The Complete Meng Family Mystic Ice Technique

"Are you asking me to assassinate Baxia, old sir?" Lin Zhao's lips curled into a cold smile, his fingertips absently brushing the block of mystic iron on the table's edge—a forging material he had bought from the ore market that morning. "I'm merely an ordinary fighter who earns Songjiang silver by blacksmithing. How could I possibly contend with an Oirat commander-in-chief like the 'Guardian General of the Nation'?"

Though he said that, he had already guessed most of it. Since this old man dared mention Baxia, there had to be no small scheme hidden behind it, and it was surely tied to some grudge against the Oirat nobility.

The masked old man slowly shook his head. His wizened fingers gripped a coarse porcelain teacup, his knuckles whitening with force until fine cracks appeared along the rim. "You are in such a hurry to obtain dragon essence; it must be for Condensing Postnatal Vitality and Blood. Though this old man's eyes have dimmed with age, I still know this much: a Grand Master Craftsman capable of forging Northern Frontier cold iron into Mystic Iron Cold Scale Armor could never lack a martial inheritance. How could an ordinary blacksmith endure the backlash of vitality and blood when hammering cold iron?"

He paused, lowering his voice further. A barely perceptible tremor ran through it, as though he feared being overheard. "Why would I not wish to seek the aid of a Peak Grandmaster Warrior? But men of that caliber are either retained as honored guests by the inner city's noble clans or live in seclusion on Zhongnan Mountain to cultivate. Why would they spare a glance for an unknown old man like me? Besides, I have no price that could move a master. I cannot exactly offer up the Meng family's last remaining half-scroll fragment of the Mystic Ice Technique, can I?"

Lin Zhao's heart stirred—The Meng family!

They had been a martial merit family from the founding of the Ming Dynasty. Their ancestors had produced a Legendary Master Warrior, but the family had later declined after being swept into the struggle between Imperial Power and the Celestial Masters' Manor.

No wonder this old man spoke with such order and even understood the intricacies of vitality and blood cultivation. He was a descendant of a fallen great family.

As if seeing through his thoughts, the old man continued, "How would I dare ask you to assassinate Baxia? In this age, there may not be more than five people in the entire world capable of defeating him! He is the God of War who slaughtered his way through Tatar cavalry north of the desert. Half the Formation Breaking Spears in the hands of the Fierce Wind Guard were personally taught by him!"

His voice suddenly turned venomous. He slammed the teacup heavily against the table, and the splashed tea struck the mystic iron table leg and instantly evaporated. "The one I want you to kill is Ling Song—the Oirat Ministry of Revenue Left Vice Minister! That old bastard's martial skill is merely at the peak martial master level, no different from these old bones of mine. He only rose to the vice minister's seat through the military merits of his son-in-law, Baxia. He has no real ability at all, only knows how to embezzle through his Grain Transport Department authority and let his men bully the common people!"

"Before he became vice minister, he was just a petty clerk in the Ministry of Revenue's Grain Transport Department, yet his hidden crimes were too numerous to record!" The old man's voice choked with sobs, and his withered shoulders trembled faintly. Suppressed whimpers even came from beneath his mask. "He once locked dozens of civilian girls from the canal banks inside the cellar of a grain warehouse, using them for his lust and forcing them to bear children. Even when those women's daughters had grown to fifteen, his beastly acts never stopped... So many died at his hands, including this old man's only younger sister. She was only fourteen then, having just fled from the Ming Dynasty to Oirat with the family!"

By the end, the old man was practically roaring. His breathing beneath the mask rasped like a broken bellows, and both hands clenched into fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.

It took him a long while to calm down before he turned his gaze toward Lin Zhao, carrying a desperate, all-or-nothing hope. "Judging by what you have put up as a bounty at Xuan Yao Pavilion, apart from dragon essence, you are also searching for cultivation techniques, are you not? This old man heard that you asked about the whereabouts of the Mystic Ice Technique last month as well?"

Lin Zhao's pupils contracted—the Mystic Ice Technique!

Once cultivated to great completion, it could unleash ten thousand jin of tremendous force. For martial masters, it could directly solidify the foundation of their vitality and blood. He had searched for years without seeing even half a page of a fragment.

"If you are willing to help me kill Ling Song, this old man will tell you where the complete volume of the Mystic Ice Technique is hidden—it is in the cellar of the Meng family's old residence in the outer city. Our ancestor deliberately left it there back then, and it was never confiscated!"

The old man's voice became calm again, yet it carried the resolve of smashing the cauldrons and sinking the boats. "Every day, this old man will drink Blazing Sun Burn in a corner of Xuan Yao Pavilion and wait quietly for you to bring Ling Song's head. But my lung disease has grown severe. The physician says I will not last until next spring. Whether I can see that traitor Ling brought to justice depends on you."

He rose, staggered slightly, and instinctively pressed a hand to his chest before steadying himself. "Ah, yes. This old man is Meng Yanshan, the Meng family's last male descendant."

