Cultivation

Early the next morning.

Feng Xiu and Xiang Geng ate breakfast in the courtyard.

Following the recipe for Bone Refining Claw, Xiang Geng went to a nearby town to buy medicinal ingredients.

Feng Xiu had brought quite a few with him in his trunk, but several crucial ones were still missing: red saltpeter, iron-thread vine, and century-old vinegar.

After Xiang Geng left, Feng Xiu continued working through his ideas for Tyrant Fist.

He repeatedly tried to summon that "pause" of force in his dantian.

Sometimes it worked, sometimes it failed. When he succeeded, his qi and blood surged to his shoulder, as if someone had given it a shove.

When he failed, his chest felt stifled and blocked, as though he had been punched hard. It took ages to recover.

He tried ten times and succeeded three times.

Seven failures.

Overall, though, he was doing considerably better than last night.

After pausing for a moment, Feng Xiu went to the stone table, picked up a cup of rough tea, and drank.

At the same time, he brought up his status panel.

[Life: 17]

[Spirit: 7]

[Strength: 12]

[Agility: 7]

[Technique Record: None]

[Synthesis: Not at the pinnacle (unavailable)]

[Supreme Attainment: Vajra Finger Blade]

His attributes were still the same. Feng Xiu smacked his lips, savoring the bitterness on his tongue. He had thought that practicing Tyrant Fist would cause the corresponding martial art to appear in his records.

Now he saw that he had been getting ahead of himself.

"Tyrant Fist is just an idea. In a way, what I'm doing isn't much different from creating a martial art from scratch."

"Besides, Tyrant Fist doesn't involve the effects of external training. It's merely a method of delving deeper into the control of qi and blood."

Feng Xiu thought it over for a while, then came back to himself and realized that his reasoning might be off.

So not every martial art could raise his attributes?

Feng Xiu shook his head, closed the panel, and continued exploring how to practice Tyrant Fist.

In the afternoon, Xiang Geng returned with the medicinal ingredients.

The two of them went to the bamboo grove.

Deep in the grove, Xiang Geng found a relatively open patch of ground and had two stoves built from stones.

A large iron pot sat over one stove, filled with blackish-red iron sand mixed with crushed pebbles. It was heated until scorching hot.

In the other, a clay pot, medicinal broth bubbled away, filling the air with a rich herbal fragrance.

"Eldest Young Master, you can begin."

Feng Xiu walked up to the iron pot and looked down at the scorching iron sand.

A wave of heat hit him in the face, making his cheeks burn.

He took a deep breath and slowly sank both hands into the sand.

Hot.

The jagged grains dug into his palms, while the pebbles scraped between his fingers. Heat seeped through his skin and into his bones.

Feng Xiu's brow furrowed slightly. After becoming a martial artist, his pain tolerance and endurance had greatly improved. This much pain was still within his limits.

Then he began moving his hands through the iron sand.

Once, twice, three times.

Xiang Geng watched from the side, a hint of approval in his eyes.

For a first try, simply enduring it was no small feat.

Fine sweat beaded on Feng Xiu's forehead, but his hands never stopped moving.

Bone Refining Claw did not train the hands themselves, but the bones and joints in them. It made every inch of skin on the hands endure the heat, which then worked its way into the bones.

When martial artists first began practicing, they had to soak their hands in medicinal broth after every short interval.

With Vajra Finger Blade as his foundation, Feng Xiu could naturally stretch the intervals much longer.

After an unknown length of time, Xiang Geng said, "That's enough."

Feng Xiu pulled his hands out of the iron sand.

They were bright red, coated in blackish-red iron-sand powder, and his fingertips trembled slightly.

He went to the clay pot and immersed his hands in the medicine.

The warm liquid enveloped his hands. The burning sensation gradually faded, replaced by a pleasant, tingling numbness.

Feng Xiu leaned against a bamboo stalk and closed his eyes, letting the medicinal properties seep into his hands.

Xiang Geng stood nearby, his gaze falling casually on Feng Xiu's hands.

His eyes narrowed.

How had he never noticed before? Feng Xiu's five fingers were almost exactly the same length and thickness.

Ordinary people's middle fingers were the longest, followed by their ring fingers, while their little fingers were the shortest.

