Fang Shuwen? He definitely wouldn't dare kill anyone~ (Seeking reads)

This was not the straight punch of the Body Strengthening Fist.

The straight punch of the Body Strengthening Fist travels in a direct line, launching from the waist to take the shortest path to the target.

But this punch traced a strange, curved arc.

The fist tip carved a crescent through the air, cutting in from the side like a snake's fang piercing the vital spot of its prey from an oblique angle.

"Bang!"

The fist bit into the wooden dummy.

The dummy shook violently, the friction between its base and the bluestone floor emitting a piercing screech.

At the point of impact, the surface of the ironwood was marred by several new cracks.

They were dense and tangled, as if the wood had been smashed by an iron rod.

Fang Shuwen did not pause; a second punch followed closely behind.

This time it was his left fist, also thrown in an arc, but in the exact opposite direction.

The right fist had arced from right to left, while the left fist arced from left to right.

The interval between the two strikes was less than half a breath.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Fang Shuwen began to accelerate.

Right fist, left fist, right elbow, left palm, right knee, left leg—every joint in his body became a weapon. Each strike followed a curved trajectory, and each landed with precision on a different part of the wooden dummy.

His movements did not look particularly fast; there were no dazzling, blurred shadows of fists.

Yet, the transition between each strike was so fluid that it did not seem like the work of someone who had just learned this set of techniques.

By the time Fang Shuwen reached his thirtieth strike, the base of the wooden dummy had begun to loosen.

The ironwood dummy and the bluestone base had originally been joined by a mortise and tenon structure, fitting together seamlessly.

But under dozens of consecutive heavy blows, the tenon had begun to give way. The dummy swayed back and forth with every hit, and the screeching friction against the floor grew increasingly harsh.

At this moment, Fang Shuwen paused for half a beat.

He was not tired; he was waiting.

He waited for the exact instant the dummy swung back to the center.

Fang Shuwen struck in a flash.

His breathing was steady and long, his heart rate calm, yet every muscle in his body maintained a subtle, coiled tension.

His spine twisted segment by segment starting from the tailbone, his center of gravity dropped below his dantian in an instant, and his waist and hips exploded with force.

"Soaring Serpent Stance!"

The fist tip tore through the air.

This punch was unlike any of the ones that came before.

The air was ripped apart by the fist, producing a short, sharp sonic boom.

It was not the sound of bones cracking, but the pure sound of wind being shattered—a tiny explosion caused by friction so intense it tore through the atmosphere.

"BANG!!"

The fist bit into the deepest crack at the center of the wooden dummy.

Splinters of ironwood erupted outward.

They didn't just fly off in pieces; the entire dummy burst apart from the middle, shards of wood whistling through the air as they scattered.

They clattered against the bluestone floor, the weapon rack, and the courtyard wall.

The tenon connecting the base to the ground was ripped clean out of the bluestone by the sheer force, flying three paces away with a spray of wood chips before crashing against the base of the white wall.

Fang Shuwen held his punching posture, slowly exhaling a breath of stale air.

"The power of this punch must be around fifteen hundred jin!"

"If unleashed suddenly, even a Bright Force expert would suffer a heavy blow if they took this head-on."

Fang Shuwen recalled his half-month of training at the martial arts hall.

Although the original owner hadn't achieved much, he had acquired a great deal of knowledge regarding martial cultivation.

For instance, the classification and standards of the basic realms of martial arts.

Among them, three bone-cracks signified a Bright Force martial artist.

The most prominent indicators, aside from the number of bone-cracks, were a single-arm strength of around eight hundred jin and the ability to unleash a two-thousand-jin impact force.

"Once the assessment results come out tomorrow, I'll have done right by Old Fang. Next, I need to find a way to make money, improve my martial realm, and strive to enter the Bright Force as soon as possible."

In this godforsaken world, only with Bright Force could one truly have the power to protect oneself, and only then would one have the surplus energy to acquire more resources and fight for a better life.

Fang Shuwen was no exception.

The night was deep.

In the North District of Xikou County Town, at the Guo Mansion.

