Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 84: Lin Junqing of Baolin Martial Hall

“Senior Brother Lin, hope we’re not disturbing you. We saw someone sneak in, heading this way, so we came to check,” two young men in black shirts said solemnly, clasping their fists.
As one of Forty-Nine City’s three great martial halls, Baolin had many disciples.
Not counting the apprentices in the outer courtyard, the outer and inner disciples numbered over a hundred.
Baolin’s rules were strict—clothing marked status: apprentices in white, outer disciples in black, inner disciples in yellow, clear at a glance.
The elusive direct disciples were exempt from such rules.
The two black-clad youths at the gate were today’s patrolling outer disciples.
—
Seeing his junior brothers, Lin Junqing paused, frowning. “Someone dared trespass Baolin Martial Hall in this city?”
“Did you see who it was?”
The disciples quickly replied, “Uh, Senior Brother Lin… we didn’t get a clear look. Just a shadow leaping over the wall.”
“It seemed headed here, so we rushed over. Sorry for disturbing you.”
Their faces flushed with embarrassment.
As ninth-rank Bone-Tempering Realm warriors, they hadn’t even seen the intruder’s face—a disgrace.
“Hm, an outsider breaching the hall is serious,” Lin Junqing nodded, opening the gate and stepping aside. “No one’s in my courtyard, but since you’re on duty, come check?”
The disciples shook their heads like rattles. One said, “We wouldn’t dare disturb you, Senior Brother. Just worried the intruder might’ve bothered you.”
After pleasantries, they carefully closed the gate.
They scanned the surroundings.
Dusk’s gloom fell, shadows swaying, but all was silent.
Not a soul in sight.
Doubt crept into their faces—they’d clearly seen a shadow here. Where’d it go?
Though suspicious, they wouldn’t dare doubt the middle-aged warrior inside.
Not only was he the master’s direct disciple, but even without that title, ordinary outer disciples wouldn’t cross him.
Lin Junqing was Baolin’s former senior brother.
Tales of his dazzling past still circulated among disciples.
Many said if he hadn’t been injured and demoted in that arena fight years ago, Baolin wouldn’t be overshadowed by the other two halls.
—
Click.
Lin Junqing bolted the gate, his heart easing.
With a flick of his finger, a gust of energy swept over, burying a few fresh blood drops by the door in dust.
Behind the wooden gate, a pale-faced giant crouched, a man on his back.
As Lin Junqing’s gaze fell, the giant’s dark face managed a weak smile.
Lin Junqing’s eyes landed on Liu Tang, shocked—
so badly injured?
“Brother Xiangzi, you holding up?”
Xiangzi nodded. “I’m managing, but Master Tang’s wounds are bad. It’s trouble.”
Without another word, Lin Junqing took Liu Tang from Xiangzi. With a stomp, his lean frame blurred into afterimages.
Xiangzi’s vision blurred. When it cleared, Lin Junqing and Liu Tang were inside the house.
Xiangzi’s heart jolted—
even my eyes couldn’t track this warrior’s moves?
His greatest pride since swallowing the tiger demon’s marrow was his enhanced vision, which had let him slip into Baolin Martial Hall.
He recalled Master Tang’s words at Deyun Tower—Lin Junqing had fallen in realm.
If he’s this formidable demoted, how terrifying was he at his peak?
Xiangzi gained a new respect for this world’s high-rank warriors.
No wonder Uncle Jie always said: a single rank’s difference is heaven and earth.
—
In the quiet courtyard, Lin Junqing opened a drawer, pulling out gilded boxes and extracting fragrant pills.
Xiangzi recognized them—identical to the pills he’d delivered for Master Tang months ago.
Lin Junqing hadn’t used them, saving the precious pills—now proving vital.
Crushing the pills into a clay pot, he added herbs Xiangzi couldn’t name.
Soon, a rich medicinal aroma rose from the simmering pot.
Lin Junqing’s movements were swift, clearly practiced.
Wiping sweat from his brow, he glanced at Xiangzi, tossing him a pill. “Brother Xiangzi, this is a Blood-Regenerating Pill. It’s better than high-grade blood and qi tonics. You’re hurt—eat it quick.”
Xiangzi nodded, skipping formalities. With a clasped fist, he swallowed the pill.
The bitter pill burst in his mouth, a surge of potent energy flooding toward his dantian.
The overwhelming force nearly destabilized his vortex, making him stagger.
Lin Junqing, busy brewing medicine for Liu Tang, glanced over and froze—
damn, I forgot. This kid’s only at Blood Energy Barrier. Can he handle the pill’s power?
But the next moment, his usually calm face stilled.
In the cramped room, the flushed rickshaw puller stood firm, planting a stance.
As his feet shifted, mist steamed from Xiangzi’s body, his flush fading.
—
Four-Square Horse Stance?
Lin Junqing instantly recognized the technique.
The stance was simple, demanding only “head level, shoulders level, hands level, legs level.”
Despite the raging vortex in his dantian, Xiangzi’s body only swayed slightly with his breathing, unshaken.
His spine was straight, neither slumping nor rigid, shoulders steady.
He embodied “four-square” perfectly.
Even Baolin’s outer disciples would struggle to match this foundation.
Lin Junqing’s astonishment grew.
This common stance, mastered to such a degree?
If he recalled correctly, this puller had only trained a few months.
At Deyun Tower, Liu Tang had called him a martial genius.
Lin Junqing had dismissed it as drunken exaggeration.
A rickshaw puller with talent?
Now, seeing it firsthand, this once-dazzling warrior of Forty-Nine City felt a spark of wonder.