Room Seven, Block C.
The night wind howled, whistling through the cracks in the hut's walls, letting out a mournful wail. A pale beam of moonlight slipped through the hole in the roof, shining down on the moldy straw mat beneath me. The room was damp and cold, filled with a mix of blood and medicinal herbs.
My arms had been crudely bandaged, but the sword aura left in my meridians was still rampaging. Every breath tugged at my wounds, bringing a searing pain. That strike from Xiao Han didn't just break through my defense—it left a lingering wind-attribute sword aura inside me, gnawing away at my spiritual energy like a curse bound to my bones.
"Huu—"
I let out a slow breath, enduring the agony as I channeled the power of the Divine Rune, trying to mend my damaged meridians. In my sea of consciousness, the golden glow of the rune was noticeably dimmer—clearly drained during the fight in the herb garden. But even now, it was tenaciously analyzing the invasive sword aura, seeking a way to counteract it.
[Foreign sword aura detected: Wind attribute, extremely sharp.][Attempting analysis... Progress slow.][Recommendation: Use fire-type spiritual energy to neutralize its sharpness.]
"Fire spiritual energy…" I opened my eyes and glanced at the withered stalks of Crimsonflame Grass stacked in the corner.
Though I had lost the battle in the herb garden, it wasn't without gains. Before Xiao Han arrived, I had secretly absorbed the fire essence of seven stalks of Crimsonflame Grass. Most of it was scattered during the fight, but a faint trace still lingered within me. Without hesitation, I guided that faint stream of heat toward the area ravaged by the sword aura.
Sizzle—
When fire met wind, it was like plunging red-hot iron into ice water—a sharp, screeching hiss echoed through my body. The pain intensified in an instant! I clenched my teeth, veins bulging on my forehead as cold sweat poured down. But the effect was undeniable—those razor-thin currents of sword aura began to dull under the scorching heat of the fire essence.
"It works!"
A fierce glint flashed in my eyes. Ignoring the agony, I continued using the fire spiritual energy to grind down the sword aura. At the same time, the Divine Rune worked at full capacity, parsing the flow and structure of Xiao Han's sword technique.
[Analyzing Sword Qi: Flowing Cloud Sword Art...][Progress: 2%...]
Slow—but working.
Time passed in a haze of pain and focus.
I didn't know how long had gone by when the sword aura was finally weakened to a point I could barely suppress it. I exhaled deeply and paused my healing, turning my attention to another ability—the Ironhide Talent.
During the herb garden battle, I had copied Wang Mang's "Brute Strength" talent, but even that was useless against Xiao Han. My Ironhide defense had shattered like paper. It was clear: my physical body was still too weak.
"I must strengthen my defense..."
I closed my eyes again and pushed the Divine Rune deep into my body, activating the Ironhide Talent. A faint metallic sheen spread over my skin but quickly faded. The damaged meridians restricted my spiritual flow, weakening the defense significantly.
"Not enough… far from enough!"
Gritting my teeth, I forcefully drove the Divine Rune, ignoring the protests of my wounded meridians, pushing the Ironhide to its limit. Muscles began to twist and restructure beneath my skin. My bones creaked like they were being hammered by invisible iron mallets. The pain surged in waves, but I was already used to it.
Bang! Bang!
Suddenly, a soft knock came from the door.
I snapped my eyes open, alert.
"L-Lin Senior Brother... it's me, Zhao Ming..." came a timid voice from outside.
Zhao Ming? I frowned, deactivating Ironhide for now. "Come in," I said softly.
The wooden door creaked open, and Zhao Ming slipped in cautiously, clutching a coarse cloth bundle. His face still bore fresh bruises—likely from Wang Mang's shove.
"Senior Brother Lin, y-your injuries..." he stammered when he saw the state of my arms.
"I'm not dead." My voice was cold. "What do you want?"
He swallowed hard and held out the bundle. "I-I saved a piece of low-grade spirit stone and some hemostatic herbs... You saved me once, so I..."
