Commonly Known as Free Riding

After the transaction concluded, life in the village began to settle into a calm rhythm. Yu Ziqing cooked during the day, spent the rest of his time studying under Old Yang, and went to practice boxing with Er Han at night. His body grew stronger day by day, and his knowledge steadily accumulated—his days were full.

To be honest, Yu Ziqing figured that if he'd had this kind of drive back in his old life, he definitely could've scored over seven hundred on the exams.

A week of peaceful days passed. Tonight, there was no boxing practice. After most people had turned in, a small gathering began in the village's cave shrine.

The Molten Millet Cake, which should have been eaten before the transaction, finally had its moment to be tasted.

But unlike what Yu Ziqing had imagined, only a little over forty people were qualified to eat that scalding-hot millet cake, and Yu Ziqing was the only one among the new villagers.

Er Han had changed into clean clothes and, with great solemnity, carried the millet cake out from that cave that could roast a person alive.

The Village Chief, both hands braced on his walking stick and back straight, watched Er Han place the millet cake on the altar. He spoke softly to Yu Ziqing beside him.

"Many years ago, before there was a village here, a group of mortals on the verge of starving to death—driven by war caused by cultivators fighting on the wasteland—followed the first Village Chief to this place and discovered the Jinlan Ore.

Back then, the first Village Chief recognized the Jinlan Ore. He knew it was something cultivators needed, worth a great deal.

He built the village here, mined the Jinlan Ore, and traded with outside cultivators for things that could keep the villagers alive."

The Village Chief let out a soft sigh, his tone complicated.

"Keeping the trade going must have been hard..." Yu Ziqing knew there had to be many stories behind it.

In any world, a group of powerless ordinary people sitting on a rare resource was a disaster waiting to happen.

"Yeah, it was tough. Human greed is one thing, but cultivators are greedier. The first Village Chief knew this clearly. He knew blood would eventually spill in the village.

But the villagers couldn't cultivate Qi at all. So he found another way to grow stronger—constantly strengthening their bones and bodies—until, when the bloody conflict finally came, the blood and bones of those cultivators were buried in the village.

On top of that, the cultivators realized this place was full of danger and poison for them.

And at one point, they tried to take over, only to find that ordinary people from outside couldn't survive long in the dangerous mines, and the yield was pitifully small.

With all these factors combined, the trade finally went smoothly.

Because only we can mine the Jinlan Ore properly."

Yu Ziqing shook his head with a faintly mocking smile. Sure enough, nothing new under the sun. The village still existed only because, for the cultivators, the cost was minimal and the gain was maximal—good cost-performance ratio.

The fact that the Village Chief was bringing this up now told Yu Ziqing that those absurdly strong ordinary villagers definitely had a direct connection to this Molten Millet Cake.

"The millet cake is the village's secret. Only each generation's Village Chief knows how to make it. Only those who practice boxing can eat it—anyone else who eats it will die. And the quantity is limited. Only those with the greatest contributions each year are qualified."

The Village Chief didn't explain how it was made. He first paid respects to the ancestors, then lifted the lid of the stone pot.

Scorching hot steam condensed without dispersing. In just a few breaths, it turned the surroundings into a furnace. Hot and cold air clashed, whipping up a howling wind.

After a short wait, the steam suddenly reversed course and plunged back into the stone pot, leaving only the millet cake, glowing like fresh magma.

The Village Chief picked up a pair of metal chopsticks, dug out a piece the size of a fist, and shouted.

"Er Han."

Er Han stepped forward with a solemn expression and opened his mouth.

The millet cake, like viscous magma, writhed as it slid off the chopsticks and dropped straight into his mouth.

His throat moved once, and the fist-sized lump was swallowed whole.

After swallowing, Er Han said nothing. He walked to the side and began practicing his boxing form. As he moved, his skin turned bright red, and thick black smoke gushed from every pore and orifice on his body.

The rolling black smoke coalesced into a pillar a full zhang thick, churning as it surged toward the Back Mountain.

No one batted an eye. They all waited quietly.

"Er Han mined the most ore this year, killed the most pests, and ranked first in guarding the village.

Next, the greatest contribution goes to Yu Ziqing. Any objections?"

The Village Chief looked around. Everyone nodded in unison, convinced. Setting aside whether the cooking was good or not, just the fact that he'd helped the village use existing resources to stockpile more food and reduce reliance on the outside—no one could argue with that.

If not for Yu Ziqing having been here such a short time, the top spot would have been his.

The Village Chief used the chopsticks to pick out a piece the size of a thumbnail and shouted.

"Yu Ziqing."

Yu Ziqing stepped forward, still a little uneasy. Was this stuff really not going to kill someone?

The small piece entered his mouth. Before he could even feel the heat, the morsel seemed to have a mind of its own, crawling down his throat.

Within a breath of hitting his stomach, he felt a fire ignite in his gut, growing hotter and hotter.

