"Just a box of lamp oil?"
Chen Sanshi couldn't believe it.
He checked the exquisite jade box again, carefully inspecting every inch inside and out. Other than a built-in self-destruct mechanism, there was nothing—no hidden compartments, no engravings, no secret seals.
The Witch God Sect, Xiang Tingchun, the martial halls… all those powers fighting to the death for this?
According to Chen Sanshi's analysis, even Xiang Tingchun and the martial halls probably didn't know exactly what the so-called "immortal treasure" really was. The only ones who might have known were the Witch God Sect members—but every single one of them had been stubborn as iron, refusing to say a word.
It couldn't possibly be that simple.
Chen Sanshi went to the kitchen doorway. Using his fingertip, he scooped up a tiny bit of the lamp oil and smeared it over the surface of a thick chopping post. Then he took out a fire striker and lit a small flame.
"Boom—"
The instant the flame touched the oil, a scarlet blaze erupted with a roar, as if a fire dragon had surged up from the void. In seconds, the fire shot up more than 2 to 3 meters high.
Within just a few breaths, the entire wooden post had turned to ash.
That post was half a meter thick and 30 centimeters tall. Normally, such wood would be hard to ignite at all—without splitting it, even burning it overnight wouldn't reduce it to cinders.
Standing two steps away, Chen Sanshi could feel the scorching heat almost roast him alive.
What terrifying power!
What kind of creature's oil could produce flames like this? The heat alone could kill a man.
"Definitely not an ordinary substance," he murmured, his heartbeat quickening.
Still, for all its might—why had so many people fought so desperately over it?
Use it as a weapon?
He lifted the small iron box in his hand. It was barely half the size of a palm.
Even if it were weaponized, how many times could it be used? Surely not enough to justify all that bloodshed.
No, this fire had to have some other purpose.
Chen Sanshi examined the jade box again, methodically, several times over, but the conclusion didn't change.
There was nothing else hidden inside.
It seemed the true method for using the flame must have been in the hands of the Witch God Sect.
'Well,' he thought, 'that's a dead end for now.'
He felt a faint sense of disappointment.
Still, the fire's destructive power was enormous. It might not be the "immortal treasure" everyone wanted, but in a desperate situation, it could save his life.
As for its true use—he'd just have to wait and see.
"My goal right now is clear—to enter the Elite Selection and join the Eight Northern Garrisons."
"I still need to get stronger, and fast."
Chen Sanshi packed the items away carefully, intending to rest and recover for the night. He was close—just one thin layer away from breaking through.
…
The next morning, at the military camp.
Chen Sanshi downed a bowl of Nine-Turn Vitality Soup. While his qi and blood surged at their peak, he raised his spear and began to practice the Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry—a technique he had already mastered to perfection.
By midday, under the blazing sun, the empty training ground echoed with booming cracks as his spear tore through the air.
Nearby soldiers turned their heads to look, startled.
Each time his willow-leaf spear swept through the light, the tip reflected a dazzling golden flash. As he moved faster and faster, those flashes connected together into streaks of brilliance.
From afar, it looked like a golden serpent writhing in midair, or a brush of pure gold painting vast landscapes across the sky. The sight drew eyes irresistibly closer, but the fierce whistling and thunderous air cracks reminded everyone—this was no show of beauty. It was a killing art.
The spear roared. His body twisted and spun.
The dazzling rhythm of light and shadow continued for nearly half a stick of incense.
Then suddenly—everything stopped.
The glow gathered into a single point.
With speed too fast for the naked eye, it thrust forward and struck one of the training posts.
"Bang!"
The massive post—two meters tall and as wide as a man's shoulders—exploded from the point of impact.
Wood chips and splinters burst through the air like a rain of arrows, scattering dozens of meters across the training ground.
A few curious soldiers barely managed to dodge in time, collapsing backward in shock.
Chen Sanshi lowered his spear slowly.
Sweat streamed down his hardened muscles, glistening in the autumn sunlight. Steam rose from his body like mist, wrapping him in a faint white haze, as though he had just stepped out of the flames.
Minor Achievement!
His two streams of qi and blood had fused into four, now flowing seamlessly through his limbs.
[Skill: Basic Spearsmanship for Infantry (Minor Achievement)]
[Progress: (0/2,000)]
[Effect: Spear strikes fierce and swift; endurance extraordinary; qi and blood vigorous—Blood Manifestation Awakens]
The newly added effect left Chen Sanshi puzzled for a moment.
Blood Manifestation Awakens?
