Martial Artist

The carriage fell silent once again.

Only the roar of the engine and the smoke Zhang Zhenyun occasionally exhaled remained.

Song Chen kept his eyes closed, continuing to browse his system shop.

It was already eight o'clock in the evening when the armored vehicle drove into the defense zone.

The camp was brightly lit, with several large searchlight towers illuminating the surroundings as if it were broad daylight.

Soldiers patrolled back and forth, and the faint sounds of drills could be heard in the distance.

The air was filled with a mixed scent: diesel, disinfectant, and a certain indescribable smell of rust.

Zhang Zhenyun parked the vehicle in front of a row of makeshift houses deep within the camp.

"We're here. Get out."

The six of them filed out one by one.

Zhao Wei walked at the back, his face still swollen on one side, head bowed and silent.

The camp was very quiet, save for the occasional shout of commands from afar.

Rows of makeshift houses were arranged neatly, each about a dozen square meters with sheet-metal walls and alloy doors and windows; they looked crude but sturdy.

Zhang Zhenyun pointed to the row of houses: "This is the accommodation for the practical training students. One person per room. Don't wander around at night. The latrines are at the east end, the mess hall at the west end. Assemble at six tomorrow morning."

He glanced at Song Chen, his gaze lingering on his left hand for a moment.

"Your hand, will it recover by tomorrow?"

"It will," Song Chen answered firmly.

Zhang Zhenyun nodded, asked no further questions, and turned to leave.

Song Chen walked into the room assigned to him.

The room was small: a bed, a desk, a chair, and a simple wardrobe.

A small heating device in the corner was humming away.

The window was welded with a protective grate, and through the glass, the light from the searchlights outside could be seen.

He closed the door and locked it.

Then he sat on the bed and took a deep breath.

Safe. At least for tonight, he was safe.

Late at night, after confirming no one was paying attention to him, Song Chen closed his eyes and summoned the system interface.

A translucent light screen appeared before his eyes, the numbers on it still clear.

[Current Kill Points: 21]

His gaze moved slowly across the list, finally resting on the potion category.

[Spirit Blood Serum - 20 points]

[Description: A special blood containing pure spiritual energy. Consuming it can comprehensively improve physical fitness.]

Song Chen frowned.

He was certain that the human shop did not sell this kind of potion, but it was obvious that this was a potion to increase blood-qi values.

What he lacked most right now was blood-qi.

After a moment of thought, he tapped his finger in the void.

[Consume 20 Kill Points to confirm purchase of Spirit Blood Serum?]

He tapped again.

[Confirm]

A flash of light flickered.

A transparent bottle the size of a thumb appeared in his hand.

The bottle was very light, the material resembling glass but even more translucent.

It contained about ten milliliters of liquid, pale gold in color, like diluted honey. The liquid flowed slowly within the bottle, occasionally shimmering with a faint light.

Song Chen brought the bottle close to his eyes.

There seemed to be something swimming inside the liquid, as thin as a silk thread, appearing and disappearing.

He stared at it for a few seconds and actually felt as if he were being watched.

This thing...

He shook his head, deciding not to overthink it.

If it's a blessing, it's not a curse; if it's a curse, there's no avoiding it.

He twisted off the cap, tilted his head back, and poured the liquid into his mouth.

The taste was faint, slightly sweet, with a hint of... blood?

The moment the liquid hit his throat, Song Chen's body stiffened.

A surge of heat exploded from his stomach, as if flames were burning within his veins. The fire flowed along with his blood, instantly spreading to every corner of his body.

Pain.

Excruciating pain.

It was even more painful than when his left hand had been pierced by a wild boar's tusk.

Song Chen gritted his teeth, clutching the bedsheets so tightly his knuckles turned white, refusing to let a sound escape his lips.

His body began to tremble, and sweat poured from his pores like rain, instantly soaking his clothes.

Yet he did not stop, nor did he dare to.

Because he could feel that wherever the flames scorched, some kind of change was taking place.

