Martial Arts: Starting with Upgrading the Dilapidated Temple

Two completely different auras collided silently.

Dust accumulated on the beams moved on its own without wind, falling in a soft rustling sound.

"Afraid? Afraid of your mother's ass!" Zhao Tiequan sneered, clenching his right fist so tightly that his knuckles cracked.

I could see that the muscles in my arms had swelled up slightly.

"I'll show you the light of day today, you water ghost, and make you come back to life!"

He took a step forward, and the bluestone floor tiles cracked with a "crack," revealing several fine lines.

Before the punch was even fully thrown, a strong wind had already hit his face, blowing Sun Niqiu's messy hair back.

Sun Niqiu did not take the hit head-on. Instead, he slid back half a step and simultaneously formed a claw with his right hand, creating a foul stench as he thrust it straight into Zhao Tiequan's vulnerable ribs.

The claw-like wind swept across the edge of the incense table, leaving five clear marks on the hardwood, hissing and corroding it.

Xu Hao watched without daring to breathe.

Is this what a true martial arts duel looks like? No fancy moves, every strike goes straight for the vital points.

This was completely beyond his previous life's understanding of "fighting".

If it were me, I'm afraid I wouldn't even have time to react before my internal organs were shattered by that punch, or my skin was pierced by those poisonous claws.

"Bang!"

The fists and claws did not actually make contact.

Zhao Tiequan changed his fist into a palm and struck down to block. The force of their blows collided, producing a muffled thud.

Both of them took half a step back at the same time, and the ground beneath their feet cracked again.

"Sun Niqiu!" Zhao Tiequan stopped his stance and stared intently at Sun Niqiu.

"I don't want to dirty his territory in front of the God of War."

"We'll each rely on our own abilities to handle that batch of goods on the river."

Sun Niqiu's bluish-black fingers slowly closed, and he sneered:

"No problem, no problem, then... let's see who's the real deal on the river."

After saying that, he glanced at Xu Hao, who was huddled in the corner, and left with his men without pausing.

The three members of the canal gang also left, cursing and swearing.

The temple fell silent again. Xu Hao leaned against the pillar and slowly slid down to the ground, his whole body covered in cold sweat, the heat from the listening talisman in his arms gradually fading.

The brief exchange between the two had just been like a bucket of ice water poured over him.

During his three-month journey, he witnessed death, endured poverty, and survived only by clinging to the meager hope of the "Records of Blessed Lands and Grottoes".

But what he saw with his own eyes today made him confront the cruel rules of this world—the strong live, the weak die.

It also ignited his desire to learn martial arts!

"I need to learn martial arts quickly!"

Xu Hao clenched his fist.

I must find a way and embark on the path of martial arts as soon as possible!

Xu Hao sat for a while before getting up, supporting himself on his knees, and picking up a rag to wipe away the dust that had been shaken off the incense table.

When my fingers touched the five marks, the wood turned black and soft, and a fishy smell entered my nostrils.

When I returned to the servants' shop in the evening, the atmosphere was more somber than usual.

The shop was located at the western end of the ferry crossing, consisting of several crooked mud-brick houses, where a dozen or so menial laborers like Xu Hao lived.

The shop owner's surname was Chen, and he was a wealthy man in the area.

The family owns many farm properties and shops. For generations, they have been trading grain at the dock, and they also have several shops at this ferry crossing.

Most of the handymen who worked in the shops at the ferry crossing would rest at this handyman's shop.

The Wudi Temple, which Xu Hao was responsible for cleaning, was built with money donated by the owner's great-grandfather in the early years.

Despite the temple's current dilapidated state, the Chen family still sends newly arrived servants to clean the area. Whether they put their heart into it or how well they do it depends on the individual servant.

Old Wang, the person in charge, squatted on the threshold smoking a pipe, his face wrinkled like a dried orange peel.

"They're all back?" Old Wang tapped his pipe, his voice hoarse. "Come over here and hear something."

The crowd gathered around, their necks hunched, their eyes filled with unease.

Old Wang glanced around and said, "The employer has sent word that this month's wages... won't be paid out for the time being."

The servants stirred.

"Why?" someone couldn't help but ask.

