Alcan wiped the blood off. His gaze searched for a water source and found one next to Jake’s pavilion; it was a decorative fountain.
He approached the fountain, knelt down, and picked up a leaf off the ground before even attempting to wash his hands. The leaf slowly flowed along the fountain after he threw it inside. It disappeared from view a few minutes later, signifying the presence of a filtration system.
Only after knowing that did he sink his hands and wash them. The water was soul-chilling, as it was extracted directly from the mountain. The water’s color changed to red, but the blood got distilled further before it was unnoticeable.
He went in front of the house and cleaned the blood that had dripped off his nose. After making sure he left no evidence, he continued his plans. He unsheathed his sword after confirming no one was around and hacked at the window lock.
The flimsy lock easily broke, letting the windows open and air filter inside. Alcan went to the opposite side of the pavilion and broke the window there as well.
Now both sides of the pavilion were letting the air filter the poison outside; it also helped that Alcan kept the wind’s direction in mind when choosing which windows to open.
He hid behind the house and waited for 20 minutes before reentering the pavilion. The time he had left was ticking away, and he needed to be quick. He entered step by step, taking a step and then breathing in the air to see if the filtering was successful.
Only after he made sure the poison had been completely filtered did he near the cupboard once again. His hope right now was that it wasn’t a multi-layered lock, or he would have to abandon it.
Another jade key entered the hole, but no poison was let out. “Great, seems like there was only one poison dispenser.” He quickly got through all the keys, and luck would have it. The last key was the one that fit.
The bottom part of the cupboard completely came off; it was a chest hidden inside it. Alcan didn’t idle any longer. He picked up the least luxurious-looking cover he could find, a pitch-black carpet, and rolled it around the chest.
He then stared at the pavilion’s interior for a minute, trying to think if he left behind any evidence. “Apart from my fingerprints, there should be no evidence to pinpoint towards me.” He wasn’t worried about his fingerprints, as from what he gathered so far, that level of precision was above Rank 1.
An Elder would have to personally investigate this case, and only then would they be able to identify him as the thief.
Alcan wasn’t afraid of being caught in the first place; from his conversation with Edina, the messenger girl, he knew that rules such as the prohibition of murder weren’t applied to low-level cultivators.
Alcan attributed that to the evil nature of the sect; even the upcoming Deathly Trials glorified death and set it as the main objective. It was clear the sect only cared about the strong; they vied death as a filtering method, nothing more.
The real reason he didn’t wish to be caught was that he didn’t want to stand against Jake’s merchant family but if push came to shove he would take care of it.
Step by step, he had already arrived back inside his pavilion. In the wake of night, there was no one to question why he was carrying such a large carpet. He locked his door and then got to work.
He rolled out the carpet, then opened the chest. Inside was a plethora of different kinds of items: vials of unknown liquids of various colors, two manuals; one green, another white, and the poison dispenser.
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Alcan first carefully removed the poison dispenser and then took out the two manuals from inside. He flipped through the green manual pages to get an idea. “He he, this is exactly what I was looking for.”
For some reason, he couldn’t find the cultivation manual the previous Alcan practiced anywhere, so he wasn’t able to cultivate for the past few days nor gather any information that wasn’t rudimentary.
He read the green manual titled “Poison Well Technique” the entire night. When the sun peeked its head through his window, he had a solid understanding of cultivation basics for Rank 0, at least in principle.
“I now understand why Jake didn’t have a weapon on him. This technique is for coating a surface in poison without damaging the said surface.” His free hand picked up the white manual, “Coupled with this Nightshade Family’s Palm Technique, he must have fought close quarters without a weapon, barehanded. Luckily, I killed him in a single clean slash.”
Another lucky coincidence was his 2nd layer cultivation. A Rank 0 Cultivator needed to gather their elemental qi from 1st layer to 3rd layer, and at the 4th layer, they would need to start integrating their technique’s principles to their dantian.
This last part seemed a little convoluted and vague to Alcan, who had never heard of a dantian, but it was a worry for the future. What he needed to do right now was learn to utilize his already existing 2nd layer cultivation.
Even though sleep tried to take hold of him, the excitement he felt in discovering such an interesting field overpowered it. He flipped through the pages nonstop and took notes in an attempt to create his own beginner's version by reading in between the lines.
“You coat your hand in your qi first then, it not only acts as a protective barrier for the surface but a glue to keep the poison in place.” He didn’t want to try the second part just yet, as he could easily accidentally kill himself with the poison.
The first part, however, was just what he wanted, a way to utilize his existing qi.
He simplified the convoluted process into a small list with 5 steps: first, locate your dantian, assert control over your qi, guide your qi through your inner flow, take the qi outside your body, and stabilize it.
Alcan folded his legs, settling into a meditative posture. The world slipped through his senses, his breathing slowed until even that slipped from his mind. His entire being converged on a single spot, the area above his abdomen.
Time became irrelevant. Alcan's intense focus cut through the concept of time, leaving behind only a single point in his mind.
Distortions and shifts started to appear in his focus, Alcan knew nothing could break his focus. “Qi,” he whispered, letting those distortions guide his focus. A fragile mind couldn’t use such techniques, as even Alcan’s spatial awareness dissolved, leaving him floating in space with no direction.
In a heartbeat, his will overwhelmed the qi in his dantian, taking over control. The sounds of birds and rustling leaves returned to his ears. His bearing came back, his will had already locked the qi. The qi was under constant assault from his inner flow; it wanted to guide it through his body, but Alcan didn’t allow it.
While he intended to guide the qi, it had to be on his terms. A battle against the tides began. With each flow, each heartbeat, each second, his inner flow tried to tyrannize his qi. His will, however, resisted it.
His inner flow was like veins, but the difference was that the roads rotated and swirled around each other, trying to cut through his control akin to blades. His qi was in a storm, getting chipped away and recalled by Alcan’s will each second.
His chest was the hardest area to guide his qi through. His inner flow raged violently there; it was akin to a reverse eye of the storm. Alcan slowed his guidance, but still made it through.
His arms were the easiest part of the entire qi’s journey. As if the inner flow yielded, not only did it not defy him but helped to guide the qi towards his extremity.
This was the critical part; unlike the slow but persistent attacks of his inner flow, the environmental qi’s assault would be instant but gentle.
His qi bubbled out of his palm, and at that same instant, the environmental qi tried to pop that bubble and prevent its forming. Luckily, Alcan’s focus didn’t falter, and his qi successfully materialized on his first attempt.
The qi bubbles converged and formed a membrane over his palm. His qi was yellow so bright that it seemed purely white. “It seems like my qi is of light element.” A rare element that would be an advantage in the long run.
His gaze fell onto the small table near his feet. Crack. His palm smashed onto the surface. Sizzle. Smoke came off the surface, accompanied by the smell of burnt wood. Alcan lifted his hand to see his palm imprinted on the small table’s hardwood surface.
He looked into his palm. “Seems like I have gotten myself quite the weapon.” Achieving power in such a way was new and refreshing. Alcan was used to political or external powers such as weapons. “This reminds me of Higher Beings. Could there be a connection?” This was the second time, first was when he saw Elder Su's qi.