Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

"We need it tonight." Fang Yuan's voice wasn't loud, but his tone left no room for negotiation.

Two expressions flashed across Liu Ruyan's face. The first was, "Are you crazy?" The second—Fang Yuan read it in her eyes—wasn't fear. It was anxiety. The agonizing tension a pharmacist felt when hearing that his work was about to be put into practical use, caught between nervousness and resentment.

She hasn't had time to prepare the recovery medicine yet.

"Without a recovery potion—" Liu Ruyan lowered her voice. "You will indeed experience a surge in power for the first fifteen minutes after consuming the Breakthrough Pill. But after that—"

"I know."

"You don't know." Liu Ruyan's voice suddenly rose a half-octave. "No matter how strong your innate talent is, your meridians are still made of flesh and blood. After the energy of the Beast God's essence blood washes over them, micro-cracks will appear in the meridian walls. Without a recovery potion, these micro-cracks will widen during the period of weakness. If the meridian walls don't heal on their own within three days—"

What is the probability?

Liu Ruyan's mouth closed for a moment.

"For normal people, there is a 40% chance of permanent damage."

Fang Yuan waited.

Liu Ruyan's gaze swept across his face, from his forehead to his chin. Her observation was exactly the same as examining the cross-section of a medicinal herb.

"You—" Her voice trailed off. "Just how many times stronger is your innate talent?"

Fang Yuan did not answer.

Liu Ruyan tapped her fingers twice on the table.

"A normal late-stage Bone Refining Realm martial artist has a meridian wall resilience coefficient of around 40 to 50. Yours—" Her fingers stopped. "I've taken your pulse. Your resilience coefficient is at least 160."

She pursed her lips.

"If your resilience coefficient is really 160—the probability of permanent damage... is less than 10%."

Less than 10%.

Fang Yuan's heartbeat remained unchanged.

"There's no time for the recovery potion," Fang Yuan said. "But you can use this afternoon to thoroughly understand the formula for the Yangyan Pill. After I return—"

He paused for a moment on the word "come back".

"—Use Yangyan Dan for my recovery treatment. It's less effective than recovery medicine, but at least it can slow down the expansion of the micro-cracks."

Liu Ruyan pressed her hand on the prescription paper. Her five fingers were spread out. The pressure from her fingertips pressed five shallow dents into the paper.

There was silence for three breaths.

"When you come back tonight—" Liu Ruyan's voice squeezed out from the bottom of her throat. "Don't have more than three external injuries on your body. The pure yang properties of Yangyan Pill will accelerate bleeding from external injuries while treating minor ruptures in the meridians. More than three—I can't control it."

Fang Yuan's lips twitched slightly.

"As much as possible."

Liu Ruyan loosened her fingers from the paper. She lowered her head and looked back at the first line of the recipe.

Fang Yuan turned and walked to the door.

"Fang Yuan."

He stopped. He didn't turn around.

Liu Ruyan's voice came from behind. It was a octave lower than before. Not the rapid-fire speech of her drug-obsessed mode. It was slow.

I didn't say thank you.

Fang Yuan stepped across the threshold.

"I didn't ask you to say it."

-

The pharmacy door closed behind me.

Fang Yuan walked to the courtyard in the backyard of Baicaotang. He stood there for two breaths.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a dark gold fragment. A panel appeared.

Current savings: 4477 taels.

Fang Yuan's gaze lingered on the numbers for a moment. His fingers traced across the panel.

Temporary increase in points: 5.

Five points.

Tonight—One Breakthrough Pill. Five temporary boost points. Eight times the skill level. Triple Fist Intent of the Overlapping Wave Fist. Liu Ruyan's Broken Jar Medicine. Three barrels of fish oil from the trap area. Fang Yuanshan's four-person team. Shen Youlan's intelligence.

Is it enough?

Fang Yuan closed the panel. He put the fragment back into his pocket.

not enough.

The missing piece—Fang Yuan's twice-high comprehension—gave a very clear answer—it wasn't force. It was information.

The Blood Bat Dharma King's specific fighting style in the Qi and Blood Realm. His evil attack methods. Attack rhythm. Weaknesses.

Gu Qingluo's notes only contain speculative accounts of the Blood Bat Dharma King; there is no actual combat data.

No one has ever fought the Blood Bat Dharma King and returned alive to record it.

Fang Yuan's fingers touched the blood-red token in his pocket.

