Manager Wang

Chen Chong was inside, working through plans and arrangements, when a sudden clamor erupted outside. Voices boiled over, mixed with the dull crashes of overturned objects.

He rose and went out, passed through the corridor, and arrived in the rear courtyard. A circle of people had already gathered there.

A menial servant knelt on the bluestone paving, his forehead knocked raw and red as he kept crying, "Spare me!" Several pills lay scattered on the ground before him. Their rough paper wrapping had been trampled to pieces, and brown powder had spilled into the cracks between the bricks.

Su Hongyu strolled out from the crowd, came to Chen Chong's side, and lowered his voice. "He stole pills and got caught."

Chen Chong's expression did not change. He nodded. Stealing was punished according to precedent. A beating was unavoidable, along with a fine. The punishment would be carried out publicly, to kill the chicken and scare the monkeys.

Someone approached from the distance. He was around forty, solidly built, with a square, upright face, thick brows, and large eyes. At first glance, he actually looked like an honest, kindhearted man.

He wore a dark black long robe that seemed unremarkable, but the fabric did not gather dust and draped exceptionally well. It was premium black-patterned silk. A jade thumb ring rested on his hand, emerald green throughout, so lustrous it seemed ready to drip. One look was enough to tell it was immensely valuable.

He walked closer step by step. When the menial servant looked up and saw him, it was as though he had seen hope itself. He shuffled forward on his knees two steps and knocked his head against the ground even more frantically.

"Chief Steward Wang, I was wrong. I'll never dare do it again—"

Su Hongyu whispered into Chen Chong's ear, "Chief Steward Wang has always been kindhearted. The punishment will probably be lighter."

Without saying a word, Chief Steward Wang walked toward the menial servant.

The servant raised his head and forced out a fawning smile.

Chief Steward Wang stepped forward. The sole of his shoe came down on the servant's left hand, which was braced against the ground.

The servant's smile froze, followed by a shrill scream of agony.

Chief Steward Wang did not stop. He ground down with his heel, twisting his toes and pressing hard.

Beneath the shoe, the servant's hand gave off a teeth-grating sound of joints slipping out of place. His screams grew louder, echoing through the entire rear courtyard.

"A menial servant is just a menial servant." Chief Steward Wang's voice was quiet, carrying a chill like well water poured over stone. "When your hand crosses the line, it will be punished."

He twisted his toes and ground down twice more before slowly lifting his foot.

The servant curled up on the ground, clutching his mangled hand. He hurt too badly to speak, and only ragged, gasping "heh-heh" sounds came from his throat.

Chief Steward Wang raised his head. His gaze passed over the crowd and landed on Chen Chong. Their eyes met for a brief moment.

Chen Chong smiled at Chief Steward Wang.

Chief Steward Wang returned the smile. His lips curled upward, revealing a row of neat teeth, and he truly looked somewhat honest and kindhearted. Yet the movement of his foot had not stopped. Blood clung to his sole, and he scraped it against the bluestone before turning to leave.

Beside him, Su Hongyu seemed to have been rooted in place. He stood there blankly, only shuddering and coming back to himself after quite a while.

Chief Steward Wang was interesting.

Chen Chong glanced at the servant on the ground clutching his hand, said nothing, and turned back toward his room as well.

Inside, Chen Chong sat before the desk, lightly tapping the tabletop with his fingers.

Increasing his strength remained the first priority. Not far beyond the city gates, Li Zhaoning had encountered bandits.

That was something that should never have happened in the original owner's past memories. How many years had it been since such a thing occurred in Dingyuan County? A tide of refugees, bandits—now even the area near the city gates was no longer safe.

He had the constant feeling that danger was drawing closer and closer.

As for Chief Steward Wang, he would let matters take their natural course for now. He would see whether the man revealed any telltale flaws.

After becoming deputy chief steward, his treatment had indeed improved considerably. Not only did he receive dividends, but he was also allotted a certain monthly quota of medicinal ingredients.

His share from reclaiming pills had increased by ten percent from before, and he was not constrained by the task assignments imposed on alchemists. He had more freedom, and more freedom over his time as well.

He steadied his mind, rose, and walked over to the pill furnace.

The first batch: True Martial Pills.

He took out the ingredients from the medicine cabinet: dried powdered demon beast flesh and blood, red marrow ganoderma, root-bark, scrophularia, and dwarf lilyturf.

The process for True Martial Pills was even more cumbersome than that of Essence-Nourishing Pills. The dried demon beast flesh and blood powder could not be placed directly into the furnace. It first had to be moistened with yellow wine, then baked dry over a gentle flame. This had to be repeated three times to remove its rank odor while preserving its essence.

After the red marrow ganoderma was ground into powder, it had to be separately passed through a fine sieve, then placed into the furnace together with drynaria. The heat control demanded the utmost precision: gentle and fierce flames had to alternate throughout, with nine changes of fire in all, each no more than several dozen breaths apart.

Chen Chong took a deep breath and opened the furnace.

Flames licked at its base, and the scent of medicine gradually rose. He pressed his hand to the furnace wall, feeling every shift in temperature. First change of fire, second change, third...

By the seventh change, a layer of dark golden sheen appeared on the surface of the medicinal liquid. That was the sign that the demon beast's vital essence had merged into it.

At the ninth change of fire, he collected the paste and sealed the furnace.

After the time it took to burn an incense stick, he lifted the furnace lid.

Pill fragrance surged forth, several times stronger than that of Tiger Bone Pills, carrying a grand, powerful aura.

Three pills lay in the porcelain dish, dark gold in color, their surfaces flowing with faint luminous patterns.

The True Martial Pills had succeeded.

Chen Chong picked up one and examined it for a moment before placing it in his mouth. The pill entered his stomach, and a surge of heat exploded forth, racing through his meridians toward his limbs and bones. His skin and membranes tightened, his flesh quivered, as if countless tiny hammers were striking his tendons and bones.

He closed his eyes, feeling that warmth circulate, seep through him, and settle within his body.

A moment later, he opened his eyes and brought up the panel.

Realm: Flesh Nourishment (81/10000).

It had directly added ten points.

The corner of Chen Chong's mouth lifted, and he could not help laughing softly. The growth of strength—this was what was truly wonderful. More real than silver, reputation, or anything else.

He looked at the remaining two True Martial Pills in the dish, carefully stored them in a porcelain bottle, and secured the stopper.

Outside the window, dusk swept over the rooftops of Dingyuan County. Thin plumes of cooking smoke rose here and there, while dogs barked far and near.

Chen Chong rose to his feet and stretched his limbs. His joints crackled, and beneath his skin, his flesh was firm and warm.