Fang Shuwen slowly drew back his fist. Blood stained his knuckles, though he couldn't tell whether it was his or his opponent's.
He lowered his head and glanced at the gray-clad man lying on the ground. His chest had caved in, and he was well and truly dead.
"Whew. I never thought that in less than a month, I'd go from an ordinary person who knew nothing to beating an Bright Force martial master to death!"
Fang Shuwen sighed, then crouched down and began searching the gray-clad man.
Life was hard. He couldn't pass up any chance to make money.
He'd just call it compensation for emotional distress.
Soon, he found a leather wallet at the man's waist. When he opened it, he saw more than a dozen silver dollars and a yellowed piece of leather.
He pulled out the paper and unfolded it in the moonlight.
It showed several human figures, each with tiny writing beside it.
"Is this a body-tempering technique?"
In the faint light, Fang Shuwen could make out words like "tempering" and "Copper Skin."
He immediately realized it was a body-tempering technique.
Unfortunately, it seemed incomplete—a fragment.
The timing was wrong. This wasn't the time to study it.
Fang Shuwen folded the page and tucked it inside his clothes.
He continued searching the gray-clad man, finding nothing but a box of matches and half a pack of cigarettes.
Then he pulled out a work ID with a blue cover.
"Folklore and Antiquities Investigation Division. Wang Jiu."
So it really was them.
Lin Xiu had been polite when he took his leave, but the moment he turned around, he'd sent a Bright Force martial artist to intercept him.
What exactly was that Soaring Serpent scale?
What made the people from the Investigation Division value it so highly?
Fang Shuwen pondered this in silence.
He knew too little to figure out the reason behind it.
Still, the thought weighed heavily on him. Given the current situation—
if Lin Xiu and the others learned that he had taken the Soaring Serpent scale and absorbed the strange power inside it—
who knew what would happen to him?
But from what he'd seen so far, if this came to light,
then given the way the Folklore and Antiquities Investigation Division operated, he was sure to meet a terrible end.
So no one could find out. He had to take the secret to his grave.
"I need to keep a low profile for a while. I can't let anything unusual show."
Fang Shuwen made up his mind. He tucked the work ID back into Wang Jiu's clothes, stood up, and swept his gaze over the ruins.
The night wind blew through the half-collapsed roof, carrying the choking smell of blood and lime dust.
He bent down, grabbed Wang Jiu's corpse by the ankles, and dragged it to the deepest corner of the ruins.
There was a dry well there. Rubble blocked most of its mouth, leaving a dark opening just wide enough for a person to squeeze through.
Fang Shuwen pushed the corpse down, then piled a few stones over the well mouth, making the scene look as if it had naturally collapsed.
When he was done, he brushed the dust from his hands and vanished into the night.
He didn't go straight back to the Zhao Estate.
Instead, he wound through the county town's narrow alleys seven or eight more times. Only after making sure no one was following him did he head toward the Zhao Estate.
The Zhao Estate's back courtyard.
A lamp was still lit in Old Fang's room. Through the window paper, Fang Shuwen could see a hunched figure sitting at the table.
When Fang Shuwen pushed open the door, Old Fang was dozing with his head bowed, nodding off again and again.
Hearing the noise,
Old Fang jerked his head up. A trace of relief flashed in his cloudy eyes.
"Shuwen, you're back? Are you hungry? Hu Da saved you some food. Want me to heat it up?"
"I've already eaten. You should get to bed early, Dad."
Fang Shuwen answered and went into the inner room, drawing the curtain shut.
He sat down on the bed in the inner room. The lamplight filtered through the curtain, casting a patch of dim yellow light on the blue-brick floor.
Fang Shuwen took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.
The fight—from being followed to turning the tables—had lasted no longer than the time it took to drink a cup of tea.
But only he knew how dangerous it had been.
If that packet of lime hadn't held Wang Jiu up for even a moment—
if his opponent hadn't been careless and failed to anticipate his sudden breakthrough to Bright Force—
then,
the one lying in that dry well right now would probably have been him.
"Bright Force martial artist..."
Fang Shuwen lowered his head and looked at his hands.
His palms were even larger than before. His knuckles were thick, the muscles at the base of his thumbs bulged, and beneath his skin, he could just make out the surge of his blood and vital energy.
He clenched his fists. His knuckles cracked.
It wasn't the crisp crack of before, but a dull sound, rumbling like muffled thunder.
One sound.
Just one.
The three bone-cracks from his feet, waist, and shoulders had merged into one.
This was the true "Three-Sound Bone Crack"—his whole body moving as one.
Fang Shuwen slowly unclenched his fist and summoned the Martial Dao Panel again.
The light screen unfolded before his eyes, its words appearing like flowing water.
[Name: Fang Shuwen] [Attack: 10; Defense: 8; Life: 6; Spirit: 3] [Technique: Soaring Snake Fist (Grand Completion)] [Special Effect: Snake Form] [Skill Points: 22]
Fang Shuwen's gaze swept down the panel line by line, his pupils widening slightly.
Attack had jumped from 7 to 10, defense had risen from 6 to 8, life had increased from 5 to 6, and spirit hadn't changed at all.
This time, the improvement from advancing Soaring Snake Fist from proficiency to grand completion had boosted his attributes far more than any previous breakthrough.
Each attribute had increased by three. Three might not seem like much, but his strength had nearly doubled.
He hadn't tested it yet, but judging by how he felt, he could lift at least twelve hundred jin.
His defense had increased by two. His skin felt much rougher to the touch, almost like cowhide.
"I wonder if I can withstand cold weapons."
Fang Shuwen thought for a moment, then picked up a small knife from the table.
He drew it across his arm, leaving only a faint white mark. It hadn't even broken the skin.
Fang Shuwen paused, then pressed harder.
The blade dug into his skin, but still didn't cut through. It left only a deeper indentation, which soon faded.
"So this is what a defense of 8 can do?"
Fang Shuwen murmured, then pressed harder still, using roughly a hundred jin of force.
This time, the blade finally cut his skin, and a little blood seeped out.
Seeing this, Fang Shuwen put the knife away
He had a clearer idea now.
It wouldn't be easy for an ordinary person to hurt him with a cold weapon.
As for firearms...
Fang Shuwen shook his head. They were on another level.
A defense of 8 still wouldn't stop them.
"Life only increased by one, and spirit hasn't changed..."
Fang Shuwen's gaze returned to the panel, and his brows drew together slightly.
His spirit attribute was still 3. Aside from the time he'd awakened his talent, it had barely changed through all his subsequent improvements.
Looking farther down, he saw 22 skill points.
"Hm? This improvement only cost 15 skill points—less than the jump from practiced to proficient?"
Fang Shuwen stared for a moment. Based on how the panel worked, the higher the level of a martial art, the more skill points it should take.
So why had this improvement cost less?
He stared at the numbers on the panel, his thoughts racing.
Fifteen points.
It had taken only 15 points to go from proficiency to grand completion.
But the previous jump, from practiced to proficient, had cost 20.
"Could it have something to do with Lord Zheng's pointers today?"