Sacrifice

Li Jingzhong was quite competent as the head of a martial arts academy.

He was strict, but his strictness had good reason behind it.

Mastering Vajra Fist within three days tested one's comprehension.

If one could not even get started with a fist technique in three days, then one's comprehension was simply too poor.

Opening fifty acupoints and one meridian tested talent and perseverance.

If one could not reach even that level in half a year, then either one's talent was too poor or one lacked perseverance, fishing for three days and drying the nets for two.

The path of martial arts grew harder with every stage. If even the first step took such effort, then one might as well not practice martial arts at all.

Without giving everyone much time to think, Li Jingzhong began demonstrating Vajra Fist.

"Vajra Fist is an entry-level martial art taught by the great Buddhist sect of Qingzhou, Vajra Prajna Temple, to its lay disciples.

In my younger years, I cultivated at Vajra Prajna Temple. After returning to secular life, I was permitted to pass down Vajra Fist.

Its Fist Intent is Vajra Demon Subduing. Its moves are broad and sweeping, and its force erupts with savage ferocity.

Watch carefully. When exerting force, you must mobilize the power of your acupoints and meridians. Only when your strength bursts forth in an instant can you unleash its greatest might."

In the training ground, Li Jingzhong demonstrated each move slowly.

Yet whenever his fist landed, his strength suddenly exploded, detonating in the air with astonishing force.

Han Zheng watched and learned without even blinking.

Whether in his previous life or after crossing over, Han Zheng had always understood the importance of strength.

In an age of chaos like this, what could protect him was neither the law nor those lofty officials, but his own fists and the blade in his hand.

Moreover, in his current state, Han Zheng absolutely could not be eliminated from the martial arts academy.

His home was bare to the four walls. Once the academy's morning lessons ended, it at least provided lunch. If he left the academy, he would not even have anywhere to eat.

"Did you all see clearly?"

Li Jingzhong withdrew his stance and exhaled a stream of white vapor.

His breath was long and sustained, with even a faint whistling sound.

"We saw clearly!"

"Since you saw clearly, begin practicing the moves one by one!"

Li Jingzhong walked to a raised platform in the training ground and watched the disciples below awkwardly practice Vajra Fist.

He was indeed a responsible head of the martial arts academy.

Whenever someone's posture was improper or their exertion of force was wrong, he would go over and correct them.

Before crossing over, Han Zheng had been quite diligent in cultivation, and his martial arts foundation was fairly solid.

As he practiced Vajra Fist move by move, sensing the power within his acupoints, he found it an incredibly wondrous feeling.

Threads of power gathered within his acupoints. He could sense them, yet he could not mobilize them.

Only when he threw a punch would a trace of power passively seep out from his acupoints, but it was not much.

In the Houtian Meridian Opening Realm, the most important thing was not opening acupoints, but opening meridians.

Three hundred and sixty-five acupoints were distributed throughout the human body, while twelve meridians ran through it.

Only by opening a meridian could one draw upon the power of the acupoints along its course and truly control the inner strength within those acupoints.

Half a day passed quickly, and Han Zheng was drenched in sweat from exhaustion.

The servants responsible for chores in the martial arts academy had already carried over more than a dozen large basins. Everyone lined up to receive their food.

Each person received five black rye buns, a bowl of vegetable soup glistening with oil, and two boiled eggs as the only meat dish.

Though simple, this fare was already quite good.

Over the past half year, prices in Black Stone County had soared. A jin of rice had once cost ten copper coins, but now it cost fifty.

Shannan Dao produced little grain, while neighboring Huainan Dao had fertile land and was therefore Shannan Dao's main source of grain purchases.

But half a year ago, the Incense Cult had stirred up rebellion in Huainan Dao. The common people could barely survive, grain production fell, and prices in Shannan Dao surged along with it.

The black rye bun scraped Han Zheng's throat as he ate it, but he still forced it down.

After all, it filled the stomach.

At that moment, a somewhat plump, round-faced young man squatted beside Han Zheng while chewing on a bun, his face full of worry.

"The major examination is in three days. Isn't that coming too fast?

The head only said that getting started with Vajra Fist counted as passing, but what exactly counts as getting started?"

The slightly chubby young man before him was called Li Sancheng, Han Zheng's friend.