I stared at the bundle in silence for a moment before finally taking it. It was light, but the weight of it felt heavy.
"Thanks," I said flatly.
He looked relieved and forced a smile. "Rest well, Senior Brother. I-I'll go now…"
Just as he turned, I spoke again, "Wait."
He froze, glancing back at me.
"Why did you help me in the herb garden?" I looked him in the eyes. "You knew associating with me would bring you trouble."
Zhao Ming lowered his head. His voice was soft but firm. "Because… Senior Brother, you were the only one who would still save a stranger in that situation."
I was stunned for a moment, then let out a short laugh. "Foolish."
He didn't respond—just smiled faintly and left.
The room returned to silence.
I opened the bundle. As expected, inside was a dim spirit stone and a few plain hemostatic herbs. It was the lowest-grade stone—but to me right now, it was a blessing.
Just as I was about to put it away, the Divine Rune pulsed with hunger—it wanted this stone.
Without hesitation, I pressed the spirit stone to my forehead. The rune flared to life.
[Pure spiritual energy detected.][Absorbing...]
The spirit stone dimmed visibly before crumbling into dust. A faint warmth flowed through my sea of consciousness, and the golden glow of the rune brightened slightly.
[Divine Rune core restoration: +0.01%][Current restoration: 0.03%]
"Still too slow..." I sighed.
But it was better than nothing.
Suppressing my thoughts, I once again closed my eyes and activated the Ironhide Talent. This time, with the energy from the spirit stone, the metallic glow on my skin solidified slightly. My defense had improved—if only just a little.
The night deepened, and the wind grew colder.
But inside Room Seven of Block C, the cultivation never stopped
Third Watch, Midnight — Block C Canteen
I crouched behind the greasy stove, breaking half a hard, cold cornbread bun and soaking it in a bowl of thin vegetable soup. Zhao Ming darted in like a startled rabbit, something bulky stuffed inside his robes.
"L-Lin Senior Brother!" He looked around to make sure no one was watching before pulling out an oiled paper packet. "The kitchen lady gave me half a roast chicken today, and I…"
The moment he opened the packet, the rich aroma of meat swept away the stench of the canteen. Golden chicken skin glistened with beads of fat like amber. My Adam's apple moved involuntarily.
"You stole it?" I picked up a drumstick. Oil instantly coated my fingers.
Zhao Ming's face flushed. "N-No, it's leftovers… from Senior Brother Xiao and the others..."
Suddenly, the chicken didn't smell so good.
The firewood crackled loudly in the stove, casting flickering light over Zhao Ming's face, alternating between pale and red. Since the herb garden incident, this kid had been showing up at my door every other day—like a stray dog that had chosen its master.
"I heard you cleaned out the spirit beast yard's dung pits for half a month?" I asked casually.
"Uh?" He blinked. "Y-Yes... I accidentally knocked over Senior Brother Wang Mang's—"
"So now you're paying me back with leftovers?" I sneered, tossing the drumstick back into the paper packet. "Starting tomorrow, come with me to the back mountain. We're digging for purple-vein vine."
Zhao Ming's eyes went wide. "B-But that's strictly forbidden by the Discipline Hall—"
"Then keep eating scraps for the rest of your life." I leaned in close, lowering my voice to a whisper. "Or follow me and gamble on a future. Your choice."
Moonlight slanted through the broken window, illuminating the clenched fists of the trembling teenager. Outside, the lazy footsteps of patrolling disciples mingled with the summer night's insects, unnervingly clear.
"…I'll dig!" Zhao Ming suddenly looked up, eyes gleaming with the hunger of a starving wolf. "But you have to teach me that punch you used to hurt Wang Mang!"
I stared at him for a moment, then burst out laughing. He nearly lunged over to cover my mouth. Under the flickering firelight, this timid boy had a wild edge to him—just like I had when I was cast out of the Lin family, snatching half a steamed bun from a dog's mouth.
"Deal." I wiped the tears from my laughter and tossed him a charred potato from the ash pit. "Lesson one—"
Bang!
