Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman

During this period, Lin Zhao could be seen on the Lin Family Fortress training grounds almost every day. The fluctuations of internal energy around him grew more robust by the day, and several of his other inner arts had all advanced together!

The newly acquired Iron Rhinoceros Technique and Brute Ox Technique had progressed most fiercely. His blood and qi surged like thunder, and faint crackles could even be heard from his sinews and bones as both techniques broke through the Third Tier threshold!

As for these two techniques on the Proficiency Panel, Lin Zhao swept his gaze over them and reached his own conclusion—the Brute Ox Technique followed a path similar to the Black Bear Technique he had practiced in his early years. Its progress stopped abruptly at the Fourth Tier on the Proficiency Panel, clearly having reached its limit.

But the Iron Rhinoceros Technique was different!

This mental cultivation art, which was not inherited through bloodline, actually contained twenty-four illustrated forms, each one concealing tyrannical force.

Lin Zhao ran a fingertip over the meridian pathways in the diagrams, a flicker of delight flashing through his eyes. "At this rate, reaching the Fifth Tier will be no problem. It may even be able to wrestle with the Netherworld Technique!"

Only the Netherworld Technique had lagged behind, having only just broken through the Second Tier.

It was not that Lin Zhao had failed to put in the effort. This inner art was simply too domineering. Every thread of true essence had to undergo a hundred refinements within his dantian, demanding ten times the effort of ordinary inner arts. Even its most basic advancement far surpassed techniques such as the Profound Wolf Technique and Black Bear Technique.

Of course, the most crucial reason was the lack of Netherworld secret medicine. Without that foundation, there was no use rushing.

Lin Zhao's days were busier than anyone's—during the day, he practiced the Mystic Dragon Breathing Technique and Netherworld Technique; at night, he had to study the sinister unpredictability of the Blood Poison Technique, the heaviness of the Iron Rhinoceros Technique, the savagery of the Brute Ox Technique, and killing moves such as the Three Talents Slash. Often, he trained until deep into the night, his clothes soaked enough to wring out sweat.

As for the Blazing Sun Seal, it could not be rushed even more.

The materials it required were simply too precious. The cinnabar had to be ground from thousand-year cinnabar ore from the Southern Frontier, while the realgar stone had to be dug from deep mountain ranges. Lin Zhao could only gather a batch of materials, find a secluded stone chamber, and cultivate it in concentrated sessions. Whether proficiency rose or not depended entirely on feel and opportunity.

Yet despite working so hard, Lin Zhao did not feel tired in the slightest.

Every breakthrough in his inner arts brought that surging sensation of power within him, that exhilaration of shattering his own limits again and again. Nothing was more intoxicating—the road of martial arts had always meant rowing against the current. The harder it was, the more interesting it became!

Seeing that the Three Talents Slash was only one final step away from a breakthrough, Lin Zhao simply set aside some time from his inner cultivation to focus specifically on honing this move.

One morning, sword light flashed across the training ground. A pale golden ripple spread out from the blade's edge, shaking the wooden stakes several yards away until fine cracks spread over them!

Lin Zhao sheathed his sword and stood still, feeling the power of the sword move surpass its former strength. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "Fifth Tier. Basic Entangling Force has finally advanced to Intermediate Entangling Force. My strength has risen another notch!"

After such accumulated progress, even Lin Zhao himself could no longer gauge just how strong he had become.

Especially after Zhao Tieying had been injured some days ago, there was not a single person left in the entire Lin Family Fortress who could exchange moves with him.

With no other choice, he brought in three Mystic Arm Snow Apes from the northern lands as opponents.

All three Mystic Arm Snow Apes were vicious, their fur as hard as iron. But Lin Zhao now could toy with them in circles even with his eyes closed, relying solely on his enhanced Intermediate Rapid Speed and his ability to discern positions by listening to the wind—the instant a Mystic Arm Snow Ape's claws and fangs pounced close, his body had already drifted three yards away; the moment the wind rose behind him, a flick of his fingers forced the ape to whimper and retreat.

It was not that the three Mystic Arm Snow Apes were weak. On the contrary, each possessed the strength of a mid-stage Martial Master. With all three attacking together, even a high-stage Martial Master would have a headache; only a Peak Martial Master could barely suppress them. The problem lay with Lin Zhao—back when he had still been a mid-stage Martial Master, he had pinned a Peak Martial Master like Iron Mountain, who cultivated both internal and external arts, to the ground and beaten him. Now that he was a high-stage Martial Master, wielding several Fifth Tier skills and still concealing the Blazing Sun Seal as his trump card, while also understanding the habits of the three Mystic Arm Snow Apes inside out, dealing with them naturally came as easily as turning his hand over.

