Becoming a god starts with one certificate becoming eternal.

These past few days, the wild wolf has been quite busy.

On the surface, he is taking over the old business of Huya Gang.

The old headquarters of the Tiger Tooth Gang has changed its flag and the people at the entrance. The old knife marks on the wall are still there, but the yard is kept exceptionally clean... not for people to see, but for the rules to see: whose territory this is, and who calls the shots now.

He went through the ledgers and rearranged the staff. Those who were in debt, those who stole food, and those who were unsteady on their feet were immediately removed. The rest, those who could be used, were kept in service for now.

Only after doing all that did he turn his attention to the darker side of the matter.

Zhang Tu is dead.

He died in the dirtiest, narrowest, and most unlikely alleyway in the Silent Alley.

Wild Wolf did not investigate personally.

He simply had people bring over the things he needed to see, one by one...

He obtained a lot of information from the body collectors.

"Make a shallow, clean cut below the throat."

"The knife didn't tear the flesh; blood spurted out first, and the sound stopped first... It was as if it was running along the edge of the blade."

Wild Wolf tapped the edge of the table lightly with his fingertip and said calmly:

"The knife isn't very good, but the person wielding it is quite skilled."

"Muscle Realm."

"And they recognize the vital points quickly and cleanly, giving no one a chance to cry out."

The leatherworker replied: That night in the windy vent, besides the acidity of saltpeter and the metallic tang of blood, there was also a very faint smell of coal ash. It wasn't strong, but it was fresh, as if it had just come from the hearth.

Finally, there's the return from the gambling den.

Gambling dens are the easiest places to hide people, and the whispers in the alleys are the easiest way to find someone.

The only response was: On the night Zhang Tu died, there was no major disturbance in the Silent Alley; but from the next day onwards, a young man in the Silent Alley almost disappeared, as if he had been erased from the alley.

The wolf mentally reviewed the reports.

He tapped his fingertip lightly on the edge of the table, his tone flat:

"We've almost found you."

Li Yi, standing beside him, forced a smile, cold sweat streaming down his forehead: "Boss Wolf, I've investigated. Zhang Tu has made quite a few enemies. But to be honest, no one would dare to touch him in Silent Alley. Especially not with just one stab..."

The wolf interrupted him, its voice still soft:

"Didn't find anyone in the Muscle/Flesh Realm?"

Li Yi's Adam's apple bobbed: "How could there possibly be a Muscle Realm in the Silent Alley?"

The wild wolf did not answer.

He only looked at the looming shadow in the distance, his gaze gradually narrowing, as if slowly tightening a net around him:

"This kind of scum shouldn't come from Silent Alley, but he must be there."

"Investigate... but don't make it look like an investigation. And it's not just Dumb Alley, the workshops and the North Furnace should also be investigated."

He turned around and gave the order in a flat tone:

"Write down who has suddenly disappeared recently, who has suddenly become strange... write it all down."

Li Yi nodded hurriedly, "Yes, Boss Wolf!"

The wolf added another sentence, seemingly casually, yet it sent chills down one's spine:

"Don't ask too many questions, don't alarm the hall master, and most importantly, don't scare that guy away."

He paused, then looked up at Li Yi.

There was no murderous intent in his eyes, yet they were colder than any murderous intent.

Li Yi's knees buckled, and he knelt down immediately: "I understand!"

Only then did the wild wolf turn its gaze away.

The hunter will not pounce on the prey immediately.

He needed to first discern whether the shadows contained a terrified rabbit or a small animal with teeth growing in.

The corners of Huanglang's lips barely curved, like a blade flashing and then disappearing:

"Then let's wait until the teeth grow a little longer."

"Let's decide... whether to kill it or keep it chained up."

……

Ye Xiao pushed open the door and went home.

The flickering fire in front of the stove illuminated patches of light and shadow in the room. Mother squatted by the pot, staring blankly at the thin porridge that was so watery it reflected her image.

She had more money, but she couldn't bear to spend it recklessly. She thought that she should save as much as possible so that she could save it for Ye Xiao.

She dared not add too much rice, nor dared to make the fire too big. She just stirred it slowly with a spoon, afraid that if she cooked it any longer, she would waste more firewood.

In the corner, Xiaoxue was woken up groggily by the cold wind.

She blinked groggily, her little face red from the cold, like a kitten that had just woken up, looking utterly aggrieved.

"elder brother!"

Xiaoxue rushed over and hugged him tightly, her small arms suddenly tightening around him: "You've lost weight again..."

Ye Xiao lowered his head, the veins on the back of his hand were more prominent than a few days ago. He had lost weight, but his whole body had become stiffer.

That kind of toughness isn't something you get from eating meat; it's something you develop little by little in the furnace and amidst the miasma.

Ye Xiao didn't speak immediately, but instead reached into his sleeve and touched a thin bamboo skewer with his fingertip.

The next moment, he handed the item to Xiaoxue.

