Blood Incense

"Senior Brother Wang, please instruct me."

Chen Cheng cupped his hands slightly.

"Easy enough. Since we're fellow disciples, I'll let you have three—"

Wang Han cocked his mouth to one side, but before he could finish speaking, his expression changed drastically.

Within his shrinking pupils, Chen Cheng's figure had already closed in before him at a speed beyond anything he could have imagined even in his dreams, bearing a heavy pressure of wind.

Like an iron arrow stretched to its limit upon an invisible bowstring, then suddenly released.

The next instant, Chen Cheng's fist was already before his eyes.

Wang Han was, after all, one of the Lower Academy's finest. Amid his shock, he instinctively tilted his head aside and raised an arm to block.

Bang!

With a muffled sound, Wang Han's forearm took an incomparably solid blow. The impact churned his breath and forced him back half a step.

Chen Cheng did not pursue. His body slipped away like a swimming fish, neatly evading Wang Han's hasty counterattack.

"My judgment was right after all."

In that single exchange, Chen Cheng had already clearly sensed the obvious gap between Wang Han's supposedly one-step-from-the-threshold realm and the Mark Panel's displayed (298/300).

The transmission of force in his not-yet-full-strength punch, the precise coordination of muscle, tendons, and bones—none of it was remotely within Wang Han's reach.

"Let's try again..."

Chen Cheng steadied himself and unfolded his footwork. It was not fast, yet every step landed precisely at the point before Wang Han's rhythm could rise.

Wang Han's Dragon-Capturing Claw struck out, but Chen Cheng slightly sank his shoulders and back, easily shedding the force with the Dragon Scale Vest. The rebounding force of his muscles further numbed Wang Han's wrist.

Wang Han changed moves into the Dragon-Locking Twist, yet Chen Cheng's arm seemed slicked with oil. With a casual turn, it slipped free, and he followed with a hand chop that struck precisely upon the numbing tendon at Wang Han's elbow crease, sending clever force streaming in like fish through water.

"Hiss—"

Wang Han felt half his body go numb. He staggered back several steps and only gradually recovered after doing his utmost to regulate his breathing.

If Chen Cheng had pressed his advantage aggressively at that moment, the outcome would have been decided at once.

At the same time, the surrounding crowd—especially Fatty Fang—had already noticed something amiss, and their expressions were gradually slipping out of control.

"Still not admitting defeat?" Chen Cheng asked casually.

"I admit your mother!"

Wang Han was both shocked and enraged, his eyes splitting wide.

The muscles all over his body instantly bulged like coiling dragons, his skin flushing an unnatural pale red. His joints rattled, and from his throat came the faint sound of holding his breath, grinding heavily, and forcibly driving himself onward.

"Stop!"

Fatty Fang's expression changed. Just as he was about to intervene, he caught sight of Chen Cheng calmly assuming a stance that resembled, yet was not quite, the Crouching Dragon Stake Technique.

"Cha!"

Fatty Fang hesitated for only a moment, but Wang Han had already let out a furious roar. He drove his Crouching Force to its utmost limit, and the Crouching Dragon Crushing Fist suddenly shot forth, faintly carrying a piercing shriek through the air.

Chen Cheng's eyes shifted slightly, his gaze deep and calm.

His left foot stepped half a pace forward, its sole gripping the ground as though taking root. His waist and hips twisted tight like a bowstring, then flowed back in perfect harmony like a surging river. Force was born without end, traveling up his spine, through his shoulder, and into the tip of his arm.

His right arm burst forth accordingly, containing not only the twisting, drilling, and spiraling force upon which the Crouching Dragon Fist specialized.

Within the subtle shifts of his stance, footwork, and joints, it also secretly accorded with the true meaning of the Health-Preserving Taiji: perfect harmony without cessation, life endlessly renewing itself.

The Crouching Force erupting in that instant even exceeded the limit of strength he should have possessed at his current realm.

An inch away, it burst forth—Crouching Dragon Suppressing Prison!

"Whoosh—"

Amid the sharp howl of the gale, Chen Cheng's fist struck later yet arrived first with an absolute advantage in speed, fiercely blasting past Wang Han's cheek.