The canteen doors slammed open.
Five Enforcement Hall disciples filed in, lanterns in hand. The leader's waist badge clinked with authority. Zhao Ming's face went pale. The potato in his hands rolled to the leader's feet.
"Late-night gathering and stealing meat, huh?" Zhou Mang—Wang Mang's blood brother—ground the potato under his boot, his cold gaze lingering on my bandaged arm. "Looks like the lesson from the herb garden wasn't enough."
I slowly licked the oil from my fingers. "Want a taste, Senior Brother Zhou? A gift from Xiao Han."
Clang!
A lantern smashed onto the stove, sparks flying. Zhou Mang grabbed my collar, suddenly sniffing near my neck like a hound. "Purple-vein vine scent?"
Zhao Ming's legs began to shake.
"Surely you jest," I said, holding up my greasy palms. "It's clearly roast chicken—"
"Take them!" Zhou Mang roared. "Three days in the dungeon. We'll see if your mouth is still smart then!"
Rough iron chains locked around my wrists. I winked at Zhao Ming, whose face had gone deathly pale. He suddenly let out a wailing cry: "Please have mercy, Senior Brother! I was just too hungry and stole a chicken…"
Amid the chaos, the hard bun rolled to my feet. As I bent to pick it up, I spotted a pair of trembling hands in the shadows beneath the stove, stuffing dirt-covered purple-vein roots into the firewood stack.
Discipline Hall Dungeon
Splash—!
A bucket of ice-cold water slammed down over my head. I licked the blood from my lips, calmly surveying the tiny stone chamber no larger than five square meters. Torture instruments lined the walls, their cold metallic glint dancing in the torchlight. Most eye-catching of all was the iron chair in the center—spiked and stained: the Nine Nether Soulpiercer.
"One last time." Zhou Mang caressed a patch of rust-red stains on the chair's backrest. "Who ordered you to steal medicinal herbs?"
I stared at the strip of bandage peeking from his sleeve—looks like Wang Mang's leg hadn't healed properly.
"Strange question, Senior Brother." I coughed, spitting out a tooth. "If someone had ordered me…" I suddenly lowered my voice, "...who do you think it would be?"
His pupils shrank.
The torch crackled loudly. For a moment, the dungeon was dead silent. From somewhere down the corridor came a muffled scream—some poor soul undergoing the "bone-combing" punishment, no doubt.
"What… what do you mean?" His voice had gone dry.
I rattled my chains and gave him a meaningful smile. Back in the canteen, the Divine Rune had already detected traces of wind-element sword aura on this guy—weak and nearly faded, but identical in origin to Xiao Han's Flowing Cloud Sword Art. That was all I needed.
"I heard your brother's leg…" I deliberately paused, "...was broken by someone using Ironhide?"
Zhou Mang stumbled back, knocking over a rack of torture tools.
"Impossible!" he shouted, voice trembling. "That was clearly—" He suddenly stopped himself, his face twisting as if he'd seen a ghost.
I leaned back comfortably, the iron chains clinking softly. Sometimes, a half-truth is more lethal than any full lie. The best way to dismantle an enemy… is to let them terrify themselves.
Three Days Later
When dawn filtered through the tiny skylight, the dungeon door creaked open. Surprisingly, it wasn't a grim-faced enforcer who entered—but Zhao Ming, carrying a clean disciple robe.
"S-Senior Brother!" He stammered as he helped unlock my shackles. "Elder Yunqing personally intervened… s-said the herb garden's short on hands…"
His palms were sticky. I looked down and saw dark soil under his nails—rich, black rot-soil found only near purple-vein vines.
"How many did you dig up?" I asked quietly.
Zhao Ming's eyes sparkled. He held up seven fingers, then slipped me a crumpled slip of paper. Unfolding it, I found a crude map of the back mountain. One cave was circled in red ink again and again.
"They said… said there's a Blood Marrow Ganoderma in there," he whispered like a feather. "But guarding it... is Elder Zhou Li's..."
