Old Man Chen... Old Man Chen

"A single sentence is enough to make him come over, kowtow, and beg for forgiveness?"

Chen Jing was stunned by this, a look of doubt appearing on his face: "Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?"

In Chen Jing's understanding, the carriage firm owner Wang Chi was a martial artist himself, and his own younger brother was a First Blood Martial Artist and the leader of the Blue Scarf Gang.

Although he had broken through to the Second Blood Martial Artist level, making the other party crawl over to beg for forgiveness seemed far too exaggerated.

"Exaggerated?"

Zhuang Tao raised an eyebrow, his tone carrying a sense of self-evident logic as he retorted: "How is this an exaggeration? Junior brother, I'm afraid you still haven't grasped what a Second Blood Martial Artist actually represents in the outer city of our Red Rock County!"

Chen Jing nodded, then honestly shook his head.

If he hadn't been beaten to death by Yan Peng with a single punch back then, Chen Jing would likely still be pulling a rickshaw through the streets and alleys, struggling for a few coins.

Ever since he started practicing martial arts, Chen Jing had poured all his focus into his training and had no opportunity to come into contact with the world of martial artists, so naturally, he couldn't understand the influence and deterrent power inherent in a Second Blood Martial Artist.

Seeing that Chen Jing was truly ignorant, Zhuang Tao took a deep breath, softened his tone, and patiently explained: "In the outer city of our Red Rock County, not counting the surrounding villages or the inner city, there is a permanent population of one hundred thousand! Do you know how many martial artists there are among these one hundred thousand people?"

Chen Jing blinked, remaining silent as he waited for the rest.

"First Blood Martial Artist, at most, there are only a little over one hundred, less than two hundred!"

Zhuang Tao held up his fingers, saying each word clearly: "And Second Blood Martial Artist, there are only fifty or sixty! Think about it carefully: out of one hundred thousand people, choosing fifty or sixty who stand at the very top—what does that represent?"

Zhuang Tao paused, his tone deepening: "It means that as long as you reveal your identity as a Second Blood Martial Artist, you can walk sideways through the vast majority of the outer city!"

"Of course, the core is our own strength. A Second Blood Martial Artist can kill an ordinary person with a casual punch. If one were to get serious, even a hundred burly men swarming at once wouldn't be a match! This is the gold content of a Second Blood Martial Artist!"

"There are actually fifty or sixty? That many?"

Chen Jing didn't pay much attention to Zhuang Tao's subsequent words, focusing instead on the number of Second Blood Martial Artist.

Having seen Zhou Xiu fail to break through to the Second Blood Martial Artist level three times and suffer from broken blood energy, Chen Jing had assumed that the Second Blood Martial Artist in the outer city were extremely rare, numbering at most a dozen or so. He never expected there to be fifty or sixty.

"That is the illusion brought about by being at a different level."

Zhuang Tao smiled, explaining in a way Chen Jing could understand: "Just like when you were pulling a rickshaw, you would work yourself to death for half a tael of silver a month. Since the other rickshaw pullers around you were all making the same amount, you would think everyone earned that much."

"But once you become a martial artist and receive a monthly stipend of over twenty taels, and the people you interact with are all martial artists earning that same stipend, you realize there are other ways to live."

"When you were a rickshaw puller, you only came into contact with ordinary people at the bottom, so naturally, you felt martial artists were rare."

"But once you grow to the level of a Second Blood Martial Artist, you will find that martial artists are actually everywhere; it's just that the old you wasn't qualified to enter this circle."

Zhuang Tao's words were like a key, instantly opening up Chen Jing's train of thought. He then thought of the inner city where Liu Chuzhou came from and asked: "What about the inner city? How many people are there, and how many martial artists?"

Mentioning the inner city, Zhuang Tao's expression became a bit more serious. He sorted through the information in his mind and said softly: "The population of the inner city is estimated to be around one hundred thousand as well. After all, the inner city has been managed by the Three Great Families for over a hundred years, long ago forming a city-within-a-city structure. Aside from the core members of the Three Great Families, outsiders have no way of knowing the specific situation inside."

"To enter the inner city, you either have to pay a large entry fee or have a pass from the Three Great Families or the authorities. For ordinary people, getting in is harder than ascending to heaven."

"Those who can settle inside are either wealthy and noble, or they are extremely powerful martial artists."

"As for the number of martial artists in the inner city... no one can say for sure."

At this point, Zhuang Tao shook his head: "The Three Great Families have deep foundations and certainly hide many experts. Furthermore, their martial artists never flaunt their strength to the outside world, so outsiders can only guess. But one thing is certain: the quality and quantity of martial artists in the inner city are far beyond what the outer city can compare to."

"I see."

After listening to Zhuang Tao's explanation, Chen Jing nodded slowly, the doubt in his eyes completely dissipating.

A Second Blood Martial Artist was already an existence standing at the top of the pyramid in the outer city. The level and deterrent power they represented were simply not something a carriage firm owner like Wang Chi, who relied on his brother and a gang to hold his ground, could contend with.

Never mind just demanding back wages; even if he told Wang Chi to hand over the carriage firm directly, the other party would likely nod and agree.

Having figured out the weight of a Second Blood Martial Artist, Chen Jing had already made his decision.

Once he finished the trivial matters at the martial arts hall, he would head straight to the carriage firm in the west of the city to demand the hard-earned money belonging to Chen Sanwu.

