Chapter 23: Tempering the Body, Refining the Flesh, and Mastering Internal Force
"Uncle Zhang? He's right over there."
Wang Ping and the others turned around, pointing at the limping man not far away.
The man maintained a calm expression as he glanced at Chen Fan. "You're here? You did well this time, but don't get complacent. Even a horned horse is still a low-level beast. If you encounter a mid-level beast, you’ll realize that bow of yours is nothing more than a tickling tool to them."
"Uh..."
Wang Ping and the others exchanged awkward glances.
Uncle Zhang’s being too harsh, they thought. Brother Fan was clearly the MVP of this hunt. The whole village is singing his praises—would it kill Uncle Zhang to offer a single compliment?
Chen Fan merely smiled and nodded. "You’re right, Uncle Zhang. This time, we came across an ironclad rhinoceros."
"Ironclad rhinoceros?!"
"Holy shit!"
Wang Ping and the group gasped. Even the limping man’s eyelids twitched.
"We took a detour and avoided its notice," Chen Fan added.
The tension dissolved as everyone sighed in relief.
"Brother Fan, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Wang Ping exclaimed. "Those things aren’t to be trifled with. I heard a village once provoked a herd of them. The rhinos chased the villagers home, smashed through their walls, and only left after rampaging for hours."
Chen Fan nodded, then locked eyes with the limping man. "That’s why I want to learn strength-enhancing martial techniques from you, Uncle Zhang. If I ever face an ironclad rhinoceros again, I need to defend myself."
"Str-strength-enhancing techniques?"
Wang Ping and the others gaped, their heads swiveling between Chen Fan and the limping man. How did the conversation take this turn so suddenly?
A flicker of surprise crossed the limping man’s eyes. "You already know about this?"
"Yes," Chen Fan replied. "Uncle Wei and the others must’ve trained in these methods. That’s how they progressed from drawing sixty-pound bows to hundred-pound ones, right?"
Wang Ping’s group froze, while Zhao Feng’s breathing quickened. He sensed they were brushing against something monumental.
"Correct." The limping man’s gaze swept over them before settling on Chen Fan. "Recall what I told you about martial artists?"
"Of course."
"After the Great Upheaval, Awakeners emerged—their power rivaling modern weapons. But ordinary people aren’t helpless. Before the change, training could only improve physique. Now, human limits have shattered. Through Body Tempering, we strengthen muscles and bones, achieving extraordinary power."
"Body Tempering!"
The group echoed in unison, Chen Fan included. While the concept was alien to Wang Ping and the others, Chen Fan mentally checked his system’s "Realm" column—still blank. If it ever updates, this must be what it’ll show, he realized.
The limping man continued gravely, "Body Tempering has three tiers based on muscle strength—though some divide them into early, middle, and late stages. Most villagers punch under 50 kilograms. At 100 kilograms—Tier One—you’re a martial artist. The Wei brothers reached this level. They can draw two-hundred-pound bows once before exhaustion, but hundred-pound bows suit them best."
He focused on Chen Fan. "A hundred-pound bow pierces leather armor at 200 meters. Even chainmail fails. It could kill an ironclad rhinoceros."
Chen Fan inhaled deeply. His current sixty-pound bow felt woefully inadequate.
"Tier Two requires 150 kilograms. At Tier Three—200 kilograms, near pre-Upheaval boxing champions—you can draw two-hundred-pound bows and strike targets four hundred meters away."
The group’s collective gasp filled the air.
"Uncle Zhang," Chen Fan pressed, eyeing the warehouse’s three-hundred-pound bow, "is Body Tempering just the foundation?"
Wang Ping’s jaw dropped comically wide. How can such power be mere basics?
The limping man nodded approvingly. "Yes. Next comes Muscle Refining—warriors with steel-like muscles, thousand-pound punches, and five-hundred-pound bow mastery. To them, ironclad rhinos are target practice."
Another round of awed gasps.
"And beyond that?" Chen Fan pressed.
"Mastering Internal Force: Ming Force, An Force, Hua Force. Pre-Upheaval, Ming Force practitioners could punch with sonic booms. An Force claimants were mostly frauds. Hua Force was myth." The man’s voice grew distant. "But now... Anshan City, a hundred kilometers away, houses Hua Force masters. Some even cultivate zhenqi—the internal energy of martial legends."
"Zhenqi?!"
"You’re kidding!"
Excitement crackled through the group. Chen Fan’s mind raced. Father’s stories align... Uncle Zhang might be an exiled Internal Force master from Anshan City.
"Don’t celebrate yet," the limping man snapped. "Internal Force means nothing against Awakeners. A bullet to the head kills anyone—even zhenqi users."
"But it’s self-defense in this brutal world," Chen Fan countered.
The man paused, then conceded, "True. Even Body Tempering’s first tier surpasses ordinary folk. So—you’re certain you want to learn?"
As Chen Fan opened his mouth, the man raised a hand. "Wait. Let me finish."