Two steam lamps illuminated the living room as bright as day. Guo Ziming huddled in a leather sofa, still wearing his silk pajamas, his chubby face wearing a look of panic as if he had just been dragged out of bed.

His father, Guo Huaili, stood beneath the crystal chandelier, his face ashen.

"Section Chief Lin, you visit in the dead of night. May I ask what for?"

Guo Huaili cupped his hands in a salute, his tone stiff.

He was the Chairman of the Xikou Chamber of Commerce, a man of status and influence in the county town.

Being sought out in the middle of the night naturally left him feeling displeased.

Had the person before him not been someone of such peculiar standing, he would have had him thrown out long ago, regardless of whether he was a section chief or a detective.

But the visitor had identified himself:

Folklore and Antiquities Investigation Division.

Section Chief Lin Xiu.

Ordinary people might not have heard of this office, but Guo Huaili knew it all too well.

Three years ago, a group of Nanyang merchants smuggling antiques at the Xikou docks had been cornered in a warehouse by agents from the Investigation Division.

The next day, those Nanyang merchants, along with their dozen or so bodyguards, had vanished from Xikou County entirely. Not even a bone was found.

The Public Security Bureau claimed they had fled, but the dockworkers swore on their lives that the screams echoing from the Investigation Division's courtyard that night could be heard three streets away.

It was likely the work of this very Investigation Division.

Though he was not afraid, he still had to show the proper respect.

"Chairman Guo, forgive me for the late-night intrusion."

Lin Xiu sat on the sofa and took the hot tea handed to him by an attendant, but he did not drink it, merely setting it on the coffee table.

He wore a formulaic smile and, without beating around the bush, went straight to the point: "I have come here today because there are some matters I need to confirm with Young Master Guo."

Guo Huaili frowned slightly and turned to glare at Guo Ziming.

Startled by his father's glare, Guo Ziming shrank his neck, his lips trembling as he squeezed out a few words:

"What... what matters? I've been very well-behaved these past few days! I haven't done anything shady!"

Lin Xiu smiled, reached out, and produced a photograph, sliding it across the coffee table.

"Young Master Guo, do you recognize this person?"

Guo Ziming leaned in to look. The person in the photo had a pale, bluish complexion, and their neck was tilted at an unnatural angle; they were clearly dead.

He stared for two seconds, and his face turned deathly white.

No wonder he hadn't seen Liu Mang these past few days; the kid was actually dead.

"I... I recognize him. His name is Liu Mang, he's my... my lackey."

"But I haven't seen him for many days."

Guo Ziming's voice began to tremble.

He was just a spoiled rich kid who knew how to gamble, watch cockfights, and indulge in pleasure.

He didn't have the guts to kill anyone!

Lin Xiu then pushed a second photograph forward.

It was a magnified image of a copper fragment, engraved with twisted, barbaric incantations on the front and a vertical pupil on the back.

"Young Master Guo, have you seen this before?"

"I think... I have?" Guo Ziming said uncertainly.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than he felt a sharp pain in his head.

Immediately after, Guo Huaili's voice rang out.

"If you've seen it, you've seen it. If you haven't, you haven't. Speak properly!"

Having suffered a heavy blow to the head, Guo Ziming said aggrievedly:

"It's just that, a few days ago, the last time I saw Liu Mang, he was holding this copper piece and saying he wanted to sell it to me. It was a piece of junk, so I wasn't going to buy it."

Lin Xiu asked a few more detailed questions upon hearing this.

He wrote and sketched in his notebook, recording the events and the nature of Liu Mang's interactions with Guo Ziming.

"Oh, right. Tell me more. Based on what you know, who do you think Liu Mang had a grudge with? Or, who might have killed him?"

Who might have?

At the question, the image of Fang Shuwen instantly surfaced in Guo Ziming's mind.

For a split second, he couldn't help but shudder.

But he ultimately felt it was too absurd. Even if that kid Fang Shuwen had changed a bit, he wouldn't dare kill anyone!

Thinking of this, Guo Ziming shook his head.

"No, I don't know either."