Martial Arts: Starting with Upgrading the Dilapidated Temple

After another busy day, Xu Hao lay down on a straw mat in the corner of the servants' quarters.

He touched the seven copper coins he had left, not even enough to buy the most tattered fake martial arts manual.

We must make money.

Finding a job that pays well is not easy.

The work of transporting goods at the ferry crossing was controlled by the canal gangs and salt gangs, leading to fierce competition among scattered laborers who were often cheated out of their wages.

Going into the mountains to gather herbs and hunt? Let's not even talk about whether you recognize the herbs or whether you chase away the wild animals.

The world is not peaceful. There are large wild beasts in the mountains, deserters and bandits, and even legendary monsters.

Xu Hao thought of the broken statue of the God of War in the Temple of Martial Arts.

Although the temple was dilapidated, it was a place where homeless people and laborers would come to rest every day. Occasionally, they would kowtow to the statue of the god, throw down a copper coin or two, and pray for peace.

In the past, this money was always stolen by other idlers who frequented the temple.

Now, the temple is his "blessed land".

Can I... make use of this?

Xu Hao took a deep breath and calmed himself down.

First, try to collect those scattered copper coins, even if it's only one or two coins a day, it will add up.

At the same time, we must continue to inquire about ways to make money and information on cultivation techniques.

The world is like a harsh winter, and he must be like grass growing in the cracks of rocks, seizing every ray of sunlight and every drop of dew, desperately trying to take root and grow upwards.

As night deepened, the sounds of snoring and coughing rose and fell in the servants' quarters.

Xu Hao lay on the cold dormitory bed, his eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling.

The effect of the third level of the Martial Temple is "increased martial arts training efficiency".

Once I've saved enough money to buy the cultivation technique, I can start practicing there.

Even the most rudimentary skills, with the blessing of a blessed land, will surely give one a head start over others.

Before dawn, the servants began to get up one after another.

He scooped up half a ladle of cold water to rinse his mouth, drank his portion of vegetable porridge, and stuffed a hard biscuit he had saved from last night into his pocket.

He strode out of the servants' shop and went to work at the dilapidated temple.

The morning river breeze was strong, making my tattered clothes cling tightly to my body.

He shrank back and strode quickly toward the Martial Temple.

There were two huddled figures on a pile of dry hay in the temple.

An old beggar and a teenager used this place as their shelter from the wind and rain.

Xu Hao didn't disturb them. As usual, he took out a broom from the corner and began to sweep.

He swept the ground, the corners of the walls, the base of the statues... very carefully, removing the dust that had settled last night and the footprints left by passersby.

The progress of sweeping and cleaning ticked slowly in his mind. After finishing, Xu Hao walked to the incense table and glanced at its surface.

In the corner of the table lay two blackened copper coins.

Xu Hao's heart skipped a beat. He quickly covered the rag with it, and while wiping it, he gathered the copper coin into his palm, feeling its cool touch.

Was it the old beggar or the child who put it there? Perhaps it was their only wish.

He carefully stuffed the copper coins into the small pocket sewn into the lining, where there were now nine copper coins.

"Young man, you're up early today." The old beggar woke up, sat up coughing, and looked at Xu Hao with his cloudy eyes.

"I couldn't sleep, so I came." Xu Hao replied, walked over, took out half a pancake from his pocket, broke off a small piece, and handed it over.

The old beggar paused for a moment, then took it without saying anything and began to nibble on it.

The child woke up too, and looked on expectantly.

Xu Hao gave him the remaining small half.

"Thank...thank you, brother," the child said weakly.

"Will you come to this temple often in the future?" Xu Hao asked casually, while continuing to wipe the blackened claw marks on the incense table.

"If we don't come here, where else can we go?" the old beggar sighed.

"At least there's a roof here. The God of War... well, even if he's just a clay Bodhisattva crossing the river, he's still something to look forward to."

"I've heard that practicing martial arts can lead to success," Xu Hao began, starting the conversation.

"Stand up for me?" the old beggar scoffed, his laughter piercing his lungs, then he coughed again.

"That depends on what kind of martial arts it is. People like us, who only have a smattering of martial arts skills, end up working as bodyguards or thugs to make a living, either taking a knife for someone or getting injured. True martial arts, on the other hand, are built with mountains of gold and seas of silver! Elixirs, techniques, famous teachers... Maybe in our next life."

Xu Hao remained silent, and the two did not exchange another word.

As the sun rose higher, the old beggar and the child left to try their luck by the river.

