Night Practice of the Black Dragon Hand

Night had fallen completely.

Qin Meng stood in the courtyard, watching the backs of Li Tiezhu and his family disappear around the corner. He turned back into the house, where Shen Qiuyue was mending old clothes under the lamplight.

In the corner sat a basket lined with soft cloth, where the little fox was curled into a ball, sleeping soundly.

"Mengzi." Shen Qiuyue looked up. "Uncle Tiezhu, he..."

"Don't worry, Uncle is a sensible man." Qin Meng sat down on the edge of the kang and took her hand. "Once the blades are reforged, one less trouble to worry about."

Shen Qiuyue's hands were very cold.

She had guessed it from the smooth cuts on Qin Meng's lapel—when she had pressed him last night, Qin Meng hadn't hidden the fact that Song Zhong had been tailing him.

Silence spread within the halo of the oil lamp.

"Qin Lai, he won't just let it go, will he?" Her voice was so soft it was as if she were afraid of disturbing something.

Qin Meng looked out at the thick darkness beyond the window.

His wild instinct spread out like a spiderweb. With him at the center, within a radius of thirty meters, the chirping of insects, the sound of the wind, and the barking of dogs in distant alleys were all clearly discernible.

"He won't let it go." Qin Meng's voice was calm. "But he won't come tonight."

"Why?"

"Because he is smarter than Song Zhong." A flicker of disappointment crossed Qin Meng's face. "If he makes a move now, every eye in the fortress will be on him."

The light of the oil lamp danced in his eyes. "He will wait for this wave of attention to pass, wait for an 'accident' to happen. Or... borrow someone else's hand."

Shen Qiuyue's hand trembled slightly.

Qin Meng gripped her hand tighter, his palm warm and rough. "Sister Qiuyue, this is the Northern Frontier. If you want to live well, your own strength is of the utmost importance."

"From now on, you must start practicing martial arts as well."

"Ah? I, I..." Shen Qiuyue lacked confidence.

"That's right, you." Qin Meng's voice was steady. "You are still young and very smart. With strength, I will be more at ease when I go out."

Shen Qiuyue looked at him for a long time before nodding. "Alright, I'll listen to you."

Qin Meng stood in the center of the courtyard, the moonlight stretching his shadow long.

His hunting bow had been snapped by his brute force during the day.

The ghost-head blade and the ring-pommel saber had been taken back by Li Tiezhu to be melted down and reforged.

He closed his eyes, and memories surged like a tide—that was another world, another body, and the movements repeated thousands of times on the battlefield.

Black Dragon Eighteen Hands.

A profound-grade peak martial skill. According to the system's judgment, this was something branded into his soul from his "past life."

He had not practiced it deliberately until now, wanting to first grind up the proficiency of his saber techniques and archery to gain the system's stat boosts.

However, this set of martial skills focused on unarmed combat, and it was necessary to pick it up.

Qin Meng slowly assumed the starting stance—Black Dragon Emerges from Cave.

His knees bent slightly, his center of gravity sank, and his arms spread out like wings.

Then, he moved. Without warning, his entire body shot forward like an arrow released from a string, instantly covering three meters. His fist broke through the air, creating a sharp whistle!

The air was torn apart by the strike.

Shen Qiuyue poked her head out from the kitchen, still holding a wooden stirring spoon. She was simmering snake blood soup, and deer heart was boiling in a pot of water on the side.

She watched the figure in the courtyard moving like the wind. With every punch and kick, the wind whistled; the moves were ruthless and concise, each strike aiming directly for a vital point...

That was not a performance; it was pure killing technique.

She had seen the militia in the fortress drill and had seen martial artists spar, but she had never seen anything like this—no unnecessary flair. Every movement was intended to close the distance, and every strike was meant to be fatal.

Qin Meng's figure grew faster and faster under the moonlight.

In his mind, those blurry memories gradually became clear: the shouts on the training ground, the screams of opponents, the smell of sweat mixed with blood...

That was a forbidden technique synthesized from the best of various schools by the Armed Police Force, designed for unarmed combat, one against ten.

In this life, as he unleashed it with this body of "born divine valor"—

The power was even greater.

"Bang!" A fist slammed into the old locust tree in the courtyard, causing the bark to burst and wood chips to fly.

On his panel, the proficiency for [Black Dragon Eighteen Hands - Entry Level] began to skyrocket.

He continued.

The second time, the third time...

"Knock, knock." The courtyard gate was rapped.

Qin Meng withdrew his stance, exhaled a puff of white air, and walked quickly to open the door.

Outside the gate was Li Tiezhu, carrying a ring-pommel saber. Seeing Qin Meng, he handed it over, "Mengzi, the saber. It's the one you wanted, forged from high-quality refined iron."

Qin Meng took it. The blade shimmered with a cold light, and the forging quality was indeed excellent—this was the saber he had traded deer meat for with Li Tiezhu during dinner.

"And this, too." Li Tiezhu unslung the other long blade from his back.

