The village trading post was less a shop and more a shack that smelled of pickled cabbage and desperation.
Lin Feng kicked the snow off his boots—or rather, the rags wrapped around his feet—and stepped inside. The warmth of the iron stove hit him instantly.
Behind the counter sat Old Man Liu. To the villagers, Liu was a miser who cheated them on grain prices. To the hidden world of cultivation, Liu was a failure—a man who had stalled at the 3rd Stage of Qi Condensation forty years ago and fled to the mortal world to play king among the ants.
Liu didn't look up from his abacus. "No credit, wood-rat. Get out."
Lin Feng didn't leave. He approached the counter with the steady, dead-eyed stride of a man walking into a quarterly performance review.
"I'm not here for credit," Lin Feng said. His voice was calm, stripped of the desperation that usually coated the villagers' pleas.
He reached into his tunic and slapped the pelt onto the counter.
It hit the wood with a wet thud. The fur was still shimmering with a faint, dying blue light.
Old Man Liu froze. He could feel the residual Qi radiating from the skin. It was faint, but unmistakable.
A Snow-Spirit Rat? Liu thought, his heart skipping a beat. Those things are fast as lightning and have teeth that can chew through iron. How did a mortal woodcutter get this?
Liu looked up, his eyes narrowing. He saw Lin Feng.
But he didn't see the starving boy he knew. He saw a man standing with perfect, relaxed posture (thanks to the System's osteal reinforcement). He saw eyes that were flat and unbothered by the Killing Intent Liu was subtly leaking to scare him off.
He's not affected by my pressure, Liu realized, sweat pricking his hairline. He's ignoring it completely.
"What is this?" Liu asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"A rat," Lin Feng said dismissively. "Found it near the geothermal vents. It has some kind of bioluminescent mutation. Probably due to mineral runoff in the water supply. I figured the fur might be useful for winter coats. It retains heat well."
Liu's mind raced. Bioluminescent mutation? Mineral runoff? He had never heard these terms. They sounded... ancient. Esoteric. Was this "Daoist code"?
"You... you killed this?" Liu asked. "With what? A sword?"
"A rock," Lin Feng said. "Gravity did most of the work. I just calculated the trajectory."
Liu swallowed hard. He killed a Spirit Beast with a rock. And he calls it 'calculating trajectory'. This isn't a woodcutter. This is a monster playing a role.
The "Hidden Senior" trope was common in legends. An immortal disguising himself as a beggar to test the morals of the juniors.
Liu suddenly felt very exposed. If he tried to cheat this man, would he end up like the rat?
"It is... a fine specimen," Liu squeaked, his greed warring with his fear. "Very fine. The... uh... mutation is preserved perfectly."
"Make an offer," Lin Feng said, crossing his arms. "And don't lowball me. I know the market value of unique textiles."
He didn't, of course. He was bluffing. It was a standard negotiation tactic: act like you hold all the cards.
To Liu, this confirmed it. He knows.
"Ten... no, twenty coppers!" Liu blurted out. That was enough to feed a family for a month.
Lin Feng frowned. Twenty coppers? That seems high for a rat skin. Is he trying to scam me somehow? Suspicious.
He stayed silent, staring at Liu. The "Silence Strategy." Let the other party fill the void.
Liu began to sweat profusely. He's offended! It's too low! He's going to kill me!
"Thirty!" Liu shrieked. "And... and a bag of polished rice! And charcoal! Smokeless charcoal!"
Lin Feng's eyebrows shot up. Jackpot.
"Acceptable," Lin Feng said coolly.
Liu scrambled around the shop, piling goods onto the counter. He moved with a speed that defied his age.
"Here, Senior... I mean, young master Lin. The rice. The charcoal." Liu paused. He felt he needed to offer a tribute. Something to show he respected the masquerade.
He reached under the counter and pulled out a book.
It was a tattered, yellowed manual he had picked up decades ago in a flea market. It was titled The Nine Postures of the Iron Mountain. It was a low-grade body cultivation manual, widely considered trash because the pain required to practice it usually killed the user.
"And a gift," Liu whispered, sliding the book across the wood. "For your... leisure. I found it collecting dust. Perhaps you might find the... diagrams... amusing."
Lin Feng looked at the book. The cover was faded, the characters archaic.
