Inner Scripture

"As I thought..."

After Chen Feng maxed out his experience points on Bone Setting Essentials, his understanding of his own body reached a whole new level.

Where Qi Blood came from, where it went, and which bones it nourished.

He had it all figured out.

With deliberate control, he felt the circulation of Qi Blood through his meridians become much smoother.

If before, improving his realm could only be achieved by practicing martial arts, by repeatedly using the Five Elements Fist Technique.

Then now, Chen Feng could generalize from one instance to others, without rigidly punching to temper his bones.

He could even utilize the Tai Chi Profound Origin Technique, the rise and fall of Qi Blood with each breath, to improve himself!

Although slower, the advantage was that he was constantly progressing, like spring rain nourishing things silently.

Truly achieving, even his breathing was getting stronger!

Chen Feng then picked out a few more medical books, all internal medicine works like Internal Realm Diagram and Collected Records of the Five Viscera.

After bone tempering came the Viscera Quenching realm, so he bought them all at once to save himself another trip next time.

Chen Feng walked out of the bookstore with a few books in his arms.

However, a hint of worry creased his brow:

"I only worked as a medicine boy for a few days and maxed out Grasshopper Step, now my experience points are tight again..."

When he first transmigrated, he always felt like he had an inexhaustible supply of experience points. Now that he was short, he realized how precious they were.

Suddenly, a few noises came from not far away.

From a pastry shop.

Chen Feng had some impression, it seemed to be called...

Shengfangzhai.

Before apprenticing, he had come to buy a few pastries as gifts, and he had a deep impression of this shop.

Because the pastries there were very expensive, just a few pieces cost him two liang silver.

Fortunately, his Master thought the taste was good.

Otherwise, Chen Feng definitely would have...

Never coming back.

Chen Feng curiously looked towards the entrance of the pastry shop, only to see a group of strongmen surrounding the shop.

Fortunately, he was tall, and could vaguely see what was happening inside.

In the center of the encirclement was the young owner of the shop, wearing a long skirt and standing behind a few guards.

But the number of guards was clearly far fewer than the group of strongmen causing trouble.

Chen Feng shook his head, not wanting to meddle.

"What do you mean by this?! This is a shop of the Fuxing Merchant Association!"

The guards' scolding voice reached Chen Feng's ears through the noisy crowd.

Chen Feng paused his steps.

Fuxing Merchant Association?

Meng Zhaowu's family's?

Shengfangzhai, entrance.

A group of thugs dressed in shorts, each with a fierce expression, had completely surrounded the pastry shop.

The people around avoided them, fearing they would provoke these men, and kept their distance. No one dared to enter the pastry shop to buy anything.

The leader was a long-haired youth.

He lightly swayed a folding fan in his hand, but he had no elegant demeanor. Instead, under the contrast of the thugs, he appeared roguish.

The guards of the pastry shop looked grim.

But they still protected the woman behind them.

The youth tossed his head, casually flicking his long hair from his forehead to the back, and slowly said:

"Zhiwei, we're old acquaintances. I won't make things difficult for you. Pay the management fee, and these brothers will naturally leave. Otherwise, don't blame us for being ruthless and disrupting your business."

Meng Zhiwei remained silent, merely glaring fiercely at the long-haired youth.

However, even the fiercest gaze from a delicate woman lacked any deterrent power.

The youth smiled without warmth.

"Don't be so resistant. We at Yicheng Hall are actually quite reasonable. If I recall correctly, almost all the shops on this street belong to your Fuxing Merchant Association, right?"

"What do you want!"

The young man feigned a thoughtful expression and said:

"Hmm... how about this? For every shop on this street registered under the Fuxing Merchant Association, you only need to hand over Fifty Percent Income each month."

"Fifty-fifty, how about that? Not bad, right?" With a sharp snap, the young man flicked open his folding fan and began to wave it gently.

"In your dreams!"

Meng Zhiwei refused decisively. How could she possibly agree to such a thing?

Fifty percent of their monthly income.

How could they possibly continue doing business? Furthermore, there was no such logic that one couldn't operate a business without paying a Protection Fee.

The merchant association had spent real gold and silver to purchase these shops, not to pay tribute to Yicheng Hall.

"Don't be so hot-headed. It's not like we can't negotiate. Think about it: if I bring people to block this street every single day, you won't be able to do business, and I won't make any money either. What a waste, right?"

