As the familiar warm current reappeared from his spine, Cheng Zongyang's eyes lit up. He continued with the process as usual. 'I can finally breathe again!'
He was now using external force to activate the medicinal power his body had absorbed, stimulating and nourishing his skin.
Slowly, the warm current began to fill his arms and legs, then his abdomen and chest, until it finally suffused his entire back.
Next, Cheng Zongyang began striking the tree trunk with these parts of his body, using the time before the medicinal warmth faded to practice his Body Forging. The medicine also had the benefit of greatly aiding his body's recovery.
Minute by minute, time ticked by. Beside the forest cabin, its firelight flickering, a series of sharp shouts—"HYAH!"—echoed through the dim woods.
Many nocturnal creatures perked up their ears to listen before scurrying far away from the noise.
About half an hour later, the shouts from the forest ceased.
Beside the cabin, Cheng Zongyang sat by a campfire. His entire body was flushed red, but his eyes gleamed with vigor.
After being scalded by hot water and then ramming himself against a large tree in a self-punishing routine, his body was not only unharmed but actually felt comfortable and filled with a sense of power.
He called up his Attribute Interface to check on his progress.
——
Name: Cheng Zongyang
Age: 15 years old
Points: 37
Equipment: Ironwood Bow;
Skill: Archery (11301/20000, Specialization)
Martial Arts: Body Refining Skill (20/100, Uninitiated)
——
'It actually changed? A single Body Forging session increased the proficiency by twenty points… That means I can reach the Beginner level of the Body Refining Skill in just five days!'
'Reaching the Beginner level in five days—the efficiency is astonishing! I love how fast this is!' Cheng Zongyang thought, thrilled.
'Even though I can't use Points to directly raise my Cultivation, this method isn't much different. The only catch is that I can only take a medicinal bath once a day!'
He knew a little about Martial Arts. For a beginner with average Talent to cultivate a Martial Arts Technique to the Beginner level, it would take at least a few months. Even for someone with good Talent and wealth, it would still require a month or two.
But for someone like him, who only had to follow the steps to reach the Beginner level in five days… the thought alone was staggering.
'Once I reach the Beginner level, maybe I can use this method to help Dad learn Martial Arts, too?' The thought suddenly popped into Cheng Zongyang's mind.
'If it's feasible, what would that mean?'
'It means I could potentially train Martial Artists in batches!'
'That's far more incredible than just raising my own Cultivation with Points!'
'No rush. I'll focus on improving myself first.' Cheng Zongyang temporarily suppressed the urge to experiment.
With a clear plan in mind, Cheng Zongyang decided not to linger.
He rinsed himself off with clean water, got dressed, and extinguished the campfire by covering it with sand and dirt before leaving the Wilderness World.
When he got back home, Father Cheng opened the door for him.
Mrs. Zhou of the Cheng Family had already taken the little girl to bed.
"Where have you been? It's pitch black out," Cheng Guanghai asked quietly as he headed inside.
"Nowhere special, just took a walk," Cheng Zongyang said with a smile.
Cheng Guanghai didn't press the matter and went back to his room.
Cheng Zongyang bolted the door and returned to his own room.
The night passed peacefully.
The next morning, the faint crow of a rooster, coupled with the dawn light filtering through an old, yellowed, mold-spotted window screen, woke Cheng Zongyang.
Cheng Zongyang, who had slept soundly, heard low voices from the courtyard. He glanced at the sky outside the window, a little surprised.
'I actually overslept.'
It was probably due to the Body Forging; he had fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow last night. He'd slept so soundly that he hadn't stirred at all.
He got up and changed, examining his sturdy physique. There were no signs of injury from the previous night's Body Forging.
On the contrary, his muscles felt much firmer, a clear sign that the medicinal bath and Body Forging had been effective.
'That's a relief,' Cheng Zongyang murmured to himself, finishing changing his clothes.
"Dad, Mom," he called out, greeting his parents as he stepped out of his room.
