Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

come down.

Fifty feet.

The wind rushed in through my ears. The mineral light from the dome above me shrank rapidly. The gravel ground below expanded at an unreasonable speed.

Fang Yuan's vision was now limited to two things: the dark golden light net that was receding into the distance, and the grayish-white ground that was getting closer and closer.

The four-times-powered stance training is useless in free fall. There's no wall to use for leverage, no protrusions to slow you down. It's pure falling.

The body, at the mid-stage of the Bone Refining Realm, fell freely from a height of fifty feet.

will not die.

It will become obsolete.

The bones in both legs would be shattered from the ankle to the femur by the impact. The compressive force on the spine would be enough to break the lumbar vertebrae.

During the fall, Fang Yuan struggled to flip his body from lying on his back to lying on his side—the last bit of core muscle control squeezed out by the four-times stance training in a weightless state.

Landing sideways results in slightly better damage distribution than landing on your feet. The difference is roughly between being "incapacitated" and "lying in bed for two months."

It was still twenty feet above the ground.

Fifteen feet.

A white figure rose up from the side and below.

Extremely fast.

Fang Yuan's spiritual perception was mostly gone, but the white figure was too conspicuous in this environment to be seen even without his perception.

Lin Qingxue.

She leaped from behind the rocks at the bottom of the cave. Her white dress unfurled in mid-air, and the chill beneath it instantly froze the surrounding air into ice crystals.

The old servant's voice came from the ground—hoarse, almost desperate—"Miss!"

Lin Qingxue's body intercepted Fang Yuan's falling trajectory in mid-air.

Their hands slipped around Fang Yuan's waist and gripped his back.

The moment of contact.

There was a dramatic difference between Fang Yuan's body temperature and the temperature of Lin Qingxue's palm.

He was hot. His body surface temperature was at least five degrees higher than that of an ordinary person after he exerted four times the strength of his root bone.

She is cold.

Extremely cold.

The moment Lin Qingxue's right hand touched Fang Yuan's back, a sharp pain shot through her. Ice crystal patterns spread visibly upwards from her fingertips, past her wrist, and over her elbow.

The cold symptoms have rebounded.

The suppression of the Yangyan Pill was torn open by the violent fluctuation of her internal energy the moment she forcefully leaped up. The cold poison in her body, like a floodgate opened, surged through that opening to her limbs and bones.

Lin Qingxue bit her lip. She bit it until it bled. A thin bead of blood trickled down from the corner of her lips, freezing into a dark red icicle in the cold air.

After their bodies met in mid-air, their falling speed decreased by 30%—the upward momentum from Lin Qingxue's leap offset some of it. But they were still falling.

Ten zhang (approximately 33 meters).

Five zhang (approximately 10 meters).

on the ground.

Tie Meng rushed directly below the landing point.

He held the iron arm guards above his head, his knees bent at their deepest angle. Not a block. A cushion. Using his entire body as a shock absorber.

The two men crashed into Tie Meng.

"boom."

Tie Meng's knee slammed into the gravel ground. His shinbone made a dangerous dull thud. He groaned, but didn't fall. Using his arms for support, he unloaded Fang Yuan and Lin Qingxue from his body.

Pebbles flew all over his face.

Fang Yuan's back slammed against the ground. It hurt. From the back of his head to his tailbone, it felt like he'd been hit with a metal plate. But his bones were intact. His joints were still flexible. He wasn't broken.

He lay amidst the rubble, his chest heaving violently. His right arm hung limply at his side, not a single muscle in it responding to his movements from shoulder to fingertips. Two fingernails were missing from his left hand, and blood smeared half his palm.

Above the dome.

The dark golden light net tightened from six directions, like a giant hand closing.

The beast roared. The sound was no longer a howl—it ​​was a pure pain emanating from the very depths of its being, stripped of all intelligence and reason.

The sealing power forcibly ripped its forelimbs from the rubble. The furrows its claws had dug in the ground had come to an end.

My shoulder sank into the crack.

