Tenant Rent (Seeking Collection!)

After the young lady's tearful explanation, Wu Ming finally managed to get a clearer picture of the situation.

The root cause of this matter could be summed up in three words—'eating the orphan's portion'!

Li Xiuyun's parents had died, leaving no male heir in the household to inherit the family estate. In the eyes of the other villagers, that meant the family line was ended, making it natural and right for them to carve up the spoils.

Not to mention that the Li family still had a modest amount of assets. Adding in the sum Wu Ming had thrown down earlier, there were quite a few people eyeing it greedily.

If Li Xiaoniangzi went back like this, losing the family property would be the least of her worries. She'd lose both her person and her wealth, and might even end up sold off to who knows where.

"Then you're safe here... Oh!"

Wu Ming patted his head, finally remembering that he too belonged to the privileged class.

Earlier, he had killed Lin Qi—a matter of life and death—and yet not a single constable had dared to come knocking on his door all these days. The Wu family's arrogance and tyranny were plain to see.

And Li Xiaoniangzi, taking shelter under the Wu family's protection, was rumored to be Young Master Wu's concubine. Even if she were half-concubine, half-servant, she was not someone ordinary villagers would dare to covet.

"I beg Young Master Ming not to drive me away. In my next life, I will repay you even if I must chew grass and carry rings..."

After finishing her story, Li Xiuyun knelt there, still tearful, leaving Wu Ming rather awkward.

"Forget it... Stay as long as you like!"

Wu Ming waved his hand, thinking that the Wu family's wealth was vast enough to support one more idle mouth.

On the contrary, this Li Xiaoniangzi had rosy lips, white teeth, a hint of allure between her brows, and a figure that was truly not bad. That former playboy had surprisingly good taste.

As if sensing Wu Ming's gaze, Li Xiaoniangzi's cheeks flushed red, the color spreading all the way down her neck.

By the logic of this era, Wu Ming, as the head of the household, could do whatever he pleased with her, and it would be considered natural and right. But Wu Ming merely walked past slowly, saying nothing more.

"Still... I can't just take this woman's word at face value. Keeping her around is a charitable act, but I'll need to send someone to watch her. If..."

Li Xiaoniangzi, with her back to Wu Ming, did not see the glint of cold light that flashed in his eyes as he turned around.

On the training ground, Feng Han stood in his tight-fitting martial attire, his expression cold and hard:

"The art I practice is the Adamantine Great Strength Eagle Claw Hand! This technique is widely spread, with many branches. The one I belong to is the 'Sky Eagle' lineage, with the secret transmission being the 'Sky Eagle Thirteen Consecutive Strikes.' When mastered to perfection, it is like a flying eagle circling and swooping down, fierce and sharp!"

Having said this, he extended his hands: "Take a look at my hands!"

Wu Ming stepped forward and saw Feng Han's hands—muscles and bones knotted, black and hard, elongated and deformed like chicken claws. He couldn't help but feel a chill inside: "I won't end up with hands like this in the end, will I?"

"Haha! Of course not! Young Master, you practice a superior internal art, working from the inside out, so it comes naturally. You'll skip many detours like soaking your hands in medicinal baths and pounding them!"

Feng Han spoke with a sigh of emotion. Ever since Wu Ming had hinted that he would teach him the Turtle Breath Technique and the Spirit Turtle Qi Art, Feng Han had held nothing back from Wu Ming.

After all, although his own meridians were already set, making changes time-consuming and laborious with half the results, it could still benefit his descendants, so he dared not slack off in the slightest.

"I have imparted all the secrets of the Adamantine Great Strength Eagle Claw Hand. What comes next is practice! Hard practice! First, grab sand! Then, grab gravel! Finally, grab iron sand! When you reach mastery, your claws will be both hard and soft, able to break anything!"

"Understood!"

Wu Ming, dressed in his training clothes, looked spirited and began practicing earnestly in front of a basin of sand placed before him.

"Flying Eagle Pounces on Sheep!"

"Eagle Strikes the Vast Sky!"

On the training ground, breathing was faintly audible, and the claw wind was oppressive. Feng Han nodded repeatedly: "I thought he was just a playboy, but I didn't expect him to have such perseverance and foundation..."

Feng Han knew very well that with such a starting point, as long as Wu Ming put in even half the effort he himself had once given, his future achievements would far surpass his own. This was the rule of the world—cruel and relentless! Every bit of effort from a noble scion required a scholar from a poor family to pay ten or even a hundred times more to catch up!

His face went blank, as if recalling something. After a moment of silence, he looked at the sun and couldn't help but say: "Enough! Young Master Ming, since you're just starting out, if you don't want to damage your muscles and bones or end up deformed, you can stop now!"

"No need!"

Wu Ming was drenched in sweat: "I can feel it... I'm still far from my limit!"

Suddenly, he leaped to the center of the training ground, moving his claws like the wind, fierce and sharp. He grabbed both sides of a human-shaped wooden post, his breathing long and deep, his nasal cavity vibrating with sound. With a twist and a wrench of his hands: "Raptor Tears Sheep!"

Crack! Crack!

With two loud sounds, wood chips flew everywhere, and the puppet's two arms were directly snapped off by Wu Ming.

"This... this... Adamantine Great Strength Eagle Claw Hand at minor mastery! And this breathing..."

Feng Han stepped forward and saw Wu Ming's hands—pale and smooth as jade, without a single callus, like those of the most pampered rich young master. His face showed shock and disbelief.

He knew then that Wu Ming's palms were being nurtured by a superior internal art, unharmed and deeply restrained, yet capable of unleashing divine strength that was overwhelming and unstoppable!

