56-The Most Agonizing Death is Hunger.

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"Power rises from the ground, sink the shoulders and drop the elbows, loosen the waist and settle the hips, prop the shoulders and extend the elbows, round the stance and wrap the knees…"

In the open space of the courtyard, Zhong Lin set up the stance for the *Red Sun Stance Technique*. Under the blazing sun, it felt as though flames enveloped him, a scorching sensation coursing through his body.

"Power originates from the ground, rooted in the feet, governed by the waist and hips, passing through the shoulders and arms, and expressed through the wrists and fingers."

Zhong Lin silently recited the power-generation principles of the *Red Sun Stance Technique*, adjusting his posture bit by bit.

By now, Zhong Lin had been standing in the courtyard for a full two hours. Unlike the dynamic *Iron Mountain Technique*, blood-condensing techniques seemed simple but were incredibly hard to master. The slightest mistake not only prevented him from sensing his qi and blood but also left his body more fatigued and weary.

Despite no physical exertion, Zhong Lin was already drenched in sweat, his muscles aching.

"Shi, what's Big Brother Lin doing?"

"Practicing martial arts."

"Practicing martial arts without moving? Just standing there?"

"I don't know. Second Brother says it's practice."

"Can we do it too?"

"No way. Second Brother says we're still too young—our bones haven't fully grown. We have to wait a few years, or we won't grow tall."

Xiu'er and Little Shi lay by the window, watching Zhong Lin in the courtyard, whispering to each other.

*Smack! Smack!* 

Just as the two were about to say more, a ruler struck each of their backsides. With a yelp, they bolted upright.

"Finished memorizing your books? Done with your writing practice?"

Old Xu emerged from the shadows, his face stern, tapping the ruler against his palm twice. The two kids, terrified, scurried back to their seats, grabbed their brushes, and started writing.

In the courtyard, Zhong Lin slowly opened his eyes, shaking out his numb arms and legs.

"System."

Host: Zhong Lin 

- Skills:

--Methods: Iron Mountain Strength Technique (Max Level), Black Tiger Fist (Max Level).

--Techniques: Archery (Max Level), Flying Locust Stone (Max Level), Instant Kill Technique (Max Level), Willow Catkin Footwork (Max Level), Wind-Splitting Blade Technique (Max Level), Rolling Stone Fist (Max Level), Iron Sand Palm(Max Level), Breath Concealment (Max Level), Breath Tracking (Max Level), Eight-Step Cicada Chase (Max Level), Lotus Gold Needle (Max Level).

--Miscellaneous: Realistic Painting (Max Level), Calligraphy (Max Level), Culinary Arts (Max Level), Medicine (Max Level), Pharmacy(Max Level), Disguise Technique (Max Level), Mimicry (Max Level), Lockpicking (Max Level).

Skill Points: ∞ 

The system panel still hadn't registered the *Red Sun Stance Technique* as a skill. Without condensing qi and blood, the *Red Sun Palm* naturally hadn't been mastered either.

However, Zhong Lin had perfected *Eight-Step Cicada Chase* and *Lotus Gold Needle*. 

*Eight-Step Cicada Chase* was a lightness movement technique focused on short bursts of extreme speed. *Lotus Gold Needle* was a hidden weapon technique—its name revealing it as a needle-based dart, stealthier than the Flying Locust Stone.

These were ordinary martial skills, easily grasped by Zhong Lin.

"What's going wrong? Why can't I sense my qi and blood?"

Zhong Lin frowned, racking his brain for the issue.

"The *Complete Works of Jingyue: Blood Disorders* says: Humans have yin and yang, which are blood and qi. Yang governs qi, so when qi is full, the spirit thrives; yin governs blood, so when blood is abundant, the body strengthens. Life depends solely on these."

"By my understanding, the breathing method paired with the stance technique is what lets you sense qi and blood. The breathing might seem simple, but it takes years to build the habit. Adjusting it—or even reversing it—is far from easy, much harder than the breathing for the *Iron Mountain Technique*."

At that thought, Zhong Lin instinctively touched his chest. Just now, adjusting his breathing had left him feeling stifled, nearly causing him to lose his breath.

"Dinner's ready!"

As Zhong Lin prepared to resume practicing the *Red Sun Stance Technique*, Old Madam Xu's shout from the kitchen snapped him back to reality.

He pressed down his swirling thoughts, letting go of his frustration. He'd only just started the *Red Sun Stance Technique*—failing to master it quickly was normal. No rush. He'd eat and take it slow afterward.

The table was already set with food—four dishes.

Cold spinach with wood ear mushrooms, stir-fried pumpkin slices, green beans with cured meat, cold shredded lettuce.

Plus a basket of coarse grain steamed buns.

These were seasonal vegetables grown at Old Madam Xu's home, transformed into delicious dishes by her hands.

Each dish was generous, especially the basket of coarse grain buns—each the size of a bowl's rim, over twenty in total. A normal strong man would be stuffed after three; Little Shi and Xiu'er were full after half.

Zhong Lin washed his hands and took the head seat. Everyone waited for him to start.

Zhong Lin was the pillar of this makeshift family. Whether it was Little Shi or Old Xu's household, they all relied on his martial prowess in this chaotic world. By unspoken agreement, the head of the house deserved this privilege.

"Let's eat!"

Zhong Lin picked up his chopsticks first, and the others followed suit.

With his left hand, he grabbed a coarse grain bun, took a bite with some vegetables, and in a few swift motions, the bowl-sized bun was gone.

As his martial arts progressed, Zhong Lin's appetite had ballooned. The basket of buns on the table was basically for him.

No choice—without enough fat, he had to make up for it with carbs.

Even so, it was thanks to Zhong Lin's early preparations, stockpiling food. Outside, who knew how many had already run out of supplies?

…

Outside Heishan City.

What should have been lush forests had turned into barren wasteland, the trees felled for siege equipment. On the empty land, refugees sat or lay scattered in twos and threes.

Each refugee wore tattered clothes, their hair dry and lifeless, eyes dull, bodies gaunt and skeletal—like walking corpses.

*Clang, clang, clang!* 

The sound of a gong echoed, instantly drawing every gaze.

A tall man stepped out from the crowd, ceaselessly striking the gong in his hand.

"Everyone, listen up! General Guo of the righteous army is recruiting! Only men between fifteen and forty years old. Join the righteous army, and each gets two pounds of coarse grain. Limited supply—don't miss out!"

"One more time: only men fifteen to forty. Join the righteous army, and you'll get two pounds of coarse grain!"

With each shout, figures slowly rose from the disordered refugees, trudging toward the rebel camp.

"Husband, you can't go! You can't! If you leave, what'll me and the kid do?"

"If I don't go, Little Piglet will starve to death. With those two pounds of grain, you might survive."

A husband bid farewell to his wife and child.

"Son, Mama's not hungry, not hungry! You can't go there—it's deadly! I saw so many bodies today, the ground stained red. You can't go!"

A mother clung to her frail son, sobbing uncontrollably.

Everyone knew the dangers of storming the city, but compared to dying by the blade, they feared starvation more.

In this era, the most agonizing death was hunger.

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