Tempering Blood—Beginner!
Chen Sanshi exhaled a long breath of turbid air.
The so-called tempering blood—beginner meant that a martial cultivator had successfully generated the first thread of special "qi and blood" within the body.
Those who practiced martial arts could channel this qi and blood to greatly enhance the power of their attacks. The stronger one's qi and blood, the longer they could maintain their peak fighting state.
Just as Hundred-Household Wang had said, only after reaching the tempering blood realm could one truly understand the importance of qi and blood quality.
And this was just the beginning—the difference between the ordinary breathing method and the Haoran Breathing Method would only grow wider from here on.
"Stab me!"
Wang Zhi's shout came from nearby. "I said, stab me with your spear!"
Chen Sanshi didn't understand why but didn't hesitate. He gripped his plum-blossom iron spear, drew the flow of qi and blood into his right arm, and thrust straight at the Hundred-Household's face.
"Clang—!"
Wang Zhi blocked with his knife sheath, the impact ringing sharp and clear. After feeling the force, he squinted and asked, "You really cultivated qi and blood already?"
How long had it been?
Counting carefully—it had only been six days!
Anyone who could produce qi and blood within a month was already considered a talent with limitless potential.
But six days? What kind of monster was this?!
Even more terrifying—he had used the Haoran Breathing Method!
That method was indeed stronger, but it was also far more difficult to succeed with. Cultivating qi and blood through it was exponentially harder.
Yet this kid had done it in six days!
What kind of genius was this?
After a long stunned silence, Wang Zhi forced his face back to calm and muttered, "Not bad… barely decent."
"Barely decent your ass!"
Hearing the commotion, Hundred-Household Liu and Hundred-Household Xiong came over, just in time to see the scene.
Six days to form qi and blood—this was top-tier talent even among the Eight Garrisons!
What had they missed out on?!
If this young man entered the Eight Northern Garrisons one day and gained favor from a higher-up, he might soar straight into prominence—perhaps even become a regional governor or a first-class official.
And if he remembered them then, even a slight favor could lift them up to glory.
Though that was just a possibility, letting such a chance slip away still burned in their chests.
"Old Xiong!"
Hundred-Household Liu gritted his teeth and rubbed the hilt of his saber. "Let's just kill him one of these days!"
"No need to wait for another day,"
Hundred-Household Xiong growled, snatching up a hatchet from the weapon rack. "Today's fine!"
Soon, the entire training field was buzzing.
When the soldiers learned that while some of them were still struggling with basic stance work, Chen Sanshi had already cultivated qi and blood, all were dumbfounded.
Even Luo Dongquan, drawn by the noise, came over with a dark face.
His useless nephew still needed at least seven days to reach the same stage—twice as long!
"Get lost! I'm not in the mood to play with you idiots!"
Wang Zhi ignored the two angry Hundred-Households and led Chen Sanshi straight into his tent.
He poured himself a bowl of wine, downed it in one gulp, then said, "Thousand-Household Xiang went to the county today. Once he returns, I'll report your progress. The Elite Selection quota—will be yours."
"Thank you, Hundred-Household Wang."
Chen Sanshi didn't dare underestimate the fat man who seemed so greedy and lazy.
The man might look ordinary, but his strength was anything but.
That earlier spear strike had been Chen Sanshi's full strength—yet Wang Zhi had blocked it effortlessly with nothing but a sheath.
The difference in power was staggering. One really couldn't underestimate any military officer.
"You're officially a martial cultivator now."
Wang Zhi asked, "So—what weapon are you planning to specialize in next?"
Chen Sanshi hesitated. He hadn't thought that far ahead yet.
The fat officer went on, explaining the camp's structure.
"During new soldier training, everyone's given the same short spear."
"After the evaluation, martial soldiers can choose whatever weapon they like or are best at. Formation grunts, though, only get assigned based on the army's needs."
"But don't look down on the Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry."
"This spear technique was created by the mightiest general under the Great Sheng Dynasty's founding emperor. In the martial world, most sects would treat it as a family heirloom-level treasure."
"The reason it's used for new recruits is because it's hard to master—and it serves as a test of one's potential ceiling."
"Once the test's done, you can switch to whatever weapon you prefer."
Chen Sanshi asked doubtfully, "Wouldn't switching weapons affect my cultivation progress?"
