At Ma Liu Rickshaw Yard’s gate,

seeing Fat Fan waddle out, several men in blue cloth jackets rushed up.

These were the spies mixed with the refugees under Fat Four. After his death, they’d fled back, now uneasy.

“Fat Master, Sixth Master didn’t say anything?” a flat-nosed man grinned nervously, face creased.

Slap!

Fat Fan’s hand cracked across his face, staggering him. “Useless trash! Can’t handle a small job! If I hadn’t vouched for you to Sixth Master, you think you’d walk out whole?”

Relieved, they bowed and thanked him profusely.

Fat Fan’s eyes narrowed, his face darkening. “Stay sharp! Think hard—any slip-ups today?”

They shook their heads like rattles.

Suddenly, the slapped man, clutching his face, mumbled, “Skinny Monkey’s dead, but there’s still Jin Fugui…”

Fat Fan’s thick brow shot up, another slap landing.

“Idiot! Why didn’t you say sooner?”

“What’re you standing there for? No brains? Go deal with him!”

Harmony Rickshaw Yard, East Tower.

Back from Bianyi Tavern, the night was deep.

Soaking in a tub, Xiangzi’s eyes half-closed.

Today—tiger demon, bandits—his nerves had been taut; only now could he relax.

He sank his wounded left shoulder into the reddish medicinal bath.

The moment it touched the water, a stinging burn spread like needles.

Then a numbing tingle followed—the wound stopped bleeding.

Such fine medicine was beyond Xiangzi’s means.

The powder, from Master Tang, was made from demon beast hide, perfect for wounds.

Zhang Dachui’s arrow had torn flesh but spared the bones.

Yet recalling that ferocious shot, Xiangzi shivered—such power from a ninth-rank minor completion?

No wonder Uncle Jie always said: a single rank gap is a chasm.

That arrow shattered Xiangzi’s pride.

With his system, inches from ninth-rank, he’d thought he could hold his own.

But in a real fight, he felt the crushing gap.

Not just Zhang Dachui’s minor completion, even early ninth-rank Luo Er nearly killed him.

It came down to blood energy.

Months of training, condensing a qi vortex, was already shocking, but compared to seasoned ranked martial artists, he was green.

His gaze fell on the table—

A crimson heart, a gift from that dashing Baolin Martial Hall inner disciple.

Master Tang had mentioned this eighth-rank martial artist, a Wan clan scion, wealthy and generous, tossing out demon beast hearts or precious medicines without a blink.

To an eighth-rank from a great clan, an unranked demon beast heart was nothing.

But to Xiangzi, it was a treasure.

Its blood-energy boost rivaled the premium blood-energy powder Fourth Master gave.

Xiangzi rose from the tub, holding the heart, examining it closely.

A faint warmth carried a whiff of blood.

Unlike ordinary animal hearts, this bear heart was firm, its capillaries glinting faint gold, like the tiger demon’s bones today.

Demon beasts near the mining zone were inevitably affected by the five-colored ore.

Beast meat was best fresh; delayed, its potency faded.

By rights, Xiangzi should’ve roasted and eaten it.

But now… he hesitated.

From a drawer, he pulled a small cloth bag, a glossy bone rolling out.

Jade-like, its origin unclear, faint golden veins ran through it.

Taken from Ma Liu’s skinny man months ago, Xiangzi hadn’t thought much of it then, but the ore route taught him its value.

A demon beast bone!

Even this small piece outdid a sack of premium blood-energy powder.

Processing such bones was complex; a misstep ruined it.

Only martial halls and apothecaries mastered this—their edge in navigating factions.

On the ore route, Xiangzi learned a crude method.

But it was risky—five-colored ore affected beasts and humans alike. Swallowing it could harm body and mind.

Some miners’ bodies even “mineralized.”

They called it “ore miasma.”

Pullers wore masks on the route to avoid it.

Xiangzi held the bear heart in his left hand, the bone in his right.

The cool night breeze slipped through the window.

Gazing at the ever-waning crescent moon, he fell into a daze.

This world had poems like “When will the moonlight glow, with wine I ask the sky” and songs of “a lonely moon in the heavens,” yet no one questioned—why’s the moon never full?

Is this cursed world the one I remember?

Xiangzi didn’t know.

But he knew, to survive here,

only strength mattered.

And the ore route’s troubles weren’t over!

So,

Xiangzi hesitated no more, driving the demon bone into the bear heart.

For him now, to boost strength fast, this was the only path—

Risking ore miasma, using the bone and heart to fuel his blood energy.

The bone sliced the heart like a knife, drawing a crimson bead,

then lodged inside.

Demon bones, too tough for normal blades, only melted in higher-tier demon blood of the same kind.

From the ore route, Xiangzi heard this method.

But which of the five elements did this bone belong to?

He had no clue—only the golden veins suggested it might be metal-type.

If so, maybe the bear’s heart could dissolve it, refining blood-energy marrow—far stronger than eating raw demon meat.

Whether it’d work, Xiangzi wasn’t sure.

This was a gamble—the heart and bone were his greatest treasures; failure meant total loss.

Xiangzi stared unblinking at the heart.

Time ticked by, his heart sinking—no reaction?

Is the bear’s rank too low to melt the bone?

Or was the method nonsense?

As he wavered, his eyes widened.

White wisps rose from the heart, faintly golden.

Like a chemistry experiment from his past life, the red heart and white bone seam hissed with mist.

Then, a golden droplet fell.

Pure, gleaming like topaz, it looked priceless.

Xiangzi’s heart leaped—It worked!