In the northeastern region of Liao State, in Beifeng County, stood the Gong Family Estate.
As the rooster crowed, the fifth watch of late autumn was still pitch black outside, yet servants were already yawning as they got up to tend the fires.
In the side-room study of the third courtyard, Chen Yi rubbed his hands together, lit an oil lamp no larger than a bean, and blew warm breath onto his hands while feeling for the icy inkstick and inkstone to grind the ink.
The dim, yellowish light fell upon the pearwood table, the lamp's shadow flickering slightly.
A short while later, Chen Yi spread out the mulberry paper, picked up the wolf-hair brush, and began copying the *Gong Family Treatise on Typhoid* by the book.
Line by line, the slightly crooked regular script recorded the names of medicinal herbs, their properties, pharmacological effects, dietary taboos, meridians, and acupuncture points, all neatly and orderly.
Outside, the sky gradually grew lighter. Not until the sun rose above the horizon, casting its first golden ray, did the sounds of physical exercise begin to echo outside with grunts and shouts.
That was the younger generation of the Gong family practicing martial arts during their morning drill.
Chen Yi raised his head, a flash of yearning crossing his eyes. Then he took a deep breath, suppressed the longing in his gaze, returned to reality, and continued to bury his head in copying books.
An hour later, 963 characters—an entire chapter of the medical book—were finally nearing completion.
【*Gong Family Treatise on Typhoid* (63/1000): Daily transcription and study, a thousand times will bring success.】
Deep within the center of Chen Yi's brow, a line of script naturally appeared. After flashing brightly, it retracted into a purple-gold dot of light deep within his sea of consciousness.
Having arrived in this world for half a year, Chen Yi had already grown accustomed to this.
When Chen Yi had first arrived in this realm and had not yet fully regained his senses, he dreamed of a purple-gold sphere of light descending from the heavens, plunging down and burrowing straight into his head. At that time, a prompt had appeared in Chen Yi's mind:
【Purple-Gold Fate: Heaven Rewards Diligence, whatever one persists in shall surely be achieved.】
The day Chen Yi woke up, facing his new identity—a fifteen-year-old servant to the young master of the Gong family—he had been utterly bewildered and had paid little attention to that purple ball of light.
Later, as he copied medical texts day after day and saw the text prompts that followed, he gradually recalled the utility of the purple-gold dot of light.
The Purple-Gold Fate was governed by Heaven Rewards Diligence; as long as one persisted in a single task, success was guaranteed.
This was a rule-based destiny that could ignore innate talent and foundation.
Persisting to the end guaranteed success, meaning one would inevitably achieve the pinnacle of mastery in a given task. It could be understood as definitely being greater than or equal to any top-tier talent doing the same kind of work.
Surmising that his destiny might possess such miraculous properties, Chen Yi had indeed felt a surge of surprise, but he quickly calmed himself, preparing to treat the matter with an ordinary mindset. Just how effective this destiny truly was still required verification.
Regardless of its efficacy, it would not alter Chen Yi's habitual way of doing things.
Handling matters with steady caution, without being boastful or arrogant, already suited Chen Yi's philosophy from his two lifetimes. After crossing over, having such a purple-gold fate descend upon him fit his temperament quite well.
When the sky grew fully bright, in the main house of the third courtyard, Young Master Gong Qingyun, attended by the maidservants Caiyun and Zhuiyue, walked out wearing a practice uniform embroidered with green dragon patterns, yawning as he pushed open the study door and paced forward with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Mmm-hmm, Xiao Chen wrote quite well today. Stop, stop, stop, let me write the last two lines myself, lest my hand grows stiff and my dad asks if you wrote this for me."
"Very well, Young Master."
Chen Yi stood up, holding the brush with both hands and standing respectfully to one side. After Young Master Gong Qingyun sat down, he leaned forward to hand the brush over.
A quarter of an hour later, having written just a single line, Gong Qingyun grew impatient, yawned as he set the brush down, and stood up.
"Let's go! That's enough for today, attend to my breakfast. Rest assured, as long as I pass my father's examination over there, the promise to teach you the Gong Family Fist Stance won't be forgotten."
Chen Yi once again acknowledged the command and followed behind the young master as they went out.
Chen Yi's original self had been a native of Snow Country. Captured after his country fell, the Gong family had bought him for a hundred coins three years ago. Upon arriving at the estate, he first spent a period of time doing coarse chores as a menial servant. Later, because he was quick-witted, he was chosen by the young master to serve by Gong Qingyun's side, effectively making him a low-ranking bondservant exclusively attending to Gong Qingyun.
Over the past half year—that is, ever since Chen Yi crossed over—Gong Qingyun discovered that Chen Yi was literate and could imitate his handwriting, so he handed over the daily task of copying medical books assigned by Old Master Gong for Chen Yi to write on his behalf. With Old Master Gong returning home these past two days, it was time to check Gong Qingyun's progress.
The Gong family passed down both medicine and martial arts, enjoying a sterling reputation throughout the Liaodong region. They numbered nearly a hundred clansmen, occupied nearly a thousand acres of land, and supported nearly a thousand servants, disciples, and martial arts masters of all sizes.
