Artifact Refiner Gu Yuewei

Back at Lin Family Fortress, Lin Zhao took stock of the gains from this wolf-clearing expedition, and the corners of his mouth could not help but rise—this trip had truly yielded a full load.

In total, they had harvested one hundred and eighteen Gray-Maned Fierce Wolf Hides. These were the favorite fur material of the Imperial Nobility, with each hide worth no less than fifteen taels of silver. The wolf hides alone could cover an entire year of payroll expenses for the fortress.

The wolf meat was distributed among the families of the fallen Estate Guards, while all that remained was stored in the fortress ice cellar.

Qixia Mountain's winter cold bit to the bone, making the ice cellar even more reliable than the granary.

Once spring warmed the land, the remaining meat could be cured into preserved meat, just enough to feed the three Mystic Arm Snow Apes.

Those three brothers had terrifying appetites, each requiring half a pig every day.

Had the wolf meat not come to their rescue this time, the cost of feeding the Mystic Arm Snow Apes alone would have emptied the fortress's savings.

One had to know that such exotic beasts in the wild required tens of thousands of acres of mountain forest as their territory, and their claws and fangs could rend refined iron. How could an ordinary fortress possibly afford to keep them?

Yet the value of the wolf hides and wolf meat was simply negligible compared to what had been hidden inside the iron chest in that cave.

A layer of ancient silver ingots lay at the bottom of the chest. Upon careful counting, there were an astonishing three hundred and twenty-seven Hongwu Official Silver ingots!

This silver had been minted in the early years of the dynasty's founding. Its purity was high and its weight substantial, nearly thirty percent heavier than the Yongle Silver Treasure circulating on the market.

If melted down and recast into silver ingots, it would yield at least five hundred full-weight fifty-tael ingots of pure silver, equivalent to more than twenty years of the fortress's annual income.

Although Feudal Kings and nobles of the Ming Dynasty could privately mint silver, the court had long established uniform standards for the sake of convenient trade, so the weight of silver ingots on the market varied little.

But such a sum, in the eyes of the Meng Clan of that era, had likely been no more than a drop in the ocean—the Meng Clan had once been a martial family commanding several thousand martial estates, with powerful experts stationed within the clan.

"With this money, I can buy Pangolin Dragon Essence! The Mystic Dragon Secret Medicine I need to break through to Grandmaster Warrior will finally be within reach!" Lin Zhao calculated inwardly, yet he did not forget his main business—his forging trade had to continue. Martial cultivation was not accomplished in a day, and it always required stable income to support it. How could he expect to stumble upon ancient tomb treasures every day?

What concerned him most in the iron chest was naturally the suit of armor that Gu Yuewei, the previous dynasty's master martial artifact refiner, had called the "Cold Iron Secret Pattern Armor."

After studying it for days, he had finally grasped some of its workings.

The inner sides of the armor plates were carved with profound patterns, likely Martial Path Secret Patterns incorporated during the armor's forging.

Even more wonderfully, a line of Song-style regular script had been inscribed into the lining. Clearly, Gu Yuewei had feared that military officers would not understand artifact refinement, so she had specially carved the instructions for use in mundane writing:

"This [Mystic Ice Secret Pattern Armor] was personally crafted by Gu Yuewei. Only those with Meng Bloodline or those who have learned the Mystic Ice Breathing Technique may activate it."

"The armor was forged from mithril mixed with mystic iron and has three techniques fixed within it:"

"First, [Armor Shrinking Secret Art]: Recite the incantation, and the armor may shrink itself into its case. When worn, it automatically covers the body and expands or contracts with the wearer's form. This art requires no external power, only martial inner breath to nourish it for recovery. It may be used again after one day."

"Second, [Afterimage Guarding Stance]: When worn during martial practice, the armor can imprint the spirit and bearing of one's moves into its secret patterns. In times of danger, it automatically simulates protective moves for its master. However, it possesses only seventy to eighty percent of the original power and is inferior to the true user in actual combat. Do not rely upon it. It requires seven days of nourishment."

"Third, [Cold Edge Strangling]: Tailor-made for Meng Clan military officers, it requires Meng Bloodline or the Mystic Ice Breathing Technique to activate. Draw forth inner breath and turn it into cold force, strangling enemies within thirty zhang. It requires thirty days of nourishment. If Hundred-Year Mystic Ice Essence is used as a catalyst, it may be unleashed at once."

"Once this armor has been forged, it cannot be altered. Personally crafted by Gu Yuewei, it must be of superior grade."

After reading the explanation, Lin Zhao's heart was filled with mixed emotions.

On one hand, he had glimpsed the marvels created by a master artifact refiner, far surpassing the standardized armor produced by the Ministry of Works. On the other, he lamented that this treasure could not be used by him!

"That iron ring was merely the lure. The true key is Meng Bloodline." Lin Zhao turned the ring over in his hand and mused, "Perhaps a Meng Clan military officer paid Gu Yuewei dearly to forge this armor, intending to use it to revive the clan's martial path. But alas, during the Yongle Era, they were implicated in treason and their entire family was executed. The treasure armor became ownerless, and in an outsider's hands, it was no different from scrap iron."

