After rinsing off the ointment completely, Min Ming hurriedly took the medicine. She regained a bit of strength, leaning against the bed frame as she struggled to stand. Her body trembled as if she might collapse at any moment.
Chen Yi, after washing his hands at the water vat, pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the bedroom.
Seeing his handsome face, Min Ming's delicately powdered visage grew even paler.
Chen Yi's expression turned cold, his gaze piercing as he stared directly at her,
"You wish to be my chambermaid, yet you're placing poison? What tricks are you playing on me?"
As his words fell, Min Ming's body went limp, and she dropped onto the bed.
The bedframe quivered slightly.
Exposed—all of it had been exposed... it was over...
"No, don't! Please... I beg you, spare me. It was Wuyong Building—it was them who forced me... Please spare me, grant me a path to life..."
Min Ming's eyes reddened, appearing as frightened as a startled fawn.
"Spare you? You poisoned me—you nearly killed me! It was all Wuyong Building's fault, and you bear no blame?"
Chen Yi spoke as he stepped forward, his tone cold and deliberate. Min Ming avoided his gaze, her hands and feet faintly trembling.
"Master Chen, I... I was wrong. It was Wuyong Building that coerced me, I didn't want to... Yet I was still at fault. Sob... I was supposed to become your chambermaid, and you promised not to harm Min Ning, but, but... Master Chen, it's all my fault..."
Min Ming's face was streaked with tears by now.
Chen Yi continued to approach step by step, his gaze coldly savoring her panic. He reached out and lifted her chin,
"All of this—you should have agreed to in the first place..."
Suddenly, as if grasping for some kind of initiative, some form of self-protection, Min Ming unexpectedly leaned forward.
Trembling, she took the initiative to embrace him, pressing herself directly against his chest.
"I'll do as you ask... It was my mistake; I shouldn't have... but I had no other choice. It wasn't what I wanted, sob... I... I'll redeem myself. I'll be your chambermaid, your servant girl, all right? Would that be all right? Sob... Master Chen, I was wrong..."
Her voice carried within it sobs and pleas as she pressed herself against his chest. It was less an ignorant act of flinging herself into his arms and more an act of calculated surrender—seeking leniency through submission. This active stance reminded Chen Yi suddenly of Min Ning.
The two sisters—so utterly different in temperament—yet so strikingly alike at times.
Chen Yi could feel her tears soaking through his robes onto his skin.
She had succeeded.
His heart softened for a moment as he gently held her trembling shoulders. He wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in his throat. A part of him knew his lenience could be exploited by this calculating courtesan; thus, he held back, remaining silent.
Min Ming, meanwhile, could only sense the terrifying silence.
"I... I will make it up to you, Master Chen... Please... please... comb my hair..."
The courtesan's voice faltered, her face flushed with unbearable shame as she struggled to utter those words—words no courtesan would say lightly. Yet, biting her lip, she finally forced them out,
"Comb my hair for me!"
Chen Yi immediately suppressed the glint of pity in his eyes, his gaze growing icier by the second.
No matter what...
She still had to suffer a bit to learn her lesson...
"Master..."
A voice called out from somewhere.
Startled, Chen Yi turned toward the bed.
Yin Tingxue, clutching the blanket tightly, stared at him directly, her voice faint and airy,
"...I'm sick."
There was a tremor in her whispered tone.
Chen Yi paused in surprise.
Her words, "I'm sick," were not meant to remind him of her condition but to serve as reasoning, as a shield to protect a woman she barely knew. Perhaps it was an act of kindness, or perhaps it stemmed from the shared suffering between women—or maybe both.
Chen Yi understood that, even if she wanted to intervene, Yin Tingxue was in no state to stop him if he chose to act.
Yet, even so—
Forget it.
Chen Yi sighed lightly, brushing his hand over Yin Tingxue's forehead. Then, with a cold glare, he glanced at Min Ming and, quite unexpectedly, placed a kiss on her lips.
A fleeting touch, quick and ephemeral, like a dragonfly skimming the water's surface. It was less a punishment and more a playful reprimand ignited by inexplicable feelings.
Min Ming's ears turned red again, her face blank with disbelief as she stared at Chen Yi.
After everything, she couldn't understand why the punishment she received was so light.
"Go home, rest well. Don't let Min Ning worry about you."
Chen Yi's tone turned gentle, and at the end, he added,
"This matter... I won't take it to heart."
..................
The following morning arrived with the second crow of the rooster.