His father was the chief jailer at the County Yamen and knew Han Zheng's father as well. The two had known each other since childhood, though they had not been particularly close.

After joining the martial arts academy, they happened to discover they knew each other and often gathered together, becoming friends.

However, Li Sancheng's family circumstances were much better than Han Zheng's.

Though a chief jailer's monthly pay was just as meager, there was no shortage of extra income.

Whenever a family with a criminal case wanted to visit someone in prison, they had to slip the chief jailer some money.

Han Zheng took a sip of vegetable soup and, after forcing down a mouthful of black rye bun, said, "Martial arts techniques aren't martial arts realms. What standard is there for getting started?

The standard lies with the head. All we need to do is grasp the fist technique as well as possible. We need not seek profound mastery; we only need to be more skilled than the others."

Li Sancheng scratched his head. "That makes sense. There are just over a hundred people in our martial arts academy, so the head probably would not eliminate half of us.

Say, Han Zheng, why do I feel like you've changed after not seeing you for a day? But I can't tell how."

"If I changed, it's because I became more handsome. Stop thinking about useless things and hurry home to practice the fist technique.

If you fail the major examination in three days, your father will beat you to death."

Although Li Sancheng's family had some savings, the martial arts academy's tuition was still enough to make his father bleed heavily.

Han Zheng finished the black rye buns in a few bites, tossed his food bowl to Li Sancheng, and left the martial arts academy.

After returning home, Han Zheng took off his clothes, which reeked of sweat, intending to change into another set.

But the moment he removed them, he froze.

A silver note had actually fallen from the inner lining of his clothes, worth ten taels.

Where had he gotten this money?

In his memories, after Han Zheng of this life had held his father's funeral, his home had been bare to the four walls. He did not even have a single copper coin in hand.

Sometimes, after morning lessons, he would go to the city gate and carry heavy sacks for merchant caravans. One sack earned one copper coin, barely enough for food.

One tael of silver was now roughly equal to five hundred copper coins. For an ordinary commoner, earning one tael a month was already quite good.

Han Zheng's father, as a clerk at the County Yamen, earned only three taels per month.

Ten taels of silver was absolutely a huge sum for Han Zheng. Where had he gotten so much money?

Rubbing his head, Han Zheng felt that the memories missing from that day seemed rather crucial.

Given his personality, he would never have run outside the city alone for no reason.

What had he done that night to obtain ten taels of silver?

But the memories were far too blurry, and Han Zheng did not have much time to ponder such matters.

The immediate problem was how to deal with the major examination.

Over his half year of studying martial arts at the academy, Han Zheng had not actually slacked off.

But some children from wealthy families had been fed and cared for well since childhood, leaving them naturally strong in muscles and bones.

After cultivating inner strength, they also had money to buy all kinds of spiritual medicine and supplement their cultivation with medicinal baths, so naturally they progressed faster than he did.

One dose of the spiritual medicine used for a medicinal bath cost over a hundred taels of silver.

Pills took effect quickly and were even more expensive. Even the lowest-grade pills cost five hundred taels per bottle.

Meanwhile, Han Zheng had to carry heavy sacks for merchant caravans to make a living while cultivating martial arts. Being able to open forty-one acupoints already represented his limit.

Since ancient times, the poor pursued literature while the wealthy pursued martial arts. The path of martial arts demanded not only one's life, but one's wealth as well.

For Han Zheng now, the good news was that he had unexpectedly gained ten taels of silver, so he no longer needed to waste time carrying heavy sacks outside.

But the bad news was that he had only three days to devote himself fully to cultivation.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Han Zheng began circulating the Iron Elephant Skill, unwilling to waste even a moment.

As its name implied, once the Iron Elephant Skill was cultivated to great success, one would possess the strength of an iron elephant, capable of splitting steles and shattering stones with ease.

Its inner strength was steady and heavy in nature. It was the sort of internal art that simply tempered one's physical strength, and could be considered among the cruder, lower-grade internal arts.

Inner breath flowed through his body. As Han Zheng's muscles, sinews, and bones trembled, large beads of sweat rolled down.

In the end, his strength suddenly scattered, and his attempt to break through an acupoint failed.

Han Zheng opened his eyes and gave a bitter laugh.

"This body's talent really is quite ordinary."