In the end, Lin Zhao's current strength had already reached a terrifying level. He had merely always kept a low profile and rarely displayed his skills before outsiders, so no one knew that such a ruthless figure was hidden within the Lin Family Fortress.

Lin Zhao had previously wanted to find an opportunity to eliminate Daoist Zhang, but on second thought, acting now would be too great a loss. Mystic Truth Temple had already been built, its incense offerings were beginning to flourish, and its reach had long extended beyond the Lin Family Fortress, Frostwind Guard, Rockstead Garrison, and Silvermoon Stockade. Even people from garrisons and wilderness settlements beyond the Celestial Masters' Manor's control in the northern lands were sending money to the temple.

Sitting in his study, Lin Zhao tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingers, having thoroughly grasped Daoist Zhang's methods of amassing wealth: donations from nobles, incense taxes collected from surrounding settlements, merit money offered by devout men and women, and silver for lamp oil... Calculating it all, the riches of Northern Garrison City would likely be squeezed dry by this old Daoist.

"Old Daoist, keep collecting. The more, the better." A cold smile curled across Lin Zhao's lips, calculation flashing in his eyes. "The donations I, Lin Zhao, gave you can be considered capital deposited with you. One day, I'll take it back with principal and interest—and your dog life thrown in besides!"

By now, his relationship with Daoist Zhang had been cultivated into one of "inseparable friendship"—even the Celestial Masters' Manor branch in Northern Garrison City knew that Fortress Lord Lin of the Lin Family Fortress was a major benefactor of Mystic Truth Temple, donating both money and goods with great generosity.

Lin Zhao knew perfectly well that he was indirectly investing in the temple. Put bluntly, he was "fattening it before slaughter"; put nicely, he was also an "owner" of Mystic Truth Temple.

Once the temple's incense money had piled into mountains, he would assume another identity, seize everything Daoist Zhang possessed, kill the old Daoist to vent his hatred, and recover all the money he had spent over the years. By then, even if the Celestial Masters' Manor wanted to investigate, they would never trace it back to him.

Thinking of this, Lin Zhao raised his teacup and took a sip, his eyes brimming with satisfaction—what an abacus he had set clicking.

The twenty-fourth year of Jingli in the Ming Dynasty, the season of blazing heat.

The crimson sun hung high in the sky, scorching the earth until it burned. Even the wild grass outside the Lin Family Fortress had wilted, yet inside the fortress, everything was in perfect order: soldiers sweated profusely on the drill field, craftsmen clanged away in the Blacksmith Shop, grain piled high in the granaries, and even the patrol riders had increased by several squads.

News from outside was continuously sent back through the informants Lin Zhao had planted in the Vagrant Alliance branch. But among that news, two matters especially caught his attention.

The first was Night Raven Tower. Ever since Iron Mountain's failed assassination attempt, the organization had seemingly vanished without a trace. It had never again sent assassins after him, and even its investigation into the slaughtered Northern Garrison City stronghold had come to nothing—after all, everyone in that stronghold had died that day, and a fire had burned the place clean. Not even a footprint remained. There was simply nothing to investigate.

But Lin Zhao did not relax in the slightest. Sitting on a stone bench in the training ground, his fingers rested on the hilt of the Frost Condensation Sword as a cold glint flashed in his eyes. "Maggots like Night Raven Tower, hiding in the gutter, are best at playing dead. Who knows when they'll suddenly emerge to take a bite. I absolutely cannot let down my guard."

The second was Duke Wei, Grand Commander of the Northern Frontier Protectorate. This powerful noble who held sway over an entire region had also made no move whatsoever. Lin Zhao knew that either the man was occupied with military affairs at the border and had forgotten a "small character" like him, or he was holding back a major move, intending to settle everything in one stroke.

In any case, the northern lands now seemed as still as a pool of dead water, with even the horse bandits becoming far fewer. Yet Lin Zhao felt uneasy all over—this calm was too abnormal, like the suffocating pressure before a storm, always making one's heart pound with dread.

This intuition had not come from nowhere. He had picked it up through his dealings with the Wild Jackal Gang. In past years, gang leader Diao Kui personally came to every transaction. If Lin Zhao delivered too little merchandise, Diao Kui would even slap the table and complain a few times. But this year, the one who came was merely one of the gang leader's subordinates. He spoke hurriedly and left without even sitting down, clearly because the gang leader was too busy to bother with a small supplier like him.