"But if you agree, wouldn't it be a win-win situation? Harmony brings wealth, after all."

The young man made no effort to hide the threat in his words.

Meng Zhiwei knew that what he said was entirely possible. These thugs could truly be shameless enough to block the shop entrances every single day.

They wouldn't even need to resort to violence.

A group of Strongman types standing together at the door.

Who would dare to come in and buy anything then?

But Meng Zhiwei could not afford to yield even an inch. Once she retreated, they would certainly push their luck and become even more aggressive.

Until they had devoured everything.

"Don't even think about it. I will never agree to this," Meng Zhiwei said, rejecting him flatly.

"It seems you still haven't grasped the situation..." The young man clicked his tongue and signaled to the Strongman thugs behind him.

The thugs understood immediately and stepped forward in unison, tightening the circle around them.

The few guards were suddenly alarmed; they drew their weapons and watched the thugs before them with vigilance.

Meng Zhiwei felt a tremor in her heart, but she remained calm and said, "People from our Fuxing Merchant Association will be here any moment! I advise you not to act rashly."

Who would have thought that, upon hearing these words:

The youth burst into laughter instead:

"This is hilarious. Your Fuxing Merchant Association can barely save itself, and you're still putting on a brave front!"

"It's not just this street, but East Street, West Street too. Every shop belonging to your Fuxing Merchant Association must be in a frenzy. Who has the time to care about this place!"

The harsh mockery, like sharp needles, pierced Meng Zhiwei's body.

Her face instantly turned pale.

What the youth said was true. The association was indeed stretched thin. Recently, several major gangs had inexplicably started seizing market share and competing for business.

They wanted to establish a monopoly.

If it were normal competition, it would be fine.

But they were using dirty tactics, resorting to personal threats or blocking shop entrances and smashing stores.

These ruffian and hooligan behaviors were surprisingly effective, leaving legitimate merchants helpless.

Many merchant associations had already been forced out of business.

Or they had to become affiliated with the gangs, surviving on scraps from their leftovers.

Fuxing Merchant Association was one of the few still struggling to hold on, but it was already showing signs of fatigue.

"One last time, do you agree?"

The youth's voice grew impatient. He put away the folding fan in his hand and rested it behind his back.

A guard whispered to Meng Zhiwei, "Miss, we'll try our best to hold them off. You hide inside and don't come out."

Meng Zhiwei's face was faintly pale.

Hiding would be useless. That thin wooden door wouldn't be able to stop these men.

And the people from Yicheng Hall had surrounded the shop so tightly that escape was impossible.

Thinking of the consequences of being captured, Meng Zhiwei clenched her hands until they turned white, her fingernails digging into her flesh unconsciously, oblivious to the pain.

"Haha, looking at her up close, President Meng's daughter is truly tender."

"Who's to say otherwise? I've admired Miss Meng for a long time..." A thug licked his lips, looking at Meng Zhiwei with ill intent.

It sent a shiver down her spine.

After a long silence without the desired response, the youth finally lost his patience. He swept his hair back and waved his hand, issuing an order:

"It seems you're not planning to 'cooperate.' Then don't blame me for being ruthless and disregarding sentiment. Brothers, attack!"

Several thugs let out a shout and prepared to charge forward.

Just then.

One of Meng Zhiwei's guards narrowed his eyes and lunged toward the young man with the folding fan.

He intended to capture the ringleader first!

Unexpectedly, the young man dodged with ease, then raised his leg and kicked the guard in the abdomen.

Having missed his target, the guard had no time to evade. He took the heavy blow directly to his stomach and was sent flying backward.

Bang!

He crashed heavily onto the ground, coughing up several mouthfuls of blood, severely wounded.

"Young Master is mighty!"

The thugs cheered.

Meng Zhiwei and her remaining guards turned pale.

The young man snapped his folding fan open with a "crackle," tossed his long bangs behind his head, and said smugly:

"Heh, you actually tried to ambush this...!"

Before he could finish his sentence.

A square object whistled through the air with a sharp, piercing sound, slamming straight into the young man!

Smack!

It hit him like a slap to the face.

The immense force knocked the young man backward, sending him tumbling to the ground as he cried out in pain.

Once the dizziness subsided.

The young man picked up the square "hidden weapon" to take a look:

"Yellow Emperor's Inner Canon?"