"Blood Poison Qi Breaking Powder could bring down even an ordinary high-tier Entering Martial Master at a whiff, yet this bastard had inhaled quite a bit and was still breathing. He was tough indeed."
Lin Zhao had long since taken the antidote to the blood poison. Once swallowed, it could be refined through inner breath, granting lifelong immunity. He had no fear of suffering its effects himself.
He ordered the strong man's limbs crippled, had the physician carefully bind his wounds, then wrapped him layer upon layer in wrought-iron chains, even fastening a fine-steel cangue around his neck—someone this tough could not be allowed an easy death.
Even a clay figurine had three parts fire in it. By now, he could not be bothered to investigate the mastermind behind it all. His heart was set solely on overturning the nest of those Night Raven Tower bastards.
This strong man had subdued Zhao Tieying in just a few moves. He was surely a leader within the organization, and perhaps some secrets could be pried from him.
After returning to the estate, Lin Zhao had the assassin escorted deep into the dungeon before hurrying toward the physician's quarters.
Zhao Tieying had suffered a penetrating wound to the abdomen. With the medical arts of the present day, he was nine deaths and one life.
Entering the inner chamber, Lin Zhao saw Zhao Tieying lying on the bed, his face white as paper and his breath so faint it was nearly impossible to detect.
Lin Zhao reached out and took his wrist. There was still warmth beneath his fingertips, and the knot in his heart loosened somewhat.
"Can he still be saved?" Lin Zhao's voice was low and hoarse.
The physician rubbed his hands, his face full of difficulty. "Young Master, this subordinate can only do his utmost and leave the rest to Heaven. With wounds like these, it will ultimately depend on Lord Zhao's own physical foundation and inner-breath roots."
"For any medicinal materials or silver you need, just name the price. So long as his life can be preserved, any amount is worth it." Lin Zhao paused, then added, "I have already sent word to Yingtian Prefecture and am trying to invite an imperial physician from the Imperial Hospital to examine him. I have heard that the White Cloud Temple in the capital also has Daoists versed in secret medical principles. There must be a way."
With that, he turned and left. Folk medicine was crude these days, but when it came to pills refined from rare medicinal ingredients, only the Imperial Hospital and Daoist sects possessed them.
Such pills required heavenly treasures and earthly rarities to refine. The Crimson Scale Pearl, which could aid in condensing inner breath, was one such ingredient.
Yet formulas and materials of this sort were largely controlled by the authorities. The Imperial Hospital called them Imperial Secret Pills. Ordinary people could not even catch a glimpse of them, much less purchase them.
Though he disliked dealing with the authorities, for Zhao Tieying's sake, he could only bite the bullet and make the request.
As for Daoist Zhang at the neighboring Celestial Masters' Manor, his mind knew only power struggles and profit. He did not understand medicine in the slightest, so there was naturally no need to seek him out.
Midsummer, June, 24th Year of Jiajing.
After a month of recuperation, supported by his formidable physique and costly medicinal nourishment, Lin Zhao's injuries had largely healed.
He ran a hand over his armor. Fist-shaped dents still marked the armor plates, and he could not help secretly rejoicing. Good thing I wore armor. Even with protective inner breath, another layer of protection is always safer—the principle of "stacking armor" is much the same as martial folk practicing hard techniques.
Throughout his recovery, his inner cultivation had never ceased.
The Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique was already within arm's reach of the fifth tier. What delighted him even more was that Black Bear Strength had risen all the way from the entry level to the third tier.
This breathing technique specialized in tempering strength. Its difficulty was comparable to the Mystic Wolf Breathing Technique, while its supplementary materials were even simpler and more direct—the essence blood of Northern Black Bears. The greater the bear's strength, the better the medicinal effect.
For him, this was practically a pavilion built beside the water.
Besides the three Mystic Arm Snow Apes kept in the estate's rear courtyard,
there were also Northern Black Bears. Each was massive and powerfully built. A little essence blood was drawn from them in rotation each day, enough to support his cultivation without harming their lives.
His speed in cultivating Lower Grade inner techniques was already a far cry from what it had once been. With full support from supplementary materials, an ordinary inner technique could advance to the third tier in a month, and reaching the fourth tier within three months would not be difficult.
As Black Bear Strength broke through to the third tier, Lin Zhao felt the strength throughout his body rise by several measures. When his fist shot out, it even carried a faint whistle of wind.
"As expected of an inner technique dedicated to tempering strength. The saying that every profession has its specialty is not false in the least."
Beyond his inner cultivation, his Medicine Crafting had also quietly reached the third tier.
