The Martial Saint Started from Scavenging

Ye Sheng wiped away the mud and forcefully pried open the box lid.

There were no copper coins or silver fragments as expected, only a few withered and blackened plant roots that looked like uncleaned medicinal residue, and a small roll of something wrapped in oilcloth.

At that moment, he picked up the oilcloth roll and unfolded it.

They were three yellowed pieces of paper, thicker and more flexible than ordinary paper, with some distorted symbols drawn on them in vermilion, and tiny, neat annotations next to them.

The handwriting was somewhat similar in style to the document he was copying today, but the content was completely different.

Suddenly, the progress bar for the [Scavenging (Beginner)] skill panel jumped up: [100/100]!

Immediately afterwards, the handwriting changed:

[Skill: Scavenging (Skilled)]

[Progress: 0/500]

[Effects: Identifies miscellaneous objects, with occasional gains; faintly senses residual "spiritual essence"]

At the same time, a realization much clearer than ever before flooded into Ye Sheng's mind.

The next second, he found that not only had his common sense about identifying the age, material, and purpose of ordinary objects increased, but he also had an inexplicable feeling in his heart—as if he could vaguely sense the special "aura" left on certain things.

At this moment, the three pieces of vermilion paper in Ye Sheng's hand were emitting a very faint, yet real, "coolness".

This is not an ordinary piece of paper.

Ye Sheng thought to himself, his heart pounding.

He quickly rewrapped the paper and stuffed it into his pocket along with the tin box.

At that very moment, he sensed again a faint, familiar "coolness" deep within the garbage heap.

He then pushed aside more debris and finally dug out a gray stone about half the size of his palm from the mud.

The stone's surface was rough, with some faint natural patterns. When Ye Sheng held it in his hand, the "coolness" was slightly more noticeable than that of a piece of paper.

"Huh? Could this coolness be the spiritual essence mentioned in the 'Records of Local Customs'?"

Ye Sheng muttered to himself, recalling that he remembered reading the book before.

The book states: Spiritual energy is the origin of heaven and earth, and the foundation for cultivators' practice. Spiritual essence is the quintessence of spiritual energy, often gathered in objects, with a slightly cool touch, and is extremely precious.

Just now, Ye Sheng, relying on his innate ability of the [Scavenging (Skilled)] technique, sensed residual spiritual energy on both sandpaper and stone. Although extremely faint, even almost completely dissipated, these two items were by no means ordinary trash.

"Could these two items be things discarded by the immortals?"

Ye Sheng couldn't help but speculate in his mind.

In this world, mortals all respectfully refer to cultivators as immortals.

Just as Ye Sheng was pondering, a rude shout came from behind him.

"Hey kid, what are you doing rummaging around for? Do you have a badge?"

Upon hearing this, Ye Sheng was startled. He quickly put the stone away, stood up, turned around, and took out the temporary travel permit from his pocket.

At the same time, a burly man with a fierce face and a wooden stick hanging from his waist strode towards him.

The rough man was the town's patrolman, responsible for nighttime vigilance and driving away loiterers, and he especially disliked vagrants lingering on the outskirts of town.

"I'll be going now, kid." Ye Sheng bowed his head and hurriedly handed over his travel permit for inspection.

The patrolman didn't take it; he merely glanced at the wooden sign, spat on the ground, and cursed, "Pah! What a fucking bad luck! Running into a vagrant like you, you'd better get out of town!"

Immediately afterward, Ye Sheng left.

He walked a long way, until he was completely out of Blackrock Town and onto a desolate path, before he could finally breathe a sigh of relief.

He felt the iron box and the stone against his chest, cold to the touch. He didn't yet know exactly what the paper and stone were, but his enhanced perception from the [Scavenging] talent meant he was right.

Furthermore, if it truly is something discarded by immortals, perhaps it could be sold for some money? But to whom? The town's pawnshop? Or...?

Ye Sheng suddenly remembered that the book vaguely mentioned that some cultivators or their agents would buy materials containing spiritual essence, no matter how rare they were.

This thought made Ye Sheng's heart race.

The night wind grew colder, so he wrapped his thin clothes tighter around himself, quickened his pace, and thought to himself: I must go back first; my younger brother is still waiting for me.

The night was as dark as ink, and by the time Ye Sheng returned to Shuilongdu, it was already past midnight.

Inside the shed, Ye Kai did not sleep soundly, with occasional suppressed coughs.

Ye Sheng gently added fuel to the fire, broke the half-cold, hard steamed bun in his arms into pieces, soaked it in hot water, and drank a few sips of hot water to warm himself up.

He then took out the iron box and the gray stone, and examined them closely by the dim firelight.

The symbols on the three pieces of cinnabar paper were twisted and strange. Although the annotations were neatly written, the content was obscure, mixed with words such as qi channels, concentration, and foundation. They were neither like Taoist books nor ordinary prescriptions.