A fortune rivaling a nation, a saint of the medical world, a grandmaster of medicine and martial arts—all these referred to the head of the Gong family, Gong Quanhui.
Having copied the Gong family's ancestral medical texts on behalf of the young master for half a year, Chen Yi had already gained considerable insight. If he could keep copying persistently for three to five years, he would undoubtedly achieve genuine proficiency.
By then, wandering the countryside to work as a barefoot doctor would be no problem at all.
And if his aptitude were fortunately spotted by the Gong family and he were accepted as an apprentice, after a decade of studying medicine, sitting in consultation over a region in the future would at the very least secure a life of ample wealth.
Yet, the true masters of this world were martial artists capable of leaping over roofs and scaling walls.
Compared to individual martial prowess, studying medicine was hardly a matter of supreme importance.
Furthermore, over the past half year, through careful observation, Chen Yi had noticed that Old Master Gong was constantly traveling abroad, seemingly seeking immortal fate for his son.
In terms of both reputation and financial resources, Gong Quanhui had already reached the pinnacle within a radius of several hundred miles; the information he gathered and the pursuits he chased could hardly be groundless rumors.
Moreover, possessing the rule-based abilities bestowed by the Purple-Gold Fate, Chen Yi deduced through comprehensive judgment that there was a very strong possibility of Immortal Cultivators existing in this world.
Compared to seeking immortal cultivation and longevity, becoming a wealthy local doctor for a lifetime seemed utterly insignificant.
Thus, Chen Yi's goal instantly transformed into practicing martial arts to seek the immortals!
First, practice martial arts to become a top-tier expert in the secular realm, and then use that foundation to seek out immortal fate.
This was the result of a fifteen-year-old transmigrated youth's mindset adapting and shifting after half a year.
The good news was that the Gong family happened to be a lineage of medicine and martial arts, and Old Master Gong was himself a supreme expert who had stepped into Martial Xiantian. If Chen Yi wished to practice martial arts, the opportunity lay right before him.
The bad news was that Chen Yi was a bought servant of the Gong family. The Gong family had easily eighty or a hundred servants just like him; he possessed no basic human rights, let alone the silver needed to practice martial arts or the expenses for the medicinal soups required to nourish the body during cultivation.
The only person Chen Yi could pin his hopes on right now was the young master he served: the young master of the Gong family, Gong Qingyun.
Gong Qingyun was Old Master Gong's much-older-son, fourteen years of age. Having been frail at birth, he had been nourished with various high-grade medicinal soups, which instead forged a foundation of strong tendons and robust meridians.
Later, upon hearing rumors of immortals from somewhere, Old Master Gong began traveling far and wide to seek all sorts of treasures and fortuitous encounters, vowing to mold his youngest son into an Immortal Cultivator.
Gong Qingyun bore heavy expectations and had now reached the age for martial arts training. Gong Quanhui had promised that upon returning this time to inspect his foundation in typhoid pharmacology, he would impart the basic fist stance of the Gong family martial arts to him—which was also the martial arts foundation Gong Qingyun had promised to secretly pass on to Chen Yi.
Though martial arts taught by the young master had not been approved by the Gong family's martial arts instructors, Chen Yi had no other choice right now; he had to practice first and worry later. He was two years older than Gong Qingyun, having already passed the ideal age for building a physical foundation.
After finishing his meal, Gong Qingyun took over a dozen sheets of copied medical manuscripts and followed the steward to the front hall to see the old master.
Only then did Chen Yi, alongside three rough-hewn maidservants, take two cornmeal steamed buns, scrambling to dip them into the young master's leftover vegetable broth to shove into their mouths.
The cornmeal was too coarse; without broth, it would scratch their throats.
As for the leftover meat porridge from the young master's meal, no one dared touch it, as it had to be kept to feed his hunting hound, Zhuifeng.
The three menial maidservants were much like Chen Yi, all bought to serve their masters.
Unlike the martial arts instructors raised by the Gong family, who not only received meat every day but also a monthly stipend of one tael of silver.
Before fleeing from the ravages of war in Snow Country, Chen Yi had originally been a clean-looking, handsome youth, but after escaping famine, he had long since wasted away into a sallow, withered skeleton wrapped in skin. Having spent over two years as a slave in the Gong family right during his prime growing years amidst a lack of nutrition, he remained as thin as a hemp stalk.
Only over the past half year, having arrived at the young master's courtyard where he could barely manage to scrape together one full meal and one watery meal a day, had he improved slightly, though he was still frail and powerless, lacking the strength to truss a chicken.
Chen Yi was somewhat absent-minded today; before he had eaten more than a couple of bites of his cornmeal bun, the vegetable broth had already been snatched clean by the other maidservants.
His mind was entirely in the front hall, hoping the young master would successfully pass today's examination.
Chen Yi wanted to learn martial arts. In this world, laws were far less effective than individual martial prowess.
Martial arts was Chen Yi's only chance to turn his life around.
"Bang!"
At that exact moment, the courtyard gates of the third courtyard were violently kicked open.
The steward strode in aggressively, followed by three martial arts instructors.
"All you servants attending to the young master in the third courtyard, get out here!"