Beyond the Timescape

Chapter 57: Giving a Spirit Coin

The events of that night still stoked a cold fury in Xu Qing’s chest. He hadn’t wanted to draw blood on his very first day in Seven Blood Eyes, but this woman had forced his hand by framing him.

Had his cultivation and combat prowess been any weaker, that false accusation would have easily cost him his life in the dark.

Thus, his strike today was as sudden and ruthless as a thunderbolt. As his cold voice echoed, the screaming woman abruptly choked on her cries. She trembled violently, yet her mind raced, weaponizing her vulnerability. She knew a terrified woman could wring a shred of pity from most men, so she deliberately amplified her panic.

Xu Qing’s face remained an impassive mask. Crunching down on the last candied fruit from his skewer, he closed the distance between them. His gaze swept the alleys, scanning the shadows for hidden accomplices. As he advanced, the surrounding pedestrians hastily scattered, giving him a wide berth.

A few cultivators in the crowd initially considered intervening upon seeing the woman’s miserable state, but the suffocating aura radiating from Xu Qing quickly snuffed out their heroics.

Watching him approach, the woman forced her body to shake harder, letting cold sweat bead on her forehead to mask the agonizing pain of her pierced foot. She recognized his voice.

Ever since she framed him, the memory of his dead eyes and ruthless strikes had haunted her. She knew she had provoked a terrifying predator.

She had spent the last few days cowering in the shadows. She only ventured out today because she assumed the heat had died down—that this monster was merely a powerful outsider passing through who wouldn’t dare cause trouble in broad daylight.

She never expected to run straight into him.

Even then, she had been confident in her escape. She was a registered civilian; the Patrol Department maintained public order. Under the rules of Seven Blood Eyes, she should have been safe.

But as the boy crouched beside her, a chilling intuition seized her throat: she was going to die right here, long before the patrols ever arrived. Desperation bleeding into her act, she widened her tear-filled eyes, trying to buy even a second of time.

“Stop pretending,” Xu Qing said flatly. He reached down and yanked the bamboo skewer free from her foot.

The blinding spike of pain, coupled with the realization that he saw right through her, shattered her facade. Genuine terror flooded her eyes. Realizing how close he was, her tightly clenched right hand twitched. She warred with herself, but ultimately didn’t dare throw the poison powder hidden in her palm.

Just then, the sharp whistle of the wind echoed down the street. A squad of Patrol Department cultivators, alerted by the commotion, sprinted toward them.

Hope ignited in the woman’s eyes.

It extinguished just as fast. Xu Qing calmly produced his Homicide Department badge. The moment the patrol squad saw the insignia, they spun on their heels and marched away without a second glance.

Absolute despair crushed her. Trembling, she whispered frantically, “Last time was my fault. I’ll make it up to you. I… I have a lead on a wanted criminal!”

She didn’t dare bargain. As a rat surviving in the gutters of the city, she knew the golden rule: when a predator has its jaws around your neck, compliance is the only currency that buys life.

Without waiting for his permission, she spilled the secret. “The fugitive is Qing Yunzi, an exiled disciple of the Lingyun Sect. He’s been hiding at the inn on Banquan Road for the past few days—the exact same inn where we crossed paths.”

A wanted criminal? Xu Qing retrieved the jade slip his captain had given him. Scanning the bounty list, he found Qing Yunzi’s name. The reward sat at twenty Spirit Stones.

“And—and I heard what the Homicide Department is investigating!” the woman babbled, throwing everything she had onto the scales to buy her life. “I know the location of a Night Dove stronghold!” She rapidly rattled off the address.

Xu Qing listened in silence. He gave her a long, meaningful look, recalling his captain’s network of informants. Reaching into his robes, he tossed a single Spirit Coin at her feet.

“If you find more leads like this, wait for me here.”

The woman froze. She understood the implication perfectly. Gritting her teeth, she snatched the Spirit Coin from the dirt, nodded sharply, and limped away as fast as her mangled foot allowed.

Xu Qing watched her vanish into the crowd before standing up. He didn’t bother verifying the Night Dove stronghold himself; he only needed to report it to the department. They had personnel for that.

After completing his patrol circuit, the sun began to dip below the horizon. Xu Qing made his way back to the inn where he had stayed on his first night.

The doors were open, but the lobby was practically deserted.

Observing from a distance, Xu Qing remembered the eerie, unsettling aura of the old innkeeper. Opting against reckless action, he turned back to the Homicide Department, filed his report on the Night Dove stronghold, and clocked out for the day.

As for whether the female thief would take his coin and flee the city? Xu Qing didn’t care. The Spirit Coin he gave her was laced with poison. In three days, the rot would set in. She would have no choice but to return for the antidote.

On his way back to the port, he crossed paths with several members of the Sixth Team. They shot him cold, measuring glares, offering no greetings. Only one middle-aged member flashed a smile and invited him out for drinks.

In the hyper-lethal meat grinder of Seven Blood Eyes—where overt murder was banned but covert butchery was a daily business—such a sudden invitation screamed of a trap. Xu Qing’s paranoia flared. He politely but firmly declined.

Today was a special day. He had no desire to kill. He only wanted to be alone.

He also needed to visit an apothecary.

It was time to purchase the medicinal herbs required for the White Pill. If he could successfully refine them, it would open up a new revenue stream. Furthermore, his stockpile of poison powder and Black Pills was running dangerously low, and he had several new toxicological theories he wanted to test.