There was no actual contact, yet that gale was like a real blunt blade, grinding fiercely across Wang Han's face. A searing pain instantly spread.

His disheveled hair was dragged taut and flew backward, while his scalp tightened in waves.

Those eyes beneath his shrinking pupils went completely rigid and vacant. He had no idea what had just happened.

The only thing he could be certain of was that his all-out strike had not even touched the corner of Chen Cheng's clothes, while Chen Cheng had clearly held back with that punch. Had it been even slightly higher, it would have smashed the side of his face into torn flesh, severed tendons, and shattered bones!

The two brushed past each other, and the field fell into utter silence.

Everyone's eyes were wide, as though invisible hands had seized their throats, leaving them nearly suffocated.

Ding Qiang's fawning smile froze solid.

Li He's mouth opened and closed, but he could not utter a single word.

Shi Lei raised a hand and unconsciously scratched his closely shaven head, his Adam's apple rolling without end.

Qiao Qiao covered her little mouth. Reflected in her bright black eyes was the upright figure in the field, withdrawing his fist and slowly exhaling a breath of stale air.

"H-how is this possible!?"

The flesh on Fatty Fang's face quivered endlessly as he looked at Chen Cheng with unprecedented complexity.

"You... you've already..."

Wang Han spoke tremulously. A cold bead of sweat suddenly rolled down from his temple, sliding over his rigid cheek.

"...Me?"

A trace of hesitation passed through Chen Cheng's eyes, then turned into realization.

He had hidden his true ability for too long...

Without realizing it, he had already come this far.

"Senior Brother Chen... I admit defeat..."

Wang Han's voice squeezed out of his throat, trembling uncontrollably.

Like a man whose air had been let out, he dragged his somewhat unresponsive legs and slowly shuffled before Chen Cheng.

He forced out an almost servile, ingratiating smile, uglier than crying.

Without waiting for Chen Cheng's response, Wang Han eagerly pleaded.

"Senior Brother Chen, you know my half-year deadline is nearly up. If I can't condense Blood Qi, I'll have to take those... missions that only end in death..."

As he spoke, his knees gave way, and he actually knelt down. His eyes and nose were gradually reddening, as though tears and snot would start flowing the next second.

"Can... can you give me this Blood Refining Powder... Consider it a life that I, Wang Han, owe you... Once I condense Blood Qi and become a Martial Artist, I'll definitely repay you double..."

"I swear it!"

Among this batch of disciples, Wang Han had spent the longest time in the Lower Academy.

He had personally seen more than twenty senior brothers fail to condense Blood Qi, then completely vanish from the world after their half-year terms expired, never to be heard from again.

More than anyone else, he understood that losing this Blood Refining Powder would be no different from a calamity that blotted out the sky and buried the earth.

Face, backbone, dignity—before survival, none of them were worth mentioning.

"Junior Brother Wang, get up first. Begging me won't help with this matter."

Chen Cheng shifted two steps sideways, avoiding the direction of Wang Han's kneeling bow as he looked toward the other side.

"Senior Brother Fang, I don't want the Blood Refining Powder... Can I exchange it for cash?"

"What!?"

Fatty Fang's mouth hung half open, his eyes bulging as he stared at Chen Cheng for several breaths, as though he had not heard clearly.

"Nonsense! Do you know what you're saying?"

He steadied himself, his expression becoming exceedingly stern.

"Condensing Blood Qi can fail! You already have one foot across the threshold. It may look as if success is at hand, but in truth, this is the point where you must not slacken in the slightest!"

"Once you fail to break through, your qi and blood will backlash and damage your tendons and apertures. Your body will immediately enter a weakened period! You'll need several months of rest and nourishment before you can return to your present condition!"

Seeing Chen Cheng still looking unconcerned, Fatty Fang was so angry that the corners of his mouth twitched. He warned him almost word by word.

"Your innate bones are already inferior. Breaking through and condensing blood is several times harder for you than for others—perhaps even dozens of times harder!"

"The Blood Refining Powder can raise your chances of breaking through and condensing blood. More importantly, even if you fail, it can keep you from entering a weakened period!"

"I still... want to exchange it for cash."

