Cultivation of immortality begins with an eighty-year-old eunuch.

Chapter 676 The Final Kick! Qiqige!

Chen Fan's culinary skills have improved even further this winter.

He was no longer satisfied with carving the people and things he could see in front of him, but began to carve the people in his memory.

He carved Tianxiangzi, Qin Zhan, and even Song Tianren.

These stone statues are quite different from the previous ones.

They are not merely representations of images, but rather a condensation of Chen Fan's entire memory and understanding of these people. The stone statue of Tian Xiangzi carries a deep sense of gratitude and remembrance, the stone statue of Qin Zhan carries a touch of boldness and cheerfulness, while the stone statue of Song Tianren carries a sharp, demonic power and arrogance.

After each stone statue was completed, he would place it in his tent and examine it for a while before storing it in his storage bag. These statues were not for ordinary people to see, but rather a part of his understanding of the artistic conception.

Late that night, heavy snow blocked every road connecting the tribe to the outside world. Chen Fan sat cross-legged in his tent, carving a new stone statue.

This time, he sculpted not someone else, but himself.

He spent seven whole days carving this stone statue.

Each strike of the chisel is like a re-examination of one's own life.

Sixty-eight years in the deep palace, survival in the sealed land, Yu the Great, the boundless sea, the Zhao Kingdom, the grasslands, those he killed, those he saved, those he betrayed, and those he cherished.

He carved all of this into stone.

When he finished carving, Chen Fan gazed at the tiny reflection of himself in his palm and remained silent for a long time.

The statue depicts a man with a calm and indifferent expression, his eyes deep and unfathomable, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

Yet, within that ordinariness lies something extremely complex.

He placed the stone statue on his lap and closed his eyes.

The three mental states within the dantian transformed into three streams of light, which slowly rotated and merged under the guidance of the Fixed Word Technique.

Cause and effect, life and death, and destiny—the three streams of light are no longer as distinct as before, but intertwine little by little as they rotate, transforming into a harmonious and profound power.

This power had no earth-shattering force, no spectacular phenomena of thunder and fire. It simply flowed quietly in the dantian, like melting snow in spring flowing into a stream, like autumn leaves falling and returning to dust.

Chen Fan knew that the threshold of the Nascent Soul stage was right before him.

But they were still far from that final goal.

He opened his eyes, looked at the swirling snow outside the tent, put away the stone statue on his knees, got up and added a few pieces of dried cow dung to the stove, and roasted a few sweet potatoes by the stove.

……

Before dawn the next day, Batel's shouts pierced through the wind and snow.

"Uncle Chen! Su Rina is about to give birth!"

As Batel's voice boomed through the wind and snow, Chen Fan had already donned a sheepskin robe and stepped out of the tent.

The sky was overcast and gray, with a faint bluish-white tinge just beginning to appear in the east. It had snowed all night, covering every tent in the tribe with a thick layer of white that crunched underfoot.

A group of people surrounded Su Rina's tent.

Batu's wife was busy running around in the tent, while the old woman sat at the tent entrance playing the morin khuur (horsehead fiddle). The music was long and desolate, and it was said to be able to drive away birth demons.

Batu paced back and forth outside the tent, his footsteps leaving a deep groove in the snow. When he saw Chen Fan arrive, he grabbed Chen Fan's arm, his face, roughened by the winds of the grassland, filled with nervousness.

"Chen Fan, you're here." Batu's voice was tight. "Su Rina has been calling all night, but she still hasn't given birth. Go in and check on her."

Chen Fan nodded, lifted the heavy curtain, and went inside.

The fire in the tent burned brightly, making the air dry and stuffy. Surina lay on the sheepskin blanket, her face pale and her forehead covered in sweat. Batel squatted beside her, her hand clenched tightly in his, his knuckles white.

Batu's wife knelt on the other side, holding a basin of hot water in her hands, her face full of worry through the wrinkles.

Chen Fan knelt down and placed three fingers on Su Rina's pulse. The pulse was rapid and strong, indicating that the fetus's life force was fully formed, but it was reluctant to emerge.

He frowned slightly, took out a thin gold needle from his sleeve, and gently inserted it three-tenths of an inch into the Hegu acupoint at the base of Su Rina's thumb. He then inserted two more needles into the Sanyinjiao acupoint on her calf.

Su Rina's breathing gradually became more even.

After half a cup of tea, she began to exert herself again.

Batu's wife supported her, constantly chanting the names of the grassland gods. Chen Fan withdrew the golden needles, stood up, and retreated to the tent flap.

He wasn't a midwife; he had done all he could, and the rest was up to the woman.

Just after Chen Shi (7-9 AM), a loud cry pierced through the tent.

Batu's wife rushed out, her wrinkled face gleaming as she threw back the curtain: "She's given birth! It's a girl! Mother and daughter are safe!"

Batu paused for a moment, then threw his head back and burst into laughter. He grabbed an old herdsman next to him, then let go, and grabbed another person, like a sheep that had just been released from its pen, circling around in the snow.

Batel poked his head out of the tent, his face showing a mixture of surprise, joy, and bewilderment, as if he had just been pulled out of the water and thrown into the fire.

Batu's wife brought the child out for everyone to see.

The child was wrapped in a clean sheepskin, his little face was red and wrinkled, and he was crying loudly with his eyes closed.

Batu leaned closer for a look, his mouth agape almost reaching his ears: "Those eyebrows, those noses, they're just like mine!"

"Newborn babies all look like this." Batu's wife rolled her eyes at him, then held the baby in front of Chen Fan. "Chen Fan, you can name the baby."

Chen Fan looked down at the baby girl in the swaddling clothes.

She cried for a while and then stopped. Her little mouth moved slightly, as if searching for something. Her eyes were not yet open, but the pupils under her eyelids were moving gently, radiating a vibrant life force.

He had witnessed countless deaths in the palace, but rarely the birth of a new life.

The imperial concubines who gave birth to imperial heirs had their names chosen by the Ministry of Rites; it was none of a eunuch's business to interfere. But at this moment, in this simple sheepskin tent, a newborn grassland baby girl was waiting for him to name her.

Chen Fan remained silent for a long time before slowly saying, "Call me Qiqige."

"Qiqige?" Batu's wife was taken aback. "In the grasslands, it means 'flower'."

Chen Fan nodded slightly.

He did not explain why he chose this name.

He only remembered the purple wildflower that a little girl named Naren had handed him when he first arrived on the grasslands. That flower was still pressed deep in his storage bag; the petals had long since dried up, but the color remained.

He rediscovered the joy of living in this tribe, and it all began with a flower.

Batu muttered the name to himself a few times, then grinned and said, "Qiqige, Qiqige. Good! Qiqige it is! Even the grassland gods like the name Chen Fan chose!"

Qiqige's full moon celebration was extremely lively.

Batu slaughtered two sheep and invited people he was on good terms with from several surrounding tribes. The tent reeked of alcohol as the herders sat together, eating large chunks of meat and drinking from large bowls. Some played the morin khuur (horsehead fiddle), while others danced traditional grassland dances.