Back in the east building, Xiangzi pulled the vitality tonic from his pocket.

A rich medicinal scent filled the room.

Unwrapping the kraft paper, he revealed a fine, pale red powder.

Xiangzi pinched it—its texture was remarkably smooth, clearly superior to the batch he’d bought at the West City apothecary.

Without hesitation, he grabbed a large copper kettle and poured boiling water into a tub.

The rippling water’s warmth instantly washed away the day’s fatigue.

Xiangzi felt himself melting into it, letting out a low, “Feels good!”

In his month at the east building, he’d been relentlessly training stance work, barely rinsing under a faucet.

This was his first time soaking in a tub.

The sheer comfort was something he hadn’t felt in ages!

While the water was still hot, Xiangzi poured the thirty-silver-dollar vitality tonic into the tub.

The pale red powder dissolved instantly, turning the water a vivid crimson.

At first, his skin tingled, as if brushed by feathers.

The sensation grew heavier, shifting to a stinging pain, then a scraping like tiny knives.

Xiangzi knew the tonic’s power was kicking in.

Spurred by the medicine, the Pillar of Vitality in his dantian began to spin.

The faster it spun, the more a flush spread across his face.

Recalling Uncle Jie’s advice, Xiangzi relaxed every muscle, opening his pores to absorb the tonic’s potency.

Time blurred.

The water cooled completely, and Xiangzi slowly opened his eyes.

His dark eyes gleamed with fierce intensity, radiating an indescribable aura.

His body felt subtly transformed, though he couldn’t pinpoint how.

Standing from the tub, he was shocked—the water was crystal clear, not a trace of red left.

That’s not what Uncle Jie said. He’d mentioned some residue would remain.

Is this the effect of top-grade tonic?

Feeling the robust vitality cyclone in his dantian, Xiangzi grinned—it was noticeably stronger.

Thirty silver dollars’ worth, and I feel like a new man.

New man? That’s not right!

Xiangzi frowned.

Uncle Jie had warned that vitality tonic worked best the first few times, with diminishing returns later.

But new users often struggled with its overpowering force.

Why did he feel no discomfort, only vigor?

Is my cart-pulling sacred body also a natural tonic-absorbing one?

At this rate, he could handle several more doses.

Xiangzi shook his head, setting the thought aside. He was eager to test his new strength.

Opening the window, he gazed out—the moon, half-full, looked unlikely to wax full, oddly enough.

He considered kicking a tree in the yard but hesitated.

The night was clear, with no storm to mask the noise.

Instead, he picked up a wooden stick as thick as his arm from the bedside.

Gripping both ends, he barely exerted force before it snapped in two.

Xiangzi marveled—my strength’s up at least twenty percent!

It surpassed most east building guards.

A thought struck him: How will this stronger vitality boost my martial skills?

No sooner thought than done.

Xiangzi rushed outside, practicing a set of Thunder-Rushing Fist and Wind-Chasing Kick in the dark.

The forms, just a dozen moves combined, thrilled him.

In the whistling air, the moves, powered by stronger vitality, gained a sharp edge.

More exciting were the words in his mind:

[Thunder-Rushing Fist +2]

[Wind-Chasing Kick +2]

One set had earned 2 proficiency points each.

With stronger vitality, his moves were crisper, more powerful, yielding more experience.

A virtuous cycle!

But at this rate, these basic techniques would soon reach Great Mastery.

Then I’ll hit their ceiling.

He’d need deeper techniques soon.

Changing clothes, Xiangzi stared at the mirror, startled.

Still the same dark, unremarkable face.

But his eyes now held an undeniable sharpness.

His frame, unchanged in size, showed chiseled muscles even through his tunic.

He exuded a martial aura.

The man in the mirror was a far cry from the rickshaw puller of before.

Xiangzi studied himself, hunching slightly to dim his commanding presence.

To others, he was just a martial artist who’d awakened his vitality.

But he shook his head, sighing softly.

A sharp awl pierces the sack eventually. He could hide for now, not forever.

With his Pillar of Vitality and the mine’s stance proficiency boosts, he’d soon break the Vitality Barrier.

Then, awakening as a martial artist would only need bone-forging tonic.

But that was exclusive to martial halls.

Harmony Rickshaw Yard isn’t my long-term home.

Xiangzi gave a self-mocking smile—talking big before even breaking the Vitality Barrier.

The mine route issue remained unresolved, and for now, he needed the lead puller role to earn silver and grind stance proficiency.

Still, the tangible strength boost gave him some security.

If trouble hit the mine route, he had more means to protect himself.

He glanced reluctantly at the kraft paper bag, sighing—thirty silver dollars’ worth, and the effect’s unreal.

One dose, and he felt reborn.

No wonder Liu Tang and Uncle Jie said martial artists in this world were nurtured by medicine.

He pulled out the jade-like demon beast bone, its smooth warmth in his hand.

A fervent glint sparked in his eyes.

If beast meat tonic is this potent, what about this bone?

What kind of effect would it have?