Unwilling to accept it, he activated the armor according to the incantation. The armor plates did not move in the slightest, exactly as Gu Yuewei had said.

As for the Mystic Ice Breathing Technique, it was like his inherited Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique: both required bloodline to activate the circulation of inner breath, and outsiders could scarcely glimpse their mysteries—martial arts flourished in the high-martial Ming Dynasty, and such family secret arts had always been passed within the family, never beyond it.

Not to mention that when the Meng Clan had been exterminated, the purge had spread far and wide. Even its collateral branches had not survived. Borrowing bloodline was nothing but the dream of a fool.

"Damn it! Guarding a treasure mountain yet unable to enter!" Lin Zhao could not help but spit.

But then he remembered that he had the Proficiency Panel by his side!

Others might not be able to cultivate another family's bloodline secret arts, but that did not necessarily mean he could not.

Once he found the time to test it, if it truly worked, then even if he had to turn over the entire collection of northern martial families, he would find the Mystic Ice Breathing Technique.

This armor was not merely a divine weapon. The secret patterns upon it were Gu Yuewei's unique technique, and they might prove greatly useful in tracing the whereabouts of this master artifact refiner in the future.

"The Meng Clan records must be carefully searched through in the fortress archives." Lin Zhao made up his mind. "Perhaps among those old papers, I can find some clue to the Mystic Ice Breathing Technique."

He carefully put away the armor. This Gray-Maned Demonic Wolf attack had instead turned disaster into fortune—not only had it made up for their losses, it had also given him a new clue about the master artifact refiner, further strengthening his resolve to pursue her trail.

But for now, the most urgent matter remained cultivating the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique.

After all, inner breath was the foundation of martial arts. Without abundant inner breath, even treasure armor was no better than scrap iron.

"It is time to go to Zhenbei Fort and purchase Pangolin Dragon Essence." Lin Zhao rose, his gaze resolute. "I must make proper preparations and leave the fortress to gather the medicinal ingredients needed for the Mystic Dragon Secret Medicine."

In Year 23 of Jiajing, just after Qingming, fresh green finally appeared upon the barren mountains outside Qixia Mountain.

In this season of growing grass and flying orioles, life in the fortress gradually returned to its usual rhythm.

Since the Wolf King had been wiped out several months earlier, Gray-Maned Demonic Wolves had become difficult to spot throughout the region.

Lin Zhao guessed that among the mountains around Qixia, that had probably been the only exotic beast wolf pack to grow into any real strength.

Though he knew that exterminating them all might disrupt the mountain forest's ecology, he had no time to worry about that now—even if green muntjac and snow hares multiplied, with his skill of hitting targets from a hundred paces, they would be nothing more than easy game.

That morning, Lin Zhao put on light chainmail and covered it with a blue cloth robe.

In the entire Lin Family Fortress, only he and Zhao Tieying had chainmail to wear—such armor required refined iron forging and a basic understanding of heart-protecting secret patterns. It was costly and complex to make, and with the fortress's payroll stretched tight, they still could not equip every Estate Guard with it.

"Young Master, you must be careful on this journey!" Zhao Tieying gripped his arm, his brow tightly furrowed. With the earnestness of a father sending his son far away, he said, "The people of the north are fierce by nature, and the border has been unsettled lately. Many deserters and refugees have gathered into bandit gangs. There are even dismissed military officers who have lost their fiefs mixed among them, and many are skilled fighters in the Qi and Blood Realm. Though your Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique has reached minor accomplishment and your inner breath can flow through both arms, do not act recklessly when trouble comes. Avoid what should be avoided! Wealth is only an external thing—you are the pillar holding up Lin Family Fortress!"

Lin Zhao was both amused and helpless at the lecture. He lightly patted the back of Zhao Tieying's hand. "Uncle Zhao, rest easy. I am already fifteen and will naturally be cautious. As for the fortress's affairs, I will have to trouble you to watch over them these days."

Zhao Tieying nodded heavily and watched Lin Zhao shoulder his bulging pack, slipping quietly out of the fortress before dawn broke.

His cultivation of the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique was now progressing more and more slowly, while the medicinal ingredients he required were becoming increasingly expensive. This journey had four purposes: first, to buy Pangolin Dragon Essence—the main ingredient of the Mystic Dragon Secret Medicine; second, to find long-term buyers for his self-made weapons, since he could not rely solely on the fortress payroll;

third, to seek out more breathing technique manuals, particularly bloodline secret arts—if he could cultivate several Breathing Techniques at once, then when he found the Mystic Ice Breathing Technique in the future, he would be able to activate the Mystic Ice Secret Pattern Armor, and his strength would surely rise another level;

fourth, to try his luck in searching for traces of Gu Yuewei. This depended on fate and could not be forced—merely cultivating the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique to the realm where his qi and blood moved like a dragon would already keep him busy for years.

Only if the first three matters succeeded could he cultivate in peace; as for the fourth, he would simply handle it along the way.

His destination was Zhenbei Fort, more than three hundred li east of Mount Xuan Yue Qixia.

