My Years as a Menace in the Sect

Wei Ping'an was awakened by the pain.

He lay on his side on the hard bed, his right arm pressed so hard that the blood vessels were blocked, and his five fingers were so numb that it was difficult to move them. He groggily turned over, and the back of his head hit the edge of the pot with a thud. The dull thud echoed in the small room, making him gasp in pain and almost jump up on the spot.

He clutched the back of his head, grimacing for a long time before slowly opening his eyes. The room was pitch black, with a layer of grayish-white light filtering through the window paper. He couldn't tell if it was the fourth or fifth watch of the night, and none of the birds in the mountains were chirping.

Wei Pingan propped himself up on the bed, his throat bitter and astringent, even swallowing his saliva tasted like bitter herbs.

Just then, the wooden door creaked open, and Old Man Zheng walked in carrying a bowl of white porridge. The aroma of the porridge filled his nose, and his stomach immediately growled.

Old Zheng placed the porridge on the chipped table without even lifting his eyelids: "Awake? Eat, then go to the front yard."

Wei Ping'an's voice was hoarse as he stared at the bowl of porridge without picking it up: "Uncle-Master, what exactly was that black soup from last night?"

"Didn't I tell you? That's the Fire Toad Pill. Every newcomer to the Medicine Testing Hall has to drink a bowl of it to cleanse their mortal bones and test whether they can withstand the effects of the medicine." Old Man Zheng's tone was as calm as if he were just saying that the weather was nice today.

"What if... you can't handle it?"

Old Zheng had already turned and walked towards the door, his thin, bamboo-like back swaying slightly: "If I can't hold on, you're no longer in this house today."

The footsteps faded into the distance, neither hurried nor slow.

Wei Ping'an sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the white porridge for a long time. So he had stepped into the gates of hell yesterday? This old man seemed quiet but was really ruthless, feeding the newcomer deadly stuff right away without even a warning.

Despite my inner grumbling, I didn't stop, picking up the bowl of porridge and shoveling it down in a few mouthfuls. The warm porridge slid down my stomach, finally suppressing the bitter taste in my mouth.

He patted the pot and said, "If it really has a spirit, then we two brothers will stick together in this immortal sect from now on. If I have a dry biscuit to eat, you'll have a rusty pot to clean." He laughed at himself after saying that. What rust could he possibly have in his pot?

After packing up, he slung the black pot over his shoulder and sauntered toward the front yard. Turning the corner, Old Man Zheng sat on a stone bench under the old locust tree, with a row of rough porcelain bowls in front of him, red, green, and brown, filled with various kinds of medicinal powder.

The old man held a calligraphy brush in his hand, writing slowly and leisurely on the book, exuding an air of tranquility. Wei Ping'an rolled his eyes inwardly. This old man had almost killed him yesterday, but today he acted as if nothing had happened. He was truly cunning.

"Master Uncle, I've arrived."

He stood up straight, his face showing an honest expression. "What kind of medicine are we trying today? Tell me in advance so I can be prepared and avoid fainting again and causing trouble."

Old Zheng glanced at him, then gestured with his chin toward the leftmost bowl: "Licorice and Atractylodes Powder, for replenishing qi. Tell me how you feel every fifteen minutes after taking it. If you give me detailed feedback, you'll have dinner; if you give me rough feedback, you won't have dinner tonight."

Wei Ping'an: "..." You win.

He picked up the leftmost bowl, which contained a light brown powder that smelled like roasted wheat.

He valued his life and didn't dare pour it directly into his mouth. He first dipped his fingertip in a tiny amount and tasted it. It was bitter, but not poisonous. Old Zheng coldly spoke from across the table: "Try it if you want. What medicinal properties can you detect by licking it? Are you here to test medicine or to taste candied fruit?"

Wei Ping'an chuckled twice: "Isn't this just being cautious, Uncle-Master? After all, my life is more important." He then pinched off a large handful and poured it into his mouth. The powder was very fine and melted in his mouth. The aroma of roasted wheat vanished in an instant, followed by an overwhelming bitterness that rushed straight to his head. His face scrunched up like a bun, and he swallowed it with a stiff neck.

