CHAPTER 91: CHAPTER 89: IT’S HIM

Extreme Fist Sect, Martial Arts Arena.

"Junior Sister, your posture is incorrect, let me teach you. Tighten here, stand up straight here..."

"Senior Brother, I feel it, I feel it!"

Jia Hong, dressed in a blue robe with long hair draped over her shoulders, had a delighted expression on her beautiful face.

On the other side, the inner disciple Zhou Yang was captivated by her beauty, staring fixedly at Jia Hong’s fair face, unwilling to look away.

"I feel like in another two days, I can fully master the school’s Breathing Technique," Jia Hong said happily. "By then, I must go to Zhihai Tower to treat Senior Brother to a meal, to repay the kindness of these days of teaching."

Mastering the Breathing Technique meant that the rest was just a matter of time and effort, equivalent to having one foot in the door of becoming a Martial Artist, how could she not be excited.

One must know, a lot of inner disciples have not grasped it even after one or two years. If delayed, the meridians will completely solidify, blocking the path to becoming a Martial Artist.

"It’s no big deal." Zhou Yang nonchalantly waved his hand, "As a Senior Brother, isn’t it my duty to guide Junior Sister?"

His eyes burned as he gazed at Jia Hong: "No need for a meal, I can’t let Junior Sister spend lavishly.

I’ve heard that the camellias on Qingfeng Mountain have bloomed in the past two days, and I wonder if Junior Sister would grace us with your presence for a visit?"

Jia Hong hesitated upon hearing this.

"Ahem!"

At this moment, there was a cough behind them, and Huang Longgang walked in from outside, his face somewhat gloomy.

"Junior Sister, we’ll talk tomorrow then." Zhou Yang glanced at Huang Longgang without greeting him, and walked off towards the other side.

"Just came, Longgang." Jia Hong, unfazed, smiled at him.

"Do you have feelings for Zhou Yang?" Huang Longgang coldly laughed, "Well, he’s already a Circulation Martial Artist, much more talented than me, and I’m nothing but a good-for-nothing wastrel!"

"Why does Longgang think so little of me?" Jia Hong looked hurt, "For some time now, I couldn’t grasp the Breathing Technique, couldn’t sleep or eat peacefully.

I asked you for help, and you couldn’t assist me, so I had no choice but to humbly ask Senior Brother Zhou. Do you think I wanted to..."

At this, Huang Longgang was a bit embarrassed.

After all, he hadn’t yet mastered the Breathing Technique himself, so how could he teach Jia Hong?

Seeing Jia Hong’s eyes brimming with tears, he became flustered and hurriedly went to comfort her.

"Hongmei, don’t worry, I’ve asked my father for plenty of Purifying God Incense, it will surely help you master it soon!"

Not far from them.

Lou Yi, with exceptional senses, watched this melodrama completely unfold, shaking his head silently.

Huang Longgang was completely under Jia Hong’s thumb.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t escape being the ultimate tool, the sycophant.

He activated his Breathing Technique on the spot, throwing punches and kicks, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, like accompaniments to a main melody, each complementing the other.

Meanwhile, a warm current emerged from his left sole, circulating upwards through his chest and abdomen, swirling for a few moments before swiftly rushing down to the right sole.

As the warm current coursed through him, his entire meridians and muscles felt warm, as if being tempered like steel, becoming more solid and strong.

And every time the warm current completed a circuit, the next would be slightly more robust.

Once it becomes robust enough, the energy will undergo a qualitative change, forming potent Secret Blood. At that point, it can be attempted to use Secret Blood to break through Xuan Gate and become a Martial Artist.

After practicing for half an hour, Lou Yi felt a swelling in his meridians, knowing that was enough training for the day.

In the Attribute Panel, the progress of the prospective Martial Artist was +2.

With the introductory level of the Breathing Technique, training for half an hour daily adds progress of +2.

To break through faster, proficiency in the Breathing Technique must be increased.

Lou Yi looked at his friend Zhan Weida opposite him, who was frowning, sighing while practicing punches.

"What’s wrong, haven’t grasped it yet?"

"The methods you taught me, the ones Uncle Pan taught, I’ve tried them all, no use!

I’m dumb, what can I do? If it doesn’t work, I’ll just take an Elixir for a forced breakthrough!" Zhan Weida said a bit despondently.