Did it mean his blood was undergoing some kind of transformation?
He tried channeling his qi and blood. Instantly, his veins felt as though molten iron flowed through them—his blood was boiling hot. Each surge of qi and blood now carried far more explosive strength than before.
'Could this be related to the next stage—tempering bone?'
"Congratulations, Flag Officer Chen!"
Voices rang out all around him. Many soldiers came over to offer their praise.
Sub-Flag Officer Fang sighed with admiration. "Such talent—truly enviable!"
"It's mostly thanks to silver," Chen Sanshi said modestly. "If I hadn't earned money hunting to buy medicine, I couldn't have advanced this quickly."
"What nonsense! Hunting is a skill too, isn't it?" Fang said, even more envious now.
They were all martial artists at the Major Achievement stage of tempering blood. They could easily draw heavy bows—but drawing a bow and hitting a target were two very different things.
Even after endless training, few could reach a high level of accuracy, let alone hit something invisible to the naked eye from a hundred steps away.
Some things simply came down to talent—talent that defined one's limits.
Later, Chen Sanshi went to see Hundred-Household Officer Wang Zhi privately to ask for advice about his next stage of cultivation.
"You broke through again?"
Wang Zhi nearly spat out his wine. For a long moment, he just stared, wide-eyed.
By now, his feelings were complicated—not pure joy, but mostly disbelief.
'Barely a month of training, and he's covered ground that takes others years—or a lifetime! The heavens truly have no fairness!'
"Hundred-Household Wang," Chen Sanshi asked, "is there anything I should pay attention to after reaching Major Achievement in tempering blood? Is there a connection to the tempering bone stage?"
"Sharp as ever," Wang Zhi said, raising his wine bowl. "Tempering blood, as the name suggests, is the refinement of your blood itself."
"Once your qi and blood circulate freely throughout your body, that's when you can start tempering your bones."
"The higher the quality of your blood, the stronger your body will become once it's forged through the blood."
"That's why I gave you the Haoran Breathing Method in the first place."
"Tempering blood is your foundation. If that foundation isn't solid, you've already lost before you even start."
"You must've noticed by now—among those at your level, few can stand against you in a three-move exchange. The further you go, the greater that gap will become."
'Forging bone through blood…'
So it was true—blood was directly tied to the next realm.
Chen Sanshi wondered whether this "Blood Manifestation" effect was unique to his Grinding System panel. He decided not to mention it for now. Better to test its effects first.
"You're something else, kid."
Wang Zhi counted on his fingers. "At this pace, your cultivation speed is absurd. And soon, our garrison will receive a huge shipment of medicinal herbs. If you keep it up, you could reach the tempering bone stage before next spring!"
Chen Sanshi's eyes narrowed slightly. "The garrison's getting medicinal herbs?"
"Heh, don't even get me started."
Wang Zhi chuckled and took a long drink. "Yesterday at the Eight Treasures Restaurant, those old bastards from the martial halls were still acting tough—saying we were holding them under house arrest, threatening to report us to the higher-ups."
"But this morning? Like they turned into a bunch of tame puppies."
"They've promised to fully support our Thousand-Household's expedition against the barbarians next spring."
"And once the four martial halls agreed, all the county's wealthy families and merchants had no choice but to follow suit and pay up."
"This time, my friend, we're going to make a fortune."
Chen Sanshi frowned slightly.
From the sound of it, Xiang Tingchun had somehow brought the martial halls under control.
But the treasure was in his possession. What leverage did Xiang Tingchun possibly have?
Unless...
He was bluffing!
The man was playing with an empty hand—trading nothing for something.
'Bold move,' Chen Sanshi thought. 'Hope he doesn't get caught.'
That same afternoon, as dusk approached, Wang Zhi's words proved true.
Groups of martial hall disciples came hauling wagon after wagon of goods into the garrison—supplies beyond counting.
"Herbal stock, left warehouse!"
"Grain to the right!"
"Wait—this shipment's short two hundred shi of grain! Make sure it's delivered by tomorrow night!"
"Yes, sir!"
Warehouse clerks and record keepers busied themselves with ledgers and counting, checking every cart.
The long-unused storage buildings of the garrison came alive again. Grain stores filled to the brim—sacks piled so high they were nearly bursting out the doors.
So much for "years of poor harvest." The wealthy households clearly had grain to spare.
"Tooot—"
The assembly horn blared.
The messenger called out across the training grounds, his voice booming.
"All personnel, assemble at the drill field! The Thousand-Household Lord has an important announcement!"