Lu Zhiyuan's peculiar fondness for cooking, particularly stir-frying pork liver, gradually became known throughout the clinic. Cooking was one thing, but why use only a fingernail-sized piece each time? No one could understand it.
Lately, he seemed to have stopped stir-frying pork liver. Perhaps he had grown tired of it. He had switched to stir-frying yam and chicken instead. The only thing unchanged was the tiny amount he cooked.
He Bingchuan even made a special visit to ask whether he wanted a place reserved in the clinic's kitchen.
Lu Zhiyuan politely declined. He rented a small house in the city and began living and eating there, returning to the clinic only to brew pills.
In his previous life, he had loathed the simple routine of shuttling between two places. In this world, he relished it.
Anyone who saw steady rewards for his efforts would probably feel the same way.
Many people were not naturally lazy. They simply grew discouraged when hard work brought no return for too long. Lu Zhiyuan filled his days with cultivation, cooking, and alchemy, happily keeping himself busy. He even gave up much of his sleep at night.
Staying up late could become addictive, too.
Time slipped by quietly. Soon, another ten-odd days had passed.
In the courtyard, Lu Zhiyuan moved with a longsword in hand, sword light flashing around him. His Greenpeak Sword Art was swift and fierce, displaying tremendous power.
Anyone from Clearwell Clinic who saw it would never recognize the Clearwind Sword Art handed down at the clinic. A few similarities remained, but most of it was entirely different.
The blade hissed through the air.
At some point, Lu Zhiyuan had come to a stop. A fine crack appeared in the courtyard's ornamental rockwork. The cut was exceptionally smooth, as though painstakingly polished.
"Sword qi?"
He had practiced Greenpeak Sword Art to Perfected proficiency. At that point, it had actually begun producing sword qi.
The sword qi had decent power, but could not leave the blade. It extended less than 33 1/3 centimeters beyond the tip. Injuring a prepared opponent with it would be difficult.
Used without warning, however, it could easily catch an enemy off guard. No one would expect a martial artist at merely the Skin Tempering stage to have developed sword qi.
Sword qi depended on cultivation, but even more on swordsmanship attainment. Evidently, Greenpeak Sword Art at Perfected proficiency met the basic requirements. Read the latest chapters at novelping.com.
Along with Greenpeak Sword Art, he had brought Windborne Breathing Method to Perfected proficiency. At that proficiency, the breathing method contributed more to his daily realm progress than expected.
He had originally thought he would need another two-odd months to reach the Flesh Tempering stage. Recalculating now, he believed he could complete the breakthrough in just over a month.
The Skin Tempering stage lay at the bottom among martial artists. It made someone stronger than an ordinary person, but counted for little among other martial artists.
The Flesh Tempering stage was another matter. Whatever its standing elsewhere, in Stillshade it represented substantial strength. Du Zheng was only at that stage, yet his position at the clinic far exceeded that of an ordinary household guard, as did his monthly wages.
It could not compare with being an alchemist. Even so, someone at the Flesh Tempering stage could live very comfortably in Stillshade and enjoy considerable social standing, provided he did not spend heavily on cultivation pills.
Nothing significant had happened at the clinic during those ten-odd days. Outside Stillshade, however, a group of refugees had arrived. They had not entered the city, but found a place to settle outside it.
These were unsettled times. Lu Zhiyuan had heard that the current dynasty had endured for seven hundred-odd years. Several decades earlier, unrest had begun breaking out in various regions.
Roughly tens of kilometers away, rebels had seized a county seat and begun killing, burning, and looting. These refugees had been forced to leave their homes and come to Stillshade.
"The Young Mistress is taking us out today to provide free medical care and distribute porridge to the refugees. Stay sharp, all of you! Don't disgrace Clearwell Clinic!"
When Lu Zhiyuan arrived, He Bingchuan was already addressing everyone.
Clearwell Clinic belonged to the Tao clan, a wealthy household in Stillshade County. The clan owned rice shops as well as Clearwell Clinic, but the clinic was its most important business, providing most of its income and strength.
The county office had ordered Stillshade's wealthy households to provide relief outside the city, including porridge every day. If the refugees rioted, the office would be unable to control them, and the whole county would suffer.
"You're Lu Zhiyuan?"
A girl came up and looked him over. He was not as thin as the rumors suggested, but he was far too dark-skinned. Not attractive at all. She curled her lip in distaste. "Well, we've met now. That takes care of what Father asked me to do."
With that, she turned and left. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
Watching her go, Lu Zhiyuan belatedly realized that she must be Jia Shiheng's second daughter, Jia Yingqiu. Jia Shiheng had mentioned this a few days earlier, apparently hoping to bring them together.
Lu Zhiyuan had paid little attention at the time. He had not expected to run into her here.
Tao Yinglan, the Tao clan's Young Mistress, soon arrived. Jia Yingqiu ran over to her, behaving very affectionately. Tao Yinglan seemed to glance back at Lu Zhiyuan as well, but said nothing.
The group left the clinic in force and went outside the city.
Large pots were set up to cook porridge, and physicians began seeing patients nearby. Soon, the refugees formed lines.
As an alchemist, Lu Zhiyuan mostly lent a hand where needed. Menials from the clinic and rice shops did the rest.
The scent of porridge spread, and noon soon arrived.
"Young Mistress, someone has asked us to make a house call to treat his master."
He Bingchuan approached Tao Yinglan, pointed to a shabbily dressed servant in the distance, and spoke quietly.
"Why doesn't he bring the patient here?" she asked, frowning slightly.
"He's seriously ill and can no longer get out of bed." He Bingchuan tightened his grip on the jade in his sleeve and smiled.
"All right. Send a few people. Have them go promptly and return promptly." She agreed with a nod. They had come to provide relief, after all.
Smiling, He Bingchuan selected a physician. Seeing that Lu Zhiyuan was unoccupied, he sent him along as well and told Du Zheng to protect them both.
After the time it took an incense stick to burn, the three reached a rundown courtyard.
Du Zheng sniffed the air, and his expression changed. He was about to turn when, without warning, a figure was there in front of him and kicked him in the chest.
He flew backward into the courtyard wall, spat blood, and turned as pale as paper.