Qi Cultivation Starting from the Repair Panel

The alley was shrouded in darkness, the last glimmer of the sunset outlining the contours of crumbling walls.

The hunger in his stomach spread like a wildfire.

Chu Zheng glanced toward the corner, bent down to pick up the broken bowl with a missing corner that Xue Qing had taken earlier, and stepped out of the shadowy alley.

The night had fully descended, sparse lights flickered in the distant streets; nearby, however, was a murky gloom.

The evening breeze carried the chill of late autumn, brushing against his thin, tattered clothes, causing him to shiver involuntarily.

Looking around, he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings, leaving him somewhat bewildered for a moment. In a daze, he found it difficult to understand why he happened to be here.

He walked aimlessly, and as he turned a street corner, a wave of familiar rich aroma suddenly washed over his nostrils, intensifying the hunger roaring within him.

He followed the scent with his eyes to see a simple yet tidy wonton stand set up not far away on the side of the street.

A large pot, billowing with white steam, sat on a fire, bubbling with milky white broth and plump wontons.

There were two or three low tables and chairs set up by the stand, with only one or two patrons eating quietly at this moment.

A figure busy at the stand was Xue Qing. Though only in her early teens, her stature was already quite tall and slender, not inferior to that of an average adult woman, though her bone structure was still delicate.

She wore a set of slightly cleaner clothes than in the daytime, with her sleeves rolled up, revealing a strong and agile forearm. She deftly scooped wontons from the pot with a long-handled skimmer, shook off the water droplets with a flick of the wrist, and steadily poured them into a customer's bowl.

The movement was practiced, showing a maturity beyond her years.

Under the dim lantern light, the white mist rising continuously from the pot danced gracefully, blurring the remaining rays of the blood-red sun in the sky, adding a touch of dreamy warmth to the atmosphere.

There weren't many customers at the stand. After serving the last customer wontons, Xue Qing glanced casually to see Chu Zheng standing not far away, clutching the broken bowl, gazing longingly in this direction.

Her action paused slightly; her clear eyes showed no superfluous emotion, neither disdain nor pity.

She did not speak, turned around to the back of the stand, and picked up a coarsely crafted bowl still steaming hot.

The bowl was brimming with thin-skinned, generously filled wontons floating in a clear broth.

Xue Qing carried the bowl directly over to Chu Zheng.

She slightly lowered her head, gazing at the little beggar in front of her, who was more than a head shorter, covered in dirt and grime, and softly murmured:

"Little idiot."

With that, she tightened her grip on Chu Zheng's hand, tilting her wrist.

The scalding hot wontons, accompanied by aromatic broth, poured precisely into the chipped bowl in Chu Zheng's hand. The soup splashed a little, making Chu Zheng instinctively shrink his hand, but Xue Qing held his hand steady, catching most of it.

After doing this, Xue Qing did not spare him another glance, turning straight back to the stand and took up cloth to wipe down the counter.

Chu Zheng stood dumbfounded in place, clutching the now-heavy worn bowl. The scorching heat seeped through the rough ceramic, igniting his palms, with the hunger in his stomach almost bursting out under the teasing aroma.

Yet, more intense than hunger was a flutter resonating from the depths of his soul. His gaze, as if tethered by invisible chains, instinctively followed Xue Qing's figure.

Deep within his mind, it was like a stone thrown into a deep pool, stirring sudden ripples.

Countless blurred, fragmented, and bizarre memories surged forth without warning from the depths of his consciousness.

Amidst the haze, he seemed to see an ancient battlefield, beset by enemies on all sides, a crimson arc cutting through the river of space-time. Atop the river of space-time, a blood door opened wide, scarlet blades clashing like arrows, howling for blood, rending the universe asunder.

Vaguely, he also saw a figure shrouded in bloodlight charging toward him, wielding a long blade, hair as silver as snow.

The memory scenes continually intertwined in his mind, gradually falling apart.

Chu Zheng stood on the spot, organizing his thoughts, and after a long while, he finally came to his senses, his eyes obscure and unfathomable.

He remembered more things.

In the future, Xue Qing had saved his life.

Perhaps his return to the ancient times this time also had this reason, merely temporarily forgotten much due to the influence of the laws of space-time.

Chu Zheng, clutching the steaming bowl of wontons, gazed absentmindedly at Xue Qing's busy figure, the fragments of memory churning in his mind like a tempest-tossed sea, chaotic and turbulent.

Xue Qing, after wiping the counter, sensed Chu Zheng's gaze, turned back slightly puzzled, and glanced over.

Seeing the little beggar, still standing dumbly with the bowl in hand, staring straight, as if looking at her, or something beyond her.

This slightly bizarre feeling made Xue Qing immediately frown, a hint of impatience in her voice as she called out loudly:

"Hey!"

The girl's clear voice was crisp in the night:

"What are you standing there for?"

Seeing that Chu Zheng still didn't respond, just staring at her blankly, Xue Qing muttered to herself: "Could he have gone stupid again?"

Chu Zheng, almost instinctively holding the bowl, came to a spot not far from the stand, crouched down, and started sipping at the wontons. The hunger in his stomach gradually eased.

Seeing this, Xue Qing raised her brow slightly, casually asking: "Do you have a name?"

"I..."

Chu Zheng almost instinctively was about to answer, but midway through, he suddenly choked, as if a cold, invisible giant hand had clamped tightly around his throat.