Lu Qi had gone mad.

It wasn’t unheard of in Baolin Martial Hall over the years. The martial path was fraught with near-misses, and not just unsteady apprentices—even ranked masters wavered before the three barriers of Bright Force, plagued by doubt and fear. Those who relied on tonics for years sometimes succumbed to “medicinal miasma,” their spirits shattered.

But a disciple from the miscellaneous courtyard losing their mind? That was a first.

—

The commotion drew the attention of the Wind Justice Courtyard seniors. Baolin Martial Hall was divided into five courtyards: Martial Transmission, Hundred Herbs, Wind Justice, Four Seas, and Miscellaneous. The Wind Justice Courtyard oversaw disciple conduct.

As two burly Wind Justice seniors hauled Lu Qi away, Xiangzi could only sigh softly. The pressure of the martial path, coupled with his family’s crushing Yama Debt, had finally broken the quiet, reserved boy.

“Focus your mind. Don’t let distractions shake you,” Zhao Mu said, his tone softer than usual. “The Marrow-Washing Pill tempers skin first, then bones. Timing is up to you. Keep your stance steady—use Iron Shirt Thirteen Tensions first, then Dragon Bone Tiger Tendon Art. With your blood energy, you should be fine. If something feels off, get out of the tub. Don’t cling to the medicinal power, or it’ll backfire on your blood energy.”

Cautious as ever, Zhao Mu had the miscellaneous courtyard senior double-check the tub and powders before stepping out, adding, “I’ll be at the door. Call if you need me. Hold fast to your blood courage!”

The senior, shaken by Lu Qi’s sudden madness and his removal by the Wind Justice Courtyard, felt uneasy. Did I push that kid too hard? But no—this was standard practice in their courtyard. Why single me out? In his agitation, he failed to notice a small medicinal pouch lying quietly at the bottom of the tub.

—

Blood courage? Xiangzi had heard the term before from the wealthy scions. High-grade tonics didn’t just temper skin, muscles, and bones—they tested the spirit. Only those with true blood and bone courage could endure.

It reminded him of stories from his past life about “cultivating the heart before the body.” But in this world, it was all about popping pills, with little focus on the heart. How strange.

Xiangzi sighed, pushing aside his jumbled thoughts. With a leap, he submerged himself in the wooden tub.

Unlike the soothing baths before, this one stung his skin like fire, nearly overwhelming him. He quickly sank into his stance, his mind stirring. The jade-like vortex in his dantian spun rapidly. His skin writhed, flushing red as the Iron Shirt Thirteen Tensions surged to its limit.

Only then did the pain ease slightly.

This potent? The Marrow-Washing Pill was ferocious. Didn’t Master Zhao say the skin-tempering would take the time of an incense stick? Thanks to his robust blood energy and quick reflexes, he’d managed. Anyone else might’ve had their skin rupture on contact.

Then, a thrill ran through him as golden words flashed in his mind.

[Iron Shirt Thirteen Tensions +3]

Such progress in mere moments? A month of grueling practice had barely brought him to minor success, yet in less than half an incense stick, he’d gained six points? Gritting his teeth, Xiangzi rooted his stance like a pillar.

[Iron Shirt Thirteen Tensions +3]

[Iron Shirt Thirteen Tensions +3]

Time blurred. His skin suddenly relaxed, but the water turned scalding. The surging medicinal power pierced his skin, racing through his limbs and vital points.

A sour ache bloomed at his tailbone, like needles burrowing into the seams. His lower back’s tendons tightened. Before he could adjust, the numbness climbed his spine, half his back going rigid. His fingertips trembled, unable to form a fist.

Damn, this power?

The bone-grinding pain dwarfed training by multiples. Even with his extraordinary constitution, Xiangzi tasted true bone-deep agony.

He nearly leapt from the tub but couldn’t bear to waste the medicine—or the golden words flashing in his mind.

Clenching his jaw, he pushed the Dragon Bone Tiger Tendon Art to its peak. If others can endure this Marrow-Washing Pill, my beastly body sure as hell can!

[Dragon Bone Tiger Tendon Art +3]

[Dragon Bone Tiger Tendon Art +3]

After what felt like an eternity, Xiangzi slowly opened his eyes. The water had cooled.

Climbing out, he wiped himself down and slipped on his trousers. With a shake, his joints crackled, a wave of clarity washing over him, his body brimming with inexhaustible strength.

Gazing at his chiseled muscles in the mirror, Xiangzi nodded, pleased. No wonder it’s the prelude to the Bone-Strengthening Broth. The Marrow-Washing Pill’s power had likely elevated his skin and bones significantly.

With this, he felt more confident about tomorrow’s trial.

Exhaling slowly, he pushed open the door to find Zhao Mu with a faint smile. “Not bad. You endured a full hour under the Marrow-Washing Pill.”

Zhao Mu had stayed vigilant, ready to rush in if the room fell silent. Few in recent years had lasted an hour—Xiangzi was a rare talent.

But then, a strange scent wafted from the half-open door, a sharp note cutting through the thick medicinal aroma.

Zhao Mu’s smile froze. That smell… Five Ores Powder!

He darted inside, reaching the tub. The normally stoic ninth-grade peak martial artist plunged his hand into the murky water, pulling out a small cloth pouch. With a flick, its contents spilled onto the floor—tiny, shimmering particles.

Water dripped from his sleeve as he roared, “Who was in charge of this room? Get in here!”

Grabbing Xiangzi’s wrist, Zhao Mu paused, stunned. His blood energy is completely stable? Has the Five Ores Powder not taken effect? “Keep your stance! Don’t stop until I say so!”

“Master Zhao, what’s this?” Xiangzi asked.

“No questions!” Zhao Mu snapped, urgency in his voice. “Five Ores Powder, refined from five colored vein ores, devours blood energy and amplifies medicinal power. The Marrow-Washing Pill is tough enough, but with this much Five Ores Powder, its strength doubles. Hesitate for a moment, and your skin and bones will tear apart!”

Xiangzi, alarmed, sank into his stance, his mind reeling. What the hell is Five Ores Powder?

Zhao Mu, on high alert, ordered the door guarded, barring entry. After a while, watching Xiangzi’s skin flush red then pale repeatedly, he began to relax. Losing such a talent on my watch would’ve ended my days at Baolin.

But seeing Xiangzi’s calm demeanor, a suppressed doubt surged. Did this big oaf… absorb all that chaotic medicinal power?