212: Chapter 212 "Rock-Shattering Force"

After walking for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, the team passed through an old forest dense with withered vines.

Zhao Hu found a dry stone to sit down on and signaled the team members to stop and rest their feet.

The hunters leaned against the tree trunks in twos and threes to drink water, and someone started gnawing on the compressed biscuits given by Su Mingyuan; after chewing a couple of bites, their eyes lit up as they passed them around to taste.

Zhao Hu did not eat anything.

He sat cross-legged on the stone with his hands resting on his knees and closed his eyes.

This was his unshakable daily routine—circulating his qi energy.

Martial Artists in Cang City relied on qi energy to Cultivate.

There was Spiritual Qi between heaven and earth, and its concentration was very thin, but the human body's Meridians could absorb it bit by bit.

A Cultivation Technique taught one how to drag this Spiritual Qi into the body, how to circulate it along the Meridians, and finally how to press it into the Dantian to transform it into qi energy.

qi energy was the capital by which a Martial Artist made a living.

Infused into the muscles and bones, fists became harder than iron; infused into the legs, a single leap spanned several zhang; when infused deeply enough and pressed solidly enough, one's Realm would ascend.

Cang City divided Martial Artists into five stages.

A First-Order Martial Artist had qi energy newly entering the body, able to endure injuries that ordinary people could not withstand and outrun beasts that ordinary people could not outrun. Most hunters in Cang City were on this line, relying on ability as well as luck to survive.

A Second-Order Martial Master had qi energy penetrating the four limbs, and punches could snap tree trunks as thick as a bowl's mouth; taking a slash that wasn't fatal allowed them to keep fighting. Zhao Hu was stuck at this stage; for three years, he could touch the upper edge but couldn't reach it.

A Third-Order Great Master had qi energy projecting outward. Before the fist even touched you, the fierce wind arrived, capable of cracking stones from a foot away. Reaching this step meant it was no longer possible to be piled to death by sheer numbers.

A Fourth-Stage Grandmaster had qi energy condensing into substance, forming an invisible barrier on the surface of the body that blades could not cut and arrows could not pierce. Out of the entire eighty thousand people in Cang City, only the City Lord alone stood on this line.

As for whether there was anything even higher above?

There indeed was; older hunters called that a "Great Grandmaster", saying that the qi energy merged with heaven and earth, and with a single palm strike, they could slap to death a top-tier Level 3 Yao Beast.

But no one had seen it with their own eyes, and Zhao Hu simply regarded it as a story made up after drinking too much alcohol.

The quality of a Cultivation Technique directly determined how far a Martial Artist could go.

A good Cultivation Technique absorbed Spiritual Qi quickly and had a high conversion efficiency, allowing qi energy to run smoothly in the Meridians; a poor Cultivation Technique dawdled to accumulate just a tiny bit after half a day, and was also prone to straying and crashing into the Meridians, resulting in vomiting blood at best, or paralysis in bed at worst.

Most Cultivation Techniques in Cang City were passed down from Old Ancestors, repeating over and over with just those few sets; the good ones were hidden by various families as heirlooms, and what ordinary people came into contact with were all middle-to-lower-grade goods circulating in the market.

What Zhao Hu practiced was called "Rock-Shattering Strength", left to him by his Master, which could be considered medium-high.

It took a rigid and fierce route—when the qi energy circulated, it exclusively traveled through the yang Meridians, infusing into fists and feet like stones smashing down, making it very useful for fighting thick-skinned and fleshy Yao Beasts.

But this Cultivation Technique had a flaw: fierce in the early stage, soft in the later stamina.

When progressing from the Second-Order toward the Third-Order, the qi energy needed to transition from rigid to flexible, and from external pressure to introspection; yet the path of "Rock-Shattering Strength" went counter to this.

Zhao Hu had been stuck at the peak of the Second-Order for a full three years.

Every night, sitting cross-legged and circulating his qi energy for two hours, the qi energy spun round and round in the Meridians, and his Dantian was full to the brim like a bowl of water about to overflow, yet he just couldn't press down that final layer.

He had tried forcefully suppressing it, but as a result, the qi energy darted about chaotically in his chest cavity, causing a rupture of breath that hurt for three days and made him cough up two mouthfuls of blood-streaked phlegm.

Ever since then, he had behaved himself and dared not act recklessly again.

The realm breaking pill was used precisely for this.

Once the Medicinal Pill entered the abdomen, the medicinal power would soften that rigid Bottleneck in the Dantian, allowing the qi energy to naturally sink downward, pressing from the "fullness" of the Second-Order into the "emptiness" of the Third-Order.

