From a tuberculosis patient to a martial arts master

Four days, and suddenly it was over.

Before dawn and before the roosters crowed, a soft sound suddenly came from behind the tightly closed door of number 7, number C.

"Click".

With a soft creak, the door slowly opened a crack.

Zhu Hong stepped out.

The old shopkeeper behind the counter was curled up in a rattan chair, half-asleep, holding a brass hand warmer.

Footsteps passed by:

He slightly raised his eyelids, and his cloudy eyes peeked out from the gaps, but when they landed on Zhu Hong, they lingered for a moment.

"Huh, they changed the person?"

The person before me, whose dark blue official robes were originally slightly oversized, now stood ramrod straight, especially his shoulders and back, which bulged like mountains, stretching the fabric into a deep crease. His skin had a deep bronze color, as if it had been thoroughly tanned, rough, dense, and devoid of any softness or luster, like a bronze statue forged through countless hammer blows.

"He seems to be from a well-off family." A flicker of surprise crossed the old shopkeeper's eyes, then vanished. He lowered his gaze, stroked the hand warmer, and casually remarked:

"Please take care, sir. Come again in the future."

Having spent decades in the Martial Pavilion, I've seen this scene before, though not all the time. It's simply a matter of using the power of top-grade medicinal herbs to temper and refine their bones.

Upon hearing this, Zhu Hong's eyebrows did not twitch, but he responded with a single, deep syllable through his nose:

"Um."

Without exchanging any pleasantries, they moved towards the door.

"call--"

As soon as he stepped outside, the biting morning wind felt like a cold knife scraping his face. Zhu Hong stood on the steps, took a deep breath, his chest expanding, and slowly inhaled and exhaled. A white wisp of steam shot out like an arrow, condensing three feet high before dissipating after a long time.

"The Blood and Marrow Strengthening Paste... truly lives up to its reputation."

The neck bones rotated, producing a series of fine, crisp sounds.

The rare and precious ointment, combined with four days of tireless refining, propelled his strength to a new level.

Hold your palm loosely.

A surge of "overflowing" feeling flows through your fingertips.

"Compared to four days ago, I have gained at least thirty pounds of strength."

Unfortunately, the medicine's effects were like a tide, rising quickly and receding just as fast. The first two days were the most potent, but in the following two days it gradually became a trickle, its growth slowing day by day until it was almost imperceptible. If only the effects could have lasted a little longer…

"That's greedy of you."

Zhu Hong shook his head slightly, a self-deprecating smile playing on his lips, and casually extinguished that unrealistic thought.

Twenty pounds of strength.

It may sound insignificant, but in the crucial moments of a life-or-death struggle, that extra bit of strength can be the key to defeating the enemy. Lacking that bit of force can leave you vulnerable, instantly turning you into a fish on someone else's chopping block, completely at their mercy.

Then, he looked up at the sky and saw that the morning light had already spread across the eaves of the street.

"Time to go on duty."

He missed his first shift and had no choice but to pack up and leave. This job was his only means of survival; one wrong step and there would be no turning back.

Zhu Hong no longer hesitated, concealed the glint in his eyes, and disappeared straight into the long street.

……

The streets were deserted.

Only a few breakfast vendors were creaking as they removed the door panels.

The closer one gets to the government office, the stronger the chill becomes—not from the cold weather, but from the imposing official authority.

As Zhu Hong turned the corner, he saw seven or eight constables in dark blue uniforms gathered beside the stone lions of the government office. Among them were several newly selected martial arts students, who were on their first official roll call, their faces showing varying degrees of nervousness and excitement.

At a glance.

In the crowd, a burly figure stood out.

"Zhu Hong!"

Shi Dunzi pushed through the crowd and quickly stepped forward, his honest, round face beaming with a smile. His official uniform was stretched taut by him, and his waist tag was polished to a gleaming shine, clearly indicating that he had prepared everything in advance.

"Brother Shi."

