Han Li slowly emerged from Divine Hand Valley and, out of habit, followed the mountain trail toward the faintly visible Crimson Water Peak in the distance.
He had nothing particularly important to do these days. His daily visits to Zhang Tie were merely to watch his comical, pained expressions while training under the waterfall.
The “Elephant Armor Art” was truly not something an ordinary person could endure. Even the first layer demanded immense suffering. Who knew how many layers of skin one would shed by the advanced stages?
“Zhang Tie must be regretting it by now,” Han Li mused as he walked, idly kicking fallen leaves and twigs on the ground. “The brutality of this technique is far beyond what us kids could have imagined.”
“In a few days, we’ll both plead with Doctor Mo to let Zhang Tie switch to another martial art. That should spare him this torment.” The thought lifted Han Li’s spirits—he felt pleased to have found a way to help his friend escape this suffering.
He glanced at the trees lining the path. It was late autumn, and the branches stood bare. The trail was carpeted with a thick layer of fallen leaves and dry twigs, making his steps soft and comfortable.
Suddenly, the clashing of weapons echoed from a nearby mountain peak, occasionally punctuated by loud cheers.
Hearing this, Han Li looked toward the sound, and his mood soured once again.
It was the instructors of the Hundred Forge Hall training newly admitted disciples in weapon combat.
Han Li slowly emerged from Divine Hand Valley and, out of habit, followed the mountain path toward the faintly visible Crimson Water Peak in the distance.
He had nothing particularly important to do these days. His daily visits to Zhang Tie were merely to amuse himself by watching Zhang Tie’s comical, pained expressions as he practiced under the waterfall.
The “Elephant Armor Art” was truly not something an ordinary person could endure. Even the first layer demanded immense suffering. Who knew how many layers of skin one would shed by the time they reached the higher levels?
“Zhang Tie must be regretting it by now,” Han Li thought as he walked, idly kicking fallen leaves and twigs on the ground. “The sheer brutality of this technique is far beyond what any of us youngsters could have imagined.”
“In a few days, we’ll both plead with Doctor Mo to let Zhang Tie switch to another martial art. That way, he won’t have to endure this torment anymore.” The thought of helping his friend escape this misery lifted Han Li’s spirits.
He glanced at the trees lining the path. It was late autumn, and the branches stood bare. The trail was carpeted with a thick layer of fallen leaves and dry twigs, making his steps soft and comfortable.
Suddenly, the clashing of weapons and occasional cheers echoed from a nearby mountain peak.
Hearing this, Han Li’s briefly improved mood soured again.
It was the instructors of the Hundred Forging Hall training newly enrolled disciples in weapon combat.
Whenever Han Li saw his peers gathering for real combat training, a sense of bitterness washed over him. He longed to wield real blades and spears, to lose himself in vigorous practice. But for some reason, ever since he officially became Doctor Mo’s disciple, he had been strictly forbidden from touching weapons or learning other martial arts. Doctor Mo claimed it would hinder his progress in mastering the口诀 (oral mantra).
So, Han Li could only watch with envy, occasionally borrowing weapons from close friends for a few swings in private—just to satisfy his craving.
“What’s so great about this mantra anyway?” he grumbled inwardly. “I haven’t seen any use in it so far. Everyone else who joined around the same time is growing stronger and more skilled by the day, while I’m stuck here with no visible progress.”
Even Zhang Tie, who had only practiced the “Elephant Armor Art” for two months, had become tougher and stronger.
Still, if it weren’t for Doctor Mo taking him in, Han Li wouldn’t have passed the disciple evaluation two months ago, let alone remained on the mountain or been able to send so much money back home.
“If I can’t learn other skills, so be it,” he resigned himself, balancing complaint with consolation.
Han Li withdrew his gaze from the distance, his mind still whirling with discontent. His attention drifted, eyes scanning the path without really seeing anything.
Suddenly, he gasped, his expression twisting oddly, and his mouth stretching almost to his ears. Reflexively, he crouched down, clutching his right big toe with both hands before collapsing into the grass from the pain. The sudden, sharp agony left him pale, waves of piercing pain radiating from his toe.
It seemed he had accidentally kicked a very hard rock hidden under the leaves.
Hunched over, Han Li held his ankle, instinctively blowing on his injured toe through his cloth shoe while worrying about how severe the injury was. Would it bruise and swell? Would it affect his ability to walk?
After what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided slightly. He lifted his head, scanning the leaf-covered ground around his feet for the culprit.
The fallen leaves were all the same withered yellow, making it impossible to spot what had caused his misery.
