My sister broke off her engagement to marry someone richer? My older sister married me and became in

The sound was like two frosted stones rubbing against each other—dry and rough, yet carrying a force that penetrated deep into one's bones, brooking no rebuttal or questioning.

"The stench of death emanating from you is giving this old man a headache, even through the wooden door."

"I won't want to come through this door again until I smell like a living person."

Lu Qingshan's heart skipped a beat.

Having lived two lives and crawled out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, this deep-seated killing intent is the proof of his survival and an indelible mark on him.

They thought they had hidden it well, but unexpectedly, the person in the hut saw through it in a single sentence.

He bowed deeply and solemnly to the closed wooden door once more, more devoutly than ever before.

Then, without saying a word, he retreated outside the fenced yard, found a relatively flat bluestone on the uneven ground, and stood on it.

The first hour is a physical ordeal.

On his shoulder, the gruesome wound torn open by the tiger's claws, stimulated by the cold air, felt like it had been sprinkled with coarse salt, assaulting his nerves wave after wave.

The oil lamp in the thatched hut cast a dim, yellowish glow through the thin paper window.

The light was warm, like the warm kang bed my wife used to humidify the room.

The light was also very far away, as if separated by an insurmountable world.

The second hour is a period of mental and physical torment.

The people inside remained silent, as if they had completely forgotten about him outside the door.

Just as Lu Qingshan was about to blend into the darkness, an intensely fragrant aroma, so rich it was impossible to ignore, suddenly wafted out from the cracks of the thatched hut and forcefully entered his nostrils.

That's... the smell of roasted sweet potatoes!

Lu Qingshan's stomach rumbled loudly, the sound particularly clear in the dead of night.

He hasn't eaten or drunk anything since he entered the mountains at dawn, and he's only holding on by sheer willpower.

Exhaustion, hunger, cold, and excruciating pain, like countless ants, relentlessly gnawed at his proud will.

Immediately afterwards, the old man's indistinct mutterings, accompanied by chewing sounds, came from inside the thatched hut.

"Tsk tsk, these sweet potatoes are roasted really well, crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, so sweet they stick to your teeth... It's just a pity, I can't finish them all by myself, I'm afraid I'll have to feed them to the pigs later."

"Hey, how can there be such a fool in this world? Standing outside in the cold wind, starving, what's the point? Does he really think that by standing here all night, I, an old man, will teach him my most secret skills? Dream on!"

"With that kind of energy, you might as well go down the mountain, hug your wife, and enjoy a warm bed. Wouldn't that be better than staying here acting like a fool?"

Every word was like a tiny needle, precisely piercing Lu Qingshan's most anxious and vulnerable nerves.

He began to have doubts.

Is this old man just playing a trick on him?

One thought after another of giving up flashed wildly through his mind.

But he quickly forced himself to suppress these thoughts.

He remembered his past life, when that equally eccentric old man forced him to practice the "White Ape Guarding the Mountain Fist" over and over again in knee-deep snow, without offering a single explanation.

He was like that back then too.

Without explanation or words, they used the harshest and most inhumane methods to push him to his death.

"I see……"

Lu Qingshan exhaled a breath of stale air, which then dissipated.

He got it.

This is also a test.

A test of character. More dangerous than physical torture.

Once he understood this, his anxiety and doubts melted away like ice and snow, and he calmed down completely.

The alluring aroma and the annoying, sarcastic remarks could no longer sway him in the slightest.

The third hour is the transcendence of the soul.

Lu Qingshan completely let go of his inhibitions.

He stopped thinking about when the people inside would open the door, and he stopped paying attention to the various physical discomforts he was experiencing.

He began to adjust his breathing extremely slowly, following the breathing techniques recorded in the "White Ape Guarding the Mountain Fist".

One breath in, one breath out.

His breathing became long and steady, as if he were gradually merging with the wind in the valley, the night in the forest, and the ground beneath his feet.

He was no longer a solitary person, but a tree, a stone, and the most primitive part of this mountain forest.

The murderous aura that lingered around him, an aura he had carried through both his lifetimes, gradually settled, peeled away, and dissolved in this peculiar state...

"Squeak—"

A soft sound, as if it were the only discordant note in this tranquil world.