When he had previously refined Blood Poison Qi Breaking Powder, he had sensed that this skill held no small potential. It was by no means comparable to ordinary, shallow handiwork—just as Martial Arts Blacksmithing could continually improve, Medicine Crafting too possessed higher realms.
"Now that I have Third Tier Medicine Crafting, I can try refining the two secret preparations that accompany the Blood Poison Spider Breathing Technique." Previously, his skill had been insufficient, and he had feared wasting rare ingredients, so he had never dared attempt Thousand Mechanism Blood Poison or the Jade Pivot Blood Spider. Now, at last, he had confidence.
Having dealt with his inner cultivation and Medicine Crafting, Lin Zhao went to visit Zhao Tieying once more.
Over the past month, he had spent five thousand Taels of Silver to purchase a Pulse Renewing and Qi Solidifying Pill from the Imperial Hospital in Yingtian Prefecture. He had also invited an elderly Daoist to administer acupuncture and regulate his condition. Zhao Tieying's injuries had finally stabilized.
"Young Master, rest assured. Lord Zhao's breath has stabilized. However, if he is to regain his former strength, he will need time to recover, supplemented by medicinal soups that nourish his inner breath," the physician hurried forward to report upon seeing Lin Zhao enter.
Lin Zhao walked to the bedside and saw that Zhao Tieying could now barely open his eyes. The great stone weighing on his heart fell somewhat.
Yet he remained worried over whether Zhao Tieying could make a full recovery. If he could cultivate a more profound inner technique in the future, perhaps he could use his own inner breath to help clear Zhao Tieying's meridians. He simply did not know whether Zhao Tieying could wait until that day.
Once he had confirmed that Zhao Tieying's life was no longer in danger, Lin Zhao's expression darkened as he headed alone for the estate dungeon.
Deep within the dungeon, it was cold and damp. The torches set into the stone walls flickered in and out, casting a chill gleam over the wrought-iron chains.
The Night Raven Tower assassin had been pierced through the shoulder blades by chains and nailed against the stone wall. He was covered in wounds, his face white as paper, but a fierce glint still remained in his eyes.
Seeing Lin Zhao approach, the assassin opened his mouth with difficulty, his voice hoarse. "Since you have captured me, why not kill me?"
"If killing you could wake Uncle Zhao, I would have you die ten thousand times." Lin Zhao sat on a stone stool in the dungeon, holding a piece of sizzling, fragrant roast lamb. His tone was as calm as if discussing the weather.
"You shameless cur! You used poison for a sneak attack!" Iron Mountain was nailed to the stone wall by chains, the veins bulging in his neck as he cursed loudly.
"Isn't this precisely the sort of method I learned from vermin like you?" Lin Zhao bit off a piece of meat and chewed it with relish. "You became assassins, yet you still pretend to be upright martial artists? What proper martial folk would engage in such skulking, head-hiding business?"
His tone abruptly shifted as his gaze swept across Iron Mountain's aura. "Judging by the path of your inner technique, it seems like an Upper Grade body-tempering technique practiced in the households of nobles and officials. Could you be some earl's bastard son who failed to inherit the family estate and thus fell into becoming an assassin?"
Those words struck precisely at Iron Mountain's sore spot.
He suddenly strained against the chains. Wrought iron crashed against stone with a piercing clang. "You are the bastard son! I am a descendant of the Ai Family. Even if I were born of a concubine, I would still be a hundred times stronger than a country brat like you!"
Lin Zhao's heart stirred.
The Ai Family—the earl's household tasked with guarding Iron Scale Marsh in the north. Their Family Crest was the Iron Crocodile. Legend held that an enormous iron-scaled crocodile had once occupied the depths of Iron Scale Marsh, and the Ai Family ancestor had earned the title of earl for slaying that crocodile demon king.
This Lineage had been renowned for the Iron Crocodile Body Tempering Technique for generations. Its descendants were mostly fierce and valiant men. No wonder Iron Mountain's body was so formidable, allowing him to attain such cultivation before even reaching thirty.
He must have been ostracized for his status as a bastard son, with no place to stand in the family, before turning to Night Raven Tower.
But regardless of Iron Mountain's origins, Lin Zhao wanted only to pry the mastermind's identity from his mouth.
He had torture instruments brought in. Branding irons and leg clamps covered the floor, but Iron Mountain gritted his teeth and endured it all, claiming only that he did not know who the mastermind was.
Only when the torture had left him barely clinging to life did he intermittently reveal a few details about the organization. "Within Night Raven Tower... only the five Tower Masters can access the core... they are called the Night Raven Tower Masters... I answer to the Mystic Shadow Tower Master... he is a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior whose inner breath has reached the seventh tier... no one has ever seen his true face..."
No matter how he was interrogated afterward, Iron Mountain refused to utter another word.