"Why?" Old Wang gave a bitter smile. "The canal gang and the salt gang are fighting fiercely on the river. The ferry crossing is closed every few days. Goods can't get through, and boats dare not dock. Where will the landlords get the money? If they can give you a bowl of coarse rice porridge, that's already considered benevolent."

Xu Hao felt bitter inside.

The wages were already meager, only twenty copper coins a month, barely enough to make ends meet.

The servants gathered in twos and threes, whispering among themselves.

"Uncle Wang," Xu Hao asked, leaning closer to Steward Wang, "So... what do we do now?"

Old Wang glanced at him and sighed, "What can we do? Those with connections have already run away, and those without... sigh, people die in the river every day. Who cares if one more or one less?"

"You're still young. Try working at the docks more often; you might find a way out."

He slowly walked into the house. "The porridge is in the pot, help yourself."

Dinner was thin porridge, served with some salty and bitter vegetable stalks.

Everyone drank in silence, each pondering their future path. No one spoke; only the sound of slurping porridge could be heard.

In the corner, Old Wu started coughing, one cough after another, heart-wrenching.

He used to be a porter at the docks, carrying bags for his employer. He got into a fight with other forces while protecting his employer's goods and was seriously injured. Now he can only wait to die here.

After finishing his drink, Xu Hao silently walked outside and squatted down against the earthen wall.

A damp, chilly breeze blew across the river, and a few scattered lights in the distance reflected on the dark river surface.

Further away, scattered torchlights moved about, and shouts could be faintly heard, suggesting that another conflict had broken out.

He closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking into that pale-lit painting.

Name: Xu Hao (17)

[Martial Realm: Mortal]

【Blessed Land: Sunset Ferry Martial Temple: LV2 (Upgradeable)】

[Blessed Land's Miraculous Effects: Harmony of Qi and Blood (Initial), Qi and Blood Sensation (Initial)]

[New Spiritual Effect (Unlocked at LV3): Slightly increases efficiency when practicing martial arts in the temple.]

[Progress of cleaning the blessed land: 100/500]

[Current Blessed Land Treasure: Listening Talisman (Bound)]

[Upgrade Requirements: Complete 300 basic martial arts stance training sessions within the blessed land, or consume one wisp of 'Bloodlust Qi'.]

You can upgrade now! Upgrading one more level will speed up your martial arts training!

Xu Hao's heart beat a few beats faster.

"Practice basic martial arts stances three hundred times"? He himself doesn't even know the most rudimentary fist and foot techniques.

As for "bloodthirsty aura," its name alone suggests it is no ordinary thing, and it is nowhere to be found.

Martial arts... techniques...

Xu Hao recalled Zhao Tiequan's earth-shattering punch and Sun Niqiu's poisonous claws that corroded wood during the day.

Such power requires cultivation techniques to develop, but where can one find such techniques?

The servants' shop was full of poor people struggling to survive; nobody understood this.

The ferry crossing is a melting pot of all sorts of people; perhaps we can glean some information there.

In the following days, besides cleaning and sweeping the Martial Temple, Xu Hao paid close attention to the idle chatter of people in the shops and at the ferry crossing.

He continued to clean the dilapidated temple every day, and after finishing his work, he would run to the dock, slowly approaching the laborers, merchants, and occasionally down-on-his-luck wanderers who were taking a break.

The Listening Talisman allowed him to catch many subtle conversations.

"The West City Escort Agency seems to be recruiting apprentices, providing room and board, but you have to sign a life-long contract..."

"There are martial arts manuals circulating on the black market, and they're ridiculously expensive. Even the worst one, 'Raging Bull Strength,' costs twenty taels of silver, and it might even be fake..."

"I heard that they've started fighting with the barbarians in the north, and the imperial court is conscripting soldiers. Those with martial arts skills can directly become squad leaders..."

"Practicing martial arts? That's an expensive business. Herbal baths, meat, master's guidance—all of that costs money. People like us should just give up on that idea..."

As the fragmented information was pieced together, Xu Hao's understanding became clearer and clearer.

There is a path to martial arts, but the threshold is extremely high.

For him, the most realistic possibility is to become an apprentice, sign a life-or-death contract, and entrust his life to someone else.

But you only have one life, so unless absolutely necessary, you should hold onto it in your own hands.

As for the black market... you need money for that!