One's Own Diligence

His gaze swept across the panel. The Tiger Fist in the martial arts section had already reached Perfection, and his realm had changed from nothing to Body Tempering First Level.

He calculated that, from awakening the memories of his past life until now, it had only been two or three days at most.

Counting only his proper cultivation of Tiger Fist, it had been merely a day and a half since he received the manual yesterday afternoon, yet he had gone from an ordinary person to Body Tempering, First Heaven.

His own diligence had certainly played a part, along with three portions of High-Grade Blood-Qi Medicinal Herbs, but the push from his Destiny Talent had also been indispensable.

He withdrew his thoughts and could not resist practicing the Basic Fist Technique in his room.

He lowered into a horse stance, clenched both hands into fists, and punched forward again and again.

Bang, bang, bang! Every punch produced a dull explosive crack.

Now, a casual punch from him could easily blow apart his former self.

When he had killed people on the mountain before, he still needed a woodcutter's knife. If it were the him of now, he could take them down one punch at a time, with no need for a second blow.

One against ten!

No, one against a hundred should work too—though those hundred would have to be ordinary people.

He then used the Basic Movement Technique. With a Perfection-level movement technique bolstered by Body Tempering, First Heaven, his speed had more than doubled.

With a movement of his feet, his figure flickered through every corner of the room—from the doorway to the corner, then to the window. His movements were so fast that the process between them was almost impossible to see, leaving behind only several blurry afterimages.

After familiarizing himself with this brand-new strength, Feng Chen stopped and let out a long breath.

The setting sun shone beyond the window, golden-red evening clouds blanketing the mountain forest. Light squeezed through the window lattice, dyeing the room in a warm orange-red glow.

Judging by the sun's position, it was about six in the afternoon.

He left the room and took a turn around the house.

Lin Qing'er was not there. The kitchen stove was cold, and the basket in the courtyard was gone as well.

She had probably gone out to gather wild vegetables again.

That little girl refused to rest even when he told her to.

Feng Chen shook his head with a smile, yet he also knew that Lin Qing'er was probably afraid these good days would vanish in the blink of an eye, just like the crops in the past—gone just as they were about to be harvested.

So she wanted to do her utmost to seize the present, unable to let him bear everything alone.

He headed to the kitchen, lit the fire, boiled water, washed the rice, and put it into the pot.

Calculating the time, she should be back soon.

The fire crackled in the stove.

As Feng Chen added firewood, he considered another matter.

Tiger Fist had reached Perfection. Reaching Body Tempering First Level was already its limit.

This damaged manual itself was only at the Body Tempering Entry Level. Beyond that, its fist principles and moves could no longer support a breakthrough into a higher realm.

To continue forward, he would have to change to a better martial art.

But did the bookstore in town have better martial arts? When he bought books last time, the shop assistant had laid everything bare: most manuals displayed openly were mediocre goods. Truly good martial arts could never appear in a bookstore in such a small town.

Yet he had no other leads at the moment, so he could only go and ask first.

If that did not work, he would think of another way.

After all, he still had a full nine hundred taels of silver in his pocket. He did not lack money; what he lacked was a way in.

Just as he was thinking,

Creak!

The courtyard gate was pushed open.

Lin Qing'er had returned. Unlike usual, she did not happily call out "Husband." Instead, she quietly set the basket down by the wall, brushed grass bits from her clothes, and slowly walked into the kitchen.

Feng Chen looked up and saw that her face was somewhat sorrowful. Her eyes were slightly red, as if she had just cried and forced herself to hold it back.

He put down the firewood, rose to his feet, walked over, and gently pressed her shoulder. "What is it?"

Lin Qing'er sniffed, her voice muffled. "This afternoon, Aunt Li and I went out to gather wild vegetables. When we came back, her little girl was lying in bed."

"She kicked off her blanket at night and started running a fever this morning. Her little face was burning red, and no matter how they called her, she could barely wake up. Auntie's family has no extra money to hire a physician or buy medicine, so they're just enduring it. Auntie sat beside the bed wiping away tears, and I... I didn't know what I could do."

Feng Chen's heart sank. He remained silent for a long while before letting out a long sigh.

This was how poor families lived.

He recalled his life in this world. In the past, it had been the same for him—when he fell ill, all he could do was endure it himself.

If he endured it, he lived. If he could not, he endured himself away.

Just like his parents in this life. After they were injured in a fall, they had no money for treatment and no medicine to heal them. They dragged on for half a month before dying one after the other.

A fall injury was clearly not some incurable disease.

"Husband, Aunt Li is a good person, and her little girl is such a lovely child. She's still so little... do you think she can pull through?"

Lin Qing'er looked at him, her eyes red, her voice filled with pleading hope. She wanted to get an answer from him that could put her at ease.

Feng Chen nodded and reached out to wipe the corners of her eyes. "Don't worry. She'll pull through. And... I happen to have some spare money. After dinner, let's take it to Aunt Li."

Lin Qing'er froze, then hurriedly shook her head. "Husband, is that really alright? We have to live too. Things have gotten much better at home these past few days, but you work so hard cultivating every day, and you eat and use so much more than before. If we give all our money to someone else, what if..."

Feng Chen patted her head, his palm landing lightly atop her hair as he rubbed it. "It's alright. We have enough money. Besides, Aunt Li helped us before. When things were hardest, she lent us two jin of coarse grain. By both sentiment and reason, now that we know, we ought to lend her a hand."

Lin Qing'er lowered her head in silence for a moment, then slowly raised it. She nodded firmly. "Husband, I'll listen to you."

The two of them began making dinner together.

Lin Qing'er lit the stove again, reheated the meat soup, and added some freshly gathered wild vegetables.

Feng Chen cut meat and vegetables beside her. His knife skills were countless times more deft than before. With a flick of his wrist, he sliced meat into evenly thin pieces.

Twilight slowly poured into the kitchen. The oil lamp was lit, and its dim yellow light warmly cast their shadows onto the wall.