Distributing Grain

Feng Xiu didn't even bother to wipe his sweat, staring down at his own hands in shock.

His hands had become rougher and thicker than before, as if coated in a dense layer of calluses. But the most astonishing change was in his fingers!

Among his five fingers, except for the thumb, the other four had grown to the exact same thickness and length!

He could sense that his grip strength, the distribution of muscle power in his hands, and his dexterity had all increased several times over!

On his original ten fingers, sharp protrusions slowly grew from the tips beneath the nails.

The nails looked as if they were encased in a layer of pitch-black crystal jade—dark and translucent, with a slight curve and sharpness, gleaming with a cold, piercing light!

"This...!"

Feng Xiu was completely stunned. The sense of power, the sense of skill, the sense of blood and qi were all still there.

But this transformation in his hands—heavy yet sharp—left him staring for a long time without snapping out of it.

"Finger blades, finger blades. The Five Force Fist is a high-level martial art, emphasizing the ultimate integration of all bodily strength, the unity of five forces, delivered through hand techniques."

"Both the stance training and the Eight Sections Vajra Skill can be seen as subordinate martial arts to the Five Force Fist, used to solidify the foundation and nurture the body."

Feng Xiu reached out and pinched the nail on his index finger, offering a guess based on the most fundamental principles.

But as he made this unconscious motion, just as he was pondering the lethal uses of the finger blades, he heard a sound.

Crack.

The index finger's nail detached from the nail bed. Feng Xiu was dumbfounded.

"No, ah—"

"Wrong!" Feng Xiu's expression turned serious, and he immediately activated the Internal Breath Method.

Instantly, a spontaneous sense of blood-and-qi connection seemed to link with his consciousness in some intangible way.

Afterward, Feng Xiu reattached the nail. A feeling of hardness came through, and he forcefully scraped it against a crossbeam inside the carriage.

A clear scratch mark was left behind!

"This isn't a nail—it's a qualitative change from materialized blood and qi!"

"It can do that!?" Feng Xiu mused to himself.

On his astonished face, it seemed he had connected the finger blades to the primal martial principle of striking first.

"Then, can I shoot the nails out like hidden weapons?"

All along the way, Feng Xiu was exploring how the Vajra Finger Blade enhanced his actual combat abilities.

New ideas kept surfacing in his mind. After a series of attempts, he discovered it was possible!

And not just possible—highly feasible!

First was the issue of hardness. After the nail detached from the bed, its hardness was astonishing!

Feng Xiu tested it by biting with his teeth—he nearly chipped a molar.

Next was the connection issue. To maintain the bond between the nail bed and the nail, Feng Xiu had to expend a portion of his blood and qi to ensure it wouldn't fall off.

Moreover, through repeated experiments, Feng Xiu gradually found the blood-and-qi trick to operating the Vajra Finger Blade. Then, he realized he could control the growth of his nails!

The limit was roughly the length of three stacked index fingernails, thicker, and with a stronger connection to the nail bed!

"So, the existence of the Vajra Finger Blade instantly gives me extremely high close-combat and ranged capabilities?"

Thoughts kept flooding Feng Xiu's mind, but two problems remained before him.

"I need to carefully test the regeneration speed of the nails. How exactly do I shoot them out?"

Feng Xiu pondered. He thought of the ultimate force-release method in the Five Force Fist—the unity of five forces—and gave it a try.

"No good. The nail is a product of blood and qi, but ultimately, it lacks a 'primer' for impact."

He tried the blood-and-qi circulation pattern of the Vajra Finger Blade again, but it still didn't work.

Feng Xiu shook his head, realizing he had been a bit too presumptuous.

"Maybe, when I advance to Blood Burning and condense blood to gather force, I can try again. Since that's the case, I'll settle for a lesser approach—just use wrist technique to flick it out directly!"

According to his plan, the nail, or rather, the nail projectile, should be something he could launch with a casual lift of his hand.

In other words, no wind-up. Before learning more advanced blood-and-qi force-release techniques, setting an ultimate goal outright was indeed unrealistic.

Feng Xiu thought of the glass marbles he played with as a child. Using a marble-like method might achieve the same effect.

Then, he lifted the carriage curtain again.

His eyes swept over the bustling crowd outside the window, and he abandoned the urge to test it.

"Have I underestimated the Five Force Fist, or the Eight Sections Vajra Skill?"

"The Ultimate Martial Path represents the power born from cultivating three techniques to their peak—and by coincidence, those three martial arts share the same origin."

"I need to find a good martial art technique soon."

Feng Xiu's thoughts flowed methodically; after carefully taking stock, he silently pondered to himself.

At that moment, the carriage had already left the inner city, passing through the main central street, where a gray-white wall separated the inner and outer districts.

The wheels rumbled over the bluestone slabs. The outer city's houses appeared somewhat dilapidated, and the view lacked many of the ornate railings, painted beams, and retro-styled buildings.

Along the shopfronts, there were also many refugees in tattered clothes, gaunt and sallow.

Some stared longingly into the corner eateries, where shop assistants deftly cleared leftover scraps from tables, unable to help swallowing their saliva.

"Mom, how much longer do we have to stand here~"

Further ahead, a dozen or so refugees had spontaneously formed a market-like gathering in front of an abandoned mud house.

Occasionally, some portly, shrewd-looking men would pick and choose among the crowd.

This was accompanied by arrogant price inquiries and hesitant, stammering replies.

Feng Xiu's brow furrowed slightly. He recognized that man.

The style of his clothing clearly marked him as someone from the Fan Family's brokerage.

"Mom, why do I have a straw stuck in my hair?"

A gaunt woman's face was streaked with tears and dust, frozen into a pallid mask. Many of the refugees around her had already signed indentures.

The woman opened her mouth, then looked at the thin, weak girl who seemed too innocent to even complain of hunger.

Unable to bear it any longer, she lowered her head and wept. After a moment, she still raised her head, watching the brokerage man about to leave.

"Sir, please take a look at me..." The woman steeled herself, pushing the girl forward slightly.

But before the words left her mouth, an aged voice interrupted, "Wait a little longer."

At the same time, a withered, wrinkled arm, following the woman's momentum, gently redirected the wide-eyed, bewildered girl toward the street.

"Your fate has arrived," the voice continued at her ear.

The woman froze, only to see the carriage stop.

"Eldest Young Master, someone's blocking the road ahead."

On the carriage's front seat, the young driver's hand holding the reins paused. He tugged the horse's rope and asked in a low voice.

"Eldest Young Master, should we keep going?"

"Stop the carriage."

Feng Xiu opened the rear door and stepped down. His cowhide boots landed on the ground as he calmly swept his gaze around.

The many unsold refugees—men, women, old, and young alike—all looked on with fear and avoidance.

They didn't know why the carriage, which usually sped past as if fleeing from something, had stopped.

And why a young master in splendid brocade robes, clearly from a wealthy household, had descended.

"Go. Now, notify Uncle Zheng. Have him summon all the grain shop managers from the family estate.

Tally the refugees in the city. Starting tomorrow, set up porridge stalls on every first, third, and fifth day. Tell them it's by my order."

The young driver quickly replied, "I'll go at once."

He then turned the horse's head and drove the carriage back toward the inner city's Feng Mansion.

After the driver left, Feng Xiu let out a soft sigh. If these were his own farm tenants, he could soothe them, make excuses.

But facing a crowd on the verge of starvation, selling their own children, he could only offer a small measure of help.

In the end, the martial path could be grand and bold, but never petty.

Since he had encountered this, he might as well lend a hand.