With that, he supported himself against the wall and slowly walked out of the private room. His back was bent like a dead tree bowed beneath a gale, yet it carried an indescribable stubbornness—the final backbone of a scion of a great family.

Lin Zhao remained seated, lightly tapping the block of mystic iron on the tabletop with his fingers. Dull thudding sounds echoed as his expression turned complicated. He had thought the Meng family had long vanished into the river of history during the Celestial Masters' Manor's "purge" in the Yongle Era. He had never expected a descendant like Meng Yanshan to still be alive in the outer city beyond Oirat Lanting.

Come to think of it, only a place like the outer city, where fish and dragons mingled and the authorities could not be bothered to manage things closely, could leave a fallen great family one thread of life.

"A martial merit family that once commanded the winds and clouds of the Ming Dynasty has now fallen so low that it must rely on outsiders for revenge... Before Imperial Power and the years, even the most glorious force is no more than passing clouds and flowing smoke." Lin Zhao sighed inwardly, his fingers tracing the hammer marks on the mystic iron ingot. "No wonder Meng Yanshan was so broadly knowledgeable and even knew the whereabouts of the Mystic Ice Technique. He truly is a legitimate descendant of the Meng family."

"I urgently need dragon essence—breaking through to peak martial master requires refining Mystic Dragon Secret Medicine with it. The Mystic Ice Technique is even rarer, and that Supreme Grade armor can make up for my shortcomings. But asking me to kill Baxia's father-in-law carries far too much risk."

Lin Zhao frowned, calculating swiftly. Ling Song might be weak, but as the Ministry of Revenue Left Vice Minister, his residence would certainly have Fierce Wind Guard protectors arranged by Baxia, at the very least peak martial masters.

Moreover, Ling Song had ties with the Oirat Khan. Killing him would mean offending both Baxia and Oirat at once.

Even if he managed to kill Ling Song, with methods like Baxia's, a top peak expert comparable to a Legendary Master Warrior, Baxia would likely trace it back to him within three days.

Lin Zhao shook his head. Since entering the martial world, whenever he killed, it was either through overwhelming strength or with complete confidence in his own ability to protect himself, like when he had faced low-level martial masters in the past.

He could now reliably defeat high-level martial masters and had no rival below the Heavenly Gang Realm, but he did not even know how powerful a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior truly was—let alone a peak expert like Baxia, who could confront a Mystic Armored Pangolin Dragon head-on.

The only Grandmaster Warrior he had ever seen was his father. Yet his father had almost never acted when Lin Zhao was young. Lin Zhao only remembered that his father had once shattered a thousand-jin block of mystic iron with a single palm strike. His understanding of the strength of a Heavenly Gang Realm Grandmaster Warrior remained only a vague notion.

"What if I am a frog at the bottom of a well, overestimating myself? Would I not end up with my head and body separated?" Lin Zhao calmed down, the vitality and blood at his fingertips slowly withdrawing. "Meng Yanshan looks like he can hold on for a few more months. Better to wait until I obtain dragon essence and break through to peak martial master before deciding. By then, even if I cannot defeat Baxia, I should at least be able to escape."

When he left Xuan Yao Pavilion, Lin Zhao still had some hesitation, but he had gained something as well. At least he now knew that the complete Mystic Ice Technique still existed, and that Ling Song's residence held a large amount of dragon essence.

"No wonder dragon essence is nearly impossible to find in Oirat's medicine markets. Baxia must have scoured it from the northern desert, made it into a statue, and presented it to Ling Song as a gift for his sixtieth birthday!"

Lin Zhao cursed inwardly, his fists clenching until they crackled. "This Ling Song truly reeks of wine and meat behind vermilion gates! To get a single liang of dragon essence, I have to stay up all night forging three sets of armor before I can trade for it. Yet he uses such precious cultivation resources as decorations. He truly deserves to die!"

After returning to the Blacksmith Shop, Lin Zhao put his mind back into forging. He did not have many silver coins left, not enough to buy the materials needed for refining Mystic Dragon Secret Medicine. He needed to sell another two sets of Mystic Iron Cold Scale Armor.

Clang! Clang!

The flames in the furnace burned fiercely, giving off a faint bluish-green glow. This was forging fire mixed with flame nitrate, which could soften mystic iron faster.

Lin Zhao poured vitality and blood into his hammer. Every strike carried a muffled shriek through the air as the blazing iron billet gradually took shape beneath the hammer. Sparks scattered all across the floor, retaining a faint golden warmth of vitality and blood even after they landed.

Just then, a commotion suddenly erupted outside, mixed with a coarse shout. "New blacksmith! Get your ass out here!"

Lin Zhao set down his hammer and wiped the sweat from his forehead. Even that sweat carried a faint scent of blood energy, the result of continuously infusing vitality and blood for too long.

He stepped out of the shop and saw the scar-faced man from Black Tiger Hall standing at the entrance, gripping a fine iron saber broken into two pieces. With a slap, he flung it onto the ground. The broken blade was still stained with dark brown blood and dirt.

