Traits

"...What!?"

Fatty Fang stared fixedly at Chen Cheng's spine. The lingering Blood Qi there had yet to fully settle, and the astonishment in his eyes nearly spilled forth in tangible form.

"What the hell... what kind of freakish luck is this?! He succeeded in one try?! Or could it be... the Blood Refining Powder issued this time was mistakenly top-grade!?"

His voice was not loud, yet it was like a massive boulder crashing abruptly into the crowd.

"He succeeded? Senior Brother Chen... he really did it!"

"My heavens... how long has it even been? At most, just over a month, right?"

"Congratulations, Senior Brother Chen... congratulations..."

Countless gazes instantly converged on Chen Cheng. Congratulations, amazement, and sharp intakes of breath blended into a single tumult.

Yet beneath that warm, boisterous commotion, there were still whispers as faint as mosquitoes, nearly impossible to detect.

"One try... just one try! So many senior brothers better than him, harder-working than him, with better resources than him, all failed... Could he have used some crooked method..."

"With his natural talent... if he touched the threshold in half a year, his ancestral graves would already be smoking with good fortune... How could this be..."

"The worse one's natural talent, the harder it is to break through into Blood Condensation, and the more vicious the backlash of failure... He... he actually nailed it in one shot. He must have used up all the luck of his life..."

"Heh... hehehe..."

From a corner came a strange, low laugh, spasming like a broken bellows.

Wang Han lay slumped there, his face twisted and his eyes terrifyingly vacant. The hand clawing at the ground had nails completely split and torn back, while the blue stone ground ground away at his flesh and blood. Yet he seemed to feel nothing at all.

Seeing him like this, Ding Qiang and Li He exchanged a glance, then each retreated into the distance.

Those two lackeys who had once run before and after him, practically wanting to place Wang Han on an altar, now wore nothing but naked fear and cold indifference, eager to draw a clean line between themselves and him.

"Good!"

Shi Lei suddenly let out a low roar. The suffocation, resentment, and unwillingness that had built up in his chest for so long and reached their limit today, along with the shadow of Ma Zhao's brutal death, were finally released completely.

On instinct, he wanted to rush forward and clap Chen Cheng hard on the shoulder, just as men did when celebrating.

But the instant he moved, a scorching current surged into his eye sockets without warning.

He hurriedly stopped short, abruptly turned around, and covered his face tightly with both hands. His tall, burly body slowly crouched down, and his entire body began to tremble soundlessly.

On the other side.

Qiao Qiao's tiny fist, clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned blue and trembled faintly, finally loosened. Her palm was icy cold and soaked in clammy sweat.

Her lips, bitten bloodless by her little tiger tooth, curved upward in a faint, restrained smile.

"Junior Brother A-Cheng, you really didn't disappoint me!"

In those brief moments, countless thoughts had flashed through Fatty Fang's mind. A smile propped up the flesh on his fat face, squeezing his eyes into two narrow slits.

"To be honest, I knew it from the very beginning. You, lad, are an uncut jade destined for greatness!"

"You flatter me, Senior Brother. My success this time was merely fortunate, and entirely thanks to your excellent guidance."

Chen Cheng clasped his hands and bowed, giving him ample face.

Yet deep in his eyes floated a trace of restlessness, barely perceptible.

[Crouching Dragon Fist]: Minor Accomplishment (0/1000), Trait (Armor Piercing)

Armor Piercing: Crouching Force combat technique, able to ignore one-tenth of an opponent's defense

The changes on the panel brought him an unexpected delight on top of condensing his Blood Qi.

Armor Piercing!

The force of the Crouching Dragon Fist had always pursued the spiraling qualities of twisting, turning, and drilling through, specifically to break hardened techniques and penetrate armor.

With the fixed boost from the Armor Piercing trait, a punch of equal force from him would inflict greater destructive and lethal damage.

Though it was only one-tenth.

When it truly came to battle, however, the difference of a hair could often determine victory, defeat, life, and death.