Frowning, Han Li groped around, grabbed a sturdy branch to use as a cane, and carefully stood on his tiptoes. Unwilling to give up, he used the branch to vigorously sweep through the thick layers of leaves around him.
Eh! A fist-sized object was flicked out.
Han Li examined it closely—the cause of his injury was a round-bellied item with a long, narrow neck. Its surface was caked in dirt, turned completely gray, with no hint of its original color.
At first, he thought it was a small porcelain bottle, but its weight felt wrong—it was surprisingly heavy.
“Must be made of metal,” he mused. “No wonder something so small hurt so much. But metal bottles are quite rare.”
His curiosity now piqued, Han Li momentarily forgot the pain in his foot.
He rubbed off the mud around the bottle’s neck, revealing its original color—a lustrous green with delicate, dark leaf patterns adorning its surface. A small cap tightly sealed its mouth.
“Could there be something inside?” He held the bottle to his ear and shook it gently but detected no movement.
He tried twisting the cap, but it didn’t budge.
His curiosity grew stronger, but just as he was about to examine it further, a sharp pain shot through his foot.
Crap! He had forgotten about the injury caused by this very object.
With this wound, there was no way he could make it to Zhang Tie’s place. Better to return to his quarters, apply some medicine, and then carefully study this accidentally acquired bottle.
Thinking this, Han Li tucked the bottle into his robe, not minding its dirtiness, and turned back, limping along the path.
Thus, Han Li could only watch with envy, occasionally borrowing weapons from close friends in private to swing them a few times and satisfy his craving.
Really, what was so great about this cultivation chant he was practicing? So far, he hadn’t noticed any use for it. Other disciples who entered the sect at the same time were growing stronger by the day, their martial skills advancing rapidly, while he seemed stuck in place, showing no visible progress.
Even Zhang Tie, who had only practiced the “Elephant Armor Art” for two months, had become tougher and more resilient, with significantly greater strength.
Yet, if not for being taken in by Doctor Mo, he might not have passed the probationary disciple evaluation two months ago, let alone remained on the mountain or been able to send so much money back home.
If he couldn’t learn other skills, so be it!
Han Li grumbled inwardly while trying to console himself.
He withdrew his gaze from the distance, his mind still whirling with discontent. His focus drifted, and he stared blankly at the sides of the path, not really seeing anything.
Suddenly, Han Li gasped, his expression turning strange as he nearly grinned from ear to ear. Reflexively, he crouched down, clamping both hands over his right big toe. The sudden, sharp pain overwhelmed him, and he half-collapsed into the grass. His face paled, and waves of excruciating pain shot from his injured toe.
It seemed he had accidentally kicked a very hard rock hidden beneath the pile of leaves.
Hunched over, Han Li cradled his ankle. Instinctively, he blew hard on his injured toe through his cloth shoe, while worrying inwardly about how serious the injury might be. Would his toe bruise and swell? Would it affect his ability to walk?
It took a long while for the pain to subside. Lifting his head, he scanned the leaf-covered ground around his feet, searching for the culprit behind his suffering.
The scattered leaves were all the same monotonous yellowish-brown, making it impossible to spot his target amid the messy piles.
Frowning, Han Li groped around randomly, grabbed a relatively long and sturdy branch to use as a crutch, and carefully stood on his tiptoes. Unwilling to give up, he used the branch to vigorously poke and prod the thick layers of leaves around him.
Eh! A fist-sized object was flicked out by the branch.
Han Li examined it closely. The cause of his glorious injury was a round-bellied item with a slender neck, completely covered in mud and faded to an earthy gray, obscuring its original color.
At first, he thought it was a small porcelain bottle, but its weight felt wrong—it was surprisingly heavy.
Must be made of metal, he realized. No wonder something so small had caused such pain. Metal bottles were quite rare, though.
Now intrigued, Han Li momentarily forgot the pain in his foot.
He rubbed the mud off the bottle’s neck, revealing its original lustrous green surface adorned with delicate, dark green leaf patterns. A small cap tightly sealed its mouth.
Could there be something inside? He held the bottle to his ear and shook it gently but detected no movement.
Placing his hand on the cap, he tried twisting it open, but it didn’t budge.
His curiosity grew stronger, and he was about to attempt further action when a sharp pain shot through his foot.
Crap! He’d forgotten about the unpleasant consequences of his intimate contact with this object.
With this injury, it seemed he wouldn’t be able to visit Zhang Tie. Better return to his quarters first, apply some medicine, and then carefully examine this unexpectedly acquired little bottle.
Thinking this, Han Li tucked the bottle into his robe, not minding its dirtiness, lest anyone else see it. Then, limping, he turned and began making his way back.
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