Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

Fang Teng.

The eldest grandson of the Third Elder, at the early stage of the Bone Refining Realm. He leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, watching expressionlessly as Fang Yuan corrected the fist stance of a collateral disciple.

Fang Yuan placed his hand on the disciple's shoulder blade and adjusted the angle slightly, instantly increasing the speed of his punches during sparring.

Fang Teng's brow twitched slightly.

He watched for a full half hour as Fang Yuan instructed three disciples. The problems of the three were all different, and the corrections Fang Yuan gave were also completely different, but each adjustment was precise to the inch, and the effect was immediate.

Fang Teng was a martial artist at the Bone Refining Realm, and his understanding of the body far surpassed that of ordinary disciples at the Flesh Refining Realm. Because of this, he understood better than anyone how difficult what Fang Yuan was doing was.

That's not something you can teach by just memorizing formulas—it requires an almost instinctive understanding of the location and interrelationships of the human skeleton, muscles, and meridians. Even a martial arts instructor who has practiced for ten or twenty years might not be able to achieve that level of precision.

Fang Yuan is sixteen years old.

Fang Teng straightened up from the pillar, turned around and left.

That evening, an extra letter appeared in the study of the Third Elder, Fang Shoude.

The letter was written by Fang Teng; the handwriting was neat and the wording concise.

"...The previous assessment of Fang Yuan needs to be revised. His understanding of physical training is higher than expected. The precision of his stance training instruction is unmatched by any current instructor in the Martial Arts Hall. It is recommended to continue to observe him and not to apply direct pressure for the time being."

Fang Shoude read the letter twice, folded it, and stuffed it into the deepest part of the drawer.

He picked up his teacup, took a sip, and found the tea was cold.

Fang Yuan didn't know what letter Fang Teng had written, but he did know that Fang Teng had stood behind the pillars and stared at it for half an hour today.

It doesn't matter. There's absolutely nothing to criticize about his instruction in stance training—he taught the Fang family's own disciples, charged fair market rates, and paid the family's share of the 20%. It was all aboveboard and impeccable.

Let them see.

The more you see, the deeper your fear becomes. The deeper your fear, the longer you'll hesitate before taking action.

All he needs is time.

On the third night.

When Fang Ping found Fang Yuan, he brought two pieces of news.

"The good news is that word has spread about the stance training instruction, and there are already twelve people booked for tomorrow. The bad news—"

Fang Ping lowered his voice and glanced towards the door.

"Brother Sun said that someone from the Mercenary Guild is inquiring about your pill formula."

Fang Yuan poured a cup of tea and pushed it in front of Fang Ping.

"Who is it?"

"He didn't show up himself, but sent a messenger from the guild to inquire, saying he was willing to pay fifty taels for the son. Brother Sun chased him away, but the messenger left with a parting remark—'Young Master Fang's business is so large, the recipe will inevitably spread sooner or later, so why not sell it for a good price while it's still valuable.'"

Fang Yuan held the teacup and tapped the inside of the cup twice with his fingers.

I bought the recipe for fifty taels.

The offer was insultingly low. But this wasn't a genuine purchase; it was a test. A probe to gauge Fang Yuan's level of protection of the formula, to see if he would panic.

Li Jue's strategy is shifting.

The strategy shifted from "crushing Fangyuan's market" to "obtaining Fangyuan's formula."

Blocking distribution channels, cutting off medicinal materials, and pushing forward regulations—these measures have indeed pushed Fang Yuan's cash flow to rock bottom. But Li Jue has clearly done the math—Fang Yuan's powerful pills have extremely low costs and solid efficacy; as long as he has a breath left, he can find new ways to sell them.

It can't be blocked completely.

Since blocking it doesn't work, let's cut off its supply line. By obtaining the formula and producing it ourselves, Fang Yuan's competitive barriers will instantly disappear.

Fang Yuan put down his teacup.

It's time to close the net.

"Fang Ping, do me a favor tomorrow."

"you say."

"Go to the East Market and find Zhou Ermazi for a drink. When you're on your third bowl, complain to him that I wrote down the prescription on paper and locked it in the workshop box, afraid that the Li family might break down the door and steal it one day."

Fang Ping was stunned.

Zhou Ermazi. A local bully in the East Market grocery district, his mouth is as loose as a sieve. More importantly, Fang Yuan had confirmed half a month ago that Zhou Ermazi was a cousin of a clerk at the Li family's pharmacy.

In the Li family's network of informants in the East Market, Zhou Ermazi was an unavoidable figure.

"You..." Fang Ping opened his mouth, his face clearly saying "You're crazy."

"Say that and leave. No more talking, no explanations. That's all."

