Inside the stone house, the four guards had removed their armor, baring their upper bodies. Their muscles twitched and bulged into knots as they assumed one twisted posture after another, fully immersed in their training.
Their breathing heaved like bellows, their bodies burned like furnaces, and specks of iron-black color flickered across their skin.
They were testing the Iron Wall Art Meng Zhao had created, and their progress was quite good. Not only had they entered the door, but they had also begun to condense Iron Bodies.
Aside from their solid innate physiques and the considerable medicinal power required for cultivation already within their bodies, Meng Zhao had personally instructed them, using true qi to stimulate the circulation and transformations of their qi and blood. That was the only reason they had made such progress.
It was like an incomplete version of empowerment—even a stupid pig could be turned into fine timber.
These four guards had harbored thoughts of clinging to a powerful thigh from the very beginning, so they had served Meng Zhao with utmost diligence.
They had never expected to receive an unorthodox martial art, let alone cultivate it so swiftly. Their enthusiasm only grew greater.
These common soldiers did not possess such lofty ambitions. They merely wanted to keep this livelihood, save up some money in the future, survive long enough to retire from the army, then marry a wife and have a son. That would be enough.
Who cared whether the Iron Wall Art had any future, or whether it carried hidden dangers? They only needed to practice it.
More importantly, they knew perfectly well that this martial art had been deduced from nothing by General Lu Yang, based on the Divine Might Army's existing cultivation resources and his own martial knowledge.
They had also been