This trait, derived and fixed by the Vertical Eye Mark, made him feel steadier and more secure than a simple increase in strength ever could.

This feels too good... Once Health-Preserving Taiji reaches Minor Accomplishment, I can gain another trait...

Chen Cheng forcibly suppressed the urge to immediately circulate the Health-Preserving Taiji Fist.

This trump card still needed to stay hidden for a while.

"From this moment onward, Chen Cheng counts as an official disciple of the Middle Academy of our Dragon Mountain Martial Hall! All of you, learn from him! This is the reward for relentless training and unyielding perseverance!"

Fatty Fang swept the crowd with a cold glance, then walked over and patted Chen Cheng, his voice warming.

"Junior Brother A-Cheng, consolidate your cultivation well for a few days. Once your realm stabilizes, I'll put in a word for you above. So long as the master in charge of the Middle Academy approves, you'll truly have leapt over the dragon gate!"

The moment those words fell, another uproar rose from the sidelines.

The congratulations and flattering voices were louder and more chaotic than before.

Even the disciples who had secretly sneered at him moments ago put on their brightest smiles and scrambled to crowd around Chen Cheng.

In the end, Fatty Fang had to pull a long face and curse and drive them away before the crowd dispersed and returned to their training.

"Senior Brother Fang."

Chen Cheng steadied himself and asked.

"If I successfully enter the Middle Academy, how should the Death-Pledge Contract... be handled?"

"According to the hall's old rules, there are generally two choices."

Fatty Fang explained.

"The first is to pay ten taels of silver. The contract will be dissolved on the spot, but after entering the Middle Academy, your monthly tuition will still be five taels of silver..."

"This covers martial arts instruction, three meals a day with meat, lodging, and one portion every month of Blood-Boosting Powder to strengthen your Blood Qi!"

He glanced at Chen Cheng's expression. Ordinarily, there was no way a Lower Academy disciple could suddenly produce fifteen taels of silver at such a critical moment of promotion.

"The second is to sign a new Death-Pledge Contract. For three years, the costs of martial arts instruction and three meals a day with meat will all be waived..."

"The price is that during this time, you must condense at least Nine-Wick Blood Qi, complete your second breakthrough, and win yourself the official title of Martial Guard in the Zhao City Martial Selection..."

Fatty Fang drew a deep breath, and his voice suddenly grew heavier.

"If you fail... then you must serve Dragon Mountain Hall unto death for thirty years!"

"...The Zhao City Martial Selection? The official title of Martial Guard?"

Chen Cheng looked puzzled, clearly knowing little about it.

Fatty Fang saw his confusion and continued explaining.

"The so-called Martial Selection is an examination for selecting Martial Artists, initiated by the government."

"Once selected, you can obtain the official title of Martial Guard. The government will assign an actual post according to your ranking..."

"For instance, a Banner Officer in the Patrol Guard Bureau, or a squad leader or five-man leader in the City Guard Army. At worst, you can hold some idle guard position at a government office, draw a monthly salary, and enjoy a harvest whether drought or flood comes."

"More importantly, with this official title, three generations of your direct family line can be exempted from taxes, military service, and corvée labor altogether."

Fatty Fang lifted his chin slightly, unable to conceal the yearning in his eyes.

"Our Great Shang Dynasty values military merit and martial honors above all else. Those sour scholars who rise through the Literary Selection do not enjoy so many privileges. Before military officials of the same rank, they must lower themselves by three parts."

"...I see."

Chen Cheng silently digested this information, still weighing his options inwardly.

Should he grit his teeth and scrape together ten taels of silver to buy back his freedom, then bear the enormous monthly expense of another five taels afterward?

Or should he continue wagering his life and push all his chips in to the very end?

"You needn't rush to choose. Wait until you reach the Middle Academy and meet the master in charge."

Fatty Fang raised his brows and lowered his voice to an extreme whisper.

"Anyway, I'll give you the truth first. At most... at the absolute most... I can only lend you ten taels."

"Thank you."