The token pulsed with each breath, pointing out of the city.

He walked from the backyard to the front hall. When he passed Manager Qian's counter, Fang Yuan stopped.

"Uncle Qian."

Manager Qian looked up from behind the ledger. His reading glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose.

"How many bottles of Qi and Blood Pills were produced today?"

"Sixty-seven bottles." Manager Qian adjusted his glasses. "Three more than yesterday. After that Miss Liu adjusted the furnace temperature—" he lowered his voice, "the loss rate decreased by ten percent."

Fang Yuan nodded.

"What about today's income?"

"Forty-three bottles sold. Twenty-four bottles remain in stock. Today's turnover—" Manager Qian turned a page of the ledger. "Two hundred and fifteen taels."

Fang Yuan tapped his finger on the counter.

"Don't sell the remaining twenty-four bottles. Pack them all up. I need them tonight."

Shopkeeper Qian's reading glasses slipped again. He pushed them up and looked at Fang Yuan.

"Master, twenty-four bottles of Qi and Blood Pills—all for you—"

"It's not just me using it."

Shopkeeper Qian shut his mouth. He was a shrewd old man. He didn't ask what he shouldn't ask. His hands had already begun rummaging through boxes under the counter.

Fang Yuan walked out of Baicaotang.

-

Shen Shi (3-5 PM).

The inner courtyard of the Fang family.

Fang Yuan stood at the door of Fang Ying's room. The door was open.

Fang Ying squatted under the windowsill. Two small buns were on top of her head. She clutched a locust tree branch in her hand—she brought it with her when she moved from the Grade A courtyard.

She was drawing on the ground with a locust tree branch.

Fang Yuan's doubled spiritual perception swept across the doorway—it was a drawing of a person. Two straight lines represented legs, a circle represented the head, and next to the head was an absurdly large iron arm guard.

Tie Meng.

Fang Yuan's lips curved slightly.

Fang Ying finished drawing. She looked up and saw Fang Yuan standing at the door.

"elder brother!"

She threw down the locust branch and ran over. Her running posture was unsteady—her left foot's stride was a beat longer than her right. But it was much better than a month ago. Fang Yuan's four times stronger constitution was taking effect in nourishing her qi and blood foundation.

Fang Ying rushed to Fang Yuan, wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her face in his belt.

"Brother, you haven't been here in ages! Uncle Tie Meng said you've been busy! What have you been busy with?!"

Fang Yuan's left hand rested on Fang Ying's head. The hand missing a fingernail—the wound had healed. A thin layer of new nail had sprouted, a lighter color than the others.

The flowered handkerchief that Fang Ying had been using to tie his waist was still there, crookedly. But Fang Yuan hadn't changed it.

His fingers gently touched Fang Ying's little bun.

"I'm done with work. I've come to see you."

Fang Ying tilted her head back. Her mouth, missing a front tooth, parted in a wide grin.

"Brother, are you having dinner here tonight? Uncle Tie Meng said he's going to make me bone broth! Big bones! So big!" She gestured an exaggerated circle around Fang Yuan's waist with both hands.

Fang Yuan didn't reply.

He squatted down, looking Fang Ying in the eye.

Fang Ying's eyes sparkled. Fang Yuan's face was reflected in her dark, grape-like pupils.

Fang Yuan removed his left hand from Fang Ying's head. His fingertips touched her forehead. The temperature of her forehead was normal. Her blood and qi signals were stable. A four-year-old child's blood and qi are as thin as a layer of gauze. But the texture of the gauze is improving—her foundation, honed by four times the root bone conditioning, is two parts thicker than that of children her age.

Fang Ying tilted her head.

"Brother, what's wrong?"

Fang Yuan stood up.

"It's nothing. I have something to do tonight. I won't be eating. You eat with Uncle Tie Meng."

Fang Ying pouted.

"You always have something to do."

Fang Yuan walked to the windowsill. He glanced down at the iron-faced figure Fang Ying had drawn on the floor. Its legs were uneven, one long and one short. Its head was drawn exceptionally large, and its iron arm guards were even larger than its head.

"Well drawn."

Fang Ying ran over and squatted down next to him, pointing to the painting on the ground.

"That's Uncle Tie Meng! That's his iron arm! That's—" Her finger traced to the corner of the image. In the corner was a very small human figure. Four times smaller than Tie Meng's portrait.

"Who is this?" Fang Yuan asked.