Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

Liangshui City.

Fang Yuan's carriage passed through the city gate on the evening of the seventh day.

The guards at the city gate glanced at the Fang family insignia on the carriage and intended to conduct a routine questioning, but when their gaze fell on the burly man with dented iron arm guards next to the carriage, they unconsciously pulled their spears back half an inch.

Fang Yuan did not lift the carriage curtain.

He leaned against the carriage wall, his right arm resting on his knee, moving his fingers. He bent and straightened each of his five fingers one by one, feeling the tight, aching tension between the tendons and periosteum with each movement. He was 80% recovered. Still 20% needed.

The sound of the wheels rolling over the bluestone pavement changed. It switched from the rustling of gravel on the official road to the distinctive creaking of the city's stone slabs. The rhythm was even. Fang Yuan's back swayed slightly with the bumps of the cart, his left hand remaining in his inner pocket.

My fingertips traced the edge of the dark gold fragment. It was at a constant temperature, neither cold nor hot.

Since leaving the Beast Cave, the patterns on the fragments have not resonated again. Only when he actively brings up the panel will the line of dark gold characters at the bottom of the panel light up slightly.

Talent Fusion. 1/3.

Fang Yuan rubbed his thumb along the edge of the fragment. Fifty thousand taels of silver. Three fragments. He had mentally rehearsed these two figures, from the cave to Liangshui City, at least twenty times.

I've finished reading it and put it away.

Things that can't be rushed, shouldn't be rushed.

The carriage stopped at the entrance of the Fang family's first-class courtyard. Fang Ping jumped out of the carriage first and ran to open the door.

Fang Yuan lifted the curtain and stepped out of the carriage. The feel of his boots on the bluestone steps made him pause for a moment. The steps still bore the marks of yesterday's rain. The leaves of the old locust tree in the courtyard were a shade greener than when he had left.

Seven days.

He stayed underground for seven days.

"Young Master!"

That's not Fang Ping's voice.

Fang Lin rushed out of the courtyard gate. The taciturn old servant walked with a brisk pace, and his expression underwent three changes the moment he saw Fang Yuan—first, confirmation; then, inspection; and finally, a sigh of relief.

Fang Lin's gaze swept from Fang Yuan's face to his hands, and from his hands to his clothes. A large patch of his gray-blue short brown shirt was worn raw, two pieces of his left fingernails were missing, and there were several faint scratches on the back of his hand.

Fang Lin pursed his lips.

He didn't ask about the injury. He understood Fang Yuan better than Fang Ping did—this young master didn't like being chased around asking, "Are you alright?"

"Miss is awake." Fang Lin stepped aside, clearing the doorway.

Fang Yuan paused for a moment.

Then it sped up.

Cross the front courtyard, turn left, pass through the moon gate, and walk along the blue brick path to the end. Fang Ying's room is the innermost side room in the courtyard. It faces south and has good natural light. This was the first thing Fang Yuan arranged after moving into the Grade A courtyard.

Push the door open.

Two oil lamps were lit in the room. The orange light cast a warm glow on the white walls. Fang Ying sat on a low couch, with a piece of paper larger than herself spread out in front of her. The paper was covered with haphazard drawings—people, trees, and a round, four-legged unidentified creature.

Fang Ying heard the door open and tilted her head to look up.

A five-and-a-half-year-old girl. Her hair was tied in two crooked little buns, done by Fang Lin, whose skills were not very good. Her cheeks were round, and because she rarely went out, her skin was pale and bloodless.

The moment Fang Ying saw Fang Yuan, the charcoal pencil in her hand fell onto the paper.

"elder brother!"

The voice was sharp and crisp, carrying the genuine joy that only a child possesses.

Fang Yuan walked over and squatted down.

Fang Ying slid off the low couch, ran a couple of steps, and bumped into his arms. She buried her head in his chest, her small hands gripping his clothes tightly.