Chen Cheng grinned, not standing on ceremony with him in the slightest.

But just as his words fell, Chen Cheng took a thumb-sized porcelain bottle from his robes.

"Let's talk about converting this into cash first."

"You... didn't use the Blood Refining Powder just now!?"

Fatty Fang's eyes, originally smiling into slits, flew wide open. His Adam's apple rolled heavily twice, and the flesh on his fat face trembled wildly.

His instinctive cry of alarm reached the other disciples' ears, stirring another wave of uproar.

Chen Cheng nodded, but said nothing.

Only he himself knew that the Vertical Eye Mark had fixed his realm and training progress into panel values.

This meant that so long as his progress reached (300/300), he could break through directly.

There was no bottleneck.

Nor would there be, as with ordinary people, a sharply increased risk of breakthrough failure because his natural talent was too poor.

For that very reason, when he broke through earlier, he had hidden this bottle of Blood Refining Powder in his robes while Fatty Fang was not paying attention.

Blood Refining Powder was precious only at the moment of breaking through into Blood Condensation. Once success was achieved, it would be completely useless to Chen Cheng for the near future.

Fatty Fang understood this perfectly and did not beat around the bush. He directly took out five taels of silver in exchange for that bottle of Blood Refining Powder.

At present, he was determined to draw closer to Chen Cheng, so the price he offered was certainly fair.

Chen Cheng naturally accepted with pleasure.

The sun slanted westward, stretching the shadows of everything in the courtyard long and thin.

Chen Cheng withdrew his stance. His coarse old clothes, drenched through with sweat, clung tightly to the body that was only beginning to show its shape.

An afternoon of tempering the Crouching Dragon Fist had made that One-Incense Blood Qi increasingly solid and stable.

After leaving the martial hall.

With the huge fortune he had never even dared dream of before—five whole taels of silver, or a full five thousand coins—in his pocket.

He deliberately detoured to the cooked-food shop and bought five catties of braised beef, which he had always considered too expensive to buy, wrapping it in oiled paper.

It was a truly enormous lump, its rich meat fragrance drilling relentlessly into his nostrils.

Without realizing it, his steps home quickened considerably.

Over the past month, he had used all the meat he ate to nourish himself. Now that he had finally achieved a little success, it was time to let his mother feast properly as well.

Before long, he arrived at the narrow alley where his home stood.

From afar, he saw several crooked figures blocking his doorway. They were the familiar lackeys of the Black Wolf Gang.

The doors of the neighboring homes on both sides were half-closed. Behind the cracks, gazes flickered and rustled like rats in a gutter.

In several corners farther away, he could also see heads poking out and hems of clothing quickly withdrawing.

In the past, Chen Cheng would have been utterly unable to notice such details amid these dim alleyways.

But now.

He could clearly hear the suppressed breathing behind nearby door panels, the faint scrabbling of wild rats darting through cracks, even the soundless tremble of rotten roof felt beneath the passing breeze.

Everything within his sight was revealed down to the finest detail: every crack in the mottled wooden boards, the texture of slick moss at the base of the walls, even the way a fly's wings beat as it flew past.

And both of these, along with his equally sharpened sense of smell, taste, touch, and perception, were changes brought about by that One-Incense Blood Qi.

Something happened?

Chen Cheng's heart tightened. He pushed off with his feet and suddenly sprinted forward.

His muscles were now beginning to take shape, and his bearing had already emerged. As he rapidly closed in, the lackeys at the door were so intimidated that their hearts wavered. They instinctively moved aside and did not dare stop him.

He stepped across the threshold in a single stride.

The room was darker than outside, thick with the mingled scents of damp, rotting boards and burning firewood.

His mother, Madam Li, pressed close to the corner wall, her thin body trembling uncontrollably.

Scar Bear stood not far from the door, arms folded across his chest, watching the other side with an odd expression.

Chen Cheng's gaze instantly swept over.

There, on a stool beside the brazier, sat a burly bearded man. It was Zhao Shan.