Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

Do you have any 'Purple Heart Lotus' on you?

Fang Yuan mentally checked Bai Cao Tang's inventory. Nothing.

"I'll go find it. Within three days."

Liu Ruyan opened her mouth slightly.

"You're going to look for it? I haven't seen any wild Purple Heart Lotus within a fifty-mile radius of Liangshui City. The nearest place of origin is—"

"I have other channels."

After saying this, Fang Yuan turned and walked out.

Liu Ruyan called out behind him, her voice about 20% higher than normal.

"Leave the crystals! What will happen to them if you leave? Temperature and humidity affect the stability of internal energy! I need to do pretreatment first—"

Fang Yuan didn't stop walking.

"casual."

Liu Ruyan watched Fang Yuan's figure disappear outside the pharmacy.

She stood before the table. To her left was a dark golden crystal of beast god's essence blood. To her right was a Crimson Flame Core that had withered for two years. In front of her were three dishes of medicinal powder and a medicine grinder.

Her finger hovered above the dark gold crystal for three breaths.

Then she moved.

He rummaged through the medicine chest and pulled out a set of tools—copper tweezers, an agate mortar and pestle, and three medicine knives of different sizes. The tools were lined up on the table. The placement of each item was precise to the millimeter.

The moment her hand touched the dark gold crystal, it became as steady as if it had been nailed to thin air.

The essence and blood crystallization of ancient ferocious beasts.

Her master had studied the Blood Demon Sect for twelve years. During those twelve years, he had searched through every book and manuscript he could find. There were only a few lines about the essence blood of ancient ferocious beasts—something most martial artists would never see in their entire lives.

It's in her hands now.

Liu Ruyan's lips parted. Not in a smile. It was an uncontrollable spasm of facial muscles, stretched open by extreme excitement.

Fang Yuan had already left Baicaotang.

On the street. The afternoon sun made the bluestone pavement hot.

Fang Yuan walked to the alley entrance. He took out a slip of paper from his pocket—the one Shen Youlan had replied to earlier.

"Qingyao Valley has the largest stronghold. You need help."

Fang Yuan flipped the note over. He pulled a charcoal pencil from his sleeve and wrote a line below Shen Youlan's.

"Purple Heart Lotus. Within three days. Quantity: at least three plants. I will cover the cost."

Fold it neatly.

When Fang Ping ran over, his forehead was covered in sweat.

"Brother Fang Yuan."

"Drunken Immortal Pavilion. Shen Youlan. Same as last time."

Fang Ping took the note. He ran away.

Fang Yuan leaned against the wall at the alley entrance, his hands in his pockets.

His right hand touched the blood-red token.

His left hand touched the dark gold shard.

The token pulsed with each breath. The fragment remained at a constant temperature.

Fang Yuan's gaze swept across the street and landed on the wonton stall across the way.

The wonton stall was empty. The middle-aged man was gone.

Fang Yuan used his doubled spiritual perception to scan the area. There was no trace of the peak Flesh Refining Realm's blood energy signal within twenty-five feet. Nor was there the cold signal of the early Bone Refining Realm that had appeared in the shadows at the alley entrance earlier.

They've all been removed.

Fang Yuan's finger paused on the token for a moment.

The number of cult members in the city is decreasing—he's killed five in the last five days. The rest are either dead or have fled.

Where did it go?

The direction of the token's pulse provided the answer.

outside the city.

Green Medicine Valley.

All the fish are converging on one pond.

Fang Yuan removed his finger from the token.

He had a mental sand table. The sand table displayed all the information he currently possessed—

Inside the city: At most two remaining strongholds. The number of cultists is unknown, but the pulse frequency of the tokens has become extremely weak in the direction of the city. The threat within the city is decreasing.

Outside the city: Towards Qingyao Valley. The direction of the strongest token pulse. One of the two red dots outside the city marked on Shen Youlan's handkerchief. The altar, iron cage, and a dozen or so red-robed figures described by Liu Ruyan. At least two Refining Realm cultivators.

And—that Qi and Blood Realm expert who appeared last night.

Fang Yuan clenched his fist in his pocket.

A heretical cultivator at the Qi and Blood Realm. If he is indeed the Blood Demon Cult's ultimate executor in this game of Liangshui City—

Fang Yuan had seen the same title in both the intelligence booklet and Gu Qingluo's notes.

Blood Bat Dharma King.