Fang Yuan put his right arm around Fang Ying's back. The soreness in his arm, which hadn't fully recovered, became unimportant the moment he touched Fang Ying.

Fang Ying lifted her head from his chest. Her nose was red.

"Brother, what happened to your hand?"

She stared at Fang Yuan's left hand, at the two fingers missing their nails. The scabs had dried completely, turning a dark brown.

Fang Yuan hid his left hand behind his back.

"I bumped into something while moving things."

Fang Ying frowned, clearly disbelieving. But she didn't press the matter. She pulled a crumpled handkerchief from her pocket and tiptoed to reach Fang Yuan's hand.

Fang Yuan stretched out his hand.

Fang Ying carefully wrapped his two fingernails, which had no nails, with a handkerchief. A crooked flower was embroidered on the handkerchief. The stitches were rough. Fang Lin had taught her to embroider it.

Fang Yuan looked at the crooked flower.

His Adam's apple bobbed.

"Yingying".

"Um?"

"Brother brought you something good."

Fang Yuan glanced back at Fang Lin. Fang Lin had already brought over the sealed jade vine. It was sealed in a bamboo tube. A thin layer of wax covered the surface of the bamboo tube, isolating it from the outside air.

Fang Yuan took the bamboo tube and unscrewed the lid.

A faint medicinal fragrance wafted from the mouth of the container. It wasn't strong. It smelled like fresh spring grass, mixed with a hint of sweetness.

Fang Ying leaned closer and took a sniff.

"It smells so good."

Fang Yuan closed the bamboo tube, not letting her touch it.

"This thing isn't for eating."

The fingertips of the hand that was holding Fang Ying's wrist were trembling.

It wasn't because of injury. It wasn't because of fatigue.

Fifty zhang. He was hanging from the dome fifty zhang high, below which was the gaping mouth of a Qi and Blood Realm ferocious beast. His fingers dug into the cracks in the rocks, and two of his fingernails were torn off.

For this vine.

Fang Yuan took a deep breath, suppressing the trembling in his fingertips.

"Tomorrow, I'll take you to a medicinal bath. After that, you'll be able to run and jump around like other kids."

Fang Ying's eyes lit up.

That kind of brightness wasn't a pretentious act from a sensible child; it was a genuine, primal yearning of a five-year-old for the words "running and jumping."

She has never run since she was born.

The meridians are blocked, bone development is delayed, and muscle fibers lack the elasticity to support high-intensity limb movements. The conditions of the Fang family's collateral branch cannot cure this congenital defect. Nor could the original body Fang Yuan was in before his transmigration.

But now it's possible.

Fang Yuan patted Fang Ying's head.

"Go to sleep. I'll pick you up tomorrow morning."

Fang Ying nodded. She obediently climbed back onto the low couch. But she didn't lie down. Instead, she sat on the quilt, hugging her knees with both hands, staring intently at Fang Yuan.

That look in his eyes was very simple.

I just don't want him to leave.

Fang Yuan stood at the door for three breaths.

He turned and left.

He stepped out of Fang Ying's room. The night breeze in the courtyard carried the fresh scent of locust leaves. Fang Yuan stopped in the middle of the passageway and looked up at the moon in the sky.

The moon was full. It lacked the cold light of the minerals gleaming from the dome of the underground forest. It was a genuine, warm yellow moonlight.

Fang Yuan looked away.

Go back to your room.

I pushed open the door. Inside, Fang Ping had already prepared hot water. A copper basin, towels, and changes of clothes were neatly arranged on the shelf.

Fang Yuan did not wash first.

He closed the door tightly and bolted it.

He walked to the table and sat down. He took everything out of his pocket, one by one.

The Zhao brothers' two storage bags. A package of spiritual herbs collected along the way. That dark gold ore. Meridian-Opening Vine. Ice Silkworm Grass. Bone-Tempering Grass. Bone-Breaking Grass.

Finally, three things in my inner pocket.