Chapter 18: The Unity of Martial and Spiritual Power

The unity of man and martial art could actually receive the gifts of heaven and earth, forging a postnatal Martial Body. This was truly an unexpected delight.

His Iron Thread Fist was not far from achieving the unity of man and martial art.

Seeing the anticipation on Lu Yan’s face, Wang Lin couldn’t help but dampen his spirits. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. To cultivate a martial skill to the unity of man and martial art is as hard as ascending to the heavens. Even for third-rate martial arts, it’s exceptionally difficult. Very few ever reach that level, and those who do are rare martial prodigies. At least, in this Changfeng City, I’ve never heard of anyone perfecting a martial art to that degree.”

“You’re right, Brother Wang. I was being too ambitious,” Lu Yan nodded. Wang Lin was right; for ordinary people, achieving the unity of man and martial art in any discipline was nearly impossible.

A martial artist of average talent would need thirty years of hard work just to master a third-rate martial art to perfection. To reach the next level, to become truly extraordinary, required not only diligence, but also innate talent and the guidance of masters.

As for the unity of man and martial art, even with talent and guidance, only one in ten thousand might succeed. For second-rate or first-rate martial arts, the difficulty was even greater.

But Lu Yan faced none of these obstacles. As long as he had enough resources, he could advance steadily.

In the martial arena, Liu Xingchao, having defeated three Red-Clad Guards who had broken through three limits, was still unsatisfied and challenged a fourth-limit Red-Clad Guard.

A fourth-time breakthrough was much more formidable than a third. Not only was their blood and energy more robust, but its quality was also superior. To reach the fourth breakthrough required cultivation of at least a second-rate martial art—third-rate simply wasn’t enough.

Yet Liu Xingchao, like a beast unleashed, fought the fourth-limit guard for dozens of moves without defeat. Lu Yan could tell it was only because Liu Xingchao was still young and his martial arts level not yet high. If he were older and had honed his Celestial Iron Scale Palm to perfection or mastery, how powerful would he be?

A first-rate martial art combined with an innate Martial Body was like a tiger with wings.

After battling the fourth-limit Red-Clad Guard, Liu Xingchao finally felt satisfied. He declared that he would return for another match after his third breakthrough, and then left with his entourage.

But Lu Yan’s heart was far from calm.

He longed intensely for the unity of man and martial art. Before, when he didn’t know about the postnatal Martial Body, he could take his time, accumulating slowly until he broke through naturally. Now that he knew, the itch was unbearable—he wished he could immediately elevate his Iron Thread Fist to that level and experience the effects of the Martial Body for himself.

“It seems I have no choice but to buy dried martial rations,” Lu Yan mused.

Martial rations weren’t only available fresh from the pot; they could also be made into dried martial food, much like beef jerky. This greatly extended their shelf life, though because the production process was complex and the product more portable, the price was higher.

Usually, two jin of fresh martial food produced one jin of dried, with similar effects. Yet a jin of dried martial food sold for thirty taels of silver. Two jin of fresh martial food cost only twenty taels, so the dried version was fifty percent more expensive for the same effect.

Therefore, unless necessary—such as for expeditions or long stays outdoors—few people bought dried martial food.

Lu Yan hadn’t considered it before, but now he planned to buy some and see if he could quickly raise his Iron Thread Fist to the unity of man and martial art.

After work that afternoon, Lu Yan returned home, disguised himself, and headed to the Linglan Trading House.

As a business operated by the Wei family of the county—the gatekeeping clan of grandmasters—Linglan naturally sold dried martial food.

Lu Yan bought ten jin in one go, spending three hundred taels of silver. His funds shrank to less than three hundred taels, barely padded by his monthly stipend.

The taste of dried martial food naturally couldn’t compare to fresh, but it was still quite good—better than beef jerky from his previous life.

Upon returning home, Lu Yan chewed through half a jin. Half a jin of dried martial food was equivalent to one jin fresh. He didn’t practice boxing, allowing most of the food’s energy to be absorbed by the Dao Tome.

His Iron Thread Fist avatar began practicing, and the progress increased by 1.25%.

Over the next two days, Lu Yan consumed eight jin of dried martial food, and his Iron Thread Fist was about to reach perfection—one hundred percent.

In the training room, Lu Yan focused intently on his Iron Thread Fist avatar. Suddenly, the progress above the avatar’s head jumped to 100%, then changed again.

Avatar: Iron Thread Fist, unity of man and martial art.

A unique insight surfaced in his mind. Lu Yan immediately began practicing.

“How heavy…”

Every punch he threw felt as if some mysterious force weighed down his fists—each movement like pushing a boulder weighing thousands of pounds. Yet with every punch, a subtle energy from between heaven and earth seemed to gather toward him, pouring into his body.

