Internal Strife

Over the past few days, Jiang Qinghe had tried probing from the side, asking around about martial arts manuals.

But he had not learned much of use, only that such manuals rarely circulated on the market.

Anything sold openly came with an exorbitant price tag, enough to make people balk at the sight of it.

What he had mastered now was likely nothing more than low-grade martial arts.

Though it could strengthen the body and increase one's strength.

It was, in the end, a wild and unsystematic path, unfit for the halls of refinement.

More profound cultivation methods, exquisite martial techniques, and insights gained through training.

Perhaps only by entering a martial academy would he have a chance to obtain such things.

Crack!

The last thick log split cleanly in two beneath the iron axe, rolling neatly down beside the woodpile.

Jiang Qinghe slowly withdrew his stance and let out a long breath of stale air.

His mind focused slightly as he summoned the simplified panel.

[Realm: Body Tempering (Not Yet Initiated)]

[Technique: Wood Splitting Skill (Perfected)]

[Potential Points: 7 (0–1 point obtainable daily)]

Other than the time he had used Potential Points to go from initiation to Minor Accomplishment, he had not used them again.

Relying solely on chopping wood day after day, he had pushed the Wood Splitting Skill to perfection.

The most direct manifestation of that perfection was the astonishing transformation of his physical strength.

With a swing of both arms, he could unleash a staggering thousand pounds of force!

Ever since the Wood Splitting Skill had reached perfection, no matter how hard he chopped wood over the past two days, no matter how he pushed the technique to its limits.

The panel's results had remained at zero Potential Points.

"Once a technique reaches perfection, continuing to cultivate it no longer yields Potential Points."

Jiang Qinghe analyzed calmly in his heart:

"It seems I can only keep gaining Potential Points and advancing my cultivation by diligently training new techniques that can still be improved at my current level."

"My realm has remained at Not Yet Initiated, while the Wood Splitting Skill has already reached perfection. My strength can no longer improve... It's time to leave."

He drew a deep breath, patted the wood chips from his body, and made up his mind.

He then passed through the corridor and strode toward the front hall.

Behind the counter, shopkeeper Zhang Deqing was working his abacus. Catching sight of Jiang Qinghe approaching, he did not stop his hands, merely lifting his eyelids as he asked through his nose:

"Jiang boy, what is it? The front's busy. If you've got nothing to do, don't stand around here."

Jiang Qinghe stopped before him and said bluntly:

"Shopkeeper, I want to quit."

"Quit?"

Zhang Deqing's fingers froze on the abacus. He looked up, confusion appearing on his face.

"Business is booming right now. I'll even add another ten or twenty percent to your wages. You want to leave now? Have you gone muddleheaded?"

Jiang Qinghe remained silent.

Zhang Deqing stared at him for a long while, then suddenly laughed. "Heh. What, found yourself a better place?"

Jiang Qinghe answered evenly, "I'm planning to go to Wanping Martial Academy."

"A martial academy?" Zhang Deqing blanked for a moment, then gave a disdainful snort.

"Jiang boy, it's not that I'm trying to discourage you, but if you enter that academy and fail to learn anything within half a year, you'll be sent packing."

"You've worked hard for years. It wasn't easy saving up that silver. Use it to marry yourself a wife—that's the proper road! Stop dreaming about soaring to the heavens in a single step all day!"

Jiang Qinghe did not respond. He simply stood there quietly.

Seeing that Jiang Qinghe was impervious to reason, Zhang Deqing said with some impatience:

"Fine! Since your mind's made up, I'll settle your wages after closing today. After that, go wherever you please."

"Thank you, Shopkeeper." Jiang Qinghe cupped his hands and said no more.

He turned to leave, intending to finish the rest of the day's work before collecting his pay and departing.

Suddenly, with a clang, the tavern doors were shoved open roughly. A group of black-clad men with curved sabers at their waists filed inside, more than twenty in all.

At their head was the scar-faced, middle-aged brawny man whom Zhang Deqing had fawned over when the tavern paid wages a few days ago—Iron Saber Gang Deputy Hall Master Li Mu.

At Li Mu's side stood a figure Jiang Qinghe knew well: the donkey-faced Liao Hu.