After swallowing, he secretly felt the movement on his back. Sure enough, less than half a cup of tea later, a surge of heat rose from his stomach, traveling up his spine. When it reached the potsticker, it felt as if something gently enveloped it, instantly calming the previously oppressive heat, which slowly dissipated into his limbs. A thought struck him—it really worked! This potsticker was indeed effective!

He remained outwardly calm, reporting his feelings every fifteen minutes: a burning sensation in his stomach, a warm back, and sweaty palms. He described these feelings in great detail, even adding a few lines about which finger started to feel hot first. After listening, Old Zheng made a few marks on his book with his brush, then raised his chin and said, "Next."

The second bowl contained a light green powder that smelled like freshly cut grass. Wei Ping'an, as usual, pinched a pinch and swallowed it. It came quickly; in less than half a cup of tea's time, a buzzing sound filled his ears, as if someone had struck a broken bell beside them. Immediately afterward, all the surrounding sounds changed. The rustling of leaves in the distance was now close at hand, the rise and fall of Old Zheng's breathing was clearly audible, and even the crawling of ants on the ground seemed almost audible.

"Oh my god..." He was startled and subconsciously picked at his ears. "Uncle-Master, why are my ears ringing? Everything sounds like it's amplified ten times."

Old Zheng picked up the bowl of medicine, smelled it, and didn't even frown. "Write it down: Qingfeng Powder. Tinnitus after taking it. The medicine's effects have gone astray. Throw the bowl away. This prescription is useless." He took the bowl to the water vat and poured it out, secretly clicking his tongue in amazement. So even the immortal sects can make mistakes when refining medicine.

After washing the dishes, Old Zheng picked up the third bowl, which contained a shiny, dark brown ointment. The old man beckoned him over and used a bamboo skewer to apply a small amount to the inside of Wei Ping'an's forearm: "Blood-activating ointment, for external application. Wait an hour and see if a rash appears." The cool ointment felt refreshing on his skin, and Wei Ping'an's heart stirred. While Old Zheng was looking down to write something, he secretly scooped out a small piece and applied it to the old injury on his shoulder.

I used to fall while chopping wood, and it would hurt on rainy days. I'll try this immortal sect's ointment to see if it works. Just as I finished applying it and withdrew my hand, I heard Old Man Zheng say calmly, "If you apply too much, it'll get hot. Don't cry out in pain." Wei Ping'an: "..." Does this old man have eyes in the back of his head?

He stood there awkwardly, patiently waiting for the medicine to take effect. After a while, his forearm was fine, but his shoulder was indeed burning hot, like a red-hot iron had been applied to it—hot and swollen. He endured it, trying not to move, his arm secretly swinging behind his back like a cat being burned, his expression quite dramatic. Old Zheng glanced at him, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly before he suppressed it. Finally, an hour had passed, and he quickly scraped off the ointment. His forearm was perfectly smooth, and although the red patch on his shoulder hadn't developed a rash, he breathed a sigh of relief.

As he was wiping his arms, Old Man Zheng put away his book and stood up: "Come practice your skills in the front yard tonight."

Wei Ping'an was taken aback: "Practice martial arts? I haven't even felt any qi, what kind of martial arts can I practice?"

"That bowl of fire toad pills wasn't given to you for nothing." Old Zheng walked into the house, took two steps, then stopped and glanced back at the pot on his back. "That pot, you really carry it with you every day?"

"My dad said it's for saving my life."

Wei Pingan patted the pot, "It feels more secure carrying it."

Old Zheng neither agreed nor disagreed, simply saying, "If you'll carry it, then carry it," before pushing open the door and going inside.

Wei Ping'an stood in the yard, stroking his chin. Why is this old man always staring at my pot? Could it be that he's taken a fancy to my treasure? Alarm bells rang in his mind, and he tightened the pot on his back even more.

As dusk settled, he strolled to the old locust tree right on time. Old Zheng was already there, with an oil lamp lit, its dim flame flickering in the wind. On the stone table were three things: a half-burnt candle, a small black stone, and a bowl of water. "Sit down. Light the candle, stare at the flame, and don't think about anything else."

