Using Oneself as the Medicinal Ingredient

After Jin Bing finished speaking, his face deathly pale, he stood up and slowly walked out of the Martial Arts Hall.

He stood at the entrance with Chen Lihua, as if waiting for something.

Ren Qing's expression was strange. Having seen the old veterans of his past life, he felt that Jin Bing's every move reeked of unnaturalness.

He glanced sidelong. Everyone around sat on their prayer mats without moving, but the sweat on their faces betrayed their inner turmoil.

Negative emotions brewed slowly.

After a long while, the dark-skinned man collapsed into despair.

He muttered to himself, "I can't die. There are people at home waiting for me..."

The dark-skinned man stumbled back several steps, but when he reached behind the crowd, he pulled a wooden spike from his chest.

He drove the spike viciously into another man's back. Blood soaked through his clothes.

The dark-skinned man snapped awake like a dream. He stared in horror at his bloodstained palm, his legs giving out as he crumpled to the floor.

From the corner, a disciple of the martial arts hall couldn't help but let out a mocking laugh.

The wounded man touched his back in shock. Finding the wound hadn't reached his organs, he lunged without hesitation at the dark-skinned man. The melee grew fiercer.

Ren Qing, on the other hand, was left alone.

But as time passed, there were always those willing to take risks.

Hong Biao had spent some days in the gang called the Qingxia Society. Though he held no title, his street experience was enough.

He felt that the newly arrived Ren Qing was simply unreadable.

If he could kill this man, he himself would surely be the last one standing, and his chances of holding out until the Yamen arrived would be greatest.

Hong Biao threw a punch without mercy at the back of Ren Qing's neck.

"Don't blame me for being ruthless. Just die quietly."

Ren Qing couldn't figure out what was going on in the martial arts hall, so he had planned to stay out of it for now. But it seemed he couldn't avoid being dragged in.

He drew his wooden blade.

A simple swing, yet it gave the illusion of being impossible to dodge.

To the onlookers, it was as if Hong Biao had actively moved toward Ren Qing's wooden blade.

How could this be?!!

Hong Biao shielded his head with his arms.

Ren Qing twisted his wrist. The direction of the wooden blade shifted instantly, stabbing straight into Hong Biao's instep.

Blood splattered everywhere.

Hong Biao screamed. On instinct, he tried to pull the wooden blade from his foot.

Ren Qing snorted coldly. His right hand formed a blade and chopped hard into Hong Biao's neck. The latter passed out in an instant and was tossed to the doorway.

Chen Lihua said excitedly, "That's enough."

The room fell silent.

Everyone stopped their desperate fighting and sat back down on their prayer mats without another word, even those with bloody wounds forcing themselves to endure.

Hong Biao was dragged away from outside the door. The two disciples in the corner also left the room.

The main door was locked with an iron chain.

Everyone remained wary of each other, especially the few who were severely injured. Ren Qing was subtly isolated.

Just as Ren Qing was about to ask a question, a thin figure sidled up to him and whispered, "Big brother, I'm a Lictor from Chenyang Street. My name is Jiang Jie."

Jiang Jie swallowed his saliva and asked, "I've seen you at the Yamen, big brother. When you came to the martial arts hall, did the Yamen know your whereabouts?"

Ren Qing shook his head and said, "No, they didn't. But if I'm missing for more than five days, someone should come looking."

Jiang Jie's eyes were filled with terror. He babbled to himself, "In less than two days, everyone here will be dead. How can we wait for the Yamen..."

Ren Qing grabbed Jiang Jie's arm and asked, "Tell me what's going on."

Jiang Jie, perhaps needing someone to talk to, stammered out an explanation.

After Ren Qing listened, his confusion didn't lessen—it only deepened.

The registered disciples in the martial arts hall had all arrived one after another over the past two days. Once inside, they were locked in the room without explanation.

Chen Lihua dragged away three or four people every day, always at mealtime. The result went without saying.

Occasionally, they could hear the disciples outside discussing how sweet and delicious human flesh was, their tone dripping with undisguised greed.

Of course, some had tried to escape, but the martial arts hall had only one corridor. Without food or water for a long time, how could they fight over a dozen trained fighters?

Since death was certain either way, staying put and waiting for rescue might be the better option.

Ren Qing pondered silently, keeping his expression still. To him, the disciples in the martial arts hall weren't even cultivators—they posed no threat at all.

The most important thing was how to safely obtain the Divine Feet Scripture and then extricate himself from the aftermath.

Of course, even if Ren Qing exposed his techniques, the worst that could happen was joining the Forbidden Guard. Song Zongwu could vouch for the origin of his methods.

After about two or three hours, Jin Bing and the others finally returned to the Martial Arts Hall.

A foul stench clung to their bodies, and the muscles on both legs were swollen to varying degrees.

Jin Bing, in particular, no matter how much he tried to show discomfort, could not hide the fact that his legs had undergone the most obvious transformation.

Sighing heavily, Jin Bing took out bandages to stop the bleeding and dress the wounds of the injured, then specially distributed some dry rations to them for sustenance.

This made the others feel grateful and even indebted to Jin Bing.

Ren Qing took the dry rations without showing any abnormality, but he had no intention of eating them—who knew what tricks were hidden inside?

The more he looked at Jin Bing, the more something felt off, so he simply closed his eyes to rest, waiting for the situation to develop further.

In the end, Jin Bing actually began teaching the Eight Extremities Leg.

Apart from Ren Qing, who listened with great interest, the others were not interested—using the free time to recover their strength was far more important.

When night fell.

Footsteps sounded outside the door, indicating that more people had gathered.

Ren Qing noticed that everyone around him had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.

He stood up and asked, "Senior Brother Jin, I want to die knowing the truth. Before I die, let me take a look at the manual recording the Eight Extremities Leg."

"..."

Jin Bing's expression turned somewhat strange. After hesitating for a few breaths, he pulled out a thin book and handed it over.

Ren Qing casually flipped through a few pages, then set the book aside and continued to rest with his eyes closed.

He hadn't expected the manual to contain such a vast amount of information.

[Eight Extremities Leg]

[Created by Chen Yongxing, divided into a main chapter and a secondary chapter. The secondary chapter contains thirty-six stances, while the main chapter requires a medicinal primer to begin.]

[Medicinal Primer: Chen Yongxing used the flesh from his own legs as the primer. After consumption, by leveraging the resulting mutation, one can exert strength far beyond that of an ordinary person.]

Such a manual could hardly be considered a true technique; at best, it was an unorthodox martial art created to help the body adapt to an Eerie Object.

Ren Qing had some guesses about the cause and effect.

When the martial hall's disciples first began cultivating the Eight Extremities Leg, their need for human flesh was minimal—they could sustain themselves for a long time by raising people like livestock. But their appetite grew larger and larger over time.

No wonder the Divine Feet Scripture had nothing to do with man-eating, yet the martial hall was so tainted and foul.

Jin Bing's eyes turned red. In his view, Ren Qing's actions were nothing short of provocation.

Though he tried his best to put on a gentle and refined facade, his features still twisted, and his murderous intent was barely restrained.

Humanity was fading; the beast within was beginning to awaken.