Chapter 12 — Five Meridians Beyond the Limit

CHAPTER 12

Five Meridians Beyond the Limit

“Young man, your deer is getting thin,” Deng Hu said.

Shi Feng stood in the hut doorway and blocked his view of the cellar.

“So is your fish,” Shi Feng replied.

Deng Hu glanced down at the two small fish hanging from his string.

“The big ones aren't biting,” Deng Hu said.

“Then eat these yourself,” Shi Feng replied.

The old hunter sighed and looked past him again. Shi Feng didn't move.

“Are you tanning the hide?” Deng Hu asked.

“Yes,” Shi Feng said.

“I can help,” Deng Hu offered.

“For free?” Shi Feng asked.

Deng Hu clicked his tongue and walked away. Shi Feng closed the door and dropped the wooden bar into place. He liked questions much less when they approached the truth.

Two hundred and thirty-seven meridians were awake.

His old public count.

In Qingshi Town, that number once made the clan elders fight over who would teach him. It made merchants smile, servants bow, and marriage proposals arrive before he turned eighteen.

Then his meridians fell silent.

The smiles vanished much faster than they arrived. Shi Feng walked down into the cellar. The deer's pale hide covered most of the floor, and the remaining vitality gathered beneath his sternum.

He sat beside it and shut his eyes.

The old breathing exercise began again.

This time he didn't try to stop at the familiar routes.

Two hundred and thirty-eight.

Two hundred and thirty-nine.

Warmth moved through his body, waking channels that no physician could find. Shi Feng guided it slowly. There was no reason to rush and injure himself after coming this far.

By dawn, three hundred answered.

By the next evening, three hundred and sixty.

He opened his eyes.

Every ordinary meridian was awake.

The hut's cold air no longer troubled him. His shoulder moved freely, and the cuts along his ribs were closing beneath fresh skin. He was stronger than before he appeared crippled.

Yet five routes remained silent.

Shi Feng pressed two fingers against his chest. Eighteen months ago, he found those five routes beyond the old clan diagram. Opening the last one made the whole network disappear from his senses.

He didn't collapse because someone shattered his meridians.

He opened something he didn't understand.

He wanted to draw in the qi around him. It touched his skin more clearly than ever, gathering whenever he breathed.

But he stopped himself.

First finish waking the whole network, Shi Feng thought. Qi Condensation could wait until he knew every route was open.

He tested the old breathing rhythm once more. Warmth reached the five hidden curves, then returned along the ordinary meridians.

They weren't blocked by poison or a wound. They were simply quiet. That was better than every diagnosis he paid for.

“Then let me understand it now,” Shi Feng said.

“Open the door!” Deng Hu shouted upstairs.

Shi Feng's eyes snapped open.

The cellar was dark. Someone struck the hut's door twice, then cursed.

“The rain's coming through my roof!” Deng Hu called. “Yours is better!”

Shi Feng climbed the steps and opened the door. Rain fell hard across the marsh. Deng Hu stood beneath a basket held over his head, looking thoroughly offended by the weather.

“The roof isn't mine,” Shi Feng said.

“Then you can't refuse me,” Deng Hu replied.

He hurried inside before Shi Feng answered.

Shi Feng shut the door and moved the small stool away from the cellar entrance. Deng Hu stretched his wet boots towards the hearth.

“You look different,” Deng Hu said.

Shi Feng picked up the kettle.

“Less hungry,” Shi Feng replied.

“You're still pale,” Deng Hu said. “That cheap medicine didn't fix everything.”

“No,” Shi Feng agreed.

The old hunter heard what he expected and stopped looking. Shi Feng poured two cups of hot water and sat beside the hearth.

He could wait one night.

Deng Hu warmed his hands and pointed at a broken slab supporting the stove.

“Don't lean on that,” Deng Hu said. “The letters underneath make it crumble.”

Shi Feng glanced down.

“Letters?” Shi Feng asked.

“Some old cultivator carved them,” Deng Hu replied. “People say there's treasure under the marsh. They say that whenever a stone has writing.”

“Did you look?” Shi Feng asked.

“Naturally,” Deng Hu said. “There were centipedes.”

Shi Feng waited until the old hunter fell asleep. Then he carefully shifted the broken slab and looked at its underside.

Only half a sentence remained.

Beyond three hundred and sixty, an epoch begins. The rest broke off with the missing corner.

Shi Feng's expression changed.

Epoch Meridians.

His father once mentioned the term while explaining why the clan's diagram ended at three hundred and sixty. Even one meridian beyond that limit could make a genius remembered for an entire age. Most people thought such stories were made up.

Shi Feng looked towards his chest.

He opened five.

What happened after the fifth? The broken stone gave no answer.

For once, he didn't mind.

He turned the slab over and returned it beneath the stove. Deng Hu opened one eye.

“Treasure?” Deng Hu asked.

“Half a sentence,” Shi Feng replied.

“Keep the half that doesn’t hold my fish pot up,” Deng Hu muttered.

He went back to sleep. Shi Feng looked at the ancient writing, then at the pot. An epoch’s genius had left a message here, and the only witness wanted his breakfast level.

Shi Feng considered taking the slab with him. It was broad, heavy, and missing most of its writing. He copied the surviving words onto the back of Meng Shou's map instead.

One day he'd find someone who knew more. He wouldn't ask Qian Rui. That old fox would probably claim to have sold the original stone.

An ancient cultivator's writing was holding up a fish pot.

At least it was useful.

The rain stopped before sunrise. Deng Hu left to check his traps, taking the remaining firewood without asking.

Shi Feng let him go.

He returned to the cellar and pressed his palm against the last part of the deer's body.

The stored vitality answered.

He followed the first silent curve slowly, refusing to stop when the familiar network ended.

A sharp pulse struck beneath his ribs.

The three hundred and sixty-first meridian woke.

Shi Feng's breath stopped.

Every opened meridian suddenly moved faster. Warmth crossed his body in a single breath, reaching places it took dozens of breaths to reach before.

The difference wasn't a small improvement.

It was another level entirely!

He steadied his mind and continued.

The second Epoch Meridian woke.

Then the third.

Each one widened the routes inside his body and strengthened the flow passing through them. By the fourth, the cellar's loose dust stirred around his knees.

The fifth remained quiet.

Shi Feng didn't force it. He guided the remaining vitality through all the waking channels, returning to the last curve again and again.

At noon, it answered.

Three hundred and sixty-five meridians joined into a complete network.

Now he understood what the root had done. It stirred his dormant network and woke the hunger born when his three hundred and sixty-fifth meridian opened before the collapse. The root hadn't given him a new physique. It had awakened what was already his.

For a breath, everything went silent.

Shi Feng's heart tightened.

Not again!

Then the entire network woke together.

Strength flooded his limbs. The faint hunger beneath his sternum settled into his body, and every route became clear.

This time, nothing disappeared.

Shi Feng opened his eyes and laughed.

“So you weren't broken,” Shi Feng said. “You were sleeping.”

He gripped the heavy stone beside the cellar steps and lifted it clear of the floor. Before leaving Qingshi Town, he struggled to carry his own pack. Now he held a stone twice his weight without shaking.

Shi Feng set it down carefully.

Perfect Meridian Opening.

Not one hundred and twenty. Not his old public count.

All three hundred and sixty-five.

He packed the little that remained of his equipment. The crossbow still worked. His makeshift spear needed replacing, and his knife was already nicked.

There were better weapons in Yunze Town. Better manuals too. This time, he could buy them without wondering whether he'd live long enough to use them.

He looked up at the thin strip of daylight beneath the cellar door.

The world outside still thought he was a cripple.

Let it.