A person sacrifices himself to become a saint in a chaotic world of martial arts.

Chapter 174 Cultivation

Su Bai stood in the crowd.

He was dressed in a plain black official uniform, with no sword at his waist, and simply stood quietly.

Rain dripped down the edge of the umbrella, forming a thin stream at his feet. He watched the Feng family relatives dressed in mourning clothes, watched the coffin slowly being lifted, and watched the funeral procession gradually disappear into the rain.

The white banner fluttered in the rain, gradually fading into the distance until it disappeared around the street corner.

He lit three incense sticks, bowed, and then turned and left.

There wasn't much sadness.

He wasn't familiar with Feng Zhenshan.

I've never even seen one before.

But the former chief inspector of Qingyuan County died, and now the deputy chief inspector has also died.

Died inexplicably.

His death was suspicious and bizarre.

Su Bai stood in the courtyard of the Zhenfu Division, gazing at the sky that had cleared after the rain.

The rain washed away the dust in the air, and the sky was a clear, bright blue.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps in the clouds, casting golden beams that slanted down onto the damp flagstones, reflecting a shimmering light like scattered gold dust.

The air still carries the fresh scent of the rain, with the earthy smell and the fragrance of grass and trees. Taking a breath, your lungs feel cool.

The leaves of the old locust tree in the corner of the yard were washed by the rain and looked lush and green, with water droplets still clinging to their surfaces.

A gust of wind blew by, the branches and leaves swayed, and water droplets fell down in a soft patter, dripping and splashing on the ground, creating tiny water droplets.

He knew very well that Feng Zhenshan's death was just the beginning.

Those lurking in the shadows, those covetous forces, those conspiracies yet to surface—these are all just the beginning.

Like this rain, it has stopped and the sky has cleared, but the real thing is still hidden beneath the surface of the water. You can't see it or touch it, but it really exists.

But right now, there's nothing he can do.

The approval from Fengshan County has not yet been issued, and the new inspector and deputy chief inspector have not yet taken office. The major powers in the city are keeping a low profile, each hiding in their own courtyards and rarely even going out.

The Wei family's gates were tightly shut, the Wu family had doubled their guards, and the Xie family's third young master no longer frequented the teahouse. Business at Wanchuntang was noticeably quieter than usual.

The duties in the Zhenfu Division were relatively light; the constables could patrol when they needed to and rest when they needed to, and everything was in good order.

It was like the calm before a storm.

Su Bai withdrew his gaze and turned to walk towards the public housing.

Since there's nothing else to do, let's practice our skills.

The public housing unit was small, a room about ten feet square, with a table, a chair, a bookshelf, and a bed taking up most of the space. Several official documents were piled on the desk, and the tea in the teacup had long since gone cold.

A calligraphy scroll hangs on the wall, a single character he wrote himself, "Quiet," the ink still wet.

Su Bai stood in the center of the room, looked around, and frowned slightly.

His brows were furrowed into a shallow knot, and a few fine lines appeared between his eyebrows.

He raised his right hand and gestured in front of him—both the Frost Sword Technique and the Fire Qilin Sword Technique require space to unleash their power; when the sword techniques are fully unleashed, the area must be at least two zhang in diameter.

This place is too small; there's simply no room to maneuver. I could practice the Zhenyue Sword Technique, but with one strike, the sword energy would be so powerful it would probably cleave this communal house in two.

Only a protective shield is needed; not much space is required.

He walked to a corner of the room, where it was relatively more spacious.

Several bundles of books were piled up in the corner. He bent down and moved them aside, making room for a space about three feet square. The ground was made of blue bricks, worn smooth and flat, with water stains still remaining where he had spilled water while washing his feet.

He sat down cross-legged.

With legs crossed, right foot on left thigh and left foot on right thigh, this is the standard five-point-up-the-sky pose.

His back was straight, like a javelin stuck in the ground.

He placed his hands lightly on his knees, palms facing up, thumbs and middle fingers interlocked, forming a simple mudra. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled.

His breathing gradually calmed down.

Each breath is long and slow. The breath flows through the body, moving slowly along the meridians, starting from the dantian, flowing through the limbs and bones, and then returning to the dantian.

It goes on and on, endlessly.

He could clearly feel the flow of true energy, like warm streams meandering through his body.

Golden Bell Cover.

This is a superior hard skill, which uses true qi to condense into an invisible qi shield to protect the whole body.

When one reaches a high level of mastery, the qi shield becomes as solid as a golden bell, impervious to swords and spears, and unaffected by water and fire.

He started from the first level and worked his way up to the seventh.