The wooden door of the thatched cottage, which had been tightly closed for three hours, opened.

A figure walked out of the door.

Lu Qingshan slowly opened his eyes, his gaze clear and devoid of any murderous intent.

By the dim light coming from inside the room, he could see who had come in.

It was an old man.

His hair and beard were all white, but they were neatly tied up with a wooden hairpin, without any care.

The skin on her face did not have the wrinkles commonly seen in the elderly; instead, it resembled an old piece of jade that had been polished for many years, radiating a warm and lustrous sheen.

With white hair and a youthful face, he possessed an air of otherworldly grace.

The old man was wearing a faded coarse linen coat and a pair of ordinary straw sandals.

He simply stood casually at the entrance, and his entire being blended perfectly with the valley and the night, as if he had been born to belong here.

His gaze swept over them.

That gaze was as calm as an ancient well, unfathomable, yet as sharp as a hunting eagle, as if it could see right through a person's soul.

The old man didn't speak, but simply brought his nose close to the air and sniffed deeply, like an old hunting dog.

Then, he let out a cold snort that was hard to decipher.

"Hmm, that smell of death has faded quite a bit; it finally smells like a living thing."

He looked Lu Qingshan up and down, his gaze lingering on Lu's bloodied and mangled shoulder for a second, before adding dryly, "He just looks a bit stupid."

"Come in."

He uttered three words and then turned and went into the house without even closing the door for Lu Qingshan.

Lu Qingshan jumped off the rock and realized that his legs were completely numb, like two sticks that didn't belong to him.

He stomped his foot hard, his blood rushed to his head, and a tingling, needle-like sensation instantly spread throughout his body.

He stretched his stiff body and then walked into the thatched hut that exuded a strong aroma of herbs.

The room was very simple. A wooden bed, a table, and a chair were all the belongings.

The remaining space was almost entirely filled with all sorts of medicinal herbs, hanging on the walls, drying in winnowing baskets, and piled up in the corners.

The old man pointed to a large pile of herbs in the corner, still covered in soil, with roots, stems and leaves intertwined, making it almost impossible to distinguish them.

"See that pile of trash?"

Lu Qingshan looked in the direction he pointed. There were at least a hundred kinds of herbs in that pile, many of which looked very similar and had similar auras. In the eyes of ordinary people, they were no different from garbage.

"Before dawn," the old man's voice remained dry and emotionless.

"Sort them out. According to the five medicinal properties of cold, hot, warm, cool, and neutral, put them away neatly for me, the old man."

He paused, raised his eyelids, and his sharp gaze pierced Lu Qingshan.

"If you make a mistake with one plant, or if you don't finish drying it before dawn, don't let this old man see you again."

This is the second test.

It tests his eyesight and his knowledge of herbs.

Lu Qingshan didn't speak or complain.

He simply nodded silently, walked to the pile of herbs, and squatted down in the dim light.

The old man ignored him, took off his straw sandals, climbed onto the wooden bed, lay down fully clothed, and within two breaths, a steady snoring could be heard, as if he had really fallen asleep.

Inside the room, only the small oil lamp remained, burning quietly and casting Lu Qingshan's focused profile onto the wall piled with medicinal herbs.

Using the dim light, Lu Qingshan casually picked up a plant from the pile of herbs. It was a plant with small yellow flowers, pinnate leaves, and a thick rootstock.

He didn't look closely.

I simply brought it to my nose and took a gentle sniff.

A spicy aroma with a hint of earthiness entered my nostrils.

A knowing glint flashed in Lu Qingshan's eyes.

He picked up another plant.

This plant has heart-shaped leaves with purple spots, and the sap from its roots is highly poisonous.

Its appearance is nine-tenths similar to the "heartbreak grass" that hikers fear.

Lu Qingshan only needed to smell the unique, slightly sweet aroma of the root before he made his decision without hesitation.

It was placed in the category of "warm" medicinal herbs, rather than in the category of "extremely cold" herbs, which are considered highly toxic.

In the darkness, the old man, who should have been snoring loudly, paused his steady breathing for a moment, almost imperceptibly.

His tightly closed eyelids twitched slightly.