My hand clenched around the note. In my sea of consciousness, the Divine Rune trembled violently—the words "Blood Marrow" had stirred an unprecedented craving.
"Look, Senior Brother!" Zhao Ming pulled out a purple-black vine, its roots still damp with dew. "I found this under the back mountain cliff—patrol disciples hardly ever go there!"
I took the vine, running my fingers along the silver web-like patterns on the underside of its leaves. The Divine Rune stirred faintly—this plant carried a rare trace of wood-element spiritual power.
"The cliff, huh?" I raised a brow. "When did you grow a spine?"
Zhao Ming scratched his head, revealing fresh scrapes on his cheeks. "I… tied a rope and climbed down…" He suddenly lowered his voice, "Senior Brother, I saw a cave in the cliff wall. Inside… there was a flickering red glow…"
"Red glow?" I froze.
"Y-Yeah! Like… like blood! I didn't dare go close though—there was a formation at the entrance, and…" he gulped, "...a skeleton in an inner disciple robe."
I narrowed my eyes. What he described sounded exactly like the Blood Marrow Ganoderma habitats recorded in the Strange Tales of Tianyun. It was said that this rare spirit fungus only emerged once every ten years, capable of cleansing the marrow and rebirthing bones—a priceless treasure for any body cultivator.
"Zhao Ming," I said, beaming with a benevolent smile, "want to learn the real Ironhide Fist?"
His eyes lit up instantly—but then narrowed with suspicion. "S-Senior Brother, you're not... planning to send me into that cave, right?"
"Of course not!" I said righteously, patting his shoulder. "We're just going to… collect some alchemy ingredients."
The fire crackled in the stove again, casting flickering light over Zhao Ming's wary face. He stared at me for a long time, then suddenly clenched his teeth. "Senior Brother, when you smile like that… it's the same face you made when tricking me into stealing that spirit chicken."
"Nonsense!" I said with a straight face. "That was roast chicken."
Midnight, Three Days Later — Back Mountain Cliff
The night wind at the back mountain cliff was especially harsh, whipping my robes into a frenzy. I crouched atop a crooked pine tree near the edge, eyes fixed on the faintly glowing red cave thirty meters below. The hemp rope Zhao Ming tied around my waist creaked ominously—his rope-weaving skills were as mediocre as his fighting.
"S-Senior Brother…" Zhao Ming's trembling voice came from above. "T-The rope… it's starting to fray…"
I glanced down at the unraveling rope, then up at the cave entrance just within reach. A grin spread across my face.
"Zhao Ming."
"Y-Yeah?"
"Catch me."
"What? Wai—Aaaaah!"
Snap!
The rope snapped with a sharp crack. As I fell, I kicked off the cliff wall, using the recoil to launch myself toward the cave. Wind howled in my ears as I activated the Divine Rune and cloaked myself in Ironhide.
Boom!
I slammed into the rocky outcrop at the cave's mouth. Stones exploded around me. Pain tore through my waist—two ribs, at least—but the sharp scent of blood inside the cave pulled my focus.
And the skeleton.
It leaned against the wall, clad in a decayed inner disciple robe. Its jade identity tag was still intact. I picked it up and studied the engraved characters in the red glow:
"Pill Cauldron Peak—Chu Yunhe?"
Wasn't this the alchemy prodigy who disappeared three years ago? Last seen… gathering herbs in the back mountain?
Rustle…
A strange scraping sound echoed from deeper within the cave. My hairs stood on end. The Divine Rune flared in warning.
I turned.
The cave walls were covered in thick, purple-black vines, and at the very end, a blood-red fungus—shaped like coral—was slowly writhing. Its mycelium was buried deep in a fresh corpse's skull.
The Blood Marrow Ganoderma… had gained sentience?!
Worse still, the corpse wore the uniform of the Discipline Hall—its waist badge unmistakable.
One of Zhou Mang's men.
The red glow flared violently. All the fungus's mycelium turned toward me. A cloying, sweet scent filled the air. My vision blurred, and whispers slithered into my mind—
"Come closer... I can give you power..."