This was the supreme realm he himself had been pursuing, yet Wu Ming had achieved it so effortlessly.

Such a stark contrast left him somewhat disheartened, his pride dealt a heavy blow.

"Turtle Breath entering stillness! Long and steady qi flow... Young Master, you have actually cultivated the Spirit Turtle Qi Cultivation Technique to the level of mastery! Truly unbelievable!"

Feng Han's eyes sparkled with wonder: "This technique is full of vitality, excellent for nurturing life, and pairs perfectly with the fierce and sharp Eagle Claw Hand! It's ideal for warming and nourishing the hands, with no risk of injury... Congratulations, Young Master Ming, the Innate realm is within reach!"

In truth, after Wu Ming comprehended the Spirit Turtle Qi Cultivation Technique, he knew that advancing to Innate was no longer an obstacle.

The True Qi Realm was about generating true qi, while the Innate Realm was merely the process of filling the entire body with true qi, nurturing the origin, and returning to the innate state.

Now that Wu Ming could circulate true qi to his hands and regulate his muscles and bones, he had clearly taken a crucial step forward!

"After Innate comes External Gang! The ability to project innate true qi three inches outward, striking from a distance, unstoppable! After External Gang comes Internal Gang, with gang qi suffusing the entire body, even the internal organs and bones, forging inside and out into a single piece like a steel plate! A martial artist like that, placed in the army, is a solid match for a hundred men! Even a commoner can be promoted directly to Subordinate Ninth Rank, with a military post handed to them on a silver platter! Unfortunately..."

Feng Han sighed.

He himself was at this very realm; obtaining an official status was not difficult, but pushing further, to Eighth Rank or Seventh Rank, was as hard as reaching the heavens!

After all, aside from family background, such a warlord also required extremely high mastery of military strategy and tactics. He, a son of a humble family, was already lucky to have trained his martial arts to this level—where would he find the time to study the art of war? Add to that a lack of foundation, and he was simply without a path forward.

Such a man, without connections, would at best be a lifelong deputy, or a hired thug for high gates and wealthy officials, for great clans and noble houses.

"If there is ever an opportunity for recommendation, Wu Ming will not forget Master Feng!"

Wu Ming made the promise, exchanging a glance with Feng Han—all was understood without words.

Summer passed and autumn arrived; before they knew it, over a month of time had quietly slipped away.

During this period, Wu Ming stayed contentedly within the fortress like a country bumpkin, training daily without cease, while cautiously extending his feelers outward, probing the situation of the world and the regional powers.

And over these months, his martial arts and knowledge had both advanced greatly.

First, he had thoroughly organized and digested the memories of the wastrel, confident that he could face anyone without revealing a flaw.

Second, in martial arts, he had already reached the True Qi Realm peak, storing true qi throughout his meridians, acupoints, and dantian. With just one trigger, he could achieve great completion, returning from the acquired to the innate!

Beyond that, his skill in the Adamantine Great Strength Eagle Claw Hand had reached perfection, leaving Feng Han sighing repeatedly, saying that aside from combat experience and adaptability, there was nothing left to teach.

Autumn harvest, winter storage!

For any farmer, autumn was the most critical time of the year, even tied to the livelihood of the entire family.

In an ancient agricultural nation, the harvest was even linked to the fate of the state, of immense importance.

At this season, as the public face of the Wu family, Wu Ming could not remain idle. He had to go down to the countryside for inspections every day, or at least put on a show.

After all, the fertile fields around the fortress, and even in several nearby villages, all bore the surname 'Wu,' and most of the farmers were tenants of the Wu family.

Although the details were handled by Steward Wu and a pack of lackeys, Wu Ming still had to make an appearance.

"Hmm! The harvest is good this year!"

Wu Ming walked along the ridges with his hands behind his back, looking at the abundant millet and wheat, and remarked.

By his estimate, the yield per mu was about one to two shi—pitiful compared to his past life, but considered a decent year by the standards of the time.

"All thanks to the master's blessings!"

Beside Wu Ming, an old farmer with a hunched back, a lean and sturdy frame, rough and cracked hands, and a glint of mountain-villager cunning in his eyes, rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"You've done well as village head, Old Sun Head!" Wu Ming smiled, looking at the old man. "Anything else? Speak up..."

"Master... the harvest is good this year, but last year's drought left the villagers without winter provisions. This year, one of the estate's oxen died, and digging the irrigation ditches was all done by manpower—it cost a lot of effort..."

Old Sun Head spoke, nearly tearing up. "What about this year's rent?"

"Heh heh... That's enough! Follow the usual rate!"

Wu Ming stared at Old Sun Head for a long moment, smiling without speaking, until a fine layer of cold sweat broke out on the man's forehead, then he laughed.

"Thank you, master! Thank you, master!"

Old Sun Head was overwhelmed with gratitude, as if a great weight had been lifted. From the look of him, he was about to kneel to Wu Ming, then squeezed out a smile. "Master, rest a while. The midday meal is already being prepared—an old hen that's been stewing since last night, and some fresh game just brought down from the mountain. Country fare, just a taste of something new..."

Wu Ming hummed and hawed absentmindedly, but inwardly felt a faint sorrow.

The usual rate was half—fully fifty percent! That meant these farmers, faces to the soil and backs to the sky, spent half the year working for nothing.

Yet even so, as tenants of the Wu family, they were exempt from official levies and taxes—which was considered an incredible 'benevolent policy'! They were willingly and joyfully exploited!

"This is what I call luck. If I'd transmigrated into the lowest rung, with no food or clothing, that would be a thought to chill the bones!"

Wu Ming shuddered.