Looking at that gray stone again, it was icy to the touch, and its patterns faintly glowed with a bluish hue in the firelight.

With his innate perception of the [Scavenging (Skilled)] skill, Ye Sheng was quite certain that these two items were related to 'Spiritual Essence', but he had no idea what their specific value was or how to deal with them.

If we sell it to the town's pawnshop, the pawnshop owner might not recognize its value and it could even bring trouble.

Could we try to find someone like Master Liu? The risk is too great, and Master Liu might not even have access to buyers of these kinds of items.

Perhaps... we can only keep it for now.

After some thought, Ye Sheng carefully hid the items at the bottom of the broken wooden box and weighed them down with old books. Then, he lay back down on the straw mat, but couldn't fall asleep.

Today's experience at the naval base felt like a cold thorn piercing Ye Sheng's heart, and he now desperately craved power.

Because at this moment, he realized more clearly that in this world, if a ryuho wanted to survive, diligence, skill, or even a little cleverness would not be enough; he also needed power. Or rather, the qualifications to exchange for power.

Ye Sheng recalled that the "Fengwu Zhi" mentioned that there are billions of mortals in this world, but only "cultivators" can truly transcend the mundane and wield power.

However, the threshold for becoming a cultivator is extremely high. One needs spiritual roots, opportunities, and a vast amount of resources, which is unattainable for those who are not from aristocratic families or sects.

But if we take a step back, somewhere between mortals and cultivators, there are "martial artists".

Martial artists hone their bodies, refine their qi and blood, and practice martial arts. Although they cannot achieve immortality or possess supernatural powers, they can still break stone tablets and split rocks, fight against several people, and even reach a high level of cultivation where their qi and blood are like a furnace, making them fearless of ordinary evil spirits and thus superior to ordinary people.

Martial artists, though they do not need spiritual roots, do need inheritance, medicinal nourishment, and time for arduous training, which is something that ordinary people cannot hope to achieve.

Ye Sheng used to think these things were too far removed from him, like clouds in the sky. But now, clutching that slightly cool piece of paper, a strong sense of resentment grew wildly like weeds.

What if, by some chance, that piece of paper holds some promise? Even if it's just a sliver of possibility.

Thinking of this, Ye Sheng sat up again and gently pulled out the oldest and most worn-out of the three pieces of paper.

The small print above was barely legible in the firelight: "Sink your Qi into the abyss, focus your mind on the Dantian, let your feet feel like they are rooted to the earth, and let your spine feel like a dragon ascending to heaven. This is the key to basic stance training. Persist in it, and you can stabilize your lower body, strengthen your Qi and blood, and build the foundation of martial arts..."

This is... stance training!

Ye Sheng's breath hitched. It really was something related to martial arts! Although it was just the most basic stance training, and the annotations were incomplete, with only general descriptions of the postures and breathing points, and no detailed diagrams of blood and qi circulation or more profound formulas, it was undoubtedly the most basic thing to step into the threshold of martial arts!

At that moment, Ye Sheng's heart began to pound. By the light of the fire, he read the obscure text over and over again, trying his best to understand it.

"Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, squat slightly, tuck your tailbone in, hunch your chest and straighten your back, look straight ahead, as if your eyes are half-closed... breathe deeply and visualize your breath sinking down..."

Without a master's guidance, without medicinal baths, or even without a complete training method, attempting it rashly is likely to be ineffective and may even harm your health.

But Ye Sheng had no choice, because he wanted to become stronger and wanted to help his younger brother survive.

He quietly got up, walked to a slightly more spacious area in the center of the shed, avoiding Ye Kai's sleeping spot, and slowly assumed the posture described on the piece of paper.

Stand with your feet apart, squat slightly, and adjust your center of gravity. Tuck in your stomach, straighten your spine, and relax your shoulders. Lower your gaze to the ground in front of you.

Then, Ye Sheng tried to adjust his breathing.

At first, he was extremely awkward, feeling uncomfortable all over. He was either unsteady on his feet, his shoulders were tense, and his breathing was erratic.

However, Ye Sheng did not give up. He adjusted little by little, recalled the key points of the text, and tried his best to adapt his body to the "stance".

Time passed slowly. He felt his legs begin to ache and tremble, his back stiffen, and sweat seeped from his forehead.

But there were no prompts in front of him, and the panel didn't respond at all. Perhaps, this wasn't considered a "skill" by the cheat system.

Is it because the stance of the pile driver is incorrect, or is it because the key techniques are lacking?

Just as Ye Sheng felt his legs were about to lose feeling and was about to give up, suddenly, a barely perceptible stream of heat rose from the cold ground beneath his feet, slowly spreading upwards along his leg bones before dissipating.