Hope

Entering the dim inner room, he skillfully shifted aside a loose brick beneath the stove, took out the coarse-cloth money pouch hidden inside, and counted his savings.

"Just one more tael, and I'll have enough to pay for becoming a Martial Disciple at Wanping Martial Academy!"

After putting away the pouch, Jiang Qinghe lay flat on the hard wooden bed and let out a contented sigh.

He stared at the spiderweb-like cracks in the ceiling. Just as his mind drifted, a faint glow suddenly appeared Before One's Eyes, followed by several short lines of text unfolding before him:

[Realm: Body Tempering (Not Yet Initiated)]

[Skill: Wood Splitting Skill (Initiated - 0/1)]

[Potential Points: 0 (Calculated according to the effort put into training that day; 0–1 point can currently be obtained)]

[Lifespan: 60. At the current realm, burning 1 point of Lifespan grants 1 Potential Point.]

"This... this is?"

Jiang Qinghe sprang upright, rubbed his eyes hard, and looked again.

The words still hovered clearly in the air, radiating a Softened, mysterious glow. They were not illusions brought on by exhaustion.

"A system!" His heart pounded wildly, his blood boiling throughout his body as an indescribable ecstasy surged into his chest.

At that moment, Jiang Qinghe felt as though the dawn of a turning point in his fate lay right Before One's Eyes. All the suffering and resentment he had endured transformed into anticipation.

The panel was simple and clear. After studying it for a while, Jiang Qinghe quickly understood how it worked.

With a thought, he chose to settle today's gains.

"Ding. System settlement in progress... You diligently cultivated the Wood Splitting Skill without pause today. Potential Points +1."

Without the slightest hesitation, Jiang Qinghe immediately added the newly acquired Potential Point to the Wood Splitting Skill.

The text on the panel changed at once:

[Wood Splitting Skill (Minor Accomplishment - 0/2)]

In an instant, a surge of heat rose from his dantian and flowed through his limbs and bones.

Jiang Qinghe felt every pore on his body open, every cell greedily absorbing that energy.

His arms, which had still been somewhat sore and swollen, began to burn and grew sturdier.

His lean body also became imperceptibly more robust, as though blood and qi were rushing beneath his skin.

"Does this count as... shedding my mortal frame and exchanging my bones?"

Jiang Qinghe clenched his fists. After carefully feeling things out, he found that his strength had increased to roughly three times what it had been before.

He was utterly shaken. This seemingly crude Wood Splitting Skill had brought about such changes upon reaching Minor Accomplishment.

Jiang Qinghe grew even more eager for the effects of further cultivation.

When his gaze fell on the final line concerning Lifespan, he could not help frowning.

A lifespan of sixty years was not long in this world.

According To the system's description, even if he burned all of his Lifespan, he could only obtain sixty Potential Points—equivalent to two months of grueling cultivation.

"For now, it really is rather useless..."

Jiang Qinghe stroked his chin as he pondered.

"But since it specifies the current realm, that means the ratio may change as my realm rises."

The Body Tempering Realm should only be the starting point of martial cultivation. There were surely many more realms beyond it.

If he could reach a higher level, his Lifespan would naturally increase as well.

When that time came, the value of burning Lifespan in exchange for Potential Points would be worlds apart.

Lying on the bed, Jiang Qinghe tossed and turned as all sorts of thoughts continuously surfaced in his mind.

"If I learned eight hundred or a thousand techniques in the future and cultivated every one of them to the pinnacle, wouldn't I be able to pluck stars and seize the moon, split mountains and cleave seas like the martial saints of legend?"

Absentmindedly, he fiddled with the Silver Shuttle Pendant he had taken from his clothes.

When the original owner of this body had been found, this had been the only item on him apart from his swaddling cloth. Intricate patterns were carved across the pendant's surface.

"Perhaps one day, I'll be able to trace the origins of this body..." Jiang Qinghe murmured softly.

Though, as a transmigrator, he held no particular obsession over the original owner's background.

But if he could do it along the way and Ascertain Truth, it would count as some consolation for the original owner of this body.

He could consider it compensation for taking over this body.

After a long while, as drowsiness steadily grew and spread, Jiang Qinghe finally fell into a deep sleep.