Han Zheng did not know whether his comprehension had improved after crossing over, but his physical talent certainly had not.

After resting briefly and recovering his strength, Han Zheng resumed cultivating and attempting to break through his acupoints.

For three days, Han Zheng attended the martial arts academy's morning lessons during the day, cultivating and practicing Vajra Fist.

After lessons, he returned home to cultivate the Iron Elephant Skill, striving to open his acupoints.

The atmosphere throughout Zhenwei Martial Arts School was incomparably grim.

Even Li Sancheng, who had always been somewhat lazy and prone to chattering endlessly, had no time for idle talk. He cultivated as soon as he arrived each day.

But on the night before the major examination, Han Zheng discovered miserably that he had opened only one acupoint in three days.

He was still eight acupoints short of the standard of fifty, and he also had to open one meridian.

Summoning the Gluttonous Crucible, Han Zheng stared at the lifelike Gluttonous Dragon Pattern upon it and fell into deep thought.

Should he sacrifice something to the Gluttonous Crucible in exchange for an opportunity to cultivate?

If he were expelled from the martial arts academy, he would not starve to death immediately, but he would lose the chance to continue cultivating martial arts in peace.

But was it truly worth sacrificing some part of his body for rapid improvement?

As Han Zheng pondered, he suddenly said, "The Gluttonous Crucible turns away no one and refuses nothing; it can sacrifice anything. Can I sacrifice my sense of pain?"

Things like the Three Souls and Seven Spirits, arms, and legs naturally could not be sacrificed. Neither could his lifespan, and Han Zheng did not want to lose years from his life for nothing.

So he considered only things such as the Seven Emotions and Six Desires.

All at once, Han Zheng realized that pain did not seem particularly useful.

In fact, after sacrificing his sense of pain, he might gain a certain advantage when fighting and killing others.

It could be sacrificed.

"Then I'll sacrifice my sense of pain!"

Han Zheng gritted his teeth.

The next moment, the Gluttonous Dragon Pattern on the Gluttonous Crucible seemed to come alive. It opened a dark, gaping mouth and tore toward Han Zheng.

Han Zheng instinctively shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he felt as if something inside his body had vanished.

He pinched his own face hard. There was only the sensation of touch—sure enough, it did not hurt at all.

The host has sacrificed their sense of pain and obtained 50 points of Satiety, which can be used to break through martial arts or cultivate within the crucible.

Two selection icons appeared above the Gluttonous Crucible: one for breakthrough and one for cultivation.

Entering the Gluttonous Crucible to cultivate for one day consumed 1 point of Satiety. Time stood still inside the crucible.

The breakthrough function was temporarily unavailable. Only martial arts with proficiency reaching 100% could undergo a breakthrough.

"Enter the crucible and cultivate."

PS: Some readers said that sacrificing one's sense of pain would affect combat ability—if you were stabbed, you would not even know it. Let me explain: I believe pain is useless because pain and touch are completely different sensations. Sacrificing pain does not mean losing touch. Those who have undergone surgery under anesthesia should know the feeling: you can sense a knife cutting you open and separating your skin and flesh, but you simply cannot feel pain. There is an article on Zhihu that clearly explains the differences and relationship between pain and touch, citing quite a few references. Those interested can take a look.

Some readers also said that without pain, your meridians could explode during cultivation and you would not even know.

This book uses a high-martial setting. In the Houtian Realm, one can cultivate inner strength. Martial artists can sense the acupoints and meridians within their bodies and achieve "inner vision," which can be called an indescribably mysterious feeling. Upon reaching the Innate Realm, one can even precisely control every strand of flesh and blood. Thus, losing pain will not affect cultivation. On the contrary, later cultivation requires enduring tremendous agony while tempering the body, so lacking pain can increase cultivation speed even further.

The first sacrifice, pain, was not something this author came up with by slapping his head and thinking with his ass. It was chosen based on the later development of the plot.

As for whether what is lost can be recovered later, the answer is of course yes. After all, more important things may be sacrificed in critical moments later on, and the protagonist obviously cannot remain incomplete forever.

Of course, some readers will still find it unreasonable. All I can say is sorry; this author's ability is limited, and I cannot make it so perfect. I am deeply grateful to those who can keep reading, and for those who cannot bear it, I hope my next book can satisfy you.