Wei Ping'an lit the candle as instructed. The flame was small and flickered, and after staring at it for a while, his eyelids began to droop. He had been dizzy all night and had been trying medicine all day, so he was already exhausted. The flickering flame was like a hypnotic trick, and staring at it made his eyes sore and almost brought tears to his eyes. He wondered to himself: What kind of strange method is this? Can you cultivate qi by staring at a flame? Wouldn't everyone in Da Liu Village who sits in front of the stove every day be a cultivation prodigy?

"Have you seen enough? Blow it out and close your eyes." He quickly blew out the candle. For a moment, he thought he wouldn't see anything at all, but a faint light remained under his eyelids, like the candle's reflection in his eyes. Just as he was wondering if he was seeing things, the pot on his back suddenly sank. It wasn't that the weight increased; a cool sensation seeped from the bottom of the pot, slid down his spine, and stopped at his tailbone. Then, a warm sensation slowly climbed up from his tailbone, as slowly as a snail climbing a tree, but it was crystal clear. Wei Ping'an was so startled he almost opened his eyes. Qi? Was this the legendary Qi sensation?

The energy surged to the back of my head and then stopped, as if blocked by something. I tried to guide it forward, but it wouldn't budge. Just as I was struggling, the pot on my back cooled down again, and a heavier force pushed the energy forward, as if something had been pushed open. The energy flipped over the top of my head, fell down my forehead, and sank into my lower abdomen with a thud. I suddenly opened my eyes, covered in a light sweat. Looking down at my hands, my fingertips were slightly numb. I felt an inexplicable sense of clarity throughout my body, and my breathing became much lighter.

"What did you see?" Old Zheng asked.

"The candle wick produced smoke, white smoke, which dissipated very slowly." He didn't mention that the pot had helped.

Old Zheng pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket, on which a few crooked lines were drawn with charcoal, looking like scribbles. He pushed it over and said, "Follow this and move your Qi up from the tailbone, over the top of your head, and down to your Dantian. Don't stop if you go astray; keep going until you can't move any further."

Wei Ping'an chuckled to himself as he held the piece of paper. This lousy drawing wasn't even as good as his own chick pecking at rice. Thinking this, he closed his eyes and tried to walk around the circle by guiding his qi. Having done it before, it went much smoother. Although he still stopped and started, he was finally able to complete a full circle.

After the third cycle, the Qi circulated in his dantian, settling steadily without dissipating. His hands trembled when he opened his eyes. He had succeeded! Wei Ping'an had finally touched the threshold of cultivation!

Old Zheng blew out the oil lamp, and the courtyard suddenly darkened. "Tomorrow at Chenshi (7-9 AM), we'll test the medicine. Afternoon, come and practice your Qi. Half a month later, the servants will compete to see who will be chosen from the medicine hall. If you haven't even entered the gate, don't mention my name when you go up there. It's too embarrassing." After saying that, he turned and left without any hesitation.

Wei Ping'an sat motionless on the stone bench, feeling refreshed by the night breeze. Looking up at the sky, the stars were densely packed and much brighter than those in Daliu Village, each one like scattered pieces of silver.

A menial skills competition... What are the benefits of winning? Spirit stones? Pills? Or maybe becoming a full disciple? Thinking about it makes me a little itchy. If I could win some spirit stones and accumulate some wealth, life would be much easier in the future.

He patted the pot on his back and lowered his voice: "We'll still have to rely on you then. Anyway, no one can cut you down. We'll just stand on the stage and wear them down."

He went back inside, took the pot off his lap, and examined it closely in the moonlight streaming through the window. The patterns on the rim of the pot seemed to have deepened, becoming a glossy black as if it had absorbed ink. He reached out and touched it; it felt cool and just like ordinary iron. "It was well hidden." He then carried the pot back inside.

The next day, at precisely the hour of Chen (7-9 AM), Old Man Zheng was already waiting, with three bowls of medicine laid out before him. "The first order is for Nourishing Qi Pills to test toxicity, the second for Cooling Powder to test the duration of its effects, and the third for Blood-Activating Ointment to test its sensitization."

Wei Ping'an picked up the Qi-Nourishing Pill and popped it into his mouth. It tasted bitter and had a rusty flavor. After a stick of incense had burned, his stomach felt bloated, as if he had eaten three large pancakes. He took out a pen and wrote in his book: "The Qi-Nourishing Pill tastes bitter and has a fishy smell. It causes abdominal bloating after taking it, which does not subside for an hour."

