300 Jin

The wind and snow made the perfect cover.

Fang Yuan carried that icy-cold axe on his back, slipping silently back to his own courtyard gate like a ghost.

He pressed an ear to the freezing wooden door and listened carefully to the sounds inside. There was only the steady rhythm of breathing.

Only then did he gently lift the latch, slip inside, and quietly slide it back into place behind him.

The entire process made not a single unnecessary sound.

He took off his wet, snow-speckled outer clothes and walked barefoot into the inner room. He set the axe back against the kang's edge before quietly lying down again.

The icy bedding made him shudder. His body was still faintly hot from the intense exertion and tension just now, a stark contrast to the cold.

He had originally planned to settle things completely with the axe, but after hearing Hou San boast that his cousin Zhang Biao, who was about to become a martial artist, would soon come to the village, he changed his mind at the last minute.

An axe would leave traces too obvious. Anyone could tell he had done the killing.

Since Zhang Biao was the Leader of a wealthy household's guards in the city and was on the verge of becoming a martial artist, he was surely no easy opponent.

If Zhang Biao spotted any flaw and started investigating, the trouble would be enormous.

Making it look like an accidental fall and death was the safest choice.

In these times, a drunken ruffian falling to his death at night was far too common.

As for how long the lie would hold, or whether it could fool everyone completely, that would depend on fate.

Quite a few people in the village hated Hou San. There were probably even more secretly applauding his death. There might not be anyone willing to investigate in earnest.

What he needed most right now was time.

"Martial artist..." Fang Yuan silently rolled those words over in his heart.

From Hou San's boasting, he had once again confirmed the existence of martial artists and their lofty status.

Even the village landlords and local gentry had to show them respect. That said it all.

Compared to the true Martial Dao of this world, just how strong or weak was the Basic Saber Technique he had cultivated through the Proficiency System?

Was it strong, or was it weak?

He was somewhat uncertain. The Cultivation Method optimized by the system should... not be bad, right?

The thought gave rise to a trace of anticipation, but even more than that, it filled him with urgency.

He had to raise his strength faster! Only by becoming strong himself could he handle every kind of trouble and truly protect those he wanted to protect.

The wind and snow outside the window seemed to have eased somewhat, but the night was still long.

A faint, distant cry of alarm seemed to drift over from afar, but it was quickly swallowed by the wind, leaving no further sound.

Fang Yuan closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep. His body needed rest. Tomorrow, there would be even more to do.

Inside the room, only Liu Wanwan's and Little Bean Sprout's steady breathing remained, along with Fang Yuan's own heartbeat gradually calming down.

The night passed without incident.

Early the next morning, just as the sky began to brighten, Fang Yuan woke on time.

Without the slightest delay, he immediately began his daily saber practice in the little open space inside the house.

The chopping knife cut through the air with steady force. Every slash mobilized the blood and strength throughout his body, and sweat soon soaked his hair and forehead.

After he finished practicing, Liu Wanwan had already reheated the leftover stewed rabbit from last night and brought it out.

There was not much rabbit meat left. Fang Yuan's appetite was enormous now. Though five rabbits looked like a lot, once the hides and bones were removed,

and after a night's consumption, they were really only enough to leave him seven or eight tenths full at best.

He wolfed down the meat and drank the thick broth, feeling warmth spread through his entire body, filling him with strength.

As Liu Wanwan watched him devour the food, an almost imperceptible trace of worry flashed through her eyes.

Husband's appetite... is far too frightening.

At this rate, no matter how much game he brought back, it still would not be enough.

But she said nothing. She merely silently picked the small piece of meat meant for herself from her bowl and placed it in Fang Yuan's.

After breakfast, Liu Wanwan carried a wooden basin out to fetch water.

Before long, she ran back in a panic, her face slightly pale. The moment she entered, she lowered her voice and said to Fang Yuan,

"Husband, the village... the village is saying that Hou San got drunk last night, fell beside the latrine, and... and cracked himself to death!"

As she spoke, her eyes involuntarily darted toward Fang Yuan, filled with uncertainty and suspicion.

Rationally, she felt it could not have been Fang Yuan. Hou San had been such a sturdy ruffian,

and although Fang Yuan looked somewhat stronger these past two days, he was still a scholar by nature and injured besides.

Yet for some reason, she had an inexplicable instinct that Hou San's death had something to do with her own man.

Fang Yuan was wiping down the axe. At her words, his hands did not pause in the slightest. He merely gave a calm "Mm," as though he had heard some trivial matter unrelated to him.

"Fell to his death? That certainly saves trouble."

His excessively calm reaction deepened the sliver of suspicion in Liu Wanwan's heart.

She watched Fang Yuan continue swinging his chopping knife in the courtyard, his movements steady and powerful,

carrying a fierce aura she had never seen from him before. She could not help but sigh inwardly.

She knew Fang Yuan wanted to become a martial artist, but without a Cultivation Method or the guidance of a famous master, could he truly succeed just by training so foolishly?

She had heard of the hardships of martial artists' cultivation. It required vast amounts of money and resources piled into it.

Just then, her eyes suddenly widened, and her mouth fell open without her realizing it.

Fang Yuan set down the chopping knife and walked over to the stone mill in the corner of the courtyard, the one normally used for grinding grain.

That stone mill weighed at least two or three hundred jin. Usually, it took two strong men just to barely lift it.

Fang Yuan drew a deep breath, bent down, gripped both sides of the stone mill, and suddenly exerted force!

"Up!"

He gave a low shout. The veins at his temples bulged slightly as he forcibly lifted the heavy stone mill off the ground!

Though it rose only about a foot, and he quickly set it back down with a thud, making the ground tremble slightly,

that strength had already far surpassed that of an ordinary farmer!

Fang Yuan took a breath and looked at his hands, satisfaction appearing on his face.

Though the growth in his strength was slow, he could tangibly feel himself improving every day. That visible progress filled him with motivation.

When I have time, I should find out exactly how martial artists are ranked in strength, so I can compare it with my current condition.

He pondered this inwardly.

After setting down the stone mill, he did not rest.

Once his arms began to feel numb and sore, he immediately started running laps around the courtyard instead. His pace alternated between fast and slow,

sometimes charging forward, sometimes stopping abruptly, deliberately training the flexibility of his footwork and the way he exerted force.

He discovered that after exhausting his upper-body strength, switching to training his lower-body footwork seemed to create a wonderful complement between the two,

making the tempering of his body more comprehensive and efficient.

Liu Wanwan stood in the doorway, watching Fang Yuan train in the courtyard as though he never knew fatigue. Her grip around the wooden basin tightened slightly.

The worry in her heart remained, but there was more than that now: an indescribable shock, and a faint thread of hope.

It seemed they would have to keep going into the mountains.

Fang Yuan looked at the outline of Great Green Mountain in the distance, covered in snow, his gaze firm.

For now, it was his only stable source of meat, sustaining his astonishing consumption and rapid growth.