Chapter Three: This Is the Martial World

Night had fallen in Dengfeng County, where there was an inn.

An unfamiliar ceiling.

Zhang Chengyi opened his eyes, propping himself up on the bed. A sharp pain radiated through his chest and abdomen, and his constitution had slightly declined in the few seconds since he logged into the game.

If described quantitatively, using his previous hunter's constitution as the baseline of one, he had adjusted his constitution to a maximum of 2.2. The recent drop was about 0.1.

No way around it—he was still burdened with the negative status of Internal Injury.

Nearby, the escort was meditating on the floor, steam rising from his head, sweat soaking his body, emitting a strong stench of sweat.

Enduring the pain from his internal injury, Zhang Chengyi put on the clothes folded at the head of the bed, grabbed the bundle resting on them, swung his legs off the bed, found his new shoes by the door, hastily slipped them on, opened the door, and stepped into the corridor, taking a deep breath.

Who knew how long that kid had been meditating? The whole room reeked. If it had been a woman, maybe he could have tolerated it, but the pungent odor of a sweaty old man combined with the two of their foot odors was unbearable.

The leader of the escort guild, was he?

Standing in the corridor, he reached into his chest pouch—every coin intact. Opening the bundle, the gold and silver hidden inside the clothes were also untouched. So, even the lodging fees had been fronted by that kid?

Satisfied that the other was truly a good person, he felt much more at ease.

He glanced at his status panel.

[Internal Injury], [Fatigue], [Hunger], [Hair Loss], [Athlete’s Foot], [Nearsightedness], [Left Arm Muscle Contusion]

Not too bad.

Zhang Chengyi touched his stomach. Negative statuses like hunger, fatigue, and hair loss didn’t affect his ability to exert strength. After all, he had forcibly adjusted the data to the upper limit; when others were hungry, they’d lose energy, but not him.

These were easy to handle: a good sleep would dispel fatigue, and a hearty meal would eliminate hunger.

Hair loss, athlete’s foot, and nearsightedness seemed permanent. He wondered if internal energy could cure athlete’s foot and hair loss.

Given that there were disciples from the Funiu Sect in the room who also suffered from athlete’s foot, it seemed unlikely.

Internal injury and the contusion on his left arm were more troublesome, as they partially hindered his physical exertion. Fortunately, his constitution was strong, and his recovery ability was extraordinary. In a day or two, he’d be back in shape.

Constitution represented a comprehensive improvement of the body, but even with a constitution of 2.2—the theoretical peak for this body—he hadn't practiced martial arts, never fought in his previous life, and the logged-in body couldn’t access any memories. The actual strength and speed he could unleash were probably only 30 to 40 percent of the potential.

Having strength but no skill was useless; fighting was ultimately about landing a decisive blow. No ordinary person could reach the theoretical peak of their body. Even martial artists wandering the Jianghu rarely did. He relied on speed and reflexes to throw punches, and if caught off guard, even an average martial artist would fall.

Even if the opponent used internal energy to strike before dying, he’d likely be either dead or crippled.

“Phew~” Zhang Chengyi caught his breath. His keen hearing picked up sounds from inside. He pulled open the door to take a look.

The escort slowly stood up, a ring of sweat stains marking the floor. Looking up, he forced a smile and said, “Brother Zhang, you’re awake.”

His stomach grumbled a few times, and his expression turned a bit awkward.

Wow, just like that, the “old brother” became “big brother”?

Zhang Chengyi chuckled, “Shall we go eat?” Judging by the twilight outside, it was dinnertime.

The hunger status didn’t affect him much, but it was uncomfortable.

“Sure.” The escort readily agreed.

The two went downstairs, ordering a table full of dishes and a jar of the inn’s homemade chrysanthemum wine—a light brew perfect for sipping.

They ate, drank, and chatted casually.

Only then did Zhang Chengyi realize they had already reached Dengfeng County.

The kid was really hardworking, dragging his injured body all the way from Ruzhou along the official road, passing Gaosheng County to Dengfeng—a journey of nearly fifty kilometers that probably hadn’t included a single stop. It was unclear whether they’d encountered any other bandits along the way.

“Brother Zhang,” the escort recalled the people from the Penglai Sect. Then he realized—they weren’t after him but his employer.

He wasn’t looking to settle scores with his employer immediately; he was out to gain experience and understood the principle of taking money to solve problems for others. But having offended the Penglai Sect meant trouble lay ahead. Unless he shaved his head and became a monk in Shaolin, never leaving the mountain again, he would surely be hounded by the Penglai Sect’s mad dogs.

“Mm.” Zhang Chengyi admitted calmly and then explained everything he had done.

He intended to live freely, unlike the awkward roommate Link. He was a straightforward man and had transmigrated into a Jinshan Ranger.

Though the meaning wasn’t exactly “ranger,” he believed destiny had made him a hero.

What was a hero? Someone who punishes evil, upholds justice, aids the weak, and acts with impassioned righteousness. Seeing the young escort in a good light and sharing a life-or-death experience, he chose to be honest.

After hearing this, the escort was silent for a moment. He understood punishing evil but felt uneasy about targeting wealthy landowners just for money.

His purpose felt too calculated.

He sighed, “Brother Zhang, you need to be careful of the Penglai Sect. It’s best you head south immediately.” Then he told him everything about the Penglai Sect.

Because of their hatred toward the Qingcheng Sect, the Penglai Sect had only recruited Shandong natives for nearly a hundred years, mostly from eastern Shandong. This made them extremely united internally. When one died, a crowd would come to replace him. They were skilled with hidden weapons and were not to be trifled with by ordinary martial artists.

While treating Zhang Chengyi’s wounds, the escort had learned his background. His bones were strong, his flesh tough; he was a man of natural divine strength, a one-man army on the battlefield. Yet he had no martial arts training, no signs of physical conditioning, and certainly no internal energy.

He was too old; even if he started training immediately, he probably wouldn’t achieve much before reaching old age.

In his current state, even without poisoned hidden weapons, relying on lightness skills, internal energy, and the technique of striking through obstacles, a few exchanges without surprise attacks would be enough to defeat this employer.

One must understand that those with profound internal energy were naturally agile and strong. Against a low-profile person like him, they could still risk mutual destruction. Facing a true master, he might not last a single round.

“All right, thank you very much.” Zhang Chengyi memorized it, expressed his gratitude, paid the bill promptly, and, impressed by the attentive service, tipped generously. Then he changed rooms to a private courtyard behind the inn, ordered breakfast to be delivered early the next morning, and bought a pound of cooked beef at a high price as a midnight snack.

In his previous life, he was used to spending money lavishly; now that money came easily, he cared even less about expenses.

The escort watched him spend money like water and sighed inwardly. Surely, he didn’t get along with this Brother Zhang. The latter’s carefree attitude after a life-or-death ordeal showed he paid no real attention to his warnings.

He secretly envied such a person but knew they were fundamentally incompatible—two completely different kinds of men.

After the meal, the escort didn’t delay. Packing his belongings, he handed Zhang Chengyi a freshly written letter and said, “No matter why you come to Shaolin, take this letter to Xu Qing at Shaolin Temple. He will assist you as much as possible.”

After speaking, he added, “This is in gratitude for saving my life. The Jianghu is vast; we shall meet again someday. No need to see me off.”

With that, he refused the silver offered by his employer, clasped his fists in respect, and turned to leave.

“Until we meet again.”

Zhang Chengyi also clasped his fists, watching him depart, his heart already clear.

The two probably would never meet again.

But such was life in the Jianghu.