Fang Ping's Adam's apple bobbed.

"Brother, are you deliberately letting the Li family know?"

Fang Yuan did not answer the question.

"Go and do it."

Fang Ping stared into Fang Yuan's eyes for three breaths, and what he saw gave him goosebumps.

Those eyes were exactly the same as the ones on the assessment stage a month ago—calm, composed, and beneath them lay a chilling certainty.

It was exactly the same as when they dealt with Fang Hao.

Fang Ping didn't ask any more questions, turned around and left.

The next day, Fang Ping went to the East Market to have drinks with Zhou Ermazi.

On the third day, Fang Yuan arranged two more transmission lines.

One of the routes led to the tea stalls outside the South Gate. During a specific time, Fang Ping struck up a conversation with a wandering cultivator who frequently bought Dali Pills and inadvertently mentioned that the workshop had the recipe stored there.

The other one was even more discreet. When Fang Yuan had Fang Shi chatting with someone in the martial arts bathhouse, he casually mentioned, "Brother Fang Yuan has a secret recipe for making pills, and it seems he even wrote it down."

Three lines, three different sources, ultimately converge at the same destination.

Li family.

Two days later.

In the east of the city, at the Li family's study.

Li Jue sat by the window, holding three thin sheets of paper in her hand.

Three intelligence reports, from three different sources, cross-referenced and pointed to the same conclusion.

Fang Yuan has a written prescription, which is kept in the workshop.

Li Jue rubbed his thumb back and forth along the edge of the paper.

"'You search high and low without finding it, only to have it come to you effortlessly.'"

He folded the three pieces of paper together and placed them next to the candlestick, but did not burn them.

"Are you sure the information is reliable?"

The old man in the gray robe bowed and replied, "The three lines are not connected, but they all refer to the same thing. Fang Yuan's workshop is in a side room of a first-class courtyard. A wooden box is locked with a copper lock and sits on a shelf. The window is an old-fashioned folding window that can be pushed open from the outside."

Li Jue picked up the teacup and took a sip.

He did not give the order immediately.

Li Jue is not stupid. The fact that the same message is coming from three different sources at the same time means either it's a genuine leak or it's a deliberate bait.

But he thought about it over and over again and couldn't find Fang Yuan's motive for setting the trap.

Assuming Fang Yuan deliberately leaked the information to lure him into stealing, what was Fang Yuan's purpose? To catch the Li family members on the spot and then report them to the city lord's mansion?

It's not worth it. Elixir formulas aren't protected by law; stealing one is at most burglary, which in a place like Liangshui City can be settled with a small compensation. Fang Yuan isn't going to gamble his most core business secrets on such a paltry profit.

Moreover, if the recipe is fake—Li Jue narrowed his eyes—what reason would Fang Yuan have to make a fake recipe?

He's a medicine seller, not a spy.

No matter how experienced a sixteen-year-old boy from a collateral branch of the family is, he could not possibly have predicted that the Li family would shift from "blocking the market" to "stealing the formula".

Fang Yuan's logic couldn't possibly be that deep.

Li Jue put down his teacup and made a decision.

"Send two men there at midnight tonight."

The gray-robed elder hesitated for a moment: "Young Master, what if it's a trap—"

"'Nothing ventured, nothing gained.' Is a simple recipe for mud balls really worth setting a trap for?"

Li Jue's tone was as indifferent as if he were discussing tomorrow's weather.

"Go and do it. After it's done, put it back exactly as it was, don't even move the box. So he won't find out."

The old man in the gray robe acknowledged the order and withdrew.

Li Jue was the only one left in the study.

He stood by the window, looking at the night outside, a faint, almost imperceptible smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Once they obtained the formula, they began mass production, drove down prices, and completely wiped out Fangyuan's last remaining market share.

By then, the Fang family's so-called core disciples and top scorers will be nothing more than a tiger with its teeth pulled.

into the night.

One by one, the lights in the Grade A courtyard went out.

Fang Lin and Meng Wan went to bed early, while Fang Ying tossed and turned in bed, her breathing gradually becoming longer and more even.

From the outside, the workshop door was dark, with a brass lock hanging on the door frame and the keyhole facing downwards.

Fang Yuan was lying on the bed in the next bedroom.

The eyes were not closed.

Moonlight streamed in through the half-open window, casting a white line on the ground.

It was quiet outside the courtyard wall; even the chirping of insects had become sparse. The early autumn nights grew cool quickly, the air was dry, and sounds carried far.

Fang Yuan adjusted his breathing to the lightest and slowest, and reduced the frequency of his blood circulation to the lowest level, making him feel like a cold stone embedded in the bed.

Only the ears are awake.

He was waiting for a voice.