Liao Hu swept his gaze over the tavern's diners. After confirming that none of those present were hard targets they could not afford to provoke, he shouted:

"Clear the place! All irrelevant people, get out at once!"

The previously bustling tavern fell silent in an instant.

Several timid diners scrambled and crawled for the exit, not even waiting for their change.

When Liao Hu's gaze reached the counter and spotted Jiang Qinghe turning to leave, he paused. Apparently recalling the humiliation he had suffered two days earlier, his face darkened as he said sinisterly:

"Kid, what are you standing there for? Get to the kitchen and prepare the food and wine!"

At that moment, Zhang Deqing nimbly slipped out from behind the counter and approached Li Mu with a flattering smile.

"Hall Master Li? Didn't we agree on... the sixth quarter of the Hour of the Rooster?"

He stole a glance at the mess strewn across the floor. Thinking of the unpaid bill for the food and wine, his heart bled, yet he dared not explicitly state it.

Li Mu gave Zhang Deqing a deep look. "Boss Tu is in high spirits. He's coming early today."

"Bring out all the good wine I had you prepare days ago. Don't let anything go wrong!"

Zhang Deqing had no choice but to smile obsequiously. "Right away! I'll have it prepared at once. I guarantee you'll be satisfied."

Not long after, a burly man with triangular eyes entered with measured, square steps.

The man was around forty, dressed in black brocade, with a gold-and-jade-inlaid curved saber hanging at his waist.

He was none other than Tu Baichuan, a hall master of the Iron Saber Gang.

Li Mu's expression shifted, and the stern, chilling look he had worn moments ago vanished.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled at the man. "Boss! The brothers have been waiting for you!"

Tu Baichuan patted Li Mu's shoulder with a palm as large as a cattail fan, his voice booming like a great bell:

"Li Mu, the brothers have worked hard. Today, we drink our fill and don't go home until we're drunk!"

Li Mu bent slightly at the waist and immediately began flattering him.

"All thanks to Boss's divine might for taking the West Street turf!"

"From now on, the gambling dens, brothels, and taverns of West Street will all have to pay tribute to our Iron Saber Gang! And today is Boss's birthday—our brothers must celebrate properly!"

Tu Baichuan threw back his head and laughed, his voice shaking the rafters.

He walked to the seat of honor at the Eight Immortals table in the center of the front hall and sat down brazenly.

A lackey immediately stepped forward and respectfully poured him wine.

Seeing this, Li Mu raised his cup and shouted:

"Come, brothers, a toast to Boss! From now on, we're your vanguard cavalry, following you to feast on fine food and drink!"

"To the Hall Master!" More than twenty black-clad men shouted in unison.

With that, Li Mu tipped back his head and drained his cup in one great gulp.

The other gang members followed suit. Soon, cups clinked and calls rose one after another.

After six rounds of wine, the Iron Saber Gang men in the hall had all revealed their drunken states.

Some lay sprawled across the tables, snoring loudly with drool pooling beneath them.

Some reclined against their chair backs, somehow producing thunderous snores.

Two others had their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying as they sang lewd little tunes.

At the seat of honor, even Tu Baichuan, who could hold an incredible amount of liquor, now had a flushed face and fine beads of sweat gathering on his forehead.

He frowned and swept his gaze over his subordinates, sprawled crookedly in every direction. A faint sense that something was wrong rose within him.

These men lived with their tongues on the edge of the blade. Normally, every one of them could drink like the sea.

Why had they become like this tonight after only a few jars?

Just as he was puzzled, an abnormally intense wave of dizziness struck him!

The scene before his eyes abruptly blurred, swayed, and split into double images.

Tu Baichuan's gaze swept over the remaining wine in his cup, and a warning bell suddenly rang in his heart!

This feeling was absolutely not the liquor going to his head!

He bit through his tongue fiercely. The taste of blood mixed with piercing pain, clearing his mind somewhat.

Bang!

A deafening explosion rang out like thunder bursting from the sky!

Tu Baichuan's cattail-fan-sized palm slammed violently down onto the Eight Immortals table before him!

The tabletop could not withstand that surging force and split straight down the middle. Cups, plates, and bowls clattered as they rolled across the floor.

Shing—

He yanked out his saber and rose to his feet, shouting sharply:

"Who drugged the wine?!"