Looking into his unfocused eyes, Lin Zhao knew there was no use asking further. Zhou Bo'an had been right from the beginning—low-level assassins simply had no access to information about their employers.
He sighed inwardly. I am still too weak. If I possessed the power of a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior, I could directly investigate every suspicious noble estate. Why would I need to go through such trouble?
In the dungeon, Iron Mountain suddenly used the last of his strength to roar, "Kill me! Give me a quick death!"
Lin Zhao rose to his feet and drew the Dragon Vein Mystic Iron Dagger from his waist.
Since nothing could be extracted from him, keeping him alive would only leave a hidden danger.
The dagger swept across Iron Mountain's throat, and blood splattered across the stone wall.
Once Iron Mountain had breathed his last, Lin Zhao ordered his body dragged away and burned. Amid the flames, a savage phantom of an Iron Crocodile flashed and vanished. It was the sign of the Ai Family body-tempering technique reaching a certain level. Lin Zhao stared into the fire, his expression growing ever darker.
Several days later, tenant farmers found a gaunt War Horse at the edge of the territory. It still wore battered Barding Armor, and they hurriedly presented it to Lin Zhao.
He inspected it carefully. The War Horse was merely malnourished, while its frame remained exceptionally strong. It was clearly a fine battle steed capable of bearing heavy loads and charging into battle—most likely Iron Mountain's mount, which had bolted after being frightened that day.
Within a hidden layer of the horse tack, Lin Zhao found a cloth bundle. Inside were three thousand taels in banknotes, several packets of dried rations, a yellowed copy of the Night Raven Treasure Scroll, and a Night Raven Mask—identical to the ones seized before. It seemed that Iron Mountain had also been a follower of the Netherworld Martial Venerate.
The Treasure Scroll still recorded the Bone Softening Technique rather than the Iron Crocodile Body Tempering Technique he had hoped for, which left him somewhat disappointed.
"What is this?" At the very bottom of the cloth bundle, a rolled piece of parchment caught his attention.
When he unrolled it, he found a map of Northern Great Ming, marked with the mountains, roads, passes, and relay stations from Zhenbei Prefecture to Jizhou.
Though the crude cartography made the details somewhat inaccurate, Iron Mountain had used it to find Qixia Valley, so the important locations could not be wrong.
What delighted him even more was a red dot marked in ink at one corner of the map, with the words "Night Raven Tower Stronghold" written beside it.
The annotation stated that this stronghold was established in an abandoned garrison outside Zhenbei Prefecture City. Three high-tier Entering Martial Masters were permanently stationed there. They served both as instructors for assassin apprentices and as liaisons for the spies hidden throughout the city.
"The debt from three assassination attempts should be settled." Lin Zhao's finger pressed against the red dot on the map, a cold glint flashing through his eyes.
But he did not act in haste. The Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique had not yet broken through to the fifth tier. Facing three high-tier Entering Martial Masters now, he might not have absolute confidence. He first had to raise his cultivation.
He also had another concern. The Mystic Shadow Tower Master among the five Night Raven Tower Masters was a great expert of the Heavenly Gang Realm. If word of Iron Mountain's failure reached him, would he personally come to silence them?
With his current strength as a mid-tier Martial Master, he was no match at all.
"I must break through with everything I have!" Lin Zhao immediately issued orders for the territory to enter wartime lockdown. Additional sentries were posted at the city gates, and all entrants and exits had to verify their travel permits. A squad of soldiers accompanied tenant farmers while they worked. Every unfamiliar face in the estate was strictly investigated—many Night Raven Tower members knew the Bone Softening Technique and could alter their bodies and appearances, making them difficult for ordinary guards to identify. Only layers upon layers of defenses could reduce the risk.
Autumn of the 24th Year of Jiajing, when the wheat fields rolled in golden waves.
The tenant farmers of the territory were busy harvesting wheat, while the furnaces of the Blacksmith Workshop still burned brightly and iron armor plates lay piled upon anvils like mountains.
Yet Lin Zhao, who was responsible for overseeing the work, had become a hands-off shopkeeper. Apart from checking on Zhao Tieying's injuries each day, he spent all his remaining time in the quiet chamber cultivating bitterly.
He had previously used Third Tier Medicine Crafting to refine Thousand Mechanism Blood Poison and Jade Pivot Spider Poison. His poison reserves were sufficient, and there were no more distractions—for him, nothing was more important now than bringing the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique to the fifth tier.
Within the quiet chamber, black qi coiled through the air. Three Inner Qi Seeds slowly rotated within his dantian, and every breath made his inner breath increasingly dense and solid.
He knew that only sufficient strength would allow him to truly control his own fate and make Night Raven Tower pay the price.
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