It was the Earl of Jing'an's Fief, as well as the largest city within a thousand li. Its defenses were strong and its martial culture flourishing, making it one of the four great northern fortresses.

Rare goods like Pangolin Dragon Essence, refined from exotic beast materials, could only be found in the apothecaries of major cities or the shops of martial families. Lin Zhao did not trust anyone else with the task, and after considering it over and over, decided it was best to go himself.

His Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique had now reached minor accomplishment. His inner breath could speed his arrows, and with his hundred-paces-through-the-willow archery and his masterful Three Talents Slash swordsmanship, he would have the strength to fight even a proper Peak Martial Master.

Moreover, he was merely making purchases this time, not seeking trouble. By all rights, there should be no danger.

Yet one must never harbor the heart to harm others, while always guarding against the heart of others. Lin Zhao stuffed his pack full: dozens of jin of dried rations and preserved meat, fifty feathered arrows with iron heads, and three self-made mystic iron Ring-pommel Swords—he intended to use these blades to open a market in the north.

As for Supreme Grade weapons, he had long left them with the Estate Guards in the fortress. Since childhood, he had learned ironworking from his father, and he understood even better the methods of balancing martial weapons. So long as he had Iron Ore, he could forge handy, sharp weapons.

He had no intention of fighting for supremacy under heaven. So long as Lin Family Fortress could maintain several hundred Estate Guards skilled in slashing and thrusting techniques, and avoid being bullied by those martial gangs that specialized in raiding homes and plundering households, he would be fully satisfied.

Cultivation was his main pursuit; everything else was merely a side path.

Lin Zhao did not ride a horse—with the strength in his legs boosted by his current inner breath, he could travel three hundred li a day, no slower than a fine steed. Riding a horse would only draw attention.

In these times, those who could ride warhorses were either nobles or military officers. As the commander of a hundred households from a remote fortress, keeping a low profile was best.

He traveled for a full day and night along muddy mountain paths where the snow had only half melted. He did not encounter any mountain spirits rumored to confuse the mind, which put him slightly at ease—he feared most those sinister exotic beasts that specifically attacked inner breath. If he truly encountered one, it would be quite difficult to handle.

But by the afternoon of the next day, just as he entered the border pass of Zhenbei Fort's territory, trouble arrived.

A group of sallow-faced, emaciated men blocked the road. Every one of them was dressed in ragged clothes and carried rusted blades or axes. The burly man at their head wore patched old leather armor and held a chipped Ring-pommel Sword, his gaze as vicious as a starving wolf's.

"Kid! If you want to live, put down that pack, throw away your weapons, and clasp your hands over your head!" the burly man roared in a voice like a broken gong, spittle spraying everywhere.

"We're from the Mountain Breaker Gang. We specialize in butchering fat sheep like you, and we kill without blinking!" A crooked-mouthed man beside him cackled strangely, waving a bloodstained Woodcutter's Knife.

Lin Zhao swept his gaze over the area. Including the burly man, there were thirteen mountain bandits.

Their faces were tinged with hunger, and they had likely never experienced a proper martial battle. Only the burly man possessed a slight air of skill—faint white vapor drifted over his body, showing that he had practiced a crude Breathing Technique. His qi and blood leaked outward, placing him at roughly the level of a Half Martial Master.

Before the bandits could shout another word, Lin Zhao flung down his pack with his backhand. His right arm shot out, seized the Zhe Wood Bow, nocked an arrow, drew the string, and released in one seamless motion!

Whoosh—

The feathered arrow tore through the air with a shrill whistle, flying straight for the burly man's face!

The burly man had been prepared. He twisted aside, and the arrowhead grazed his ear before embedding itself in a tree trunk, its shaft still trembling and humming.

"You've got some nerve! You're courting death!" the burly man bellowed, snatching up an iron helmet from the ground and clapping it onto his head—it was the only decent piece of protective gear he had looted from a dead courier soldier, specifically kept to guard against hidden arrows.

But in the instant he put on the helmet, Lin Zhao fired two more arrows!

This time, his targets were not the burly man, but two unarmored bandits behind him.

With the precision his inner breath lent to his arrows, he did not even need to aim. Once the arrows left the bow, they struck the center of their targets' brows!

The two bandits did not even have time to cry out before they fell stiffly backward, their blood staining the muddy ground red.

All the bandits froze—there was such terrifying archery in this age? Even the sharpshooters of the capital's Divine Engine Battalion might not possess such accuracy!

"Damn it! Surround him!" The burly man came back to his senses, charging forward with his Ring-pommel Sword raised. "Don't give him a chance to draw his bow!"

The remaining ten bandits awoke to the situation and raised their blades and axes as they closed in from all sides—against a divine archer, only close combat offered any hope of survival.

Watching the bandits rush him, Lin Zhao gave a cold sneer. He discarded the bow with his left hand while his right wrist flicked, drawing the Cold Steel Frost Condensation Sword from his waist.

The sword reflected the sun with a cold gleam, while faint white mist emerged over its surface—the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique had already been activated, and inner breath surged through his meridians toward the blade!