The characters were crooked and looked like earthworms crawling. Old Zheng took them and glanced at them: "The characters are too ugly. Practice them. If you hand them in, the Danfeng disciples will think they were crawled by insects."

Wei Ping'an scratched his head and chuckled, "I haven't really learned this properly yet, but I'll practice later, I'll definitely practice later."

Days passed by like this. Every day, he would test the medicine at dawn, identify the medicine at noon, practice his skills in the afternoon, and meditate in the evening. The days seemed repetitive, but Wei Ping'an was not bored at all, mainly because there were so many different ways to test the medicine, and every day brought new surprises.

Once, he tried the Earth Fire Pill. It was bright red and looked menacing. After swallowing it, he felt like he was burning up, his face turning bright red like a steamed shrimp. He ran around the yard again and again, running so fast he seemed to be chased by a dog, and it took him more than ten laps to dissipate the heat.

He collapsed to the ground, panting, cursing inwardly that this wasn't a Fire Pill but a Bottom-of-the-Pot Pill, almost turning him into charcoal. The next day, he tried the Ice Toad Pill. It looked pretty white, but after swallowing it, his whole body turned ice-cold, his hands and feet turned purple, his teeth chattered, and even wrapped in three blankets, he was still shivering. He huddled on the bed like a frozen dumpling, and it took him a long time to recover.

There are mild ones too, but the milder ones are even more troublesome—those are the failed pills. Old Man Zheng said these are all defective products that the disciples of Pill Peak failed to refine; their medicinal properties are unstable, and they can cause all sorts of strange reactions. The first time I tried a failed pill, I swallowed a brown one that looked ordinary. Half an hour later, my chin started to itch, and when I touched it, it was covered in fur.

Looking at his reflection in the water tank, he had grown a thick, half-inch-long black beard on his chin, making him look like a little old man.

He was completely stunned. He squatted by the water vat, plucking his beard at his reflection. Each plucking caused a sharp pain, and he hissed as he pulled. He spent the entire afternoon plucking until his chin was red before he finally got it all out. Tears welled up in his eyes from the pain, and he cursed the disciple who refined that useless pill eight hundred times in his mind. Another time, he tried a yellowish, useless pill. He didn't feel anything after eating it, so he thought it was fine. But when he picked up the bowl of porridge at mealtime, it was extremely salty. Even the cold water was salty, and the dry biscuits were salty too.

For three whole days, everything I ate and drank was salty. I even dreamt at night that I was soaking in a vat of salt water. On the fourth day, when my sense of taste returned, I held a bowl of plain porridge and drank it with tears welling up in my eyes.

Every time something went wrong during a drug trial, Old Man Zheng would slowly pull out a small porcelain bottle and pour out an antidote pill for him. The symptoms would quickly subside after the pill entered his mouth. After this happened several times, Wei Ping'an became curious and one day leaned over and asked, "Uncle-Master, where do you get your antidote pills, which are so effective?"

Old Zheng put away the porcelain bottle without even raising his eyelids: "It was tested. The previous dozen or so people who tested the medicine risked their lives to find out." Wei Ping'an choked on the spot, swallowing back all the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

Looking at the small porcelain bottle, he suddenly felt a sense of weight in it. Without asking any more questions, he turned around and silently went to clean up the dregs of the medicine.

But he wasn't afraid. Testing medicine was a dangerous job; a single misstep could be fatal. But returning to Daliu Village would likely mean dying of poverty, hunger, or disease anyway. Here, at least he could get a glimpse into the path of cultivation. Besides, he still had the Xuan Iron Pot.

The Qi in his Dantian became stronger and more stable. The medicines he tested during the day, regardless of their hot or cold properties, would have most of their excess medicinal power absorbed by the Xuan Tie Guo as soon as they entered his stomach. The excess medicinal power would then be slowly and gently released to nourish his meridians.

He didn't tell anyone about this, not even Old Man Zheng; he was very shrewd. But he didn't notice that every time he finished testing the medicine, Old Man Zheng's gaze towards his back held a deeper meaning. The old man said nothing, but the potency of the pills he distributed became stronger day by day.