Zhu Hong clasped his hands in a respectful gesture.

"You've finally arrived!"

Shi Dunzi waved his large hand, fanning himself with a palm leaf fan, across his chest and quickly swept it over the surrounding yamen runners. Seeing that no one was paying attention, he quickly leaned close to Zhu Hong's ear and whispered, "Zhu Hong, your matter... it's all over the yamen."

His Adam's apple bobbed, full of curiosity:

"As soon as I arrived this morning, I heard people gossiping."

Zhu Hong frowned almost imperceptibly:

"What business do you have with me?"

"Everyone says you're a tough nut to crack!" Stone Stool moved closer to him, his voice so low only the two of them could hear: "Before even starting his job, he'd already snapped several people's necks with his bare hands on the White Dragon Boat, killing people. They've got all sorts of stories to back it up..." He scratched his head, looking puzzled.

"Is this true or false?"

Upon hearing this, Zhu Hong glanced sideways at the crowd, his gaze catching up with Pei Lie's in the queue.

The man had a half-smile, a sinister look in his eyes, and was coldly glancing in their direction.

Zhu Hong understood.

These rumors are most likely spread intentionally by this person.

He withdrew his gaze, chuckled lightly, and said in a tone so calm it was almost nonchalant: "Someone openly attacked and killed prospective constables on the pleasure boat, trying to take my life. I merely retaliated in self-defense and took a few lives."

He raised his eyes indifferently:

"It's nothing serious."

"Is it really true?" Shi Dunzi was taken aback at first, then his eyes widened and his voice almost rose: "What kind of bastards dare to openly kill our government officials?!" He clenched his fists, his face full of indignation: "If it were me, I would not have stood guard to the death either. These people deserve to die."

"Good riddance!"

Zhu Hong simply hummed in response, saying nothing more, his fingers hanging at his sides clenching quietly.

Some things are best left unsaid.

Too much talk is useless.

Within the bounds of propriety, no matter how eloquent one's words, they are no match for the strength of one's fist.

……

"Thump—!"

At the second quarter of the hour of Mao (5-7 AM), the morning drum sounded.

Inside the courtyard, a dense, dark mass of officers stood in black uniforms. The veteran constables stood idly with their arms crossed, their eyes listless, while the newly recruited young men all stood ramrod straight, trying to appear experienced.

Zhu Hongli stood at the end of the line. As soon as he stepped into the courtyard, he felt countless gazes piercing him like thorns.

Some may be curious, some may be hesitant, and some may be disdainful.

Suddenly, someone spoke in a low voice:

"Is that this year's troublemaker?"

The tall, thin constable next to him snorted softly, glancing at him with a sidelong glance: "I thought he had three heads and six arms, but he looks quite ordinary. He's not as mysterious as the rumors say."

"I heard he used to be a mortician."

Another constable leaned over and joked, "Not only did you kill someone, but you also had to sew up their corpse yourself. You could say you've 'finished their body.'"

"So that's how it is..."

The man clicked his tongue, a strange glint in his eyes: "This time, Boss Wang has taken in someone with a 'special' personality."

"That's right."

Someone nearby chimed in, "That's really bad luck!"

"..."

He was not on duty, nor was he given any orders, yet he had already killed several people. His record may not be the best among his peers, but it was rare and extraordinary.

No wonder the people below were whispering among themselves.

Zhu Hong, however, seemed not to hear, his eyes fixed on his nose, his nose focused on his heart, his posture as upright as a lone pine on a cliff, unmoved by the winds from all directions.

Just as I was concentrating, a gaze suddenly came from my right, cold and sticky.

Like a venomous snake lurking in the shadows.

It was none other than Pei Lie.

He stood a few steps behind the head constable of Qingshan, an iron ruler hanging from his waist. He glanced at Zhu Hong with a half-smile, a mocking smirk playing on his lips, which moved silently, clearly saying:

"You'll get what's coming to you later."