Regional leaders of the Blood Demon Cult. Each Blood Bat Dharma King possesses at least the cultivation level of the Qi and Blood Realm. They oversee all followers within a designated area and are responsible for the operation of the altars and the collection of essence blood.

Page 43 of Gu Qingluo's journal.

"The Blood Bat Dharma King's cultivation method is different from that of ordinary believers. Ordinary believers extract the essence blood of others for their own use. The Blood Bat Dharma King extracts the concentrated essence blood handed over by believers—they do not hunt for food themselves. They eat 'second-hand goods'. This means that the Blood Bat Dharma King's body contains heterogeneous essence blood from more diverse sources, with a higher concentration and a total amount far exceeding that of any martial artist of the same level."

There is a bolded comment following it.

"Speculation: The Blood Bat Dharma King's actual combat power may exceed his apparent level by one to two minor levels."

Early stage of Qi and Blood Transformation into Mist Realm - plus one or two minor stages of overflow.

It is equivalent to the combat power between the late stage of Qi and Blood Transformation Mist Realm and the early stage of Qi and Blood Transformation Liquid Realm.

Fang Yuan's lips were pressed into a line in the shadows.

Hit the front.

Even if all the trump cards were laid out—five temporary boost points, Liu Ruyan's potent pills, eight times the power of stance training, and the triple intent of the Overlapping Wave Fist—

The odds of winning are less than 20%.

Fang Yuan doesn't fight battles where he has only a 20% chance of winning.

He won at least 80% of the battles.

Where will the remaining 60% come from?

Fang Yuan turned his gaze away from the empty space at the wonton stall.

His footsteps led him toward the west of the city.

I took three steps.

Stopped.

Fang Yuan's doubled spiritual perception detected a blood and qi signal on the rooftop twenty-five zhang away.

Not cold. Not hot.

The temperature is normal. But the concentration of qi and blood—

Peak of the Bone Refining Realm.

Fang Yuan's neck hairs stood on end.

This is not a heretical practice. The signal of a heretical practice is cold. The temperature of this signal is perfectly normal.

But a person at the peak of the Bone Refining Realm was squatting on the roof—in broad daylight—staring in the direction of the Hundred Herbs Hall.

This isn't a surveillance method used by the city guards. The city guards don't have enough personnel at the peak of the Bone Refining Realm to carry out tracking missions. Zhao Biao's squad leader is among the highest-level members of the city guards.

Fang Yuan's twice-high comprehension allowed him to complete the process of elimination within three breaths.

Not a member of the city guards. Not from the Fang family. Not from Shen Youlan's side. Not the middle-aged man from the wonton stall—the middle-aged man was at the peak of the Body Refining Realm.

Peak of the Bone Refining Realm.

The blood and qi signals are normal.

It is not an evil practice.

Who is that?

Fang Yuan took a step forward. His stride and pace remained unchanged. He didn't look up at the roof.

He walked through the first alley. The signal followed him.

Fang Yuan turned into the second alley. The signal stopped at the alley entrance.

There was no follow-up.

Fang Yuan walked to the middle of the alley. He stopped.

His fingers came out of his pocket.

Fang Yuan memorized the characteristics of the person's qi and blood fluctuations on the rooftop within those few breaths of perception.

Even. Powerful. The flow of Qi and blood in the meridians is free of impurities. Each meridian is extremely full.

A practitioner of orthodox martial arts. Their techniques are extremely pure.

These are qualities that not locals from Liangshui City would possess.

Fang Yuan's doubled comprehension provided a direction—

Outsiders.

He wasn't a member of the Blood Demon Cult. But at the same time that the Blood Bat Dharma King appeared, another expert also arrived in Liangshui City.

coincidence?

Fang Yuan did not believe in coincidences.

He suppressed this message and kept walking.

-

That evening.

Fang Ping returned from Zuixianlou with Shen Youlan's reply.

There were only two words on the back of the note.

"In stock."

In the lower left corner of the note, a symbol—a butterfly—was drawn in very faint ink.

The logo of Dark Butterfly Pavilion.

Shen Youlan is going to use the connections within the pavilion.

Fang Yuan held the note up to the candle flame and burned it.

In the three breaths that the note was replaced by ashes, Fang Yuan's fingers pulled out a dark gold fragment from his pocket.

The fragments maintain a constant temperature. A panel appears.

Current savings: 4977 taels of silver.

Fang Yuan's gaze lingered on the numbers for a moment.