A prickling, itchy sensation spread within him, growing more intense, seeping from muscle to bone, even to his organs.

Lu Yan gritted his teeth and persisted, knowing this was the crucial moment. This itch was the sign of marrow cleansing and rebirth. If he stopped now, he might waste this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He kept throwing punches as the itch intensified, finally turning to pain—piercing, bone-deep pain.

This process lasted three hours before finally subsiding.

When he punched now, the heaviness was gone.

He knew the gift from heaven and earth was over.

Exhaling deeply, Lu Yan stopped, drenched in sweat and covered in a sticky black film—utterly repulsive.

“This must be the body’s impurities? Just like the novels I once read,” Lu Yan muttered. He fetched water from the courtyard and washed, feeling lighter and more powerful than ever.

Crack!

With a punch, the air split with a sharp sound.

“Remarkable. My body’s strength has increased by at least fifty percent.”

“And my blood energy has grown by thirty percent as well.”

Lu Yan summoned his blood energy and felt it was far more robust than before. This truly surprised him.

He had thought the postnatal Martial Body would only increase his “capacity,” but hadn’t expected the concentration of his blood energy to rise as well.

This wasn’t converted from food, nor was it the release of potential after breaking a limit—it seemed to come from nothing at all.

Perhaps this, too, was the gift of heaven and earth.

If his blood energy capacity hadn’t increased so greatly, he would have been overflowing long ago.

By his estimation, his capacity had increased by about fifty percent. That meant, once he reached full capacity, his blood energy at the same level would be fifty percent greater than others.

Though still inferior to Liu Xingchao, Lu Yan was thoroughly satisfied.

“I wonder if, once Six Harmonies Kick reaches the unity of man and martial art and grants me another Martial Body, I’ll receive the gift of heaven and earth again?”

The thought excited him. If every martial art brought such a reward, what would happen after cultivating a dozen or twenty disciplines?

Even if they were all third-rate martial arts, he could easily crush practitioners of first-rate skills.

Of course, the postnatal Martial Body had its drawbacks. With increased blood energy capacity, reaching full capacity required accumulating much more.

After a short rest, Lu Yan ate half a jin of dried martial food and resumed training. This time, he didn’t send all the energy to the Dao Tome, but split it as before—half for accumulating blood energy.

With the Iron Thread Fist at unity of man and martial art, he had opened 576 minor meridians. With the Six Harmonies Kick, that totaled 864, greatly accelerating his accumulation of blood energy.

Soon, all the dried martial food was consumed.

Lu Yan didn’t buy more, as his silver was running low and dried martial food was not cost-effective. Better to eat fresh and proceed steadily.

In a blink, two more months passed.

Lu Yan followed his routine. His Six Harmonies Kick reached twenty percent of perfection, and his blood energy was nearing full capacity.

With the aid of martial food and the surge from opening meridians, it wouldn’t be long before he reached full capacity and sensed the third gate.

In recent days, the Red-Clad Guards were all smiles, for it was time for extra income.

Their duties were not limited to patrolling and catching criminals; they also dealt with escort agencies, trading houses, martial academies, and gangs. Much of this fell into gray areas.

For example, gangs mostly ran casinos and brothels. The great clans could have operated these themselves, but they had the gangs do it for them, mainly to collect protection fees.

Every shop was required to pay. Most of the collections were handed over to the clans.

As the world grew more chaotic and clan wars more frequent, military expenses soared, and more silver was needed. Since expanding their own businesses was difficult, they had little choice but to extract more from below.

But if the clans did this themselves, their reputation would suffer. Gangs were the perfect cover. Otherwise, the clans would never allow their existence.

Every so often, gangs handed over a portion of their "income," collected by the Red-Clad Guards, who naturally received a commission.

This day, Lu Yan and Wang Lin accompanied Squad Leader Meng Qi of the Seventh Division to the Green Bamboo Gang to collect dues.

“Captain Meng, we meet again. Please, have a seat and some tea,” said Fang Xiong, the Green Bamboo Gang’s leader, with a broad smile. He invited the three to sit while servants brought tea.

To ordinary folk, a gang leader was a figure to be feared, but here he was, courteous before them.

“Leader Fang, you know why we’re here. Let’s not beat around the bush,” Meng Qi said coolly.

“Of course!” Fang Xiong signaled, and someone brought out two wooden boxes—one large, one small.

Inside were banknotes and silver ingots.

But Lu Yan paid no attention to these; his gaze was fixed on Fang Xiong.

From the moment he saw Fang Xiong, the Dao Tome in his mind stirred—an intense craving, as if it wanted to devour something.

Fang Xiong possessed something akin to that bead.