But the realm breaking pill required a monster core from a Level 3 or higher Yao Beast as a medicinal guide, plus three medicinal ingredients: snow ginseng, iron wire grass, and scarlet fire lotus—Cang City could not accumulate even a few pills throughout the entire year, though snow ginseng, iron wire grass, and scarlet fire lotus could still be gathered near Cang City.

Pill Master Sun Liang could only stare blankly at the Pill Formula, for even a clever housewife could not cook a meal without rice.

Therefore, Second-Order Martial Artists in Cang City were as common as blackberries, while Third-Order Great Masters had only Liu Kun as a solitary seedling. It wasn't that everyone wasn't working hard; there truly was nothing to consume.

Zhao Hu sat on the stone and circulated his energy for a short while; the qi energy rotated three times along the yang Meridians of his arm, and the familiar feeling of blockage came from his Dantian once again. He opened his eyes and expelled a breath of foul air.

Three years, and it was still this damn way.

He lowered his head to look at the skyfall dagger at his waist, then thought of the iron giant on Su Mingyuan's side.

One world Cultivate by relying on qi energy, broke Realms by relying on monster cores, and endured generation after generation by relying on Cultivation Techniques.

The other world relied on iron and machinery; a young man without the slightest bit of qi energy could drill into a shell and crush a Level 3 Demon Wolf to death.

Zhao Hu could not tell which world was more formidable, but one point was very clear to him—Cang City had Pill Formulas, monster cores, medicinal herbs, and animal skins; if the other party wanted them, they could take them in exchange.

Su Mingyuan's side had medicinal powders, bandages, canned food, and painkiller injections; bringing these things over could save lives.

Both sides each had what they lacked and what they had in abundance.

The mutual trade and long-term cooperation that Su Mingyuan spoke of—the more Zhao Hu pondered it, the deeper he felt the intricacies within were.

He didn't have the final say on this matter; the City Lord had to make the final decision.

But one thing he could be certain of—if the City Lord nodded, life in Cang City would be vastly different from before.

"Enough resting, let's go!" Zhao Hu stood up and patted the dirt off his buttocks.

The hunters packed up their things and followed along, some still licking their lips in reminiscence of the compressed biscuits' taste.

The team drilled into the dense forest, speeding on their journey in the direction of Cang City.

The skyfall dagger at Zhao Hu's waist bobbed up and down with his steps, clinging to his hip bone, both cold and heavy.

After walking for the better part of a day, the outline of Cang City emerged from the end of the forest.

The bluestone city walls, over a dozen meters high, lay horizontal before their eyes. Massive claw marks crisscrossed the wall surface, with the deepest one stretching all the way from the top of the wall down to the Foundation, as if carved out forcefully by something with sharp claws.

Beside the claw marks were cracks left by impacts, spreading out like a spiderweb. The crevices were stuffed with gravel and mud, with layers upon layers of patch-up traces.

The walls of this city were a history of warfare, with every single scar corresponding to a Yao Beast siege.

Four spear-wielding Martial Artists stood at the city gate. Seeing Zhao Hu lead his team back, they exchanged greetings and let them pass.

The streets inside the city were not wide, the bluestone slab pavement polished bright from being trodden upon, flanked by residential houses and shops of wood and stone structures.

A shop selling animal skins had set up its stall right in the middle of the road, with a whole gray wolf pelt spread across a rack, its fur color dim and its quality average.

The boss of the herbal shop nearby was weighing medicine with a scale, muttering words under his breath.

From a distance came the clanging sounds of hammering from the blacksmith's shop, mixed with the whooshing sound of a bellows being pulled and the sizzling water vapor sound during quenching.

The air was mixed with the smell of rust, the bitterness of herbs, and the gamey, uncleaned stench of animal skins.

Zhao Hu did not linger on the street; he passed through two alleys and headed straight for the City Lord's Mansion.

The City Lord's Mansion was the largest building in Cang City, featuring a three-courtyard compound with two stone lions squatting at the entrance and two Martial Artists standing on the steps.

Zhao Hu reported his identity and walked straight inside.

In the courtyard, a person sat by a stone table drinking tea.

en own.

City Lord of Cang City.

In his early fifties, not very tall, lean, dressed in a gray long robe washed somewhat white.

This blade had followed him for decades, older than most people in Cang City.

Fourth-Stage Grandmaster.

The one standing at the very top among the eighty thousand people in Cang City.

Zhao Hu entered the courtyard and cupped his fists in salute.

en own held his teacup and swept a glance at him, his gaze falling upon his left shoulder—wrapped around it was a circle of white bandage, fine, neat, carrying a faint, unknown medicinal scent.

"This is not something from Cang City."

en own put down the teacup, didn't speak, and waited for him to talk.