His muscles contracted and expanded, becoming firmer and more compact.

His bones itched, as if countless ants were gnawing at them—that was his bone density strengthening.

His blood surged through his veins at an astonishing speed; he could hear his own heartbeat thumping like a war drum.

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

"Thump!"

Faster and faster.

Louder and louder.

It felt as if someone were hammering against his chest.

He didn't know how much time had passed—perhaps a few minutes, perhaps half an hour—but the agony finally faded, replaced by a sensation of ultimate relief.

It felt incredible, far beyond any pleasure he had ever known; this was a leap in the level of his very existence.

Song Chen gasped for air, drenched from head to toe as if he had just been fished out of water.

He raised his hand and clenched his fist.

It was different.

He could feel that his strength had increased—not just by a little, but doubled.

He stood up and walked over to the simple mirror in the corner.

The person in the mirror made him pause.

It was the same face, the same build, but his eyes had changed; they were brighter, more piercing.

A faint luster shimmered on the surface of his skin, a phenomenon that only appeared when one's vitality and blood were filled to a certain degree.

He raised his left hand; it had completely healed.

"So this is a martial artist..."

He muttered to himself.

The moment the words left his lips, his body suddenly jolted.

A more intense surge of heat welled up from his dantian.

This time it wasn't fire, but a force that was gentler, yet far more vast.

The power of vitality and blood.

It was the newly birthed power of vitality and blood within him, surging wildly.

As if possessed of a life of its own, it began to circulate through his body along a fixed path.

Starting from the dantian, it traveled through his spine, flowed into his limbs and bones, and finally rushed toward his heart.

Song Chen's expression shifted.

He looked down at his chest.

It was glowing.

A faint light, visible through his skin and muscle.

The glow was a pale red, like the morning sun, or perhaps a flame.

He could feel the power of vitality and blood converging from every part of his body, like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, pouring into his heart.

His heart swelled with a painful pressure, as if it were about to burst.

But there was nothing he could do; he could only watch, and endure.

The light grew brighter, and the swelling pain grew stronger.

Just as he thought he could no longer hold on, everything suddenly went still.

The radiance receded, and the swelling pain vanished.

His heart returned to a steady rhythm.

But Song Chen knew that everything had changed.

He lowered his head and placed a hand over his chest.

Through his skin and muscle, he could feel that something new had appeared inside his heart.

It was no hallucination; it was something truly there.

Tangible, hard, like a seed.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking deep into his body.

He "saw" a crystal core the size of a soybean floating quietly in the center of his heart.

The crystal core was pale red, its surface smooth as a mirror, with a faint halo circulating within.

It trembled slightly with every beat of his heart, and with each tremor, a wisp of blood energy surged out, flowing into his entire body.

This was the core of life, the mark of a ranked lifeform.

Exotic beasts had it, and human martial artists did as well.

Once one's blood energy value reached 1.0 or higher, this object would condense within the body.

It was the source of a martial artist's power, and their proof of identity.

From this day on, he was a true martial artist.

Song Chen opened his eyes and looked at the person in the mirror.

The youth in the mirror was drenched in sweat, his hair disheveled, but his eyes were startlingly bright.

His chest no longer glowed, but he knew that a pale red seed now resided there.

He raised his hand and clenched his fist.

Power gathered in his knuckles, more than twice as strong as before.

"1.0?"

No.

It was more than 1.0.

He closed his eyes, carefully sensing the blood energy within his body.

That power was endless, far more robust than before. It wasn't just the difference between 0.6 and 1.0; it was the difference between a stream and a river.

1.1?

He didn't know, but he could feel that his blood energy value was definitely beyond 1.0.

That bottle of Spirit Blood Serum had effects far exceeding ordinary Tier 1 blood agents; it was truly worthy of being a system product.

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the searchlights were still rotating, illuminating the camp as bright as day.

In the distance, the silhouette of the city wall was vaguely visible, stretching across the horizon like a massive scar.

Further out lay the endless darkness—the world of the exotic beasts.