In his dream, he saw himself standing above the clouds.

Beneath his feet stretched mountains and rivers for thousands upon thousands of miles.

The next day, before daylight had fully broken, the deep blue of night had yet to completely fade.

At around dawn, Jiang Qinghe opened his eyes as usual amid the cold touch of the hard wooden bed and the few wisps of breeze leaking in.

What greeted his eyes were still those spiderweb-like cracks in the ceiling.

He could not help laughing at himself. "Clouds, mountains, and rivers... so it was only a dream."

Then Jiang Qinghe flipped up from the bed, his movements clean and sharp, no longer carrying the fatigue of the past few days.

Instinctively, he clenched his fists and felt the strength brimming within his body.

After calming his mind and sensing the panel's presence once more,

a smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "The strength wasn't a dream, and neither was the panel!"

At that moment, a sharp light flickered in Jiang Qinghe's eyes, and none of the listless air from the past few days remained.

He walked to the water vat in the corner of the courtyard, scooped up some icy water, and wiped his face.

After making a few simple preparations, he headed out.

In the morning alley, night dew still lingered on the stone-paved road, carrying a faint chill beneath his feet.

Not a Single Person was in sight. It was eerily quiet, and a damp, moldy smell hung in the air.

Just as Jiang Qinghe was about to turn onto the relatively wider West Street, his footsteps abruptly halted.

In the shadows at the alley's corner, three corpses lay piled together in strange poses, like rag dolls carelessly tossed aside.

On the neck of the outermost corpse, a wolf-head tattoo slashed open by a blade was especially conspicuous. Blood that had not yet fully congealed still stained its fangs.

Jiang Qinghe's pupils contracted slightly. Without drawing attention, he sidestepped around them.

At the scene of a gang vendetta, once an ordinary person got involved, even jumping into the Yellow River would not wash them clean.

In Lin'an County, the northwestern district was controlled by the Iron Saber Gang, while the southwestern district was the territory of the Green Wolf Gang.

It was said that in the past, the two gangs had always lived in peace.

But recently, seemingly because of disputes over ownership of several lucrative shops at the edge of West Street, friction between them had never ceased, and the air was thick with gunpowder.

As for conflicts between gangs like these, the lofty Magistrate's Manor usually welcomed them—as long as they did not grow too large, harm too many innocent civilians, or tarnish the government's facade of "peace."

They even secretly fanned the flames, wishing for the two gangs to grind each other down and weaken one another.

Only after the dust settled would they symbolically send a few constables to clean up the battlefield, offering a token explanation.

As for the darkness and death along the way? The Magistrate's Manor had always treated such matters as none of their concern, hanging them high and away.

Jiang Qinghe passed through the mouth of the alley and stepped onto West Street's main road.

At this hour in the past, the morning market would already be bustling with voices and steaming with heat. Now, only a sparse scattering of stalls remained.

The vendors wrapped themselves in thin clothes, and even their cries had lost their usual volume, becoming weak and listless as they drifted through the empty, desolate street.

The Red Leaf Wine Shop only opened its doors to guests at noon. Jiang Qinghe usually settled his breakfast casually at the West Street morning market.

He walked to an old stall selling dry provisions, one he frequented often.

The stall owner was a skinny old man in his fifties. At the moment, he had his neck hunched down, his eyes darting nervously toward the alley entrance from time to time.

"Uncle Liu, the usual."

Jiang Qinghe's voice was calm, as though he had not been affected by what he had just seen.

"Coming right up!"

Seeing a familiar customer, the old man deftly pulled over two sheets of oiled paper, wrapped up two rock-hard flatbreads, and handed them over.

Jiang Qinghe silently took out two copper coins and set them on the chopping board.

Then he accepted the flatbreads, lowered his head, and took a large bite.

Only after the stomach that had been empty all night gained a trace of warmth did he continue onward.

Before long, the familiar signboard of the Red Leaf Wine Shop faintly emerged from the thin mist.

Jiang Qinghe knew the way well. He circled around to the small door at the side and rear of the wine shop, pushed it open, and entered the backyard.

He went to a corner, bent down to pick up an iron axe, and began chopping firewood with practiced ease.

A new day of hard work had begun!