Qin Meng took it, his hand sinking under the weight.

So heavy.

Under the moonlight, it was a black zhanma dao, five feet and six inches long. It was designed for a two-handed grip, with a wide, slightly curved blade. Most peculiar of all was that while the edge was razor-sharp, it did not reflect any light, as if it could absorb all illumination.

"This is..." Qin Meng stroked the blade. The touch was ice-cold, and a faint resonance hummed from his palm.

"It's yours." Li Tiezhu's expression was serious. "My father only remembered it when he was digging through his materials at home—this blade was left with him for repairs by your brother, Qin Lie. Later, when your brother went beyond the border for a mission..., he never came back."

He paused. "My father said that since you've turned over a new leaf and know how to earn money to support the family, this blade should be returned to its rightful owner. It should be helpful for your hunting."

Qin Meng gripped the hilt tightly.

An inexplicable sense of familiarity welled up in his heart. This blade was extraordinary; it seemed his cheap older brother, Qin Lie, was truly no ordinary man.

"Thank Uncle Tiezhu for me," Qin Meng said.

"No need. I'm heading back." Li Tiezhu waved his hand and turned, disappearing into the night.

Qin Meng closed the door and examined the zhanma dao by the moonlight. The blade had no engravings; it was purely black and shockingly heavy.

Yet, held in his hand, it possessed a strange sense of balance.

He swung it with one hand; the sound of the wind being cut was low, as if the blade could slice through the air itself.

A fine blade. He leaned both blades against the wall and continued practicing the black dragon eighteen hands. His practice became more focused; his figure moved like a ghost, and the sound of the wind changed from a whistle to a hum, as if a black dragon were truly thrashing about in the night.

When his proficiency broke through a certain threshold, a few lines of small text appeared before his eyes.

[Black Dragon Eighteen Hands - Dengtang (1/200)]

[Special Effects: Killing Intent Suppression, Weakness Detection]

Weakness Detection: Slightly increases perception of biological vitals (throat, temple, kidneys, hollow of the knee, etc.). Attacks against weaknesses are amplified by 30%.

Qin Meng stopped his movements, feeling the profound memories flooding into his mind.

—How to suppress killing intent, how to conceal one's figure, how to strike without the opponent noticing beforehand...

And there was Weakness Detection. He looked at the old locust tree in the courtyard, and a certain intuition told him: if he struck a specific texture on the tree bark, the destructive power would increase by fifteen percent.

Throat, temple, kidneys, hollow of the knee... his perception of biological vitals had improved.

It wasn't just knowledge; it was a true "perception"—just as wild instinct could capture changes in his surroundings, he could now "see" weaknesses.

He continued to practice, over and over again...

Hunger stirred in his belly. Qin Meng walked into the kitchen, where Shen Qiuyue was pouring the brewed python blood into a clay pot.

"Drink it while it's hot." She handed him a bowl.

Qin Meng took it and downed it in one gulp. The blood was slightly sweet, with the fragrance of honey, and once it hit his stomach, it transformed into a surge of heat that rushed through his limbs and bones.

He ate half a deer heart and swallowed a snake gall with the remaining half-pot of python blood.

Shen Qiuyue also drank a small bowl of snake blood soup, and her complexion quickly turned rosy.

"Come." Qin Meng pulled her out into the courtyard. "Starting today, I will teach you."

He didn't teach her complex moves, only the simplest squats and push-ups. He demonstrated every movement himself, correcting her posture.

Shen Qiuyue learned very earnestly. Sweat soon soaked her hair, but she gritted her teeth and repeated the movements over and over.

Qin Meng watched her, his heart stirred.

This woman was soft on the outside but tough on the inside; she had a natural resilience in her bones.

Once she was familiar with the set of exercises, Qin Meng continued with his own black dragon eighteen hands. The heat in his belly flowed continuously; the deer meat, snake gall, and python blood—these foods rich in qi and blood were now acting as fuel for his martial arts practice.

He felt no fatigue.

His eyes gradually became cool in the night, and his vision grew clearer and clearer. It wasn't just that he could see clearly; he could even distinguish the heat radiating from Shen Qiuyue and could "see" the temperature contours of the embers in the kitchen.

Night vision, thermal sensing.

These were the added effects of his eyes' transformation.

[Black Dragon Eighteen Hands - Dengtang (136/200)]

Late at night, Qin Meng finally stopped, the white mist of his breath swirling in the moonlight. His physical strength was exhausted to the limit, but his mind was exceptionally clear.

Tomorrow, with a little more effort, he would reach "mastery."

He looked at Shen Qiuyue. After finishing her squats and jogging, she was still persisting with her push-ups. Her arms were trembling, but she pushed down and pushed back up again.

"That's enough." Qin Meng walked over and helped her up.

Shen Qiuyue leaned into his arms, her clothes soaked with sweat, her breathing rapid, but her eyes were bright.

After a simple wash, the two went into the inner room, lay down, and fell asleep in each other's arms.