Chen Cheng raised his eyes to Fatty Fang and spoke calmly.

"Senior Brother Fang probably knows about my family's situation... Winter is almost here, and I heard the Winter Tax will rise today... My mother and I have to survive first, don't we..."

"This..."

Fatty Fang was brought up short by those words. As his expression shifted, his fan-like hand directly hooked around Chen Cheng and led him several steps toward a corner away from the crowd.

"You don't need to worry about money, kid! I'll lend you some first to deal with the emergency! Ten taels, eight taels—it'll hold you over for a while!"

"Senior Brother..."

Chen Cheng opened his mouth. Before he could thank him and decline, Fatty Fang continued.

"Don't get all wishy-washy with me! Use the Blood Refining Powder and try breaking through first! I... I'm doing this for your own good!"

"Fine. Thank you, Senior Brother Fang."

Chen Cheng nodded. Though he had his own plans, he was genuinely grateful to Fatty Fang.

Fatty Fang's expression eased slightly. He took out a thumb-sized porcelain bottle from his robes and stuffed it into Chen Cheng's hand.

"Back away, all of you. Clear some space for Chen Cheng! He's about to try breaking through and condensing blood! Watch carefully; you can count this as gaining some experience in advance..."

Fatty Fang turned toward the others, then suddenly lowered his voice in warning.

"And keep your mouths shut tight! Whether Chen Cheng succeeds or fails, whoever dares make a racket or gossip about it afterward... don't blame me for being rude!"

"Yes!"

The crowd hurriedly retreated, not even daring to breathe too loudly.

Only Wang Han remained kneeling where he was, gritting his teeth hard. His nails unconsciously scraped at the blue-brick ground beneath him, producing a faint, grating sound. His fingertips were already worn open, blood glaringly bright.

Originally... the one standing in the field at this moment, receiving everyone's attention before successfully breaking through, should have been him, Wang Han!

Why!?

Why was it that, in the end, the one standing there was the trash he had always looked down upon, with utterly inferior innate bones, who should have rotted in the mud!?

What made his heart bleed and left him so stifled that he nearly exploded was that, with Chen Cheng's innate bones, even after taking the Blood Refining Powder, the possibility of failing to break through remained immense!

Wasn't this simply squandering the chance at survival that Wang Han could only beg for but never obtain?

Damn it!

Damn it all!!!

Boundless resentment, unwillingness, and the humiliation of having fate utterly trampled beneath his feet wrapped around Wang Han's heart like poisonous vines, nearly driving him alive into madness.

Elsewhere.

Chen Cheng had already completed another smooth, flowing round of the Crouching Dragon Fist. Together with the refinement progress gained from using the fist technique in battle...

Beneath the Vertical Eye Mark, the panel information quietly flickered.

[Crouching Dragon Fist]: Beginner (300/300), Traits (None)

The next instant.

Chen Cheng's whole body jolted violently, and he felt as though he had been pressed into a pot of boiling oil.

His bones and flesh seemed ready to burst apart, while his blood boiled with a thunderous roar.

Countless threads of "qi," fine as gossamer, emerged from the depths of his bones and blood. Following the gaps in his tendons and bones, they spiraled toward the Great Dragon that was his spine.

Thousands upon thousands of strands twisted into one, hammering desperately toward a single point, condensing there.

He did not know how long passed before they forcibly hammered out a stick of "incense," condensed as though tangible and glowing with a lustrous bloody hue.

The blood incense stood faintly and indistinctly deep within his dragon bones.

"Incense smoke" rose upward, neither scattering nor growing chaotic. It traveled with his blood, nourishing his body and spirit in return.

In an instant, his tendons and bones rang together, his blood surged, his five senses abruptly cleared, and his vital essence became pure and lucid.

The heavy, invisible shell that had tightly wrapped around him since the day he was born into this world seemed to crack with a snap, then collapse and shatter.

"Hah—"

A muffled roar squeezed from Chen Cheng's throat.

The veins on his forehead throbbed wildly. A faint streak of blood-red light flashed through the depths of his pupils, then vanished...

His chest cavity contracted violently, then at the very instant it seemed about to collapse, suddenly expanded.

He had succeeded!

At last, he could draw this breath!