Chapter 148: Chapter 148

Day four since Tian Ping’an was no longer at peace.

Evening.

The Shen family courtyard.

Night wind threaded through the hall, rustling the grass beneath the eaves.

Madam Zheng drew her thin robe tighter over her shoulders and stepped out of the kitchen, glancing at Shen Xiuhan drilling in the yard.

“Dalang, there’s meat broth and flatbread warming on the stove. Don’t forget to eat while it’s hot after you’re done.”

Shen Xiuhan was sunk into a deep crouch, working through his stance-set. Without breaking form, he answered in a low voice.

“I know, Ma. Go get some rest.”

Madam Zheng turned and went inside.

Shen Xiuhan finished the full set, waited until warmth had suffused every limb, then slowly wound down and exhaled a mouthful of stale breath.

He reached into his robe and drew out a small porcelain vial, tipping a single pill onto his palm.

One of the two vials recovered from Tian Ping’an.

A few days ago, he’d asked Jiang Qinghong to identify them. The two types turned out to be Meridian-Opening Aperture-Cleaving Pills and Origin-Sea Aperture-Forging Pills.

Both were standard-issue pills allocated by the Longxiang Army to its Hidden Strength fighters — exceedingly valuable. Each man received one vial of five pills every three months.

Ding Ning had recently shared three pills with Jiang Qinghong on the quiet — reportedly saved from her own ration through strict economy.

Shen Xiuhan’s two vials held eight pills between them. By rights each should have contained five; Tian Ping’an had evidently swallowed one from each. Still, eight pills were more than enough to last him a good while.

“The Tinggong aperture is already brimming like quicksilver… it’s time.”

Shen Xiuhan exhaled, his expression turning solemn. He placed the pill under his tongue.

The medicinal force dissolved slowly, seeping into his viscera like a thread of warm current.

Shen Xiuhan closed his eyes, folded his legs, and sank into concentration, cycling his mental cultivation method.

In an instant —

A chain of muffled detonations rolled through his core — dense, continuous, like thunder rumbling inside his abdominal cavity.

The three apertures — Taichong, Guanyuan, Tinggong — surged with force like volcanoes on the brink of eruption, boiling and swelling.

His body temperature spiked. Shen Xiuhan’s skin flushed crimson, as though he’d been boiled like a shrimp. Beads of sweat the size of soybeans seeped from his pores and were instantly steamed to wisps of white mist by the climbing heat.

Through the coiling vapor, across his bare shoulders and back, countless fine ripples crawled beneath the skin — as though tiny serpents were writhing. Sinew and bone emitted a low, resonant hum.

BOOM!

Like a peal of spring thunder — a massive detonation erupted from the vicinity of the Mingmen aperture, near the base of his tailbone.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Blast after blast, each one a war-drum struck with a sledgehammer.

Shen Xiuhan’s frame shuddered. His heavy brows knotted tight, a flash of pain crossing his features.

He clenched his teeth and swallowed the pill whole.

The medicinal surge multiplied in an instant.

CRACK!

Under the relentless barrage of Hidden Strength, the Mingmen aperture — like rotten wood meeting a sharp axe — was smashed wide open.

HISS HISS HISS…

The moment the aperture blew, every pore on Shen Xiuhan’s body dilated.

A layer of foul, grimy sweat — laced with fine dark impurities, its color murky — was forced through skin and flesh, congealing almost instantly into a film of filth across his body.

A rank, turbid odor spread through the courtyard.

But beneath the grime, the force inside Shen Xiuhan was undergoing a seismic transformation.

Taichong, Guanyuan, Tinggong — and now the newly opened Mingmen.

Four great apertures, aligned like stars strung along the night sky, linked in a wondrous resonance.

Hidden Strength cycled between the four in an endless loop — growing heavier, denser, condensing like molten lead and mercury.

When the last wisp of force settled into the Mingmen aperture —

Shen Xiuhan’s eyes flew open. He raised his left hand.

WHOOSH!

A tide of force — more than double what he’d commanded before — erupted from his body, expanding outward in a visible shockwave of compressed air.

RUSTLE…

The wind raked across the ground, sweeping up dead twigs, fallen leaves, dust, and bird droppings into a swirling cloud.

The Mingmen aperture — broken through!

“Hoo…”

Shen Xiuhan let out a long breath, elation flickering in his eyes.