Not a single cent of that money could be missing!

"Junior Brother Chen, looking at your expression, that Wang Chi must have provoked you quite a bit."

Seeing the coldness hidden in Chen Jing's eyes, Zhuang Tao immediately patted his chest and said in a heroic tone: "Tell your senior brother, how exactly did he offend you? Once I step in, I guarantee I'll make him behave, so much so that he won't even dare to breathe loudly!"

Zhuang Tao was naturally forthright, and since Chen Jing was now a Blood River Realm martial artist and a brother he valued, he would naturally provide his full support now that Chen Jing had a problem.

Moreover, in Zhuang Tao's view, dealing with a carriage firm owner who relied on his brother and a small gang was no different from crushing an ant.

"It's nothing major."

Chen Jing waved his hand and said: "He just withheld my father's wages. My father is honest and didn't dare to demand them, so I plan to go over later and help my father get his wages back."

"What?!"

Upon hearing this, Zhuang Tao's eyes widened, and he said indignantly: "He actually dared to withhold even the uncle's wages? This Wang Chi is tired of living!"

Before he could finish speaking, Zhuang Tao turned to call for people: "Junior brother, wait here. I'll call a few of my men right now, smash his carriage firm, drag him out to kowtow and apologize to your father, and then make him pay back double the withheld wages!"

"Thank you for your concern, Senior Brother."

Seeing this, Chen Jing quickly stopped Zhuang Tao: "I can handle this matter myself; there's no need to trouble you, Senior Brother. I'll just make a trip later and get the wages back."

To Chen Jing, getting the wages back was just a small matter; there was no need to make a big scene.

Seeing Chen Jing's firm attitude and knowing he didn't want to trouble him, Zhuang Tao had no choice but to put away the idea of calling for men, earnestly advising: "Alright then, be careful."

"But if that Wang Chi doesn't know his place and dares to act tough with you, just tell your senior brother. I'll bring men over with great fanfare immediately; tearing down his carriage firm wouldn't be a problem at all!"

Chen Jing cupped his hands toward Zhuang Tao and said sincerely, "Understood, thank you, Senior Brother."

Following this, the two exchanged a few brief words regarding the key points of practicing the River-Breaking Martial Hall techniques.

Zhuang Tao spoke candidly, sharing all his insights on blood-energy circulation and the seamless connection of force without holding anything back.

As Chen Jing listened, he compared the advice to his own practice, and many points that had previously been vague suddenly became clear, yielding significant gains.

A moment later, Chen Jing cupped his hands in farewell, turned, and walked out of the River-Breaking Martial Hall.

Chen Jing did not break his stride; his gaze shifted, and he headed toward the west side of the city.

Chen Jing had previously pulled rickshaws at that very carriage firm, so he was intimately familiar with its location and had no need to ask for directions.

It was currently the afternoon, and the streets were filled with a constant stream of pedestrians; the sounds of hawking and the clatter of carriages and horses intertwined in a lively scene.

Chen Jing's pace was steady, his blood-energy subtly restrained, making him appear no different from an ordinary passerby. Yet, anyone who drew near could sense an invisible pressure, causing them to subconsciously steer clear of him.

Before long, Chen Jing arrived at the entrance of the carriage firm in the west of the city.

The firm was quite large, with over a dozen rickshaws parked at the entrance. Several rickshaw pullers were sitting on the stone steps, smoking and chatting, enjoying their precious downtime.

The moment Chen Jing appeared, the noisy chatter at the entrance ceased almost simultaneously.

The few pullers squatting by the wall looked up in unison. Upon recognizing the newcomer, their expressions froze, and they stood up straight in unison. Their eyes shifted from astonishment to undisguised awe.

Of course, they knew Chen Jing.

After all, three months ago, Chen Jing had been just like them—wearing a patched short jacket, hunched over, sweating, and braving the wind and rain to pull rickshaws through the city.

When they were scolded by customers or had their wages docked by the manager, everyone had to swallow their pride; no one had the standing to speak up.

But now, the Chen Jing standing before them held his back straight, his aura was steady, and every step he took carried an indescribable sense of pressure.

Clearly, the Chen Jing of today was no longer the rickshaw puller who could be ordered around at will.

Moreover, they had long heard from Chen Sanwu that Chen Jing had joined the River-Breaking Martial Hall, achieved success in his training, and officially stepped into the First Blood realm, becoming a true martial artist.

In the eyes of these bottom-tier laborers, a martial artist was a lofty figure who existed only in legends.

Even just standing there casually, he was enough to make people subconsciously lower their heads and give way.

Therefore, the gazes they turned toward Chen Jing were filled not only with awe but also with unconcealable envy.

They envied Chen Jing for ascending to the heavens in a single bound, leaping out of the mire they could never hope to escape in their lifetimes.

They envied Chen Sanwu even more for having raised such a promising son.

One of the older pullers, who had a decent relationship with Chen Sanwu, hurriedly stood up, plastered a fawning smile on his face, and stepped forward to greet him respectfully, "Master... Master Chen!"

In the past, everyone had called him Little Chen, but now that Chen Jing was a martial artist, their statuses were worlds apart. He naturally dared not address him by name anymore and subconsciously used an honorific.

The other pullers also stood up one after another, nodding toward Chen Jing with eyes full of reverence, not daring to show the slightest bit of negligence.