"What kind of Elixir, so powerful?" Lou Yi was surprised; this area was his knowledge blind spot.

"What else but the Blood-Rushing Pill," Zhan Weida said, and explained the related knowledge to Lou Yi.

The so-called ’Blood-Rushing Pill,’ as the name implies, upon consumption, causes the Blood Qi to surge naturally, strengthening the body, and in the process forcibly realizing the Breathing Technique.

It is essentially getting the result first, then reverse-engineering the process, much easier than deducing the result from the process.

Of course, the side effects are quite pronounced.

First, consuming the Blood-Rushing Pill means that even if someone breaks through to Martial Artist later, their combat power will be at the bottom of their tier.

Secondly, every subsequent level would require continued medication for breakthroughs, forever remaining a pill test subject.

"Don’t rush, let me help you check." Lou Yi still valued his friendship with Zhan Weida and hoped he wouldn’t take the wrong path.

Some dozen feet away, Jin Feng was watching with envy.

He had neither Jia Hong’s beauty and intelligence, nor the prestigious family backgrounds of Zhan Weida or Huang Longgang, nor such a close friend as Lou Yi.

At this thought, Jin Feng couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret.

Back when Lou Yi was being targeted by Zhan Weida, he really shouldn’t have behaved so opportunistically, causing him to lose a friend.

’Sigh, I’ll just have to figure it all out on my own.’

At this thought, a trace of sorrow appeared on Jin Feng’s dark, honest face.

...

Zhihai Tower, located on the most bustling street in southern Tai City, features many famous dishes like ’Fish Head Soup,’ ’Stir-fried Beef,’ and ’Braised Lion’s Head,’ boasting considerable competitiveness.

The building layout is divided into two floors.

The first floor is open to the public, spacious and bright, without partitions.

Inside, there are thirty to forty square tables and long benches, with guests sitting about five feet apart, their loud laughter and conversations clearly audible.

The second floor comprises private rooms, with landscape paintings hanging inside and orchids placed in the corners.

Looking down from the carved window, the street view is completely within sight.

At the moment, in one such private room, there are a table full of signature dishes like Lion’s Head, beef, river shrimp, and a jar of fine Daughter Red wine.

Four young men in red clothes sat on each side of the square table, engaged in enthusiastic conversation.

On the bench beside them, each person had a black sword, twice the width of a usual sword.

"Junior Brother Qi, the Lion’s Head at Zhihai Tower is exceptional, fatty yet not greasy, with a great texture, you must try it!"

"Thank you, Senior Brother Han, I’ll give it a try... indeed delicious, the juice is fresh and tender... I’m from a small place, forgive my provincial manners."

"Ah, no such thing as a small place, heroes never ask for their origin!

Junior Brother Qi, having just broken through Xuan Gate at fifteen, in the future we might have to rely on you!"

"Indeed, Junior Brother Qi, when you become a Martial Artist, do remember to help us!"

"You flatter me, Senior Brothers."

The one called ’Junior Brother Qi’ had a red cloak, a black belt with gold lining at the waist, wore deerskin boots, and had fair features with rosy lips and white teeth.

However, his eyes always carried an unresolved gloom, as if there’s a backstory to his past.

Thinking of the letter from his hometown, the Qi-named youth couldn’t help feeling blocked in his heart, his hatred growing uncontrollably, so he drank continuously to numb himself.

His somewhat blurred gaze involuntarily swept down at the busy street below.

People were bustling about, men and women, old and young.

Suddenly, the Qi-named youth’s eyes focused, his pupils expanding sharply!

In the crowd, he spotted a young man dressed in yellow, over six feet tall, with thick eyebrows and an air of heroism on his face.

How could this countenance be forgotten, having appeared countless times in his dreams recently!

"Lou Yi!"

The Qi-named youth shouted, leaping out of the window without thinking, descending from the sky!

"What’s going on?" His tablemates looked puzzled and worried for their little brother’s safety, rushing downstairs to check.

In the broad and busy street, the Qi-named youth ran around frantically, looking for the one who had just caused him to lose his composure.

"Where is he, where is he!" The Qi-named youth roared in unwillingness.

"Did I see wrong?" He murmured to himself, lowering his head, "No, impossible!"

He abruptly raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, filled with hatred, causing a chill to everyone who saw him: "It’s him! It must be him! I must find him!"

...