Something went wrong that day. The pill being tested was a bright green Qi-replenishing pill, which was said to have been over-processed by an outer disciple of the Pill Peak who lost focus while finishing the refining process.

Old Zheng glanced at him again as he handed it to him: "Be careful, shout if something's wrong."

Wei Ping'an nodded, pinched the pill, and examined it. It was a beautiful bright green color. He tilted his head back and swallowed it. At first, he didn't feel anything; it was warm and no different from a regular Qi-replenishing pill. But after less than half a cup of tea's time, a sharp pain suddenly shot through his lower abdomen, like a knife twisting inside. He screamed in pain, curled up on the ground, and rolled around in agony. Cold sweat poured out, and his clothes were instantly soaked.

At the same time, the black iron pot on his back suddenly became extremely hot, as if a red-hot iron was stuck to his back, burning his skin even through his clothes.

Old Zheng's expression changed, and he reached for the antidote bottle in his sleeve. Just as his fingers touched the stopper, before he could pull it out, a huge, gentle stream of air suddenly surged from the pot on Wei Ping'an's back, rushing up his spine. The violent medicinal power seemed to have met its nemesis, and was instantly sucked back into the pot by the stream of air.

The excruciating pain abruptly stopped, and Wei Ping'an's vision went black as he lost consciousness.

Old Zheng's outstretched hand hovered in mid-air. He looked at the unconscious boy, then at the black pot on his back that had returned to its cold state, and for the first time, a clear ripple appeared in his cloudy eyes. After a long silence, he slowly withdrew his hand and put the antidote back into the porcelain bottle.

He crouched down and examined Wei Ping'an's face closely. His face, which had been as pale as paper, was now slowly regaining color, and his breathing was steady, not indicating poisoning. The old man muttered something under his breath, lightly touched the edge of the pot with his fingertips, stood up, dusted off his clothes, and went back inside.

When Wei Ping'an woke up, the sun was already setting, and the golden-red light bathed the courtyard in a warm glow. He propped himself up and sat up, still a little dazed. He touched his stomach and found that the pain was gone, not at all. His dantian felt warm, and his breathing was stronger than before.

He touched the back of his head again, and the pot was cold, just like usual. It took him a long time to realize—it was the pot! This black iron pot had absorbed all the rampaging medicinal power, not only saving his life but also storing the medicinal power and feeding it back to him!

He quickly got up, rushed into his room, closed the door, and took the pot off the table, examining it closely. The pot was still the same black pot, rusty and unassuming, but Wei Ping'an knew it was a real treasure! Holding the pot, his voice trembled with excitement: "Dad, Dad, you're so kind! You left me such a wonderful thing! I used to complain about how heavy and ugly you were; I was wrong, I apologize!" He bowed to the pot and chuckled.

Just as they were having a good time, footsteps came from outside the courtyard wall, and two people spoke in hushed tones: "...That new kid at the medicine testing hall is called Wei Ping'an, right?"

"Yes, that's the one who took the blame. Old Zheng is very protective of him; I wonder what his background is."

"Hmph, what's his background? Just a poor country bumpkin. Brother Xu said we can't give him the position at the medicinal cuisine restaurant. We'll teach him a lesson in a couple of days..." The footsteps faded into the distance.

Wei Ping'an's smile slowly faded. Brother Xu? Where is the medicinal cuisine room? He raised an eyebrow and lightly tapped the edge of the pot with his finger.

So, he's come looking for trouble before he's even caused any? Trying to steal his spot? And wanting to teach him a lesson? Fine, he's getting a bit bored in the drug testing hall anyway, and someone's come knocking on his door looking for trouble, so he, Wei Ping'an, can't be blamed for being impolite. His reputation as a scourge of Da Liu Village isn't for nothing.

He put the pot back on his back, walked to the window, and glanced out. The setting sun was just right, turning the clouds in the sky a deep red.

Having already made his plans, Wei Ping'an decided to first see what kind of tactics the other party would use. If they were reasonable, he would talk to them nicely; if they were unethical and resorted to underhanded tactics, Wei Ping'an would play along to the end.

Having collected so many strange and unusual medicinal powders, we should find someone to test their effects, shouldn't we?