50-Of Qi & Blood Techniques.

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The *Iron Mountain Strength Technique* can only be cultivated up to the Seventh Rank Bone-Tempering Realm. To advance to the middle three ranks, one must practice martial arts that refine qi and blood. However, all blood-condensing martial techniques are monopolized by the noble families, completely inaccessible to outsiders.

After Zhong Lin reached the Seventh Rank Bone-Tempering Realm, the effects of training with the *Iron Mountain Strength Technique* had dwindled to almost nothing. For this reason, he specifically sought out Old Zhou for advice.

In Old Zhou's words, martial arts practice involves training the tendons, bones, and skin externally, while cultivating a single breath internally.

Now that his tendons, bones, and skin had been fully tempered, the next step was to move inward, refining the five organs and six viscera.

But the organs couldn't be tempered as directly as the tendons, bones, and skin. The internals were fragile—one mistake could leave hidden injuries. Thus, a special kind of power was needed to strengthen them.

Hence, the Sixth Rank of martial arts involved condensing qi and blood, forging what's called the power of qi and blood, earning it the name Qi and Blood Realm.

Next, this qi and blood would stimulate the five organs, achieving the effect of organ refinement. Strong organs lead to internal robustness, so the Fifth Rank was called the Internal Strength Realm.

Unfortunately, the methods to condense qi and blood were entirely controlled by the noble families. Even the yamen didn't have such techniques.

Or perhaps they did, but something so precious wouldn't be given to Zhong Lin—he was just a painter on retainer at the yamen, after all.

The head constable had managed to condense his qi and blood because he was the County Magistrate's man, and the County Magistrate was tied to the Mei family of Tianyang Prefecture.

Xu Lewu let out a heavy sigh. Having learned about the nine ranks of martial arts from Zhong Lin, he was all too aware of the noble families' nature. To get a qi and blood condensation method from them, you'd have to become their dog—otherwise, forget it.

"Zhong Lin, what about the martial schools? There are masters there—don't they have qi and blood condensation techniques?" Old Xu asked urgently.

The power of the noble families was deeply ingrained in people's minds. If there was even a sliver of an alternative, he didn't want Zhong Lin taking risks.

Zhong Lin shook his head. "I've looked into it. In all of Heishan County, most martial schools can only train up to the Seventh Rank Bone-Tempering Realm. Nearly all their masters are at that level too. Only the Divine Fist Sect and the Sky Eagle Martial School have masters at the Sixth Rank Qi and Blood Realm."

"Then ask them—"

Old Xu stopped mid-sentence, realizing the futility as it hit him.

Even at his clinic, taking on an apprentice meant three years of chores, three years of serving tea and water, before they could slowly start handling herbs. Becoming a personal disciple and learning his medical arts took even longer.

"In a martial school, only personal disciples get taught the deeper martial arts. I don't need to explain what a personal disciple is, do I? As an outsider, it's not easy to pull off."

Zhong Lin had actually researched these two schools with qi and blood techniques, but the more he learned, the more bitter he felt.

Typically, a martial school could only afford to train a handful of personal disciples—raising them required hefty resources for herbs, pills, and the like.

These two schools each had just three true disciples.

They were divided into roles: 

The "eldest disciple," who'd inherit the mantle and carry the school's banner in the future. 

This depended on whether the master's own son was capable. If not, they'd pick an outsider.

Take Old Xu's clinic, for example—unless Xiu'er turned out to be a total failure, the clinic would still go to him.

The "second disciple," who paid tribute with wealth and built connections. 

The "third disciple," the best fighter, there to uphold the school's reputation.

Each of the three had a purpose: 

The eldest managed the school and treated the master like a father; the second funded it and polished its name; the third handled challengers and rivals.

It was about face and legacy.

Simply put, the eldest was chosen for character—they'd care for the master in old age and support his descendants. 

The second needed a wealthy background. 

The third was picked for martial talent.

By that logic, Zhong Lin's best shot at a martial school would be as a third disciple. Too bad both schools already had theirs—he'd arrived too late.

In Heishan County, the paths upward were "become a thug," "sell yourself into servitude," or "personal disciple." None suited Zhong Lin.

Old Xu's face darkened, and he sighed heavily. A thousand words dissolved into silence.

"Alright, Old Xu, don't worry about me. You know my strength—I won't push myself into danger," Zhong Lin said with a smile.

"Fine, as long as you know your limits."

"Haha, of course I do. I'm pretty fond of this little life of mine. Go pack up now—I don't want to be buying you a coffin tomorrow morning."

Zhong Lin laughed heartily, tossing out a playful jab.

Old Xu huffed, glaring and cursing as he stormed out of Zhong Lin's courtyard.

That night, Old Xu, his wife, and grandson moved in. Under cover of darkness, Zhong Lin hauled over all their supplies and herbs in one go.

The cellar had been dug a few days earlier, sprinkled with lime and insect-repellent powder. All their daily necessities were stashed inside.

If anything happened, they'd hide in there. With the supplies, they could last over a month no problem.

Zhong Lin had even sourced a massive granite slab—over a thousand pounds. They'd seal the cellar with it. Unless someone had superhuman strength or was above Seventh Rank with fully forged bones, no one could lift it. And those types wouldn't bother with this unremarkable little courtyard.

Perfect.

The fire flickered, casting a warm, yellowish glow that spread like twilight.

Tonight's dinner was stir-fried oyster mushrooms with eggs, lotus root and pork rib soup, stir-fried green beans, and stir-fried bean sprouts.

When Old Madam Xu brought out the final dish, Zhong Lin called to Little Shi and Xiu'er, who were practicing calligraphy at a nearby table.

"Stop studying—come eat!"

The two bolted over with a whoosh. From the moment the first dish hit the table, they'd lost all interest in writing, eager to dig in.

"Go wash your hands."

Old Madam Xu swatted their hands and scolded them lightly.

She then fetched a jug of yellow wine, pouring a cup for Zhong Lin first, then one for Old Xu.

"Big Lin, thank you. Make the old man drink a few extra cups with you later," Old Madam Xu said warmly.

"You're too kind, Old Madam. Let's eat, let's eat."

Zhong Lin picked up two pieces of egg and dropped them into Little Shi's and Xiu'er's bowls.

Since his predecessor's mother passed, the house rarely had this kind of homey warmth.

Zhong Lin didn't mind, but Little Shi reveled in the meal's atmosphere. Eating with a friend made his appetite even better.

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