"Hurry up and practice your boxing." The Village Chief urged him quickly.

As Yu Ziqing began his boxing form, he immediately felt the fireball in his belly grow even hotter, but strangely, it no longer felt so unbearable.

Thin wisps of faint black smoke seeped from every pore on his body, drifting together into a cluster that merged with the smoke pillar gushing from Er Han, flying together toward the Back Mountain.

Yu Ziqing calmed his mind and focused entirely on his boxing. By the time he finished one full set, the scorching fireball in his gut had dissipated completely, and the faint smoke rising from his body had vanished entirely.

He took a light breath, feeling a lightness and clarity from the inside out. His body even seemed a bit stronger.

He looked at the others still practicing their boxing. The black smoke rising from them varied in amount, but none came close to Er Han's absurd output.

Yu Ziqing looked up. The smoke pillar gathered above shot toward the Back Mountain. From a distance, he could vaguely see the pillars lancing horizontally for a stretch before plunging straight into the ground.

At the Back Mountain, the rolling black smoke pillars fell from the sky and slammed into that massive Black Stone. But like a drop of water entering the sea, they left no impact—all of it vanished into the stone.

The dense, uneven footprints covering the surface of the Black Stone gradually smoothed out as the black smoke poured in.

On the other side, Old Yang poked his head out of the Earth Den, watching the black smoke pillar streaking across the sky, clicking his tongue in wonder.

"The one who created this body-nurturing method is a true genius—borrowing power from that unknown place, then returning it all within a year. Once that power is gone, the fruits of nurturing remain entirely, and having been washed clean of that power, the difficulty of subsequent nurturing is actually slightly easier than it was a year ago.

Even so, purely relying on nurturing for improvement will take longer and longer, but at least there's still progress—far easier than those miserable body cultivators who only find it harder and harder to advance.

It's a real pity that the first Village Chief never left this place..."

Old Yang watched for a while, inspired by this freeloading method of nurturing, and seemed to grasp something. He crawled back into the Earth Den, lying down with his thoughts unknown.

When Yu Ziqing returned, Old Yang opened his eyes.

"Take me to see the Village Chief here."

"Huh?"

"Just take me there. Don't worry."

Yu Ziqing didn't understand but could only lead Old Yang to find the Village Chief. The Village Chief surely knew something, so there was no need to hide anything.

When they met the Village Chief, before anyone could speak, he immediately sent Er Han to guard the entrance and personally led Yu Ziqing and Old Yang deep into the Mountain Kiln.

The three sat down, and Old Yang spoke first, his voice human.

"Greetings, Village Chief. I'd like to make a deal with you."

The Village Chief's expression remained calm, showing no surprise at all.

"Please, go ahead, Elder."

"I want a bit of that thing from your Back Mountain, and the method for making Yellow Millet Cake."

Old Yang watched the Village Chief's expression and, before he could respond, immediately lowered his demands.

"If the method isn't convenient, then just supply a portion of Yellow Millet Cake each year—enough for Yu Ziqing's use."

Yu Ziqing was surprised. Old Yang was asking for this on his behalf?

"Old Yang—"

"When elders speak, don't interrupt." Old Yang barked, cutting off Yu Ziqing's words.

Yu Ziqing obediently shut his mouth and stood by like a wooden dummy. He knew Old Yang wasn't the type to care about strict hierarchies, so he'd just keep quiet and listen.

The Village Chief glanced at Yu Ziqing, revealed a faint smile, and shook his head.

"Elder, you're mistaken there. Young Master Yu is now a man of my village and has learned the fist technique. His yearly allotment won't be lacking. You worry too much."

Old Yang remained unmoved and continued.

"A portion of that thing from the Back Mountain—about the size of a fist—plus the Yellow Millet Cake Yu Ziqing needs. In return, I can try to help you improve the fist technique, along with the raw materials you need each year, and I won't ask for Jinlan Ore.

Right now, the only one trading with you is Great Qian, and only Great Qian can supply the raw materials you need. But months ago, the Wasteland changed. From now on, the necessities you rely on each year may not be guaranteed.

I can give you an extra batch of raw materials—untreated ones that you can store for a long time."

At these last words, the Village Chief's expression shifted slightly.

The raw materials needed for Yellow Millet Cake were indeed only traded with them by Great Qian's people, and once those materials arrived here, they would spoil within seven days at most. He had to start making the next year's batch immediately.

The days after the deal were spent entirely on this task.

Old Yang's words immediately shook the Village Chief. Presented with a chance to break free from being strangled, he wouldn't let it slip.

"Fine. I can give you the Black Stone, and one extra piece on top of that—that counts as the deal.

But Young Master Yu's yearly allotment is not part of the deal.

He is a man of this village. Once a man, always a man. Every year's Yellow Millet Cake—whether he's in the village or not—there will always be a share for him."