Navigating by the map etched into his memory, Xu Qing soon arrived at a sprawling apothecary.

The shop was bustling. Disciples clad in gray daoist robes moved between the aisles; items like Pills were a universal necessity across all seven peaks.

Xu Qing’s entrance drew a few wandering eyes due to his delicate, youthful features, but the gazes slid off him just as quickly. In this sect, no one wore their thoughts on their sleeves.

His expression placid, Xu Qing swept his gaze over the patrons before silently approaching the main counter.

Behind the counter stood an elderly shopkeeper. In front of it stood a chubby teenager.

The boy looked utterly ordinary, though his gray daoist robe stretched so tightly across his frame it looked like a stack of tires. Freckles dotted his pale, round face. He looked about sixteen or seventeen.

Yawning widely, the chubby youth was currently grabbing handfuls of medicinal herbs from the counter and shoving them haphazardly into a massive sack.

There was zero methodology to his packing. A layman might not notice, but Xu Qing saw it instantly: this boy knew absolutely nothing about pharmacology. He was crushing volatile herbs together that had no business sharing the same space.

“Shopkeeper, the haul is a bit light this time, isn’t it?” the chubby youth complained as Xu Qing stepped up.

“You come in here every single day and buy me out,” the shopkeeper sighed, clearly familiar with the boy. He pushed the last of the purchased herbs across the counter before turning to Xu Qing. “What Pills do you need, Junior Brother?”

“I need ten-year Butterfly Bone Flowers, thirty stalks of Golden Wing Leaves, ten processed Exquisite Branches, any-year Seven-leaf Grass, and a hundred stalks of Golden Button Grass,” Xu Qing listed smoothly. “I also need Rhinoceros Spark Flowers with the roots intact, plus ten stalks each of Condensing Spirit Leaves and White Root Back.”

He paused, running through his poison formulas. “Do you also carry Rotten Cloud Mud and Black Rose Thorns?”

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed slightly, evaluating Xu Qing with newfound scrutiny. Most disciples who came here only bought pre-refined Pills. The few who purchased raw herbs were usually from the Second Peak, or clueless amateurs like the chubby kid.

But this unfamiliar youth spoke with the crisp precision of a seasoned alchemist. He clearly wasn’t from the Second Peak, which made him an anomaly.

More importantly, the bulk of his list comprised the exact ingredients for the White Pill. The shopkeeper gave Xu Qing a deep, measuring look before shaking his head.

“I have everything else. It comes to three hundred and eighty Spirit Coins. But the Condensing Spirit Leaves—the last hundred portions—were just bought by him.” The shopkeeper pointed at the chubby youth. “Come back tomorrow. I’ll have more in stock.”

Xu Qing nodded. Condensing Spirit Leaves were crucial, but a one-day delay was acceptable. The pricing was fair; if his refinement succeeded, this batch would yield roughly a hundred White Pills and a substantial amount of poison powder.

He was just about to hand over the funds when the chubby youth paused his packing, looked Xu Qing up and down, and asked curiously, “Condensing Spirit Leaves? You want this stuff too? What’s it actually used for? I’ve asked the old man a dozen times and he never tells me.”

“You ask about fifty different herbs every time you come in,” the shopkeeper grumbled. “If I gave you a lecture on every single one, I’d never get any business done.”

Xu Qing looked at the chubby youth. He remembered a time when he, too, had been desperate for knowledge. His voice was quiet as he answered.

“Condensing Spirit Leaves serve two primary functions. First, they act as a catalyst, forcing other herbs to mutate in a desired direction during refinement. Second, they possess excellent nourishing properties for the skin.”

Realization dawned on the chubby youth’s face. “Oh!” Without a second thought, he reached into his sack, pulled out seven or eight stalks of Condensing Spirit Leaves, and generously slapped them onto the counter in front of Xu Qing.

“Thanks, brother. These are on me,” the youth beamed. He hoisted his massive sack over his shoulder and strutted toward the exit, looking immensely pleased with himself. To him, giving away expensive herbs was as trivial as breathing.

Xu Qing blinked, momentarily taken aback. He opened his mouth to refuse, but the youth was already out the door, pulling out a jade slip and speaking rapidly into it as if sending a voice transmission.

The shopkeeper chuckled. “That little fatty is Huang Yan, a disciple of the Seventh Peak. He’s a lovesick fool. No idea which female disciple has her hooks in him, but he’s been buying out my stock for years trying to impress her. If he keeps this up, the money he’s spent could buy out my boss. Still, the kid isn’t simple. To flash that much wealth so openly and still be breathing… he’s got something keeping him alive.”

Xu Qing stared thoughtfully at the doorway where Huang Yan had vanished. He said nothing, paid for the rest of his herbs, and left.

He navigated the winding streets back to his berth. After conducting his usual rigorous inspection to ensure it hadn’t been tampered with, Xu Qing boarded his Dharma Boat and immediately activated the defensive shield. Only when the shimmering barrier enveloped the vessel did the tension finally bleed from his shoulders.

The outside world was a meat grinder; only the Dharma Boat offered him true sanctuary. He descended into the cabin, sat cross-legged on the floor, and began meticulously sorting his new herbs into their respective categories. The formula for the White Pill surfaced in his mind.

Although he hadn’t possessed the necessary ingredients until today, Xu Qing had never stopped running the refinement simulations in his head. Now, with the physical components laid out before him, he took a steadying breath and began the concoction process.

Time bled away in the quiet cabin. Midnight arrived.