I Alone Devour All Under Heaven

Chapter 5

Relying on the memories of the original body, Mo Qian walked for roughly the time it takes to burn a stick of incense before stopping at the door of his own home.

Mo Qian took out the key from his inner pocket, opened the gate, and walked in.

He went straight into the inner room, got down on his knees beside the bed, reached under it, and pulled out a dusty jar from the corner.

Mo Qian opened the jar and took out a few pieces of silver from the bottom.

He looked them over and estimated that they amounted to just over one tael in total.

This was the entirety of the original body's wealth.

Mo Qian sighed. "The economic base determines the superstructure. This amount of money is only enough for a few days of decent eating."

He had already calculated that this sum could cover two bowls of mutton soup with steamed buns each day for the next several days at most.

However, once he was promoted to apprentice, his monthly salary would increase, and things might not be quite so tight.

After all, an errand disciple earned only sixty coins a month, while an apprentice received three taels of silver per month, five times as much.

This was not because the escort agency was generous. The truth was that after becoming an apprentice, one had to train hard in martial arts. Those who failed to make the cut in three months would be dismissed, and without sufficient monthly pay to keep up with the demands of food and recovery, it was easy to break down the body entirely.

Mo Qian felt quite confident about being selected as an apprentice, since he already possessed the experience of the entry-level Five Tigers and Sheep Knife. He simply needed to improve his physical condition enough to actually put that experience to use.

So the most pressing matter was to survive the present period.

This small amount of silver was all the wealth the original body had left behind. Given the original occupant's temperament, he would never have dared to spend it so freely, but Mo Qian's thinking was different. In his view, the best investment a person could make was in themselves.

Even the house itself, old and remote as it was, situated in a county town where property moved slowly, could not be sold for much. Otherwise, he would have sold it without hesitation and converted it into silver for food and living expenses.

He felt no particular obligation to the house just because it had once been a possession his original father left behind. After all, both of them were gone, but he was still here and alive. Could the sentiments of the dead really outweigh the needs of the living?

Mo Qian pocketed the silver, left the house, and bought two meat buns from a street stall.

The hot meat buns, wrapped in dried lotus leaves, were both fragrant and filling. Mo Qian ate them while turning several problems over in his mind.

He had indeed been preoccupied with many concerns lately, not only the coming assessment, but also the inner strength and mental cultivation that he had yet to work out.

But what occupied him most at that moment was something else entirely: his ability to devour weapon spirits.

The ability to devour weapon spirits was, without question, the foundation upon which his soul's progress in this world would rest, and he had to understand and thoroughly master it. Mo Qian was turning over the facts: the weapon spirits of the useless knives on the weapon rack were all second or third level, while the weapon spirit of the good knife used by Zhao Mu had not yet reached any level at all.

In other words, the level of a weapon spirit was not directly related to the quality of the weapon itself.

"Then what does determine the level of a weapon spirit?"

Mo Qian frowned and thought hard.

He recalled that the useless knives on the weapon rack had two or three devouring effects each, covering a variety of different sword techniques.

His eyes suddenly lit up. It occurred to him that those useless knives might have passed through the hands of more than one person, and that different people had practiced different sword techniques with them.

Zhao Mu's knife, by contrast, had been used only by him, and it contained only one devouring effect: the entry-level Five Tigers and Sheep Sword Technique.

"That is to say, the devouring effect of a weapon spirit is tied to the weapon's history. The richer and more varied the experience embedded in it, the greater the devouring effect."

"Though I suspect something else is also at play..." Mo Qian's eyes sharpened, and he murmured to himself: "Time."

In principle, any form of martial arts could be absorbed into a weapon spirit, but the more advanced the martial arts, the longer the process of absorption would take.

Mo Qian arrived at this speculation because the weapon spirit of Zhao Mu's oxtail knife had contained the imprint of Zhao Mu's entire growth and development in practicing martial arts. Though he had digested it in a single night, he could still feel within it the unmistakable weight of accumulated years.

These, however, were only Mo Qian's speculations. He planned to find an opportunity to test these ideas after the assessment. For now, the most urgent matter before him was to pass the assessment and become an apprentice.

Mo Qian was deep in thought when a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder and shook him hard.

Almost by instinct, Mo Qian crossed his feet and moved to twist the hand away with his right hand, but when he looked up and saw a familiar smiling face, he stopped himself immediately.

Yang Zhen was Mo Qian's childhood friend, working as a constable in the county government. He was tall and strong, with a fair complexion quite unlike Mo Qian's darker skin.

"Potato, how are you? Have you recovered? Your face has some color back in it!" Yang Zhen grinned.

Potato was Mo Qian's childhood nickname. He had been short and dark as a boy, and the name had stuck.

Yang Zhen had been darker and rounder than Mo Qian when they were children, earning himself the nickname Black Pig at the time. Mo Qian had always found that nickname too ugly to say aloud.

"I'm much better now. Thank you for looking after me the other day," Mo Qian said.

The original body had suffered a serious illness not long ago, running a high fever that would not break. It had been Yang Zhen who looked after him, found him medicine, and boiled it for him. Although the original occupant had not survived in the end, Mo Qian still felt genuine gratitude toward this childhood friend.

Yang Zhen clapped Mo Qian on the shoulder and said with a laugh: "Since when did you get so formal? Did that fever scramble your head?"

Mo Qian's heart gave a small lurch. His manner and bearing were indeed quite different from those of the original body.

He would have to be more careful about that going forward, so as not to give himself away. Fortunately, the original body had barely kept up with any relatives or friends, and the only person who truly knew him well was Yang Zhen standing before him now.

Mo Qian gave an awkward smile and said nothing.

Seeing Mo Qian put on the quiet, bashful look he had always known, Yang Zhen laughed, threw an arm around Mo Qian's shoulders, and said: "Come on, a chance meeting is better than any planned invitation! Dinner's on me."

Without waiting for a reply, Yang Zhen steered Mo Qian toward the restaurant on the corner of the street.

Yang Zhen ordered several substantial dishes in a row, called for a large jar of rice wine, and the two of them settled in to eat and drink.