‘Mid-Hidden Strength…’

‘With my current cultivation, plus every card in my hand — even against someone with seven apertures open, a late-stage Hidden Strength fighter, I could… well, to be safe, I could at least fight to a draw.’

As the thought formed, a gust of night wind carried the stench straight into his nostrils — thick enough to cut with a knife.

Shen Xiuhan’s face contorted.

Not daring to linger another second, he spun and strode for the courtyard well.

The flagstones were slick. He grabbed the bucket, slung it down, felt the splash, hauled it up, and upended it over his head.

Ice-cold well water cascaded down his spine, sluicing the black grime away.

He scrubbed with soap-cake, again and again, working up a dark, turbid lather across his entire body.

Even as he scrubbed, he shook his head in resignation, thinking:

‘The Mingmen aperture sits below the tailbone — the body’s cesspool, where all impurities converge. Blasting it open is like washing the marrow and stripping the body clean. The benefits are obvious: years of old injuries and residual pill-toxins have been purged. The downside… is that the smell is genuinely unbearable.’

A full quarter-hour of scrubbing, three buckets of water, and the reek finally faded.

He raised a sleeve to his nose, confirmed no trace of odor remained, and finally exhaled.

Then he ate supper, settled cross-legged, and continued meditating to stabilize his realm.

…

The ripples from the feast gradually settled into calm.

Changyun and Changshui counties slipped back into their accustomed rhythms.

While consolidating his cultivation, Shen Xiuhan dropped by Mei Hall every day or two to help supervise the disciples.

The hall’s recent surge of fame had drawn over forty new outer-court students. Combined with the existing roster, that put the count near seventy — the training yard could barely hold them all.

Fortunately, over the past few days a dozen or so had reached the end of their tuition without producing qi-blood, and had quietly departed.

But there was good news, too.

A local boy named Sun Yi, along with an out-of-county girl named Huang Shutong, had each broken through to Blood Tempering in quick succession.

Not because they were unusually gifted — both came from martial families and had some training under their belts before enrolling, which hastened the breakthrough.

With Mei Shuangfeng in seclusion, Jiang Qinghong could only accept them into the inner court on their master’s behalf.

These past days, Shen Xiuhan’s main task had been teaching the two newcomers.

By his assessment, both had modest family resources. The stipend their families could provide each month was limited.

In two or three months, they’d need to start seeking retainer postings to fund their cultivation.

The thought stirred a pang of wistfulness — as though he were glimpsing his own reflection from not so long ago.

Of course, reflection didn’t stop him from training.

Two days ago, Shen Xiuhan had taken another Meridian-Opening Aperture-Cleaving Pill.

The fifth aperture — the Huiyin — was already showing progress.

Three more days slipped past in the blink of an eye.

Late afternoon.

Mei Hall. The inner court.

Dusk hadn’t yet fallen. The last of the sun still hung at the eaves’ edge.

“Senior Brother…”

A figure in goose-yellow drifted up — Huang Shutong. She tilted her face upward, eyes bright with expectation.

“Senior Brother Shen, when will you teach me combat forms? Senior Sister says that once you enter the inner court, you can begin studying the Heavenly Dark Eagle Force…”

Shen Xiuhan considered briefly.

“In the next day or two.”

“Thank you, Senior Brother!”

Huang Shutong’s eyes curved into happy crescents. Then a thought seemed to strike her, and she stepped closer, catching his sleeve.

“Senior Brother, you’ve worked so hard teaching Sun Yi and me these past days. Are you free today? I hear there’s a new restaurant in the East Market — the food is supposed to be wonderful…”

“I have something to attend to today. Another time.”

Shen Xiuhan shook his head before she could finish, offered an apologetic smile, and turned toward the hall’s front gate.

Huang Shutong’s smile froze. The brightness in her eyes dimmed, degree by degree, like a candle touched by wind.

Nearby, the boy Sun Yi crept up beside her, an eager, hopeful grin plastered across his face.

“Senior Sister, if Senior Brother doesn’t want to go, I’d be happy to keep you company…”

“Get lost!!”

…

Outside the hall.

Shen Xiuhan crossed the threshold, his expression cooling. He paused, then turned west — toward the wharf.

There, in the gathering dusk —

A cluster of faint golden motes shimmered softly.