"Not at all. You've just started—no deep foundation yet. Switching now is easy."
Wang Zhi explained patiently, "There's an old saying—'A month for the staff, a year for the saber, a lifetime for the spear, and a treasured sword by one's side.'"
"Without question, the spear is the hardest weapon to master, followed by the sword."
"With your talent, if you trained the saber under me, your progress would be much faster. What do you say? Want to consider it?"
Chen Sanshi understood the logic behind the longer the reach, the greater the strength.
In future battles, long weapons naturally held higher potential.
Besides, spear techniques might be hard to master—but that didn't mean he couldn't learn them.
He had never been one to chase shortcuts. He preferred steady progress—step by step, layer by layer. That path, he believed, was the most solid.
"I'll keep training with the spear," Chen Sanshi said firmly.
"Now that's ambition."
Wang Zhi didn't press the matter. His tone shifted. "But tell me, Sanshi—since you've got me and Old Liu fighting over you, are you starting to think you're about to soar to glory?"
"No," Chen Sanshi replied without hesitation.
He knew the value he'd shown so far might look impressive, but he wasn't foolish enough to think his future was guaranteed.
Possibility was only that—a possibility—until it became reality.
He also knew that so-called geniuses were never in short supply.
But those who actually survived long enough to stand at the top—weren't always those same "geniuses."
And truthfully, he didn't see himself as one.
His progress was built more on relentless effort than natural brilliance.
The fact that Fat Wang had spoken to him so candidly meant the man truly regarded him as one of his own.
"Thank you for the advice, Hundred-Household Wang."
"Good. As long as you understand. But don't be too timid either."
Wang Zhi personally poured two bowls of wine and handed one to him. "I might only be a Sixth-Rank Hundred-Household, but within Poyang County's borders, I can protect my men."
"I'll remember that."
Chen Sanshi raised his bowl and drained it in one gulp.
Wang Zhi finished his own, slammed the bowl down, patted his belly, and strode out of the tent. "I'm off! Tonight, I've got a mission with Thousand-Household Xiang—blood and battle await!"
"Bwoo—!"
The sharp blare of the assembly horn echoed through the camp right after.
Hundred-Household Wang and Hundred-Household Liu quickly gathered their men and set out for the city.
"Into the city again? Probably still hunting those barbarian assassins," Chen Sanshi thought to himself. "It's been chaos lately—hard to make any move…"
Still, he couldn't afford to wait any longer.
Qin Feng had already become a true disciple. The longer he delayed, the worse things would get.
Then again… perhaps he could turn the chaos to his advantage.
'In times like this, one or two deaths wouldn't draw much attention, would they?'
…
"Lord Wang, you're so bad~"
"You're so big~ hahaha!"
At Spring Full Pavilion, inside a lavish private room, Wang Zhi sat with a courtesan on each arm, being hand-fed grapes and fine wine, laughing in sheer bliss.
Across the table sat two young men.
One wore elegant robes, a folded fan in hand, the very image of a refined young master. A beauty leaned against him—he was none other than Liang Zhan, the young master of Tianyuan Martial Hall.
The other, dressed in a scholar's robe and well-groomed but stiffly upright, was Qin Feng.
Unlike the others, he had no woman by his side. He just sat there, visibly restrained.
"Come now, Hundred-Household Wang—allow me to toast you," Liang Zhan said with a charming smile, raising his cup.
"Good, good, good!"
Wang Zhi laughed heartily and drained his wine without hesitation.
"Hundred-Household Wang," Liang Zhan said, setting down his cup with an easy smile, "have you given any thought to that little matter about the village hunter?"
"Which one are you talking about, Young Master Liang?"
Wang Zhi blinked blankly.
"…"
Liang Zhan's smile froze. After a moment of silence, he pulled a 20-tael silver ingot from his sleeve and set it down on the table with a grin. "Ah, Hundred-Household Wang—you really do have a short memory."
Wang Zhi's eyes flicked toward the silver, and with a casual wave of his hand, it vanished instantly.
"Ha! Look at that, my memory's back already!" He smacked his forehead. "You mean that guy from Su Family Village, surname Qian, right? Don't worry, I'll deal with him soon."
"You've got it wrong, Lord Wang."
Unable to hold back any longer, Qin Feng suddenly stood up. "The one I'm talking about is Chen Sanshi—from Swallow-Edge Village."