Beside a small pond in the village.

  Bearing the scorching sun, a figure, Tang Dao in hand, continued to make movements in the sand. At first glance, they seemed clumsy, but a closer look revealed a certain trick.

  Stirling paused, panting, and sat down in the shade of a tree. He then picked up a nearby water bag, uncorked it, and gulped down the water.

  Since getting the blade skills book a week ago, Stirling has been visiting this small pond every day. Rain or shine, he practices hard to improve his skills soon.

  He wielded a broad-backed Tang Dao reinforced with an iron sheet. This enhancement took three months of his life.

  Stirling was addicted to the blade technique. He practiced for 7 hours daily, working as hard as any dedicated employee in modern society.

  But after a few days, his entire body ached. Now, he couldn't even last an hour, panting and sweating heavily.

  Stirling leaned against a tree trunk, set down his water bag, and panted as he complained.

  Stirling tugged at the grass on the ground, feeling somewhat distraught. But there was something even more troubling for Stirling. Lately, he has noticed that the ghostly shadow hornet in his room has faded a lot. He prepared a bowl of beast blood, but it didn't attract any hornets. This meant that his source of lifespan extension was not stable.

  Stirling's thoughts grew more and more panicked. After all, if this thing was gone, he had no idea where to find the lifespan.

  Stirling sighed. He stood up, twisted his aching wrist, and picked up his blade to keep practicing.

  Elsewhere, at Ulan Temple. In the temple's central hall, Monk White sat cross-legged on a cushion. His hands rested on his knees, and his eyes were half open, half closed, reciting scriptures in a low voice.

  At a certain moment, as if aware of something, he opened his eyes completely and looked toward the door.

  "Senior, what can I help?" A voice entered the hall, and then Monk Green walked in.

  "There seems to be something wrong with the statue at the foot of the mountain. Its blood malice hasn't increased in recent days, and it has even weakened. I'd like to invite you to inspect." Monk White said.

  "Oh? Is that true?" Monk Green frowned and said.

  Monk White brought the blood statue from the ancestral temple. It lies buried beneath Rock Village, connected to his mind. As a result, even from dozens of miles away, Monk White can sense it somewhat.

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  "As your will, Senior. I'll be down the mountain soon. Praise the Blood God." Monk Green bowed to the seated Monk White, then turned and walked out of the hall. A moment later, his figure disappeared through the doorway.

  "Praise the Blood God," Monk White replied and closed his eyes again and continued his meditation. He needed to refine the blood he absorbed from the stone statue this month. Otherwise, it would gather impurities and hurt his strength. This was why he sent Green down the mountain instead of him.

  …

  Boom!

  A loud thunderclap shook the sky. Then, bean-sized raindrops fell like pearls. They crackled as they hit the dry, yellow earth.

  The gray sky stretched endlessly, creating a sense of oppression.

  Stirling stood inside, looking out at the hazy mist outside, and sighed.

  Stirling rubbed his temples. He wondered whether all the blade practice had hurt him.

  Stirling shook his head, then turned and sat down at the table in the living room.

  Stirling, who was unfolding the quicksand map and examining it, was startled. He jumped up, staring at the map. His breathing became heavier.

  He saw a small red cross separating from the Ulan temple, moving towards him step by step.

  A thought flashed through Stirling's mind.

  A tangle of thoughts swirled through Stirling's mind like cotton wool. For a moment, a surge of panic descended upon him, causing his heart pounding like a drum.

  Stirling, holding the quicksand map, paced around like a cat on hot bricks.

  Stirling was not ready for a disaster from the sky. It was like the heavy rain outside—sudden and fierce.

  After pondering for a dozen minutes, Stirling finally decided. He grabbed his raincoat off the wall. Then, he took the fresh meat he had hunted yesterday. Finally, he got ready to trade it for the last batch of elixirs.

  Although the red cross from the temple might not come for him this time, he has to prepare for the worst.

  The rain grew stronger. The only sound was the quick patter of raindrops on the ground. All the beasts took refuge in the forest or caves, waiting for the downpour to subside.

  Patt, Patt… A monk in a green robe strolled along the muddy path. He held a green leather umbrella as the heavy rain poured down. His figure was graceful.

  Monk Green climbed a hillside. From his spot, he looked out at Rock Village, hoping to see something. But the mist before him left Monk Green disappointed a bit.

  Monk Green shook his head. Then, he jumped down the hillside like a descending bat and then walked toward Rock Village.

  The heavy rain diminished throughout the evening.

  Rock Village stayed quiet. All the people waited in their houses for the scary night to pass.

  Monk Green closed his umbrella. He looked over the quiet village and shrugged.

  Monk Green entered the village at ease. He went to the nearest house by the gate and knocked on the door.

  The slow, firm knocks disturbed the villagers inside.

  "Who is it? ……Ah, it's Father Green!" The villagers opened the wooden door. When they saw the monk, a rosy glow spread across their pale faces. They gasped in surprise.

  "Mister, could you please offer a seat?" Green acted like a gentleman. He looked at the old man in front of him, then glanced at the old woman inside. She also had a surprise on her face.