The Divine Rune's golden light surged, instantly dispelling the spiritual intrusion. I bit my tongue to stay alert and quietly activated my Copy skill.
This monster fungus definitely possessed special traits.
[Anomaly Detected: Blood Marrow Ganoderma (Demonic Evolution)][Abilities Identified: Mental Allure (Low-Grade Mystic), Flesh Consumption (Unique)][Warning! High threat level!]
"Senior Brother! Are you okay?" Zhao Ming's panicked voice echoed from above. "I-I'm going to get help!"
"No!" I shouted, "I'm fine! Stay there!"
Like hell I was going to let a patrol ruin this opportunity. I stared at the sentient fungus and grinned viciously. "You want to eat me? Careful you don't chip a tooth."
A flicker of fire ignited in my palm—a trace of flame essence from the Crimsonflame Grass. The fungus recoiled instantly, its mycelium withdrawing half a foot.
Seizing the moment, I lunged toward the dead enforcer and ripped off his storage pouch. With a flick, seven or eight low-grade spirit stones and a bottle of pills tumbled out.
"Jackpot…" I licked my lips and pressed the stones to my forehead. The Divine Rune devoured them like a starving beast.
[Divine Rune Core Restoration +0.07%][Current Progress: 0.10%]
A faint yet solid wave of strength coursed through me. I eyed the hostile fungus—and a mad idea took root.
"Hey," I said, shaking the pill bottle. "Know what this is?"
The fungus squirmed uneasily.
"Chiyang Pill," I declared, popping the cap. A burst of fiery aura filled the air. "Perfect for burning evil plants." (In truth, just ordinary recovery pills—but who cares about tricking a fungus?)
The mycelium recoiled sharply.
I charged forward, fingers like claws plunging straight into its core!
Shhhhk!
Putrid red sap splattered. The Blood Marrow Ganoderma let out a shrill shriek. Its mycelium lashed out like steel needles, stabbing into my arms—only to be blocked by the Ironhide. The few that pierced my skin were swiftly devoured by the Divine Rune.
[Initiating Plunder...][Acquired: Minor Mental Resistance (Incomplete)][Acquired: Trace Flesh Consumption Ability]
The pain was unbearable, but a feral grin spread across my face. The fungus writhed violently, draining my blood through its mycelium—while the Divine Rune devoured its essence even faster. A savage tug-of-war had begun.
"Senior Brother! I climbed down with vines! Hang in there!" Zhao Ming's voice called from the cave mouth.
"Don't come—" I shouted, but it was too late.
The boy stumbled inside, crashing into the skeleton. Clatter! The bones fell apart, and something metallic rolled to my feet—a rust-covered pill furnace key!
The fungus went berserk. Every tendril turned toward Zhao Ming.
"Not on my watch!" I roared, seizing the moment to rip the fungus from the wall. The Divine Rune blazed, and its devouring accelerated. The monstrous fungus shriveled rapidly, crumbling into ash.
The red glow faded. Only the two of us remained in the cave—Zhao Ming sitting in a daze, clutching a severed bone arm, his face smeared with blood and mud.
"S-Senior Brother…" he stammered, pointing at my glowing hand. "Your hand... it's glowing…"
I looked down. The blood-red sap was being absorbed by the Divine Rune. Faint crimson veins had surfaced beneath my skin—the mark of Flesh Consumption.
I quickly suppressed the aura. The markings faded.
"You saw wrong," I said flatly, picking up the pill key. "It was just… morning dew."
Zhao Ming opened his mouth but said nothing. He quietly let go of the bone arm and pointed deeper into the cave. "T-Those glowing stones… do we still want them?"
I followed his finger—and froze.
Embedded in the cave wall were seven or eight luminous spirit ores.
"Yes!" I grabbed the boy. "Dig out every last one! Tonight, I'll show you what real Ironhide Fist looks like!"
Far away, the patrol's gong echoed through the night. But right now, we were just two little mice who'd stolen the cheese—grinning in the dark, teeth flashing.