The neck sank into the crack.

The giant skull sank into the crevice.

Fang Yuan lay on the rubble, turning his head to watch the three-zhang-square head sink inch by inch.

The last half-breath.

The two dark golden flames swept their gazes over him again.

Unlike last time.

The last one was "remember".

This time it's "hatred".

Then the giant skull disappeared below the edge of the crack. Dark golden runic light surged into the crevice, re-welding the shattered ground.

It's as if it had never cracked.

The ground tremors stopped.

Apart from the occasional soft clatter of falling rocks, there was nothing else in the cave.

The shimmering light from the minerals on the dome gradually subsided. The energy cycles of the six main lines resumed their steady rhythm. Cold light once again filled every corner of the cavern.

Fang Yuan's chest was still heaving violently.

He could hear his own heartbeat. Extremely fast. Each beat pounding against his ribs.

My right arm is still numb.

He tried to move the fingers of his left hand. He could move them. It hurt, but he could move them.

Three feet away from the side.

Lin Qingxue knelt on the gravel.

Her right arm, from her fingers to her shoulder, was covered in a thin layer of white frost. Ice crystal patterns peeked out from the cuff, creeping down her collarbone to the left side of her neck.

His face was whiter than paper.

But she kept her back straight.

It didn't fall over.

The old servant appeared beside her within half a breath. His withered hand pressed against her back, and a warm flow of blood and energy passed through his palm.

"Miss--"

"Don't speak."

Lin Qingxue's voice was squeezed out from between her teeth, hoarse like shards of ice.

She supported her knee with her still-mobile left hand and turned her head to the side.

He glanced at Fang Yuan.

Fang Yuan lay on the rubble, covered in dust and dirt. Half of his right arm was gone. His left hand was a bloody mess. A large patch of his short, brown shirt was chafed raw, revealing the scraped skin underneath.

Unlike someone who had just completed an impossible operation atop a fifty-foot-high dome, above the head of a ferocious beast at the Qi and Blood Realm.

Like a mud monkey that rolled down a mountain.

Lin Qingxue looked at him.

In those clear, transparent eyes, something was melting beneath the ice.

not much.

Only one point.

But it was different from all the previous looks in her eyes.

Fang Yuan turned his head and met her gaze.

There were three feet of gravel between the two people. One was lying down, and the other was kneeling.

Fang Yuan opened his mouth.

My throat is as dry as sandpaper.

"Medicine bottle..."

His voice was so hoarse that it was almost impossible to recognize his original tone.

"There's...one more in my arms..."

Lin Qingxue's expression changed.

Fang Yuan couldn't move his right arm. With difficulty, he used his left hand to pull the tin medicine bottle from his inner pocket. The bottle was stained with the blood from his hand.

He didn't hand it over.

Place the medicine bottle on the gravel between the two of them.

Lin Qingxue looked at the blood-stained medicine bottle.

There was a brief silence.

She reached out her left hand and picked up the medicine bottle.

He pressed the cork open with his thumb. The last dark red Yangyan Pill rolled into his palm.

Swallowed it.

The warm sensation from the medicine spreading from my stomach. The white frost on my right arm began to fade at an extremely slow pace.

The old servant knelt beside him, staring at the empty medicine bottle. His lips moved several times.

Lin Qingxue put the empty bottle back on the gravel.

The side closest to Fang Yuan.

Then she closed her eyes and began to regulate her breathing.

There was still a thin layer of frost on my right arm.

Fang Yuan turned his gaze away from the medicine bottle.

His left hand reached into the deepest part of his inner pocket. His fingertips touched the dark gold crystal, about the size of a fingernail.

Still.

It was cold, hard, and its blood-red veins pulsated slightly even through the skin.

Fang Yuan closed his fingers.

Hold the crystal in your palm.

The cold light from the dome shone on his blood-stained face.

Three steps away, the last layer of frost on Lin Qingxue's right arm shattered silently under the medicinal power of the Yangyan Pill, turning into tiny water droplets that fell onto the gravel.