Volume One, Chapter 11: The Formation of Divine Consciousness

At dusk, Qin Zheng, having slept only eight hours, felt refreshed and reborn.

He lay naked in a bathtub filled with flower petals, letting the cool water caress every inch of his skin, inhaling the subtle fragrance of incense in the room, sighing with comfort.

Glancing up, he took in the antique room: a half-opened small lattice window, beneath it an intricately carved dressing table, and several dark red wooden furniture pieces. The entire space was simple yet poetic, as if only Pan Jinlian herself was missing to adorn the mirror.

Was this the boudoir of Ziwei, the famed courtesan?

Rubbing his brow, Qin Zheng pondered, recalling only that he had been knocked unconscious by Yang Fengqing, his stomach cramping from hunger, and had once awakened in the bathtub.

After devouring eight jin of braised beef beside the tub, the restorative pill’s effect kicked in again, lulling him into a drowsy sleep.

A crude warrior, alas—those eleven “Mahua” were lost before he could nurture his little flame.

He casually grabbed the bronze mirror by the tub and, for the first time, examined himself. His spirit lifted; he looked radiant.

In the reflection stood an eighteen-year-old youth, handsome and vigorous, his features sharply carved as if by a blade, his bones strong and sinewy like a lean tiger. His ruggedly handsome appearance radiated sunshine, a face that would make every scoundrel jealous.

Ha, handsome faces are all the same; I, Qin Conan, excel not only in looks but in kindness, unmatched talent, and extraordinary wisdom...

Satisfied, Qin Zheng set the mirror down. After eating, drinking, and replenishing his energy, he finally set about unraveling the tangled mess in his mind.

All twelve “Mahua” had been slain; his performance in this case had drawn attention from all three parties, promising him an opportunity to redeem himself, perhaps even earn promotion and honors.

Yet behind this case—hiss! No, this black mark was too heavy to guess recklessly. Let those who want to meddle, meddle!

The key question was: why, after transmigrating to Great Ning, did he bring along the little flame from the summoning ritual and encounter the “Mahua” from his previous life’s textbooks?

Earlier, Xie Qingluan said his emotions were hunger, so wasn’t the sensation from the little flame’s feelings?

But the “Mahua” feared him, unrelated to the little flame.

When the “Mahua” struck silently at the Music Bureau, killing everyone except him, he had no little flame then.

Yet Qin Xuecha, a plain eighteenth-generation official, and Qin Conan, a modest transmigrator, should have no connection to cause the “Mahua” to fear.

Qin Zheng thought deeply for a long while, successfully transforming the tangled mess in his mind into two tangled messes.

Like an eagle soaring the sky and fighting over miles, or an ant on a patch of ground with sight only a few inches ahead.

His next plan: to train hard, nurture the little flame, and strive for more power; otherwise, these secrets were beyond the sight of a mere frog in a well like himself.

Gathering his thoughts, he stood up unabashedly to search for clothes, suddenly noticing his senses had grown remarkably sharp.

Immediately, he inwardly examined his spiritual sea to check the little flame, only to discover that his perception had completely changed.

It was as if a fifth sense had been added, granting him a holographic view of everything within a dozen yards, even sensing the colorful spiritual energy floating in the air around him.

This must be divine awareness!

Panting heavily, his heart pounding—

Indeed, Qin Conan was a talent: with only a ninth-grade Essence Refining cultivation, he had achieved the divine awareness usually reserved for seventh-grade Spirit Refining!

Hmm, this was also due to junior sister Xie Qingluan’s help; he must repay her kindness handsomely.

Cautiously, Qin Zheng tried to sense the little flame with his divine awareness, carefully guiding it, fearful of following in Yang Fengqing’s footsteps, who was severely burned by the flame, even left a vegetable.

Unfortunately, the little flame remained stable in his spiritual sea, its light dim and weak, as if a gust of wind could extinguish it, yet it was the only light in that boundless inner space.

This... meant he had to feed it more rare treasures or find Yang Fengqing to help him get more work injury treatments!

But having not yet reached the eighth-grade Qi Refining stage, how could he use this prematurely acquired divine awareness?

He would have to ask junior sister—given the life-saving debt he owed her, he must repay her generously!

Chuckling to himself, Qin Zheng suddenly sensed a presence swiftly approaching his hut through his divine awareness.

He glanced at the empty room and, unabashed, grabbed a bath towel. As the door creaked open, he held the towel up to cover himself, serving as a mosaic, while looking at the figure that entered.

Before him stood a woman around twenty years old, dressed in a red gown. Her skin was tender and delicate, her cloud-like hair loosely framing a classically exquisite oval face, with lovely brows and bright teeth. Though fatigue and sorrow lingered in her eyes, her enchanting, sultry charm was undeniable.

Her slender waist swayed gracefully, her alluring figure radiated elegance and poise, trailing a faint fragrance.

Like a natural, captivating breeze amid the uniform carved faces of modern red carpet celebrities.

Qin Zheng was deeply impressed—Ziwei, the courtesan, with a warm bosom...

As the famed queen of the Music Bureau in the capital, she was every man’s dream, known for her cheerful disposition and skillful handling of all manner of romantic gatherings, reigning as the top night club queen of Great Ning.

Yet now, the Ziwei courtesan, weary and troubled, had a look of panic and helplessness in her eyes.

She came in, shedding her red gown as she hurried, tossing aside the skirt, abandoning her usual composure and languor.

Her fiery pleated skirt fell to the floor; she hurriedly unfastened her strapless top, bent down to remove her undergarments, and swiftly approached Qin Zheng.

Her exquisite figure, with elegant curves, gleamed like white porcelain in the sunset’s afterglow—mountainous and dazzling...

Qin Zheng’s eyes went wide. “I... damn, is this really the test for a cadre?”