But when Feng Xiu spread his hand, all five fingers were almost even. And then there were his nails.

They were much darker than an ordinary person's—not the usual grayish white, but a faint, ink-black jade color.

Xiang Geng froze for a moment, then looked away without saying anything.

After a while, Feng Xiu opened his eyes and pulled his hands from the medicinal broth.

The skin on his hands was a little rosier than before, but the bluish-black color of his nails had deepened.

He brought up the panel and glanced over it.

[Recorded: Bone Refining Claw (Not yet initiated)]

In the days that followed, Feng Xiu practiced with iron sand every morning, soaked his hands in medicinal broth every afternoon, and worked on Tyrant Fist's pause of force at dawn and dusk.

Xiang Geng kept busy, too.

When he had returned from the Wild Market earlier, he had also brought back a manual for Wind Chasing Step.

"Eldest Young Master, take a look at this footwork manual." He handed the booklet to Feng Xiu. "It's a lightness skill. Once you've mastered it, you can run faster than a horse."

Feng Xiu took the booklet and leafed through it for a while.

The principle behind Wind Chasing Step was simple: borrow the wind's momentum and let the body move with it.

At its peak, wind sprang from beneath one's feet, carrying the practitioner several yards with each step.

Feng Xiu handed the booklet back to Xiang Geng and went straight to asking about the key points of training.

"What's the principle?"

A good teacher was there to be used, after all. Xiang Geng was far better at teaching than Han Che.

Of course, their strengths were different: one focused on combat, the other on martial arts.

Xiang Geng thought for a moment. "Put simply, it's about making the qi and blood in your soles work in tandem with the ground's rebound."

"When you run, the instant your foot touches the ground, you use the force rebounding from it to run faster and faster."

Feng Xiu considered this. It seemed to follow the same principle as that joke about stepping on your own left foot with your right.

But that was the marvel of martial arts: they could draw out power from the tiniest details.

Feng Xiu pondered for a moment, then asked, "What about when you start running? There's no rebound force then, is there?"

Xiang Geng smiled. "Eldest Young Master, you've hit the nail on the head. Starting off depends on an explosive burst, not borrowed force. You start with your leg strength, then rely on borrowed force once you're running."

Feng Xiu nodded and asked, "What about turning? If you turn while borrowing force, won't your steps get tangled?"

"Turning does make it easy to lose your rhythm. That's why Wind Chasing Step has a specific method called Folding Step. It lets you change direction while borrowing force."

Xiang Geng paused, then added, "But it's difficult to master. If you get the force wrong while turning, you could twist your ankle."

Feng Xiu suddenly understood. Xiang Geng's explanation had indeed given him some fresh insights.

"When you practice, remember to draw the qi upward a little. Once you can raise your qi and settle it at your waist, the rest will fall into place."

Xiang Geng had stayed up late reading the Wind Chasing Step manual the night they set out for the Wild Market, so he naturally knew its key points by heart.

"Right. It's time to draw it upward."

Feng Xiu gave a slight nod after hearing him, a faint note of emotion in his voice.

The abrupt turn in the conversation left Xiang Geng momentarily stunned.

"I heard Old Zhang from Clay Figure Street is about to reach retirement age."

Feng Xiu spoke softly again. At the end of his words, his gaze shifted to Xiang Geng.

There was no emotion in his eyes, yet Xiang Geng felt the same oppressive scrutiny he would have felt from the family head.

His expression immediately turned solemn, and he bowed slightly. "Thank you, Eldest Young Master, for your support."

Feng Xiu paid him no mind and began practicing Wind Chasing Step on his own.

He drew his qi upward and sent his strength to his waist. His lower body immediately felt lighter. He stepped forward, and his whole figure shot out like an arrow loosed from its string.

He touched the ground with his toes at every step. As he practiced, his movements held a light, graceful quality.

Xiang Geng took a deep breath, slowly coming back to himself after the pleasant surprise.

He watched intently, growing more astonished by the moment.

The eldest young master wasn't just talented—he was quick-witted, too. Many questions Xiang Geng had only just thought of were ones Feng Xiu had already worked out for himself.

A man like him had not reached this point through family resources alone.