The Golden Bell Shield of the seventh level can withstand the slashes of ordinary swords and blades, but it is still somewhat inadequate against the full-force attack of a master at the Great Perfection of the True Qi Realm.

He needs to go a step further.

Level 8.

According to the manual, the eighth level of the Golden Bell Shield requires condensing one's true energy to its extreme, forming a visible golden aura on the body's surface. This aura not only greatly increases defensive power but also reflects the force of the attacker.

Once he masters this level, he will be completely immune to True Qi Realm cultivators; only True Qi Realm cultivators can harm him.

However, the eighth level is extremely difficult to pass.

The only useful thing was the booklet left by Long Boyuan.

Long Boyuan was a peak True Qi master thirty years ago, and also the last person to cultivate the Golden Bell Shield to the ninth level.

That booklet was a collection of his spiritual practice notes written in his later years. The handwriting was so messy it looked like chicken claws, and the content was disorganized, with sentences scattered from one place to another, but every word was precious and full of valuable information.

When Su Bai first read it, there were many parts he couldn't understand. He read it over and over again before he slowly began to grasp its meaning.

Su Bai spent three days reading the booklet over and over again.

The booklet was yellowed and brittle, with worn edges and torn pages. There were water stains and sweat stains on the pages, it was unclear whether they were left by Long Boyuan himself or by later readers.

He turned the pages gently with his fingertips, afraid of tearing them if he used too much force.

This means that the key to the Golden Bell Cover technique lies not in one's Qi or physical body, but in one's mind.

When the mind is focused, the Qi naturally condenses. When the Qi condenses, the body naturally becomes strong.

Su Bai closed his eyes and began to circulate his true energy within his body.

The true energy flowed slowly along the meridians, like a trickle, starting from the dantian, flowing along the Ren and Du meridians, and reaching all parts of the body. He tried to condense the true energy on the surface of his body, forming a thin film of energy under his skin.

It didn't go smoothly at first.

True Qi is like a naughty child, always disobedient.

You want it to move outwards, but it keeps shrinking inwards; you want it to be evenly distributed, but it spreads out in all directions, favoring some parts over others.

Sometimes, after finally managing to gather some strength, a moment's inattention and it all dissipates, rendering all previous efforts futile.

Su Bai is not in a hurry.

He took a deep breath and continued trying.

Once, twice, three times.

Ten times, twenty times, thirty times.

Fine beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead, glistening one by one, sliding down his brow bone and dripping onto his clothes.

The back of my clothes was soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to my skin, feeling sticky and uncomfortable.

But he couldn't care less about that; his entire mind was focused on the true energy within his body.

After an unknown amount of time, he suddenly sensed something different.

At a certain point on his body, his true energy finally condensed into a thin membrane as he wished.

The membrane was so thin that it was almost imperceptible, but it was definitely there.

It was like an invisible barrier separating his skin from the outside world, or like a very thin veil gently covering his body.

Su Bai was overjoyed and continued trying.

With the first success, the second was much easier. He guided his inner energy, little by little, point by point, covering every corner of his body with that thin film.

This is an extremely mentally taxing process that requires a high degree of concentration.

If he lost focus even slightly, his inner energy would dissipate, and all his previous efforts would be in vain. He dared not slacken in the slightest, concentrating fully, like a craftsman meticulously polishing a fragile piece of porcelain.

Time passes little by little.

The light outside the window shifted from bright to dim, then back to bright. Day and night alternated, time flowed on. Su Bai sat there, motionless, like a stone statue.

His breathing became slower and longer.

Sometimes, I only breathe once in the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

His heartbeat slowed down, his pulse dropped from 70 or 80 beats per minute to 50 or 60 beats per minute, and then to 30 or 40 beats per minute.

He entered a state similar to hibernation, focusing all his energy on the condensation of true energy within his body.

The thin film is slowly getting thicker.

From as thin as a cicada's wing, to as thick as rice paper, and then to as thick as leather.

Each additional inch of thickness requires a significant expenditure of true energy and mental focus.

Su Bai's face turned pale, and his lips lost their color, but he remained seated, calm, and breathing deeply, as if he felt no fatigue at all.

Long Boyuan wrote in his notes: "The repair of the Golden Bell Cover is like casting a bell. At first, it is like a clay blank, soft and easily broken; gradually it becomes like a pottery blank, taking shape; finally, it becomes like a bronze bell, indestructible. However, casting a bell requires fire, and repairing the cover requires qi. If the qi is insufficient, the work will fail."

Therefore, those who practice this skill must have a profound foundation in internal strength.

