Green River Town looked the same, but something had shifted beneath its quiet surface.
Three days had passed since Xi Chen sent the Guo Clan thugs fleeing with a single punch. Since then, no more threats had come, but he knew better than to think it was over. He hadn't just injured a guard—he had humiliated a noble-born young master. That kind of slight didn't vanish; it brewed in silence.
Still, Xi Chen didn't change his daily rhythm. Morning blacksmithing. Afternoon strength exercises. Evenings spent guiding his brothers. But now, his movements were different—more refined, each motion bearing a hidden weight. The Scarlet Furnace Body had fused into his bones.
That night, after dinner, he sat at the forge again, shirtless, back straight, facing a new flame.
He took a breath and opened the panel within his mind.
[Forging Panel Active]
Scarlet Furnace Body – Stage 1Progress to Stage 2: 12%Next Breakthrough: Muscle Tempering Realm
New Unlock Available: Muscle Tempering Visualization Scroll
His brows lifted. This was new.
Without hesitation, he confirmed the unlock. In his mind's eye, a vision burned into his consciousness: a vivid diagram of the human body, muscles wrapped in fire-threaded lines, stretching and contracting with impossible density.
It wasn't just a visualization—it was a path.
Xi Chen stood, took a deep breath, and began. His fists clenched and unclenched, his legs rooted into a wide stance. He began to move with slow, deliberate force, imitating the diagram. As he flowed from one form to the next, heat surged within him. Muscles twitched and flexed under strain.
Sweat rolled down his temple. Pain prickled across his limbs. But he endured.
After two hours, he collapsed to one knee, panting, chest heaving.
Progress: 15%.
He smiled.
The path forward wasn't easy, but it was real.
The next morning, Xi Chen visited the town market. He wasn't here to sell—he was here to listen. Information was the currency of survival, especially when living beneath the foot of nobility.
As he passed by a vendor selling medicinal herbs, he overheard two elderly men whispering in tense voices.
"You hear about the Guo Clan?"
"What now?"
"They've put up a bounty—no name, but they're looking for someone who injured one of their inner guards. Quiet talk is, it's someone without a clan. Someone reckless."
Xi Chen's expression didn't change, but inwardly, he noted the escalation.
Guo Ling was moving behind the curtain, as expected.
He spent the rest of the morning gathering scrap materials and checking in with a few friendly merchants—those few who still dared to deal with independent smiths. Some offered veiled warnings. Others asked him why he didn't just submit and join one of the minor clans.
Xi Chen answered all of them the same way: "I'm building something of my own."
By afternoon, he was back home. Xi Bing and Xi Xuan were in the backyard, running laps around the perimeter. Their legs burned, lungs gasping, but they didn't stop.
"Three more!" Xi Chen barked.
Xi Bing's legs wobbled, but he nodded. Xi Xuan trailed behind him, face red and determined.
When they finished, both collapsed on the grass, gasping.
Xi Chen tossed them water gourds.
"Good. You're stronger than last week."
Xi Bing looked up, soaked in sweat. "Will you teach me how to temper my body soon?"
"Not yet," Xi Chen said. "Your foundation is still weak. Rushing tempering can break you before you start. I'll decide when the time is right."
Xi Xuan looked disappointed, but didn't complain.
Xi Chen stood silently for a moment before adding, "But... if you keep up this pace, I'll begin teaching you how to breathe like a fighter."
Both boys lit up. Xi Bing sat up straighter. Xi Xuan beamed.
That night, as moonlight spilled over the forge, Xi Chen sat alone, sharpening a chipped sickle. His muscles ached from the day's training. His mind replayed every movement from the Muscle Tempering Visualization.
He paused, fingers running across the blade's edge.
He could feel it—beneath the surface of Green River Town, pressure was rising. The Guo Clan was watching. Others might be too. The longer he resisted their system, the more he'd stand out.
But he didn't regret it.
He looked down at his calloused hands, red from work and tempered by fire.
Let them come.
He wasn't just a blacksmith anymore.
He was the beginning of a fist-shaped flame.