Chapter 006: The Power of Eating Meat

Other than the young and strong sitting on the ground and entering a meditative state, everyone else responded in unison.

In these times, both the Daoist courts and the cultivation clans enforced the strictest prohibitions on breathing techniques. For commoners wishing to become cultivators, the only way to obtain a breathing method was to enlist as cannon fodder on the frontier and risk their lives; there was no other path.

Now, the Shen family was generously teaching them a breathing technique as part of the land reclamation effort—everyone cherished this rare opportunity and would never leak it to outsiders. Even if they failed, their children and grandchildren might still have a chance to learn from the Shen family in the future.

“From this day forth, whoever can enter stillness and sense the flow of energy may apply to me for a daily portion of ninth-rank beast meat,” said Qingzhen loudly and grandly. “As for the rest of the common folk, as long as you work hard each day and don’t shirk your duties, you too will receive a bowl of fierce beast broth every day.”

“What? Meat every day? No way, I have to try again!”

“Me too! Me too!”

The crowd of half-grown boys nearly leapt with excitement.

Meat was coming, broth as well—how could they possibly refuse?

“Come on, for the sake of meat, I’ll do anything to enter stillness.” Another young boy hurried back to sit down.

“If I can’t enter stillness today, I won’t sleep.”

“You’re all crazy… Fine, I’ll be crazy with you! I refuse to believe I can’t earn some meat.” Another youth dashed back to try.

Where previously only twenty or thirty people had the patience to sit and meditate, now, with the promise of meat, the number swelled to around sixty. More than half the young men and boys, from their teens to their twenties, rushed to practice meditation. Even four or five of the girls returned to their seats.

Qingzhen’s eyes widened in surprise—he hadn’t expected the allure of meat to be so powerful.

It could even make those who’d never cared for cultivation eager to try.

Little Bai, equally astonished, whispered to her young mistress, “Miss, they’ve all gone back to meditate, just for the chance to eat meat!”

“What’s so strange about that? If I were them, I’d go back too. Entering stillness isn’t difficult—as long as you’re calm. But having meat to eat, now that’s a big deal,” Qinghu replied emphatically.

“Excellent! That’s the spirit I want from you all. There’ll be full bellies, platters of meat, hot broth—everything you could wish for, as long as you cultivate diligently,” Qingzhen continued his rousing speech.

No sooner had he finished than a few more middle-aged and elderly men went back to meditate as well.

“Qingquan, explain again to everyone how to enter stillness, and teach them how to begin the breathing method,” Qingzhen called out, delighted by the crowd’s enthusiasm, and invited Qingquan, their special instructor, to give another motivational lesson.

Qingquan stepped forward and began teaching once more, this time making his explanations even clearer and more straightforward. He included examples that ordinary folk could easily understand, helping everyone grasp what cultivation truly entailed.

“Little sister, look at this—a wonderful state of affairs. I wager it won’t be long before someone among them senses energy,” Qingzhen boasted to his sister, elated.

The Bloodshed Breathing Method was simple and easy to learn, and Qingquan was a talented instructor whose explanations grew more accessible with each lesson. It seemed quite possible that, before long, Qingzhen’s fourth brother might see a few of these villagers awaken to energy.

“Fourth Brother, Qingquan’s teaching is truly excellent. No wonder, when the clan was picking a personal attendant for you, they delivered twenty lads, but Father chose none of them and insisted on bringing Qingquan in from outside,” Qinghu praised.

Qingzhen’s expression grew a little strange—was their secret about to be exposed?

In truth, Qingquan was the son of his father’s close friend, brought in after his family met with misfortune, not an ordinary servant. Qingzhen had promised his father to keep the truth hidden, yet over the years he’d come to treat Qingquan as his own younger brother.

“If Qingquan weren’t so capable, would Father have placed him at my side?” Qingzhen replied awkwardly.

“That’s true. Little Bai is also very capable—Father really is a good man,” Qinghu replied with satisfaction.

Hearing this, Qingzhen couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: Qingquan, by staying at his side, received proper training, whereas Little Bai, by following Qinghu, became her excuse for endless laziness. What a shame—a good child, wasted.

“Little sister, do you think I should find a teacher to teach them to read and write?” Qingzhen asked, watching Qingquan lecture and suddenly struck by a new idea.

“There’s no need. Hiring a teacher means setting up a school, buying ink, brushes, and paper, and paying wages. It’s such a waste of money—and we have none to spare,” Qinghu replied, giving her brother a look that said, “We’re poor, remember?”

Qingzhen shivered, suddenly recalling their lack of funds—what now?

“It’s better to have Qingquan or Little Bai teach those who can meditate to recognize characters after dinner, when everyone’s idle. They can use sticks to write in the dirt. It doesn’t matter if they can’t write, as long as they can recognize and read the words.”

Qingzhen frowned. “But once they awaken energy and become true cultivators, how will they study advanced martial skills or movement techniques from secret manuals? Just knowing a handful of characters won’t help them understand those texts.”

“Once they’ve awakened energy, their strength and agility will increase. They can hunt for themselves, sell their prey to us for money, and then pay for their own literacy lessons. It’s not as if no one in our territory can read—Qingquan certainly can. They can hire him as a private tutor, and he can earn some pocket money. In short, we absolutely mustn’t pay for it ourselves,” Qinghu insisted.

Qingzhen’s expression said it all: he was taken aback by Qinghu’s frugality.

Qinghu returned his look with one that said, “We’re broke—deal with it.”

“A teacher’s wage is hardly anything—a maximum of ten red gold coins per month, and cheap ink and paper might come to a few dozen coins at most,” Qingzhen tried to persuade her.

“Then you’ll have to give up your promised two hundred red gold coins of pocket money each month.”

“No way.”

“Then it’s settled: let them earn their literacy themselves. That way they’ll value their lessons more, since they’ll be paying for them out of their own hard-earned money,” Qinghu declared, adopting a look of righteous self-sacrifice.

Qingzhen could only remain speechless.

“In fact, I agree with Miss,” Little Bai interjected. “If learning to read comes too easily, arranged by the young master, no one will treasure the opportunity. But if they must strive for it themselves and pay for each lesson, they’ll surely cherish every class and study each character with care.”