Chapter Twenty-Three: Partners in Crime

After making up his mind, Ge Qian took out Hu Ye’s storage pouch and poured out its contents. Compared to Wang Meng, it was much poorer—a mere ten low-grade spirit stones, a plain flying sword, a pitch-black jade slip, three Marrow Cleansing Pills, as well as the spirit herbs for a furnace of Marrow Cleansing Pills and a furnace of Fasting Pills.

The most valuable items were the Demonic Gourd and the jade slip of the Ghost Demon Scripture.

Ge Qian packed away the other things, leaving only the spirit herbs aside. Sitting cross-legged, he meditated to restore his spiritual power. The next day, Ge Qian brought out the pill furnace, formed a spell seal, and the furnace trembled, expanding to three feet.

With practiced ease, he infused his spiritual power, igniting a flame at the base of the furnace. When the heat reached the right level, he tossed in the spirit herbs. This time, it took a full day and night, and five Fasting Pills emerged, exuding a rich fragrance of rice.

He restored his spiritual power again, and after another day, Ge Qian began to refine Marrow Cleansing Pills. Compared to Fasting Pills, these required four more kinds of spirit herbs. As the flames rose within the furnace, the refining process began.

After three days and nights, the pills were finally formed. With his growing experience, the process was a great success, maintaining a fifty percent yield, but the quality had improved markedly.

Ge Qian nodded and smiled faintly, quickly stowing away the pills. He didn’t rush to refine Water Spirit Pills next, but instead meditated to restore his spiritual power, while considering where he might find a place rich in water spirit energy, suitable for pill refining.

He dismissed the Cold Pool—too open and exposed. Refining pills required peace; should someone stumble upon him, the entire batch would be ruined.

Where, then? Suddenly, Ge Qian recalled a place ten miles away—a Flying Sky Waterfall, territory belonging to Ancestor Clear Water. Fortunately, the ancestor’s cave wasn’t built there; otherwise, Ge Qian wouldn’t dare meddle, not even if he had ten times the courage—disturbing the ancestor’s cultivation was a capital offense.

Resolute, he packed his things and, at midnight, cast Wind Riding Technique and Heavenly Eye, heading straight for the Flying Sky Waterfall.

Though still far from the waterfall, the thunderous roar of cascading water reached him in the quiet night. Soon, Ge Qian arrived at the waterfall’s edge—a hundred feet of water plunging down into the pool below, sending up waves ten feet high, endlessly rolling downstream.

Ge Qian was awestruck by the spectacle. He carefully used Heavenly Eye to scan the surroundings—apart from water and rocks, nothing unusual, except that the water spirit energy was far denser than elsewhere.

Feeling reassured, he planned to carve out a stone cave behind the waterfall and hide within to refine pills.

Yet as he watched the torrent, doubts crept in—the immense pressure might be more than he could bear.

But since he was here, he decided to try; otherwise, it would be a wasted trip. He stretched his limbs, gripping two slender, sharp beast fangs in his hands.

Backing up five or six yards, he suddenly accelerated and leapt toward the waterfall.

The fierce current instantly slammed Ge Qian to the bottom. Thankfully, his body, tempered by the Mountain Moving Technique, was as hard as iron—though his whole body ached, his life wasn’t in danger.

Moreover, his swimming skills were excellent; he quickly found his balance and crawled ashore, wiping water from his face and muttering, “That’s a real force—damn it! If you can’t kill me, I’ll stick with you until I carve out a cave. I won’t give up until I do!”

After a brief rest, Ge Qian stepped back and charged again, only to fall into the water just as before.

He repeated this a dozen times, until finally, one beast fang pierced the rock, suspending him in the water, deeply embedded by the waterfall. Ge Qian held his breath, gripping the fang as his hands trembled violently, his arms growing numb before he was again battered to the bottom.

Ge Qian sat quietly by the pool, gauging his strength against the water’s pressure. The more he persisted, the greater the force seemed to grow.

Water falling from a height generates force—faster speed and greater volume means exponentially more pressure. Still water is powerless; all force comes from movement.

With this realization, he dived into the waterfall again. His left-hand fang nearly sank entirely into the rock, while