"What is this about, gentlemen?" Lin Zhao folded his arms, his tone calm as his gaze swept over the lackeys behind the scar-faced man. Every one of them had only learned crude fists and kicks; none had even touched the threshold of the Body Tempering Realm.

"Stop playing dumb!" The scar-faced man pointed at the broken saber on the ground, his face arrogant as spittle flew from his mouth. "Can't you see my saber's broken? Does your shop have any good fine iron sabers? Hurry and bring me one! If I don't have a handy weapon, how am I supposed to protect your shop? Do you know the Wildfire Gang next door has long been eyeing your Blacksmith Shop like a tiger watching its prey? They even robbed the grain shop on West Street yesterday!"

Lin Zhao sneered inwardly. They were clearly here to steal weapons, yet they had found such a high-sounding excuse.

He pointed at the weapons rack outside the shop. "Feel free to choose from the fine iron sabers and iron spears on that rack. But let me warn you first: those are for Body Tempering Realm fighters. If you chop with them too much, the edges will easily curl." With that, he turned and went back inside, too lazy to waste words on these street thugs. Arguing with them would only waste cultivation time.

"Brothers, get yourselves new weapons!" At the scar-faced man's shout, the lackeys immediately crowded around. They snatched all five fine iron sabers and three iron spears from the rack, then tossed their own scraps of junk all over the ground—there were kitchen knives with curled edges and even Woodcutter's Knives with broken handles.

In the eyes of these thugs, who had never seen anything good, the fine iron sabers forged by Lin Zhao were already "divine weapons" capable of cutting through armor.

Before long, the outside fell quiet again.

Lin Zhao was about to resume forging when he faintly heard subdued conversation from the rice shop next door, mixed with helpless sighs.

"When will these days ever end... Black Tiger Hall collects three silver coins in protection money every month. We sell rice for a whole month and do not even make two silver coins in net profit. Isn't this forcing people onto the road to death?"

"Dad, yesterday I saw a wandering hero at the entrance of Xuan Yao Pavilion. He's a mid-level martial master. He said that as long as we give him eight hundred silver coins, he can drive Black Tiger Hall out for us! Why don't we gather money with the neighbors and fight Black Tiger Hall? We can't keep swallowing our anger like this forever!"

"Alas... do you think I don't want to?" The other voice was filled with deep helplessness and a trace of fear. "Black Tiger Yama is a peak martial master! Last month, Blacksmith Wang on West Street refused to pay protection money, and Black Tiger Yama broke his ribs with one punch. He is still bedridden now! And a few days ago, someone saw Black Tiger Yama drinking with the steward from Vice Minister Ling's residence. How can we possibly fight them? Those are the people of the Ministry of Revenue Vice Minister!"

"But living in such a lowly, submissive way is worse than going into the wilderness with a beast-hunting team to make a living. At least then we would not have to watch other people's expressions!"

Lin Zhao's expression did not change as he listened. He continued swinging his hammer down at the iron billet. He could not manage the plight of these neighbors, nor did he wish to.

His sole objective now was to forge two sets of Mystic Iron Cold Scale Armor as quickly as possible, exchange them for enough money to buy dragon essence, break through to peak martial master, and then obtain the Mystic Ice Technique.

By the following evening, the two new sets of Mystic Iron Cold Scale Armor had finally been forged. The armor plates gleamed with an inky cold sheen, and fine anti-slip patterns had been hammered along their edges.

Lin Zhao hired a porter to deliver the armor to Xuan Yao Pavilion for auction. The moment he entered the building, he saw that familiar hunched figure in the corner. Meng Yanshan had indeed done as he said, sitting there alone and drinking. Before him sat an empty flask of Blazing Sun Burn and a plate of untouched braised beef.

Lin Zhao walked over, sat across from him, and beckoned to a waiter. Pointing at the flask before Meng Yanshan, he said, "Bring another flask of Blazing Sun Burn. Heat it first."

The waiter acknowledged him and quickly brought over a steaming flask of wine. Lin Zhao picked it up and poured himself a cup. The moment it was full, he raised it and drained it in one swallow. The spicy liquor slid down his throat with a scorching sensation of vitality and blood, easing the exhaustion from a day of forging.

"Old sir, you had better live well." Lin Zhao set down his cup and looked at Meng Yanshan's pale fingers. "Do not wait until the day I bring Ling Song's head here, only for you to already be in the ground and unable to drink this Blazing Sun Burn."

Meng Yanshan abruptly looked up. A flash of sharp light suddenly appeared in his clouded eyes, like a dying man glimpsing hope.

He grabbed the wine flask from the table, poured himself a cup, and drank it in one gulp without caring whether it was hot. He immediately began coughing violently, his shoulders shaking with each cough. "Cough, cough... Good! Good! Young man, may your future be bright as brocade. May you be like the Marquis Zhenbei of old and leave behind a name that rings like thunder in the history of martial arts!"