Martial Arts: My talent multiplier increased

"A private room on the second floor. Quiet."

Fang Yuan took out a small ingot of silver from his pocket. It was exactly the standard charge for a private room.

The maid in red took the silver, her eyelids twitching slightly. Decisive payment. No haggling. The young martial artist's face, coupled with the Hundred Herbs Hall's badge, suggested a wealthy man.

"This way, young master."

The wooden stairs creaked underfoot. Fang Yuan's eight-fold stance training made his footsteps extremely light on the wooden planks—at least 60% lighter than a normal person's. But he didn't try to hide it. Each step was even and natural.

Go up to the second floor.

The corridor. Four private rooms on the left. Three rooms on the right. The door to the easternmost room is ajar.

Fang Yuan's spiritual perception reached its maximum precision when he passed through that door.

He dispelled the stench emanating from the crack in the door in just two steps.

Early stage of Bone Refining Realm. Female. A very faint herbal scent lingers on her skin. It's not an internal medicine, but a topical application. She has applied it to her fingers and wrists.

Fang Yuan mentally reviewed the common topical medications used in Liangshui City.

Exclude healing-related products. Exclude beauty-related products.

Of the remaining options, one drug's usage method perfectly matches this residue pattern.

The secluded butterflies dispersed.

Fang Yuan had seen the formula. It was a low-level sedative. Its effects were mild. It didn't knock people unconscious. Instead, it subtly lowered their mental defenses, making them talk more, become less alert, and more likely to follow along with others' conversations.

Apply to your fingers and transmit the substance through physical contact or close-range breathing.

Courtesan. Brothel. Butterflies scattered.

When these three things are put together, they point to only one answer.

Information broker.

Fang Yuan was led by a maid in red to a private room on the west side. The window faced the alley, and the light was good. There was a square table, two chairs, and a screen in the corner.

Tie Meng sat down in the chair by the door. His arm rested on the table, the iron arm guards hitting the wood with a dull thud.

Fang Yuan sat by the window.

The wine has arrived. A pot of apricot blossom wine. Two cold dishes.

Fang Yuan didn't touch his wine glass. His double-strength spiritual perception network covered the entire second floor, taking in the sounds and qi fluctuations from every private room.

The private room on the east side.

The blood and qi signals of a woman in the early stages of the Bone Refining Realm are slowly shifting. She has changed from a sitting to a standing posture.

Then, footsteps.

Extremely light. The kind of light that an ordinary person can't hear. But Fang Yuan, with the support of eight times the standing meditation technique, could even detect the subtle sound of the wooden fiber deforming under the pressure of his feet.

They walked toward his private room.

Three breaths later.

A knock on the door. Two knocks. The rhythm was neither too fast nor too slow.

"Young Master Fang?"

A female voice. A voice with just the right amount of huskiness. Not naturally so, but trained. The tension of the vocal cords and the distribution of airflow are precisely controlled, making each word sound like a sip of warm wine.

Tie Meng's right hand touched the hidden clasp of the iron arm guard.

Fang Yuan raised his chin slightly.

Tie Meng let go, but didn't move. He remained blocking the doorway.

"Enter."

The door opened.

Fang Yuan saw Shen Youlan.

The first detail: height. She's half a head shorter than Fang Yuan. This is considered above average for a female martial artist, indicating her frame is wider than it appears. The fitted waist of her purple dress conceals this fact.

The second detail: gait. The left foot steps first. The distance between each step is exactly equal. The center of gravity is always maintained at the golden ratio point between the two feet. This is not the gait of a courtesan. This is the gait of a martial artist.

The third detail. Fingers. Right hand resting on left wrist. Hanging naturally. Nails neatly trimmed. No herbal residue under the nails. Clean. But the skin texture on the fingertips and the area between the thumb and forefinger is deeper than normal. Those are calluses left from long-term grinding of medicinal powder.

Fang Yuan's mind had already read all the information she could in the four steps it took her to walk to the table and sit down.

Shen Youlan sat opposite Fang Yuan.

She smiled. It wasn't the professional smile of a courtesan. It was more restrained. More precise. The angle of her upturn was controlled to a degree that conveyed approachability without being frivolous.

"Young Master Fang has returned from the Hundred Beast Cave, and we haven't met yet in the west of the city. Youlan has taken the liberty of offering a cup of wine."

She reached for the wine jug on the table.

The movement was natural. But Fang Yuan's eight-fold stance training captured a tiny detail that a normal person would never notice. The moment her right index and middle fingers touched the handle of the wine pot, the pads of her fingers brushed against the bamboo woven outer skin of the handle.

It's not the "rub" of grasping; it's the "rub" of applying.

Fang Yuan's gaze did not linger on her fingers. His eyes were fixed flatly on her face.

Shen Youlan poured wine. She poured a glass for Fang Yuan and a glass for herself.

"Please, Young Master Fang."

Fang Yuan picked up his wine glass.

I didn't drink it.

The rim of the glass rested half an inch below my lips. My divine sense, doubled, pressed against the inside of the glass. The aroma of the liquor carried a faint, almost imperceptible sweetness.

The scent of Youdie San.

The concentration was extremely low. So low that even an ordinary Bone Refining Realm martial artist might not be able to detect it. But Fang Yuan's doubled spiritual power combined with eight times the power of his stance training allowed him to precisely control his sense of smell, separating that hint of sweetness from the aroma of the wine.

Excellent technique. The dosage was just right, hitting the threshold. It wouldn't cause any obvious abnormal sensations, only slightly lower the defenses during conversation.

Fang Yuan touched the wine glass to his lips. The wine swished. He swallowed, but didn't swallow.

Then put the cup down.

"Miss Shen is well-informed. I've only been back a few days, and you already know."

Shen Youlan's smile remained unchanged. However, her pupils contracted by less than half a millimeter when Fang Yuan uttered the words "well-informed."

Fang Yuan saw it.

The doubled spiritual perception absorbed every micro-expression of her facial muscles into her mind. Her pupils contracted. Alert. But the level of alertness was very mild. This indicated that she categorized the statement as "a casual remark from a young person," rather than "a test."

This is exactly the effect Fang Yuan wanted.

"Who in the city doesn't know about Young Master Fang's exploits in the Hundred Beast Cave? He's number one in the Talent Record." Shen Youlan twirled her finger halfway around the rim of her wine glass. "Even if Youlan doesn't go out, the news will fly in on its own."

Fang Yuan leaned back in his chair, his posture very relaxed.

"The news about the Talent Record spread so fast?"

"News from the Martial Arts Hall, huh?" Shen Youlan's gaze slid from Fang Yuan's face to the Baicaotang badge on his waist. "Young Master Fang not only has high talent in martial arts, but he's also shrewd in business. The martial artists in the west of the city can't do without Baicaotang's improved Qi and Blood Pills."

Fang Yuan's lips twitched slightly.

This woman is doing two things. First, demonstrating her information-gathering ability: "I know your background." Second, flattering Fang Yuan: highly talented, good at business, and popular.

Both things have the same purpose: to help the other person relax and to create a sense of psychological dependence on being understood and appreciated.

The basic skills of an intelligence broker.

Fang Yuan decided to cooperate with her acting. But he would control the direction.

"It's not really about doing business. I just don't want to lose money." Fang Yuan tapped his finger on his wine glass. "Speaking of business, the customer traffic in the west of the city has dropped considerably lately. Miss Shen, have you noticed that at Zuixianlou as well?"