Purple Heart Lotus isn't cheap. Buying it through the Dark Butterfly Pavilion's channels—including the middleman's profit—would cost at least five hundred taels.

4977 minus 500 equals 4477.

The threshold of 10,000 taels is 5523 taels.

Fang Yuan closed the panel.

The candlelight flickered on the table.

His shadow was cast on the wall. The outline of the shadow shrank and shrunk in the flickering firelight.

Fang Yuan put the fragments back into his pocket.

I walked to the window.

Push open half of the window.

In the courtyard, Tie Meng was loading Fang Ying's small bundle onto a mule cart. Fang Ying sat on the cart shaft, her short legs swinging back and forth. Her two little pigtails jiggled on top of her head.

Fang Lin stood beside the mule cart. One hand rested on the cart's edge. The other hand gripped the short dagger—still tightly in his hand.

Fang Ying suddenly turned her head.

Her gaze swept across the courtyard, and from a distance of twenty paces, she accurately located the window where Fang Yuan was standing.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

Fang Ying grinned. A grin that showed she was missing a front tooth.

She waved.

Fang Yuan stood behind the window.

He didn't wave.

But his right hand was clenched into a fist below the window frame—from an angle Fang Ying couldn't see.

There was no sweat on his fist.

The knuckles are turning white.

Fang Ying turned back. She continued swinging her short legs. The mule cart creaked and started moving. Tie Meng walked beside the cart. Fang Lin followed behind.

Three figures passed through the courtyard gate and disappeared around the corner of the passageway.

Fang Yuan closed the window.

He turned and walked to the table.

Gu Qingluo's journal lay open on the table. She turned to page forty-three.

The three characters "Blood Bat Dharma King" were circled twice in Gu Qingluo's handwriting. The ink was so deep it almost tore the paper.

Fang Yuan pressed his finger on those three words.

The rough fibers of the paper felt slightly astringent under my fingertips.

His gaze shifted from the journal to the other side of the table.

The patrol captain's iron plaque sat in the corner. On the gray iron surface, the four rough characters "Patrol Captain" dimmed in the candlelight.

Beside the iron plaque was a blood-red token. The bat totem faced upwards. The pulse beat every breath.

Fang Yuan lifted his hand from the note.

Reach out into the space between the iron plate and the token.

He took something out of his pocket.

Put it down.

A piece of paper folded into four folds. Unfold.

There were seven red dots on the paper—a map of Shen Youlan's handkerchief that he had copied from memory.

Of the seven dots, three were crossed out.

There are four left.

One in the west of the city. One in the north of the city. Two outside the city.

Fang Yuan's finger hovered over the paper.

They moved to one of the two locations outside the city—the location of Qingyao Valley.

Press down with your fingertips.

A faint fingerprint was left on the paper.

The candlelight flickered.

Fang Yuan's shadow froze on the wall.

On the table, the pulse of the blood-red token suddenly changed from one pulse per breath to two pulses per breath.

Fang Yuan's fingers did not move.

The pulse frequency of the token is continuously increasing.

Two jumps in one breath. Three jumps in one breath. Four jumps in one breath.

Fang Yuan's doubled spiritual perception detected the blood energy fluctuation again from the direction of the window—at the edge of twenty-five feet.

Scalding hot. Thick. Sticky.

Far away. Very far. At least at the very edge of my perception range.

But it's there.

A moment later, the fluctuation disappeared.

The token's pulse returned to one beat per breath.

Fang Yuan lifted his fingers off the paper.

A speck of ink stained his fingertip. The fingerprint remained where Qingyao Valley was—overlapping with the red dot he had drawn earlier. The red ink mixed with the black ink on his fingertip, forming a dark, almost imperceptible circle.

Fang Yuan's gaze was fixed on that circle.

The candlelight on the table flickered again.

The iron plaque, the token, and the seven dots on the paper.

The three things each cast their own shadows in the candlelight.

Fang Yuan's lips curved into a smile in the shadows.

It's not a laugh.

It's the expression on a chess player's face after revealing the opponent's king and starting to count how many moves they have left.

His right hand opened. A panel appeared.

Temporary increase in points: 5.

Five dots glowed quietly on the panel.

Fang Yuan traced the number "5" with his finger.

Close the panel.

On the table, the bat totem on the blood-red token flickered in the candlelight.

A pulse. One breath, one beat.

It's as steady as a countdown.