Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

Fang Yuan threw two punches.

Two punches. Two breaths. Two muffled thuds. One on the back of the head. One on the cervical spine. The triple punch of the Overlapping Wave Fist was not damaged in the enclosed doorway space—in fact, due to the reflection of the sound waves on the inner wall of the stone frame, the vibration effect was amplified by 10%.

Two corpses lay in the doorway, piled on top of each other. The arm of the one on top was draped over the face of the one below. Dark red fingernails dug into the skin of his companion's cheekbone.

panel.

"Temporary increase in points +2. Current: 10."

Fang Yuan turned towards the alley entrance.

The back row. Six.

-

Tie Meng's side.

Tie Meng stood behind the old locust tree, his iron arm guards shielding him. His eyes were fixed on the sea of ​​fire at the alley entrance.

He saw the moment Fang Yuan passed through the wall of fire.

A human-shaped silhouette emerged from the flames, which were two zhang high. Its speed was so fast it didn't seem like it was passing through fire—it was more like it was passing through a curtain. The body remained in the flames for less than half a breath. When it emerged, its sleeves were smoking.

Then the humanoid figure threw three punches in the firelight.

Tie Meng couldn't see the specific punching motion—the flames and heat distorted his vision. But he heard it.

Three muffled thuds. Extremely short intervals. The first two thuds almost overlapped. The third thud was slightly delayed—about half a breath.

After three sounds, two figures fell.

Then the humanoid figure passed through the wall of fire again.

Tie Meng's Adam's apple bobbed.

He had been following Fang Yuan for over two months, ever since Fang Yuan was dealing with a group of fifth-tier beasts in the Hundred Beast Cave secret realm. He thought he already had a sufficient understanding of Fang Yuan's abilities.

He was wrong.

Fang Yuan in the secret realm was "surviving." He was cautious, precise, and every step he took was just barely enough to stay alive.

Fang Yuan is currently "cleaning up".

Tie Meng discerned a difference between the two: Fang Yuan in the secret realm was like a surgeon with a scalpel, each cut precisely at the most crucial point. The Fang Yuan now resembled someone cracking walnuts.

The walnut was in his hand.

-

The entrance to the alley.

The six heretical cultivators in the back row had already lost half their fighting strength under the attack of the fire wall. Three of them had their short tunics burned through. Two of them had their hair ignited and then extinguished, then ignited again. One of them had his right arm from the elbow down completely smoldering with fish oil splattered on it.

When Fang Yuan emerged from the gap in the firewall, the six people were retreating towards the alley entrance.

The fire was burning outside the alleyway, but less intensely than inside—the layer of firewood outside the alleyway wasn't as thick as inside. The fire was lower, about waist-high.

The six heretical cultivators were left with only two choices. Charge forward—through the waist-high flames outside the alley. Retreat—to face Fang Yuan.

The leader, a mid-stage Bone Refinement cultivator in the front row—Fang Yuan's senses swept over the remaining six people's qi and blood fluctuations—was already dead. The strongest of the three on the left side of the front row had his occipital bone shattered by Fang Yuan's punch.

Fang Yuan, the strongest in the back row, sensed a signal—mid-stage Bone Refinement.

The second mid-term.

This mid-stage heretical cultivator's reaction was different from the previous one. He didn't have a protective aura in front of him—at least Fang Yuan didn't detect it. But his blood and qi fluctuations were very strange.

Concentrate on both palms.

Ten dark red fingernails shot out simultaneously. Their length—Fang Yuan measured them with eight times the visual precision of his stance training—was about three inches. Longer than the fingernails of any other evil cultivator he had encountered before.

The color of their nails was different too. It wasn't dark red; it was a deep red, almost black, like congealed old blood.

The heretical cultivator pushed his palms forward.

Ten fingernails detached from the fingertips.

Fang Yuan's eight-fold standing meditation technique completed the trajectory calculation within the half-breath of the fingernails detaching. The ten fingernails did not fly in a straight line. They flew in a rotating motion. Each fingernail spun rapidly around its own long axis. The airflow generated by the rotation formed a small vortex at the tip of the fingernail—giving the fingernail's flight path an arc.

Ten fingernails. Ten arcs. The point where the arcs meet—Fang Yuan's chest.

Fang Yuan stepped to the left.

Stride length is accurate to the minute.

Ten fingernails flew past him three inches from the outside of his right shoulder. One of them grazed the seam on the right shoulder line of his new short brown coat—the shoulder line that Liu Ruyan had adjusted. The fabric was cut open. The skin was not injured.

Fang Yuan's right foot stomped on the ground. The body's inertia was completely absorbed by the eight-fold stance training in this step—zero slippage.

Then it was launched.