Su Bai has.

His internal energy cultivation technique is the "Qingyuan Jue," a superior mental cultivation method. He has cultivated it for so long that his foundation is solid and his true energy is abundant.

Although it cannot compare to those practitioners of divine skills, it is more than enough to support the cultivation of the Golden Bell Shield.

The vital energy flows endlessly through the meridians, like a great river, inexhaustible and boundless.

This is also the source of his confidence in attempting to break through to the eighth level in just a few days.

Time passed in silence.

The light outside the window changed from bright to dim, and then from dim to bright again.

Day and night alternated, time flowed on. Su Bai sat there, motionless, like a stone statue. His breathing grew slower and longer.

Sometimes, he would only breathe once in the time it takes for an incense stick to burn. His heartbeat also slowed down, his pulse dropping from 70 or 80 beats per minute to 50 or 60, and then to 30 or 40.

He entered a state similar to hibernation, focusing all his energy on the condensation of true energy within his body.

The thin film is slowly getting thicker.

From as thin as a cicada's wing, to as thick as rice paper, and then to as thick as leather.

Each additional inch of thickness requires a significant expenditure of true energy and mental focus.

Su Bai's face turned pale, and his lips lost their color, but he remained seated, calm, and breathing deeply, as if he felt no fatigue at all.

His clothes were soaked with sweat, which slowly evaporated due to his body heat, leaving rings of white salt stains on the fabric.

Sweat beads gathered on his forehead, trickled down his brow bone, and dripped onto his clothes, leaving a small, dark stain.

But his eyes remained closed, his brows relaxed, and his expression serene, as if none of this existed.

After an unknown amount of time, Su Bai suddenly opened his eyes.

The moment those eyes opened, it was as if two sharp glints flashed from the depths of their eyes, sharp as knives, yet fleeting, disappearing into the deep pupils.

He blinked, his eyes gradually returning to their usual calm.

He raised his right hand and looked at his palm.

On the palm, a faint golden halo could be seen, appearing and disappearing as if covered by a thin golden veil.

The gold was extremely faint, almost invisible, but it was definitely there.

Sunlight streamed in through the window and fell on my palm, causing the golden gauze to reflect a faint glow, as if coated with a very thin layer of metallic powder.

Eighth level, done.

No, it's not fully formed yet. This is only the initial stage of formation; it's still far from the true eighth level.

According to Long Boyuan's notes, the true eighth level has a solid aura like a golden bell, visible to the naked eye, shining with golden light, capable of blocking swords and reflecting attacks.

His current level is at best just touching the threshold, not even reaching the beginner level.

But at least he has reached the threshold and found his direction.

The rest is just a matter of patience and perseverance, accumulating experience day by day, to gradually solidify this layer of air.

Just like casting a bell, first you have a clay model, then you fire it to make pottery, and finally you cast it into bronze.

Every step must be taken patiently and requires time and patience to refine.

He stood up.

My legs and feet have gone numb from sitting for so long.

He stood against the wall for a while, waiting for the blood to circulate slowly.

The joints cracked and popped, like firecrackers that had been going off for a long time, one after another.

My muscles were sore and aching, especially my thighs and calves, which felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead.

He looked down at himself.

A thin layer of dust settled on him, a grayish-white powder, on his shoulders, his clothes, and his knees.

He reached out and patted it, sending up dust that danced in the sunlight like a swarm of tiny golden insects.

Walk to the window and open it.

The windows are made of wood and are quite heavy to push.

He pushed hard, and with a creak, the window opened wide.

The afternoon sun suddenly streamed in, shining on his face, warm and pleasant, carrying the unique scent of sunshine.

The light was so bright it was almost blinding. He squinted until his eyes adjusted before looking outside.

In the courtyard, several constables were patrolling.

The three of them, dressed in black official robes and with long swords at their waists, walked back and forth in the courtyard.

Some people were walking and talking, with smiles on their faces;

Some people stood tall with their chests out, their eyes scanning their surroundings; others walked briskly, as if they had inexhaustible energy.

A hawker's cry echoed from afar; it was a vendor selling candied hawthorns, the long, drawn-out sound reverberating through the streets and alleys.

The hustle and bustle of the city, mingled with the crowing of roosters and barking of dogs, the laughter of children, and the shouts of vendors, weaves together a symphony of everyday life.

He took a deep breath.

The air was fresh, carrying the scent of earth from the yard, the aroma of smoke drifting from distant chimneys, and the unique dryness and coolness of autumn. Breathing it in made me feel much more refreshed.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, forming a faint curve.