Chapter Forty-Four: Digging a Pond

The primordial blood here had not yet ceased flowing, and under the nourishment of the myriad qi seeds condensed by the abundant qi in the liver organ, it began a further transformation. Compared to the primordial blood, the liver’s metamorphosis was swift; in less than an hour, the entire liver was renewed, granting him a liver as strong as iron.

As for the qi seeds, they were completely absorbed, with the remaining residue blending into his flesh and blood, slightly enhancing them. Qi directly merging into flesh and blood also offered improvements, though it could never reach the level of the primordial blood. This was why Chen Yu now made a circuit to guide qi into his acupoints rather than dispersing it haphazardly throughout his body—such instability could easily cause problems.

Even though he had the peach blossom protection as a safeguard, its efficacy had limits; it was not omnipotent. He retained a measure of caution, unwilling to take overly large steps. Returning to the liver, which connects the ears and eyes, its transformation made both senses markedly sharper. Chen Yu’s already exceptional eyesight improved again, nearly rivaling that of a soaring eagle.

More evidently, his Spirit Breathing Strengthening Technique needed revision—the liver had become so powerful that it no longer required stimulation by this method to autonomously absorb spiritual fluid at a rate comparable to when the technique was in operation. This development rendered the Spirit Breathing Strengthening Technique, his first creation of a mystical formula, almost obsolete and on the verge of abandonment.

Nonetheless, Chen Yu was reluctant to discard it entirely, as many parts of the technique could still be applied to the primordial blood. Curiously, he tested again and found that the spiritual fluid could now be directly absorbed by the primordial blood—this was the second part of the body, after the liver, capable of such direct absorption. Moreover, after absorbing the spiritual fluid, the primordial blood continued to accumulate as if preparing for another transformation.

“Blood...” Chen Yu’s anticipation grew, but as the blood thickened and strengthened, his blood vessels and muscles began to emit unbearable warnings. He quickly noticed this internal oversight and realized that his heart was under heavy strain—several acupoints outside the ventricles were compressed, damaging the myocardium and causing faint pain.

Finally, Chen Yu summoned qi to envelop the heart, gradually condensing it into a qi seed just as he had with the liver, slowly nurturing and enhancing the heart’s strength.

Exhaling deeply, he hoped this would succeed. To prevent similar incidents, he also condensed qi seeds in the lungs and kidneys. Though his control over qi was still somewhat raw, it had improved compared to before, and his mental focus was keen, allowing him to form qi seeds swiftly. Yet he still required organs as a foundation; creating a qi seed from nothing was far beyond his reach.

…

“Chiu!”

In the courtyard, he swung his single arm, fingers forming a blade-like strike that flashed through the air with sharp crackling sounds. Chen Yu was practicing a bare-handed technique recorded in the Cloud Crane Manual.

His entire body seemed enveloped in swirling blood mist, his aura oppressive and commanding, like Mount Tai itself, inspiring awe. It was the last day of May, and many acupoints in his body had been infused with qi. Although the primordial blood was still scarce and diluted, its continuous accumulation had given Chen Yu an appearance far surpassing that of ordinary martial artists.

He had not neglected his physical strength either. With the viscera each condensing qi seeds—except for the spleen, which he was uncertain whether it was spleen or stomach—significant progress had been made. This was far faster than traditional strength training; qi flowed endlessly, and in one day, he accomplished what would normally take ten. Such speed would astonish many.

Chen Yu had no grand thoughts about this; he simply considered his progress normal. Lacking extraordinary talent, he had to resort to such shortcuts. After all, he was still the same mediocre mountain hermit, the so-called Cloud Crane Sect Master who spent his days buried in the mountains without ambition.

After morning practice, Chen Yu washed up and offered incense to the Dao Ancestor in the shrine. Today he needed to dig a pond, and since the noon hour might get busy and he might forget, he lit the incense early—a habit he was used to and felt no burden about.

Behind the courtyard, near the vegetable garden, he cleared several small pits against the mountain wall, moving stones aside for later use. He stomped his heel on the ground repeatedly, ultimately selecting a pit on the left side.

With the hoe just striking the earth twice, a dull sound erupted in his hand, but luckily the handle held firm. Digging along the edge, he soon uncovered a large stone, which he lifted aside and continued.

These pits were natural but scattered and small; he needed to dig deeper and connect several pits together.

“No need to dig a trench above,” he muttered.

At the top of the mountain wall lay a bare stone pile with only sparse grass roots. Digging trenches there would be laborious and prone to collapse—not worth it. This spot was close to the vegetable and medicinal herb fields, could hold and collect water, and had stones ready for lining.

The pits were dug, but the pond needed to be raised higher; otherwise, the water could not be directed in.

Connecting the small pits, Chen Yu stood with his hoe, measuring and gesturing. The mountain wall was relatively high and sloped toward the herb field; a slight elevation would allow water to flow directly to the other side.

“Heh!”

Digging a pond was hard work, but Chen Yu’s martial training had given him plenty of strength, so he worked steadily. Before long, it was mostly done—only the stone lining and water channels remained.

Ah, no water yet.

He remembered that the rainy season likely would not bring much rain until summer. Spring had only a few scattered showers, small and irregular.

By noon, he hadn’t bothered with meals, eating a few bowls of the cold porridge he had set aside that morning before resuming work.

The primordial blood surged within him, as if inexhaustible energy flowed. To vent this vigor and ease the strain on his heart, he worked energetically. Two more hours passed as he finished digging channels linking the herb fields, vegetable garden, and surrounding plots.

He extended a trench to the mountainside fields—not deep, but the small acreage meant this water should suffice.

At the mountain base, surveying the now stone-lined, empty dry pond with its edges raised several feet above ground, Chen Yu stroked his chin thoughtfully and piled a mound of earth encircled by rocks in the middle, protruding oddly from the pond’s center.

“Later, when I have time, I can plant lotus or water lilies here and raise some fish and shrimp.”

A fine thought, but still far off. He looked up at the sky, clear and washed blue, then sighed.

No hope of rain today.

He would wait for another day.

Gathering his tools, Chen Yu turned and headed back toward the Daoist temple.