Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

silence.

Five breaths.

Fang Yuan didn't press the issue. He'd said everything he needed to say. Another word would be superfluous.

Shi Potian's chest heaved twice.

The grayish-white bone texture on his back darkened slightly. Blood and qi were flowing back slowly, but at a rate far below normal.

Fang Yuan's judgment was correct.

He knows his physical condition best.

Shi Potian has lived for eighteen years and has been in more fights than he's eaten meals. He never settles scores with those weaker than himself—because there's no need. He just crushes them.

But we can't crush it now.

It wasn't just one enemy he couldn't crush. It was three.

Fang Yuan spoke up at the opportune moment.

"Besides the essence of the Beast God, there are other things in the core area."

His voice was still hoarse, but the rhythm had slowed down by half a beat.

The rhythm of stepping up the stairs.

"Around the seal crack of the ferocious beast, there are scattered a large amount of ore that has been soaked in the sealing power. Those things have been soaked in dark gold runes for countless years, and their quality far exceeds that of the refined iron produced by any other mine outside."

Fang Yuan waved his left hand toward the direction where the crack was healing.

"You take the ore. We take the essence. Each gets what they need."

Shi Potian's gaze shifted from the jade bottle in Lin Qingxue's hand to the pile of rubble near the crack.

Indeed, many mineral fragments, imbued with dark gold runes, were embedded among the rubble. Their color, texture, and density far surpassed those of ordinary secret realm minerals. Any fist-sized piece would be worth at least several hundred taels of silver.

There are quite a few.

Its value is indeed not much less than that of the essence of the Beast God.

Fang Yuan breathed a sigh of relief.

His sand table simulation had already covered all possible reaction paths of Shi Potian before he even said "each gets what they need".

Shi Potian is a man who believes in violence above all else. But he is not stupid.

A person who isn't stupid wouldn't choose to confront an opponent head-on if their own strength is reduced by 30% and the opponent's quality is overwhelming.

The premise is—give him a way out.

The steps must be hard, solid, and presentable enough.

"The ore is mine" is that step.

This wasn't charity. It was dividing the spoils.

Shi Potian stared at Fang Yuan for three breaths.

In those three breaths, Fang Yuan could feel the other party's blood surging in his chest—the anger had not dissipated, but was suppressed by something even stronger.

reason.

The rationality I've developed over eighteen years of life.

Shi Potian turned around.

He strode toward the pile of rubble near the crack.

He bent down—his knees still not bent more than ninety degrees—and dug out a palm-sized, dark gold ore from the rubble. He weighed it in his hand.

It sinks. It has an extremely high density.

He stuffed it into the leather pouch at his waist.

Let's keep digging.

The two guards exchanged a glance and followed to help.

Fang Yuan sat on the pile of rubble, watching Shi Potian's back.

My right arm is still numb. My left hand, which is resting on my knee, is trembling slightly.

It's not tension. It's involuntary spasms of muscle groups after massive exertion.

A very low, faint nasal sound came from beside me.

Fang Yuan tilted his head.

Lin Qingxue stood two steps away. She didn't know when she had gone from kneeling to standing. The frost on her right arm had completely disappeared, leaving only a faint blue mark near her collarbone, mostly hidden by her collar.

She watched Shi Potian squatting in the rubble, picking up ore from behind.

Then his gaze returned to Fang Yuan.

"You are very good at negotiation."

His tone was cool and aloof. But the final syllable of the word "very" was slightly looser than usual.

Fang Yuan lay on the pile of rubble, too lazy to get up. He propped himself up on his knee with his left hand and looked up at her.

"I'm better at selling medicine."

Lin Qingxue's lips twitched slightly.

The amplitude was extremely small. It flashed by in an instant.

If Fang Yuan's doubled soul perception network hadn't been restored to a radius of fifteen zhang and captured every subtle movement of her facial muscles, he wouldn't be sure if he was seeing things.

That curve—judged by ordinary standards—was probably a smile.

The old servant stood behind Lin Qingxue, his gaunt face contorted with worry.

He glanced at Fang Yuan, who was sitting on the pile of rubble. His hands were covered in blood, his arm was half-crippled, and his short brown shirt was worn raw on his back.

She glanced again at the fleeting smile on her young mistress's lips.

The old servant's brows furrowed even more deeply.

But he didn't say anything.

It's not that I don't want to talk about it.

The events that just happened from the dome to the ground had shattered all his preconceived notions about being a "minor character in Liangshui City."