The events of the previous night drifted away like the wind.
Gazing at the Cangshan Fist manual, Chen Yi took a deep breath.
After some deliberation, he decided to channel True Qi into it.
Mastering hand-to-hand combat meant that even without a weapon, one could still contend with opponents.
And with weapons in hand, martial arts skills become even more formidable—especially at close range, where long blades might struggle to be effective.
[You first encountered the "Cangshan Fist" and recognized it as an extremely profound martial art. Determined, you vowed to master it.]
[Two years into training, you failed.]
Chen Yi froze in place.
Failure... It was his first time experiencing such.
It was clear that this fist technique was no ordinary manual.
[Over five years, you repeatedly practiced its forms and stances, exhausting your body and mind, yet with minimal progress.]
[After ten years of grueling effort, you memorized the manual by heart. Persistence seemed to yield its fruit—you began grasping subtle insights and, during one practice session, inadvertently comprehended a sliver of its essence.]
[By the twentieth year, you dropped form-practice techniques entirely, focusing entirely on intuitive insights. These insights became a decades-long pursuit.]
[After forty-nine years, you finally unlocked a profound understanding of the fist technique. When you executed a punch, the air faintly quivered around you.]
[Cangshan Fist (Beginner Level)]
As expected, Chen Yi was nevertheless left dumbfounded.
Forty-nine years of True Qi—had it been spent on other techniques like the Dragon-Slaying Blade or Eagle Falling Skill, they would have achieved perfection, forming entirely new martial arts systems by now. Yet Cangshan Fist remained at a beginner's level.
That said, despite his astonishment, the fruits of his labor were undeniably satisfying.
Raising his arms, Chen Yi resumed the motions of the fist technique. A surge of powerful intent coursed through him.
The boxing intent enveloped him, seemingly refining his internal strength.
His mind brimmed with newfound martial arts revelations, and his breath grew long and steady.
Gradually, it seemed as though the very texture of his skin grew finer, with his Qi and blood merging seamlessly.
Lowering his stance, Chen Yi inhaled deeply and smiled,
"Not bad at all."
"This punch... forty-nine years of work."
Then he wondered to himself—what grade of martial artist had he reached now?
According to "Heavenly Realm," martial artists were ranked into nine grades. Beyond the ninth grade were non-practitioners, considered below even the lowest level.
Within the nine grades, the lower three reflected fundamental mastery of Qi, capable of defeating ten foes at once. The middle three signified internal True Qi mastery, enabling one to face armored soldiers and pierce through steel. Lastly, the upper three grades represented small Grandmasters, Grandmasters, and the pinnacle of martial arts, where True Qi reached a zenith, forming personal heavens within one's meridians.
By his estimation, Chen Yi figured he was around the middle three grades.
Thanks to mastering Cangshan Fist, he might have just stepped into the sixth grade. Against a Fifth Grade master like the rising star Huang Liuqing of the White Willow Sect, although he could not engage directly, escape would still be well within his capability.
Anyone under Fifth Grade, however, would pose no issue.
After preparing lunch for Yin Tingxue, Chen Yi opened his door—not heading toward the West Factory, but the Eastern Factory instead.
Though he still held the title of West Factory Thousand Households, barging in unannounced was improper etiquette.
Smoothing acquaintances over first seemed the best course of action.
The Eastern Factory wasn't too far from the West Factory. After a short walk, Chen Yi arrived at the Eastern Factory's government office.
The constables standing guard at the entrance immediately called out warmly upon seeing him,
"Morning, Chen Qianhu."
Chen Yi nodded in response and explained,
"I'm here to greet the brothers at the Eastern Factory and get better acquainted."
The constable turned around and called out loudly,
"Chen Qianhu has arrived!"
The training grounds of the Eastern Factory noticeably quieted down.
Chen Yi stepped over the threshold, striding in.
Several Eastern Factory secret agents, upon noticing him, cupped their hands in salute.
Chen Yi thought to himself that, aside from those aligned with the Ding'an faction, most seemed amicable enough.
Nearby, a towering wooden peg stood prominently. Wang Gu, an Eastern Factory Thousand Households officer, ceased his practice and turned toward Chen Yi with an inscrutable expression.
The moment Chen Yi caught his gaze and looked over, Wang Gu immediately donned a smiling face and walked toward him,
"Qianhu, this way, please. Allow me to show you around the Eastern Factory."
Chen Yi glanced sideways, his mind reflecting,
No good deed comes without motive, does it?