Samuel Clark was momentarily stunned, then sincerely cupped his hands in respect. “Your master and disciple are truly extraordinary.”

Henry Thompson touched his nose with his hand.

The reason he didn’t explain was, first, he didn’t care about reputation, and second...

There used to be a pavilion there.

Yesterday, in a moment of urgency, he’d used too much force. The Banjiang Pavilion had been built with money pooled by the villagers—if he had to pay for damages, it would hardly be worth it.

The carriage soon stopped at the entrance of the county office.

The three of them got out and said their farewells.

“Little Daoist Li, I will never forget your life-saving grace,” Samuel Clark bowed deeply.

“It’s simply the duty of a cultivator, Mr. Gongsun, there’s no need to dwell on it,” Henry Thompson replied lightly.

Emily Clark fixed her beautiful eyes on Henry Thompson, pressed her lips together, and said, “Little Daoist Li, thank you for your help.”

Only the father and daughter knew that what might have been a trivial favor for Henry Thompson was, for them, a miraculous escape from certain doom.

Henry Thompson smiled calmly, then took his leave.

Emily Clark watched his departing figure, standing still for a long time.

Her father turned back and, seeing her expression, waved his hand in front of her eyes. “Alright, he’s gone far away now. There are so many talented young men and noble sons, and chivalrous heroes in Chao Ge City, but I’ve never seen you look at anyone like this.”

Emily Clark was embarrassed by his words, lowered her head, and shook it. “None of them compare to him.”

Samuel Clark grinned mischievously. “Don’t compare in what way?”

Emily Clark pressed her lips together again, and after a long pause, finally muttered, “Not as handsome as him.”

“Oh?” Samuel Clark blinked. “I remember my daughter once said she never judged a man by his looks?”

Emily Clark blushed and ignored him.

There’s never been anyone who truly doesn’t care about looks. If there is, it’s only because she hasn’t yet met a face good-looking enough...

What’s more, the owner of this face was also her savior.

...

Henry Thompson hadn’t come to see off the Gongsun father and daughter on purpose; he had some business of his own in town.

That morning, he’d asked Brian Sullivan in his room if there were any methods for body cultivation.

He would never forget the sight of Brian Sullivan, just woken up and bleary-eyed, face unwashed, hair unbound, gargling and spitting out a mouthful of water, then raising his head to the heavens and declaring, “The Dao is the source of all things. Techniques are but the branches of the Great Dao. To abandon the source and seek the branches—my disciple, you are caught up in appearances.”

In that instant, he seemed to see Brian Sullivan shrouded in an indescribable aura, so imposing that even he, who had asked the question, felt ashamed.

But...

That didn’t change the fact that his own body was still fragile.

He understood that he might never reach his master’s level in this lifetime.

Later, Brian Sullivan told Henry Thompson to try looking in the town’s Miscellaneous Book Study; there might be something useful there.

The Miscellaneous Book Study, as the name suggests, was a study filled with all sorts of books.

The decor inside was very traditional, open from north to south, with plenty of light and the scent of paper wafting through the air.

Half the books inside were new, the other half were second-hand volumes acquired by the shopkeeper, so the selection was vast and varied, filling two whole floors.

Henry Thompson browsed up and down, taking a quick look, but it seemed there was nothing like a secret manual for cultivation.

So he went to the counter.

The shopkeeper of the Miscellaneous Book Study was an old scholar, over fifty and still studying hard for the xiucai exam, his eyesight nearly gone.

But despite his poor vision, he knew the location of every book in the study by heart—he could find them even with his eyes closed.

Henry Thompson stepped forward and asked, “Shopkeeper, do you have any secret manuals here?”

“What kind of secret manuals?” The old shopkeeper was taken aback.

“The kind about the body,” Henry Thompson said. “My master said you might have some here.”

The old shopkeeper immediately gave a knowing smile. “Oh—”

He got up and led Henry Thompson to look, saying as they walked, “Truly, like master, like disciple. Who would have thought a lad with such thick eyebrows and big eyes would also be into these things...”

Henry Thompson was completely confused.

Until he saw the old shopkeeper bring him to a hidden cabinet, open it, and reveal it stuffed full of illustrated books.

“Strange Tales of the Golden Vase,” “Liaozhai’s Affairs of Love,” “The White Jade Mat,” “My Lord, I Want You”...

Henry Thompson stared at these odd titles, falling into deep thought.

“Shopkeeper, I think you misunderstood.” He looked away. “I want cultivation manuals, body-tempering techniques! I want to temper my body, not just look at bodies.”

“Cultivation?” The old shopkeeper frowned. “You came from a Daoist temple to my bookstore looking for cultivation methods? I really don’t have those. Hmm, but for body tempering, I think there are some martial arts manuals—don’t know if they’ll suit your needs.”

As he spoke, the old shopkeeper thought for a moment, then led him to another area, rummaging through a dusty corner to pull out a cabinet of books—all martial arts cultivation methods.

Cultivators of the Buddhist and Daoist schools were called “Qi Refiners” in ancient times.

For them, martial arts were only studied at the entry level, because at that stage, true qi had not yet formed and they needed to protect themselves. Once they could cultivate true qi, they would no longer practice martial arts.

What Qi Refiners pursued was supernatural power.

But the threshold for Qi Refiners was high; one must have a spiritual root to cultivate. Those born with spiritual roots were one in ten thousand.