The boy fell from a height of fifty feet after pushing the ore.

His daughter flew up to catch her.

He didn't even have time to stop it.

The old servant's gaze lingered on Fang Yuan's profile for three breaths.

A sixteen-year-old at the mid-stage of the Bone Refining Realm.

Use martial arts as a wrench to tighten the sealing nodes on the head of a Qi and Blood Realm ferocious beast.

He sat on the ground and negotiated terms with a genius at the peak of the Bone Refining Realm.

He made the proud daughter of heaven smile.

The old servant unconsciously clenched his sleeves.

monster.

He redefined Fang Yuan in his mind.

The description has evolved from "too calculating" to "monster".

The tense atmosphere in the cave gradually dissipated.

Shi Potian and his men occupied the rubble area near the crack, burying themselves in searching for ores that had been imbued with the sealed power.

Fang Yuan did not rush to make a move.

It took him about thirty breaths to regain basic sensation in his right arm. His fingers were still not quite under his control, but they could bend.

Tie Meng moved over. His right leg was dragging on the gravel, a very unsightly posture.

He leaned close to Fang Yuan's ear. His voice was extremely low, almost a whisper.

"You little brat..."

Tie Meng's Adam's apple bobbed twice.

"When you were sitting on the ground arguing with Shi Potian, I almost thought you were a big shot in the Refining Realm pretending to be someone else."

Fang Yuan didn't reply.

Tie Meng's expression was as complex as a pot of porridge, a mixture of all sorts of emotions.

He lived for twenty-three years. Five years in the underground fighting arena, five years in the mercenary world. The calmest person he had ever met was an old assassin in the arena nicknamed "Dead Fish Eyes"—that man always had the same expression before killing someone, as if he owed him three strings of copper coins.

Fang Yuan's eyes were colder than those of a dead fish.

The key is—he doesn't pretend.

When Fang Yuan was calculating on his fingers in front of Shi Potian, Tie Meng saw it all clearly. It wasn't bluffing. He had thoroughly analyzed all the variables in his mind before presenting the conclusion.

You can't win. You know you can't win. I also know you know you can't win.

So let's sit down and talk.

Tie Meng let out a sigh of relief.

He was glad that he had chosen the right person on his first day in the Beast Cave.

After Fang Yuan and others regained basic mobility in their right arms, they stood up from the pile of rubble.

My left leg felt a little weak. I had to bend my knee twice to steady myself.

He did not go towards Shi Potian.

His gaze fell on another area of ​​the cave.

The fragments of the shattered stone platform were scattered within a ten-zhang radius around the crack. The hexagonal black stone slab was blasted into pieces of varying sizes when the ferocious beast pierced through it from below, mixed with fragments of dark gold runes and rubble soaked in sealed power.

Shi Potian is collecting ore.

Fang Yuan was looking for something else.

With his left hand, he pulled a fist-sized fragment of a stone platform from the rubble. He flipped it over.

Ordinary black rock. The rune fragments have faded.

Throw away.

Another piece was flipped over.

I scanned the surface of the fragment with twice the power of my divine sense. Nothing unusual was found.

Throw away.

The third piece.

Fang Yuan's finger touched something different.

It doesn't have the texture of gravel.

What was pulled out from the crack in the rubble was a palm-sized fragment. It was irregularly shaped, with edges that looked like they had been violently torn apart.

Color – Dark gold.

Unlike the dark gold of ores. Ores are solid, rough, and have a metallic luster, which is dark gold.

This fragment is warm and smooth.

Fang Yuan held the fragment in his palm.

My first impression – heavy.

It is at least three times heavier than a similar volume of refined iron ore. Its density is unreasonably high.

The second feeling – warmth.

It's not hot. It's a constant temperature that doesn't change with the ambient temperature. When placed in the palm of your hand, it's neither cold nor hot.

Fang Yuan flipped the fragments.

The surface of the fragment has textures.

Extremely fine. So fine that you have to bring your eyes within half a foot to see it. On the dark gold background, the pattern is a shade darker than the background color, presenting an almost black outline.

The patterns weren't carved on. They didn't grow out.

It's like the natural arrangement of the crystal structure of this material itself under the influence of some force.

Fang Yuan's doubled comprehension produced an extremely strange reaction the moment he came into contact with those patterns.

It's not about "understanding".

It means "seen".

A very vague, almost elusive image deep in my mind was activated.