What concerned Lin Zhao even more was the newly forged curved saber hanging at that subordinate's waist. When he spoke, his chin was slightly raised, and his tone carried an arrogance he could not hide. Watching the man's departing back, Lin Zhao sneered inwardly. "It seems the Vagrant Alliance in the northern lands has gathered enough strength. They're just waiting for an opportunity to punch a hole through the sky."

"However, I'm no longer the soft persimmon anyone could knead as they pleased." Lin Zhao rose to his feet, his gaze sweeping over the patrol riders on the drill field, his eyes full of confidence—he now possessed more than enough power to protect himself!

Over these years, the Lin Family Fortress's annual income had multiplied several times over, enough to support both his cultivation expenses and the patrol riders' pay. Combined with the wealth seized from several ambushes against horse bandits, Lin Zhao had long ceased to lack money. For someone like him, with little political ambition, having enough silver to spend was enough.

The fifty patrol riders had long since formed a proper unit. Their warhorses were all fine breeds selected from Northern Frontier horse farms, swift as the wind when they ran. Their armor was the latest Bincheng Iron Armor forged by the Blacksmith Shop, impervious to blades and spears. The long spears in their hands were hardened weapons sharpened to a keen edge. Beyond the patrol riders, the fortress's infantry had also expanded considerably, every man a burly fellow capable of bearing a saber.

The fortress's population had also increased by quite a bit. Most were refugees fleeing from the north—the Northern Frontier had been cold and chaotic these past years, with Snow Barbarians frequently raiding southward. Many people had been driven into a corner with nowhere to go and could only flee south. This also greatly lowered the cost of recruiting tenant farmers. Lin Zhao took the opportunity to take in many people, some to farm the fields and others capable of practicing martial arts.

Even the fortress walls had been reinforced several times over, with armor-piercing crossbows mounted along the ramparts—these were no toys. When their bolts flew, they shrieked through the air and could pierce iron plates three fingers thick. Even if a Martial Master charged forward, he would have to weigh the risk carefully.

The three Mystic Arm Snow Apes of the northern lands had also grown increasingly ferocious. Lin Zhao calculated that in a few more years, he could forge iron armor for them. Once that time came, they would become three more great killing weapons on the battlefield!

As it developed quietly like this, the overall strength of the Lin Family Fortress, along with Lin Zhao's personal cultivation, steadily climbed upward. Like a great tree silently putting down roots, it had unknowingly grown lush with flourishing branches and leaves.

Outside his cultivation, Lin Zhao had not forgotten his craftsman's skill. After advancing to Grand Master Craftsman, the first thing he did was upgrade his own equipment—the Frost Condensation Sword was no longer what it had once been. Now, the Mystic Frost Sword - Style Three gleamed with a chilling cold light. Its edge could easily slice through the air, and when he held it, even his internal energy could circulate along the hilt.

After resolving his own equipment needs, Lin Zhao began forging gear for the people of the fortress. The Blacksmith Shop's furnaces never went out day or night, their firelight dyeing half the sky red.

Bare-chested, his bronze muscles covered in sweat, every strike of the hammer in his hand landed with flawless precision—Grand Master Craftsman-grade Bincheng iron mountain-pattern armor, with anti-slip patterns engraved on its armor plates, light yet sturdy; Azure Gang weapons, their blades glowing blue-green and refusing to chip even when struck against stone; and armor-piercing crossbow bolts, their arrowheads tempered from refined iron specifically to break through armor. Lin Zhao's goal was simple: everyone in the Lin Family Fortress would be equipped with the finest gear!

By the end of the Month of Smelted Iron, bolstered by the [Hundred Refinements Return to Truth, Supreme Craftsman's Heart] effect, the weapons Lin Zhao forged were already more than enough for everyone in the fortress, with plenty left over.

One night, beneath moonlight like frost, Lin Zhao wrapped a newly forged Grand Master Craftsman-grade Azure Gang long sword in a cloth bag. Moving like a ghost, he left the Lin Family Fortress and headed toward Northern Garrison City.

"My strength is sufficient, and my craftsmanship is sufficient. It's time for the Northern Frontier to learn that there is another Grand Master Craftsman here." Lin Zhao did not slow his steps, confidence filling his eyes—he had long decided upon an alias and a title. From this day onward, the martial world would not only know the name Lin Zhao; it would also know the craftsman's renown of Grand Master Craftsman Shen Luo, "Heavenly Craftsman"!

In the night wind, his low murmur seemed to linger, carrying a touch of soaring ambition:

"Hundred Refinements Heavenly Craftsman Shen Luo!"