"You're awake? Why don't you sleep in a bit?" Mrs. Zhou of the Cheng Family said with a smile.
Cheng Zongyang shook his head. "I already overslept. Dad, I'm going to head over to Aunt Chunhua's place for a bit. I'll go into the mountains after."
Cheng Guanghai paused, understanding his son's intention. He nodded. "That's a good idea." He turned to his wife. "Prepare some grain for Yang'Er to take with him."
"Alright." Mrs. Zhou of the Cheng Family agreed, thinking it was right for them to go check on the family. She placed a basin of water by the well. "The water's here."
"Thanks, Mom," Cheng Zongyang said. He then turned to his father, who was in the corner of the yard measuring a piece of wood. "Dad, what's being done for Uncle Chen's funeral?"
Mrs. Zhou of the Cheng Family went to the kitchen to gather the provisions. In the corner of the yard, Cheng Guanghai set down his work and replied:
"How else can we handle it? In times like these, we can't afford a proper funeral. The few of us families who were close worked through the night to build a simple coffin and sent it over. After this, we'll just carry it into the mountains for a simple burial. That's all."
"The village isn't getting involved?" Cheng Zongyang asked, frowning.
"Hah, get involved?" Cheng Guanghai scoffed. "They're lucky if they can manage to feed their own families."
Even though they've lived in Golden Bridge Village for over twenty years in peace, outsiders are still outsiders.
In a good year, they might have made a show of it for the sake of appearances, offering a few cents, maybe a dozen, as a token of condolence. But now? People can't even feed their own families. Who has the energy to worry about others?
Cheng Zongyang didn't comment on the coldness of the world. This was simply human nature.
If it had been a family they didn't know well, his own family probably wouldn't have done much either, offering a few cents for the funeral at most.
After washing up and grabbing a quick bite to eat, Cheng Zongyang took ten pounds of Old Rice, ten pounds of sorghum flour, two pounds of cured meat, and a pound of brown sugar and headed to Chen Jiang's house.
It was only a hundred or two hundred meters away, but Chen Jiang's home was even more dilapidated than his own. The cracks in the old wooden door were wide enough to stick a finger through.
He stared at the closed wooden door, from behind which came the faint sound of crying.
Cheng Zongyang sighed inwardly. He knocked on the door, then took a few steps back to wait.
A moment later, the sound of soft footsteps approached, and the latch was drawn back.
A small, thin girl with red-rimmed eyes timidly opened the door. She was dressed in oversized, patched-up clothes.
"Brother Cheng," the little girl called out nervously upon seeing Cheng Zongyang.
"Laidi, are your mother and your sister, Zhaodi, home?" Cheng Zongyang asked.
Chen Laidi was the second daughter. At twelve years old, she barely reached his shoulder. Her hair was messy and a sickly yellow, her face gaunt and haggard. She was little more than skin and bones.
"They are," Chen Laidi replied faintly.
Cheng Zongyang stepped inside.
The pungent smell of burning incense filled his nostrils, but Cheng Zongyang paid it no mind. A quick glance showed him Aunt Chunhua and her eldest daughter, Zhaodi, burning paper offerings in the main hall.
In the center of the main hall sat a coffin of plain, unpainted wood—as simple as could be. The sight of it, in the center of the dilapidated house with its mottled walls, was like seeing a lone ruin in a barren field: oppressive and desolate.
"Auntie," Cheng Zongyang said, not shying away from the scene. He set the grain aside and stepped into the main hall.
"Zong...yang!"
Aunt Chunhua turned, her voice so hoarse she could barely speak.
Her eyes were red and swollen, her expression numb. Already weak and bloated from hunger, her body now looked as fragile as a candle flame flickering in the wind.
Cheng Zongyang's heart sank. He was afraid she wouldn't make it.
Chen Jiang had been the pillar of this family. With him gone, it was as if their house had collapsed. The devastation was easy to imagine.