Several more laborers came to the temple to rest, all of them weathered and sighing, complaining about how hard it was to find work and how rice prices were rising.

Someone bowed haphazardly to the statue of the god and tossed down a copper coin.

Xu Hao quietly took the copper coins while tidying up the haystack.

The atmosphere became even more oppressive when we returned to the servants' shop for porridge at noon.

Old Wang said that the owner sent someone to tell everyone that the shop could only hold on for another half a month at most, and that everyone should find their own way out.

"A way out? There's no way out at all!" A man named Li Da pounded the table, his eyes bloodshot. "My wife is still at home waiting for me to get her medicine!"

No one answered; only heavy breathing filled the air.

Xu Hao lowered his head and drank the porridge. The thin rice soup tasted particularly bitter at that moment.

Some of the people living in this odd-jobs shop, like Xu Hao, have no home, while others, like Li Da, have no land at home and work here, returning home once every two weeks.

The remaining few were laborers who had previously worked for their employers, some with broken legs or blind eyes, and too old and frail to do heavy work. This was a place where they eked out a living.

Xu Hao was picked up by Old Man Wang in a dilapidated temple. At that time, he had just transmigrated and had a persistent high fever. If it weren't for Old Man Wang giving him a bowl of ginger soup, he would probably have become a handful of ashes in a mass grave long ago.

Therefore, although it was dirty and tiring work, Xu Hao had no intention of leaving because he could get food and money.

At least this place has walls to block the wind compared to the outside.

The following afternoon, a green-covered horse-drawn carriage stopped in front of the shop.

Next came the owner of the odd-job shop, an old man in his fifties, wearing a gray cloth long gown, with a slightly hunched figure, a thin face, and an unyielding worry between his brows.

All the laborers from the outhouse returned, standing with their heads bowed in the courtyard. Even Old Wu, who was bedridden, was helped out and leaned against the wall.

The landlord didn't rush to speak. He first walked up to Old Wu and checked the old man's complexion.

"Brother Wu, are you still in good health?" The landlord's voice was gentle and full of concern.

Old Wu's old eyes welled up with tears. He opened his mouth, but before he could make a sound, he started coughing again.

The owner sighed and turned around, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.

"Manager Wang has already told you about the shop's difficulties," the owner said, rubbing his hands together in a low voice.

"These past few months, the canal gang and the salt gang have been fighting fiercely, so goods can't come in or go out. The shops are losing money, and I'm planning to sell the shops at this ferry crossing, but with so many people in my family, I'm afraid we can't hold on for long."

Everyone held their breath, except for the gurgling sound coming from Old Wu's throat.

"I thought that even if I had to eat thin porridge myself, at least everyone would have something to eat." The landlord gave a wry smile and shook his head.

"But in this world, kindness alone isn't enough. A few days ago, bandits attacked, and if it weren't for the Canal Gang, our shop would have been burned down long ago. I want to keep you all here, but if the shop is gone, you'll have nowhere to go."

He paused, as if making a great decision: "The shop is going to change its rules; we won't be keeping idlers anymore. Those who want to stay will pass the assessment in three days."

"First, carry a 200-pound grain sack and walk three miles around the ferry without falling behind; second, show some skills, whether it's farming or street fighting, as long as I can see that you have some expertise, can protect yourself, and can safeguard the shop, then you can stay."

"For those who don't pass, I will personally take out some money to help them with their travel expenses and find a way to make a living."

After saying this, the landlord bowed deeply, his eyes slightly red as he straightened up, and then turned and got into the carriage.

The courtyard was deathly silent.

Everyone could see that the owner was a benevolent man, but had been driven to desperation by this chaotic world.

But benevolence and righteousness cannot fill an empty stomach in this chaotic world.

Two hundred jin of grain might be manageable for Li Da and others who do hard labor year-round, but showing off their skills proved difficult for them.

The servants in the shop are all low-level laborers who are usually too busy to avoid being beaten, so how could they know any martial arts?

Li Dayi plopped down on the ground, clutching his head in his hands, muttering to himself, "It's all over, everything's over... my wife..."

Old Wu coughed violently, his face turning red, his old eyes filled with lifelessness.

Xu Hao stood in the shadows, his heart heavy.

He considers himself to be in good physical condition, being young and strong.

But he knows absolutely nothing about martial arts.

If we were driven out, in this chaotic ferry crossing, without this broken wall to protect us, we probably wouldn't survive long.

We must stay.