the Yang Heel Vessel and achieve Manifest Strength Perfection — and that alone would have been more than I dared hope.”

“I never imagined… Xiuhan’s progress could be this fast.”

Mei Shuangfeng gazed at the blue-robed youth before her, a thousand feelings stirring.

Enrolled mere months ago, he’d walked from a blank slate to this point — so fast it felt like a dream.

“With Qinghong managing things in the open and you watching from the shadows… I can rest easy.”

Mei Shuangfeng drew a deep breath, and the last of her worry lifted.

Just then, Jiang Qinghong’s voice floated in from outside, bright with anticipation.

“Master, lunch is here! Junior Brother’s blanket noodles…”

Shen Xiuhan and Mei Shuangfeng exchanged a glance — and smiled.

…

Evening. Yeci Ward. Erfu Street.

The walls on both sides of the street were mottled and peeling, their bases furred with moss and weeds.

The road was pocked with craters, pooling with days-old standing water that reeked of sharp, fetid rot.

Against one wall, a row of beggars huddled — some propped against the bricks and dozing, some murmuring pleas to no one.

But in this part of town, forget the wealthy and powerful — even ordinary citizens didn’t wander through without good reason.

So the cracked bowls before them sat empty. Barring a miracle, another hungry day.

Just then, a young man walked into the alley.

He was unremarkable in every way — ordinary face, ordinary build, ordinary bearing — hands clasped behind his back, steps neither fast nor slow.

His gaze slid over every wall-corner, every broken shutter, every crack in the masonry, as though identifying something — or remembering.

By the wall.

Several beggars raised their heads, a dull gleam in their clouded eyes.

They struggled to rise, hoping to get close enough to beg a few coppers from the newcomer — anything to fill the gnawing in their bellies.

But before they could stand —

The young man halted in front of the fifth door on the alley.

He tilted his head and studied the decrepit wooden gate.

Every flake of lacquer had peeled away, exposing bare wood. Across the lintel, faint scars of hacking blows were still visible.

He studied it for a moment. Then he reached out and pushed the door open.