After eating a heaping plate of assorted fruit for lunch and downing several Panacea Potions, Zhang Tie lay in a recliner at the edge of the grass, wrapped in a warm blanket. Listening to the lively murmur of the stream beside him, he took an exceptionally comfortable, warm afternoon nap.
The tingling numbness in his leg roused Zhang Tie from his deep sleep. He actually wanted to sleep a while longer, but it felt as if countless ants were crawling through the bones of his leg. He could not even scratch the itch, so he had no choice but to wake up.
That sensation of ants crawling inside his bones was the feeling of the completely shattered bones in his leg healing anew. If it had been anyone else, after enduring such torture, even if the leg was not crippled, it would have taken five months to heal. Yet Zhang Tie's recovery speed was astonishing. Only a month after returning to the Castle of Black Iron, that leg was already seventy to eighty percent healed.
Not only was his leg nearly healed, but the wounds covering his body had also closed and scabbed over. Once the scabs fell away, the skin on his body was as smooth and fresh as a peeled tender egg, without the slightest trace of a scar.
These were Zhang Tie's most idle and contented days, and also the longest stretch he had remained in the Castle of Black Iron at one time since that long sleep.
For over a month, Zhang Tie's task had been to recuperate, recuperate, and recuperate some more. Aside from eating, drinking, and sleeping, the only cultivation he undertook during his idle moments—and the only cultivation his current physical condition permitted—was familiarizing himself with the contents and secret arts of the