Chapter 4
A few weeks passed by after Liang Chen returned with the corpse of the Ironhide boar.
Outer sect disciple members would constantly see Liang Chen entering the Kenkai forest and returning with herbs and beast corpses.
And every time, they whispered.
"Again?"
"How many has he killed this week?"
"Didn't he have no dantian?"
"Are we the ones with talent or is he?"
It wasn't even jealousy anymore, it was fear and respect.
Liang Chen didn't speak to anyone. He didn't form a clique or a hunting party. He didn't brag about his accomplishments. He just trained.
Even the contribution hall began to recognise him, first as a fluke that got extremely lucky, then a frequent visitor, who had his name and image stamped on the walls as, 'Most Frequent Visitor' and soon, he became an outlier.
Even the Hall Elder who usually didn't look up from his scrolls glanced twice when Liang dropped a bag filled with beast cores.
Eventually, Liang Chen had accumulated enough points to move from his worn down hut to a slightly better wooden shack and also significantly change his wardrobe. He also had enough points to buy a cultivation manual and a weapon manual.
That day, he climbed up the steps of the Hall of Manuals, rain lightly patting his new robes. His sandals splashed a puddle of water as he made it up the final steps of the Hall of Manuals.
The Middle Sect disciple at the door, raised an eyebrow as he saw Liang Chen approaching. The disciple was taken aback by his good looks. But it was obvious that the young man was from the outer sect.
"Outer sect disciples are only allowed one martial manual and one cultivation method," the disciple drawled, clearly not recognizing Liang Chen. "Hope you didn't come here thinking you could beg for more."
"I've got the points," Liang Chen said, holding up his sect token. It pulsed faintly, confirming his Contribution total: 187 points.
The Middle Disciple blinked.
"…Huh."
Without another word, he opened the door, allowing Liang Chen to pass through.
The Hall of Manuals was quiet, towering wooden bookshelves lined the walls, the smell of old parchment filled the air.
An old man sat behind the counter, nose buried in a book titled 'Cinnabar Flame Cultivation, Vol. III'.
Liang Chen approached him.
"I want a cultivation manual and a spear technique," he said flatly.
The old man didn't even look up. "What grade's your physique?"
"Mortal Grade. Rank 4."
"Then forget anything above Yellow Rank." He waved a hand. "Row three for cultivation, row six for spears. No touching more than five scrolls."
Liang Chen nodded and moved.
He first went towards the Cultivation Manual Section. He skimmed through names like the Stone root breathing manual, Myriad Vampires manual, even the famous, Qi draws from nine veins manual. They just didn't fit his style. They were either too passive, too common or focused way too much on defense.
But one caught his eye.
'Crimson Bone Blooming Scripture'
In the previous timeline, it was said that this cultivation manual once ascended a cultivator to the Nascent soul stage. And the cultivator had a broken dantian, just like Liang Chen.
He took it and then went towards the spear manual section.
Liang Chen moved quickly this time. There was no time to waste. Most outer sect spear techniques were just linear thrusting arts or defensive pole stances. Too rigid and way too wasteful.
Then he found it. It was tucked behind another scroll.
'Echoing Fang of the Lotus Spear'
There was no way he had found this spear manual. It was a rare and hard spear technique that fit Liang Chen perfectly because of two things. It dealt with precision and lethal attacks, all into a very deadly art.
Liang Chen smiled.
For the first time in weeks, he actually smiled.
He returned to the counter with the two scrolls. The old man finally looked up and narrowed his eyes at the names.
"…That cultivation method's useless unless your nerves are cracked, and the spear style's broken."
"Good," Liang Chen said. "So no one else will be practicing them."
The old man shook his head. Liang Chen handed over his sect badge and the old man deducted 70 Contribution points from it. It was even cheaper than he expected.
The rain had stopped by the time Liang Chen returned to his shack. The sky was grey and overcast.
He stepped inside, shut the door, and lit the single lantern in the corner. The wick flared, casting a thin halo of gold across the room.
Liang Chen went to the massive claypot he had stored at the back of the house and scooped up some rice. He washed the rice carefully and put it in boiling hot water for it to cook.
Then he cooked the vegetable sauce, mixing leftover boar meat, the blueleaf herb and some famous, elder ginger. Fifteen minutes later, Liang Chen was wolfing down his meal, as the wonderful aroma wafted out of the shack.
When he was done, he soaked his utensils in a bowl of cold water and cleaned the bowl. Then he pulled out the manual containing the Crimson Bone Blooming Scripture.
'When bones fracture and blood thickens, the marrow boils and the flower begins to bloom.'
That was the first line.
Liang Chen's lips twitched. "This thing's gonna kill me."
And yet, it was perfect.
Unlike most cultivation manuals that drew qi into the meridians and refined it in a gentle, circular flow, this Scripture was brutal.
It focused on the inner marrow. Not the dantian. Not the meridians. The bones.
It was more like body cultivation than typical qi techniques, but not entirely. This scripture pulled tiny threads of ambient qi through the skin, ran it through the nerve endings, and channeled it straight into the bones. The pain was intense. Because it was meant for those with broken dantians, it never used the core at all.
Liang Chen took a breath. Then another. And began.
He sat in a cross-legged lotus position, stripped his upper robe, and pressed his palms against his knees.
The qi came slowly. Not like a flood, but like a snake slithering around searching for prey.
His jaw clenched. His fists trembled. A low grunt tore out of his throat as the qi moved from his fingers to his wrist.
Then—
SNAP!
A spasm ran up his forearm as the bone trembled, and cracks formed, not from an injury, but from restructuring. The qi wasn't just flowing through his skeleton. It was digging in.
His entire arm burned.
Not metaphorically.
It burned. Like someone had poured molten iron into his veins and replaced his nerves with wire.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't stop.
Because deep in the pain, he felt it, a shift. Not in the dantian, but in his bones. Something there was pulling. Building and blooming.
A crimson flower, invisible to all but him, bloomed in his left shoulder. Qi began being refined inside that flower.
By the time he opened his eyes, the lantern had died. Sweat clung to every inch of his skin. His lips were pale, and blood had trickled from his nose and ears. The mattress behind him was soaked.
But his left arm?
It felt different, like a conduit for qi. There was strength in it. Real strength. Not from brute force, but from structure. The bone had changed. Hardened. Reinforced with qi veins like spiderweb cracks that had been filled with molten qi.
He'd done it.
He had cultivated.
Then he dragged himself to the edge of the room, picked up a cloth, and wiped the blood from his chin.
Tomorrow, he'd test the spear manual.
But tonight, he'd sleep like the dead.