A string of candied hawthorns, the sugar coating on the outside glistening thinly in the firelight, the hawthorns as red as if they had just been lit.

Xiaoxue was taken aback at first, then her eyes lit up, as if she had been awakened by that little bit of sweetness.

"Candied hawthorns!" She clung to Ye Xiao's arm, refusing to let go, while her other hand carefully cradled them, as if afraid they would break at the slightest touch. "You really bought them!"

Ye Xiao hummed in response, his voice indifferent: "I have said so."

Xiaoxue pursed her lips, clearly overjoyed, but as if afraid of being scolded by her mother for wasting money, she carefully suppressed her laughter: "I... I'll just eat one, and save the rest for tomorrow."

The mother paused for a moment, her eyes first showing sadness, then softening.

She didn't blame her, but simply said in a low voice, "Eat."

Xiaoxue then took a small bite, and the sugar coating made a crisp "crunch," which sounded like a happy occasion in the cold room.

She bit her cheeks until they puffed out, her mouth filled with sweetness, and her voice became soft and sweet: "Brother, please don't never come back... I'll miss you."

Ye Xiao paused, gently rubbed the top of her head, and without saying much, simply led her to the edge of the kang (heated brick bed) to keep her feet warm.

After placing the porridge on the table, his mother kept her eyes fixed on him, as if afraid he would disappear in the blink of an eye.

She hadn't seen Ye Xiao for several days.

As soon as Ye Xiao took the first sip, his stomach felt like it had been ignited by a spark, and hunger surged up suddenly.

He didn't care that it was hot and swallowed it bite by bite.

Even though I ate porridge at the North Furnace every day, the heat from it only lasted for a short while.

After one bowl, the emptiness in my chest was somewhat relieved. The second bowl... the third bowl... only barely filled the void.

But before long, that hollow feeling returned from the gaps in his bones, as if someone had drawn away the last embers from within.

The mother asked in a hoarse voice, "Xiao'er... are you hurt? Your face keeps turning pale and then red."

"Mother, I'm fine," Ye Xiao said.

What he didn't say was: the wound has healed, but the faster it heals, the more is being drained from the body...

It's like someone is pressing him for a debt inside his body; if he doesn't settle the debt, he won't be able to continue cultivating in the Northern Furnace.

If you want to continue training to the point of exhaustion and want to continue to "get stronger" quickly.

We can't survive on porridge alone, and there's not even enough meat.

I must buy medicine.

When he realized this, he felt as if a huge boulder was pressing down on him, making it difficult for him to even breathe.

He originally thought that the wages for the furnace operator would be enough after paying the alleyway fee, and that he wouldn't have to worry about food and drink for a while.

But now, he clearly realizes...

The money is far from enough.

……

The morning mist was shattered layer by layer by the sound of fists.

The training ground of Canglong Martial Arts School hadn't fully warmed up yet, but a restless energy was already gathering in the air... Footsteps, breathing, and the sound of punches were all vying to drive away the chill.

Ye Xiao stood in the far corner.

The bluestone was hard and cold. He sank half an inch into the stone with his toes gripping the cracks. His lumbar spine was straight, his shoulders relaxed, his hips tucked in, and his breathing was steady, like a pendulum swinging down.

Dingyue Stake.

These past few days, his time has been almost entirely consumed by the North Furnace.

The Crimson Blood Stakes are pressed down hard in front of the fire, and the force of the Collapsing Mountain Fist is hidden between the swinging, dropping, and returning of the shovel... You won't improve if you don't practice, but the harder you practice, the faster you improve.

The faster it rises, the more 'empty' the body becomes.

He had already confirmed it: [Destiny: Heaven rewards diligence, one proof is eternal proof] He would heal the wound, pull the broken parts back to their original position, and even prevent the achievements from regressing.

But it doesn't pay his bills.

Every time you push yourself to the limit and are forcibly pulled back, what closes up is not only the wound, but also the torn muscles and blood; and these "closed up" parts need to be replenished by other things.

Whether it's porridge or meat, it's nourishing.

But he trained too hard, and he made up for it too slowly.

To put it bluntly: it can be repaired, but it requires fuel.

Even if there isn't enough fuel, repairs will still happen... Not just wounds, but even the damage caused by the miasma will be pulled back; it's just that people will feel more and more hollowed out: their feet feel weak, their chest feels dry, and their bones feel like they can feel the wind. They can still use their strength, but they are becoming more and more "dry".

To withstand this level of repair intensity, you need sufficiently good fuel.

That leaves only the option of the medicine user, and it can't be a regular medicine.

Last night he went to the largest pharmacy in the city and asked about the prices.

A single dose of low-grade herbal medicine costs several hundred coins, while he couldn't even find out the price of medicine specifically for martial arts practitioners.

The shopkeeper only said, "Then the martial arts school will have to issue a note," and refused to say anything more.

At that moment, he saw it so clearly for the first time: the so-called martial arts had been defined by money and rules from the very beginning.

Clearly, truly effective medicines have been monopolized by various parties.