He picked it up and flipped through it. It was full of drawings of men in impossible, contorted poses.
Is this... yoga? Lin Feng wondered. Or maybe some kind of ancient calisthenics guide?
He looked at the first page. The text was flowery and metaphorical. "Forge the skin like copper, temper the bone like steel."
Classic motivational fitness gibberish, Lin Feng concluded. Like 'CrossFit' for peasants. But... my back has been killing me.
"Fine," Lin Feng said, tucking the book into his sash. "I'll take it."
ITEM ACQUIRED: [IRON MOUNTAIN BODY TEMPERING MANUAL]. RANK: MORTAL-GRADE (HIGH). ANALYSIS: PHYSIOTHERAPY GUIDE. COMPATIBILITY: 98%.
"Physiotherapy guide," Lin Feng muttered, reading the prompt. "Perfect. My posture is terrible."
He gathered his supplies—a heavy sack of rice and a basket of charcoal. He felt rich.
"Pleasure doing business," Lin Feng said, nodding to the merchant.
" The pleasure is mine!" Liu bowed deeply, his nose almost touching the counter. "Please, visit again! And... spare this humble shop your wrath!"
"Right," Lin Feng said, confused by the man's intensity. Customer service here is weird.
He walked out into the snow.
As the door closed, Old Man Liu collapsed into his chair, panting. "I survived. I survived a meeting with a Hidden Dragon. I must report this to the sect... no, wait. If I report him, he might get angry. I must keep his secret!"
[The Forest Edge]
Lin Feng walked back to his hut, the heavy sack of rice slung over his shoulder. The System chimed.
LOAD BEARING DETECTED. MUSCLE GROUP: TRAPEZIUS. OPTIMIZING WEIGHT DISTRIBUTION. STRENGTH +0.1.
He reached his hut and kicked the door shut against the wind. For the first time, he had heat (charcoal) and food (rice).
He started a fire in the small stone hearth. As the water for the rice boiled, he pulled out the book.
"Let's see these stretches," he said.
He opened to the first posture. It required standing on one leg, twisting the torso 90 degrees, and extending one arm while holding the breath.
"Seems dangerous," he noted. "But the System said it's 98% compatible."
He stood up and attempted the pose.
His muscles screamed. His tendons popped. It felt like he was being racked.
"Ngh!" Lin Feng gritted his teeth. "No pain, no gain."
He held the pose.
WHOOSH.
The air in the hut suddenly grew heavy. Unseen by Lin Feng, the spiritual Qi in the room began to swirl, drawn into his pores by the specific geometry of his body. His skin began to flush a deep, metallic bronze.
POSTURE DETECTED: [IRON MOUNTAIN STANCE 1]. ALIGNMENT: PERFECT. INITIATING DERMAL RECONSTRUCTION. PAIN RECEPTORS: MUTED.
Lin Feng felt the agony fade, replaced by a deep, vibrating warmth.
"Wow," he exhaled, holding the impossible twist. "This really works out the kinks. I should do this every morning."
CRACK.
The sound didn't come from him. It came from the Imperial Palace.
[The Golden Palace]
Empress Su Qingyue was in the middle of a War Council meeting when she suddenly stiffened.
Her skin turned hard. Her muscles locked.
"Your Majesty?" General Zhao asked, pointing at the map. "Do you disagree with the troop deployment?"
Su Qingyue couldn't speak. She felt like her body was being twisted by an invisible giant. Her skin felt tight, like it was turning to copper.
What is happening? she panicked. Is this a curse?
Then, the sensation settled. Her body relaxed, but she felt... harder. Tougher.
She looked at her hand. She squeezed the armrest of her golden throne.
CRUNCH.
The solid gold armrest crumpled like tin foil under her grip.
The generals stared.
General Zhao swallowed. "Uh... Your Majesty's strength is... formidable."
Su Qingyue looked at the mangled gold, then at the terrified generals. She didn't know why she was suddenly strong enough to crush metal, but she knew how to use it.
"The troop deployment is weak," she said, tossing the piece of gold onto the map. It landed with a heavy thud. "Like this metal. Reshape it. Or I will reshape you."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" the generals chorused, bowing in fear.
Su Qingyue sat back, her heart racing.
Someone is doing this to me, she realized. Someone is sharing their power with me. Who?