Fang Yuan passed by five other evil cultivators on his way.

Five people in the early stages of bone refining.

As Fang Yuan passed by the five early-stage Bone Refinement cultivators, their minds hadn't even finished processing the signal that "the enemy is moving."

Fang Yuan ignored them.

Kill the strongest one first.

After unleashing ten fingernails, the mid-stage Bone Refinement cultivator's hands were empty. Fang Yuan's senses swept over his fingertips—blood was seeping from the base of the nails. Not from external wounds. It was the price of launching the nails. The nails were connected to the nail beds. The nail beds were connected to the terminal meridians. Forcibly launching them was equivalent to severing ten of his terminal meridians.

His hand is ruined. At least for the time being.

When Fang Yuan's fist arrived, the evil cultivator crossed his arms in front of his chest to block.

Useless.

The triple punch penetrates the crossed forearms. The first strike creates a gap between the ulna and radius. The second strike widens the gap into a crack. The third strike flows through the crack and travels along the bone's conduction path to the chest cavity.

The sound of ribs is unpleasant.

It wasn't the sound of one piece breaking. It was the sound of three pieces breaking simultaneously, the broken ends scraping against each other.

The evil cultivator was pushed back two steps by the triple punch, his back slamming against the alley wall. A spiderweb-like crack appeared on the wall.

His mouth was open. Dark red liquid dripped from the corner of his mouth.

Fang Yuan's second punch landed squarely on his forehead. Clean and swift. Leaving no room for error.

panel.

"Temporary increase in points +1. Current: 11."

Fang Yuan turned around.

Five people remain at the early stage of Bone Refinement.

They finally realized what was happening. The five of them scattered. Two went left. Two went right. One—the most panicked one—ran towards the wall of fire.

Two breaths after running towards the wall of fire, he was engulfed in flames. The howling lasted for three breaths. Then it stopped.

Fang Yuan didn't chase after that one.

The two on the left.

Fang Yuan extended his right fist and left palm simultaneously. The fist struck the nearby one on the left, while the palm slapped the farther one on the right—a palm wind. It wasn't a triple punch; it was a pure qi-force palm wind. It struck the second evil cultivator in the face. The force wasn't fatal, but it was enough to make his head snap back.

The action of turning his head back gave Fang Yuan a brief respite.

Half a breath.

Fang Yuan first dealt with the one on the left. Triple Fist Intent. Back of the head. Old spot. Spiderweb-like pattern on the inner wall of the skull. He fell.

Then he shifted sideways. His right palm became a fist. He finished off the evil cultivator opposite him who hadn't yet regained his balance after shaking his head. The fist's intent struck the throat. The sensation of the shattering laryngeal cartilage traveled back from the surface of his fist.

Two. Two breaths.

The two on the right—

When Fang Yuan looked up, the two evil cultivators were rushing towards the alley entrance.

Fire.

The flames were waist-high. They ducked and crouched inside.

Fang Yuan didn't pursue him.

He stood in the alley. The firelight illuminated his entire body. His short brown robe was burned in three places. The shallow cut on his left ear had stopped bleeding—blood clotted very quickly at four times the bone density. The cut on his right shoulder line was open, revealing the lining of his short brown robe underneath.

A panel pops up.

"Foreign essence blood energy detected. Absorb?"

Yes.

Fang Yuan swept his right palm around the alley. The dark red mist from the seven corpses surged into his palm one after another. Adding to the two who had died from the fire earlier—he walked over and hovered above the charred bodies for three breaths. The mist seeped from the cracks in the charred skin. It had weakened considerably, but it was still there.

The panel jumped seven times.

"Temporary boost points +1... +1... +1..."

Seven consecutive beeps were given.

"Current temporary increase in points: 17."

Fang Yuan withdrew his fingers from above the last charred corpse. The icy sensation in his palm was much stronger this time. It wasn't just a little bit cold; it was a continuous line of coldness that seeped from his palm down his forearm and then down to his elbow.

The Qi and blood of four times the strength of the root bone crushed the cold line within three heartbeat cycles. However, the crushing process took one heartbeat longer than each previous one.

Seventeen temporary increase points.

Fang Yuan clenched his right palm.

Two escaped. One fled the alleyway through the fire. Fang Yuan's senses were tracking them—two energy signals were moving away, heading towards the city wall. They couldn't escape Liangshui City. The burns on their bodies had reduced their combat power by at least 30%. Even with increased patrol intervals on the city wall, it was impossible for two evil cultivators reeking of burns to scale the wall.

I'll ignore them.

Fang Yuan reached his right hand into his pocket.

Crimson token.

The rhythm of each breath beat faster the instant Fang Yuan's fingers touched the token—

Disappeared.