Chapter 8: Formal Disciple, Initiation Ceremony

Chapter 8: Formal Disciple, Initiation Ceremony

The next morning, Su Chen practiced his empty-hand techniques for half an hour, each strike radiating immense power.

When he finished, his body was drenched in sweat, but he felt no fatigue whatsoever. At this moment, his Iron Thread Fist had finally caught up to his Iron Sand Palm, both reaching the pinnacle of their cultivation realm.

Su Chen could see the crimson bloodline on his arm glowing a deep, fiery red, its hue subtly darkening as though transitioning from red to black.

Once he activated Easy Mode again, his Iron Thread Fist would achieve true perfection. At that point, his strength would surely reach new heights!

"If Senior Li Mo knew my Iron Thread Fist has already reached completion, he’d probably drop his jaw in shock", Su Chen mused, wiping sweat from his face with a faint chuckle.

He’d heard from other disciples that Li Mo had spent two years cultivating the Iron Thread Fist, yet only barely achieved mastery. The crimson bloodline on his arm hadn’t even fully darkened.

In contrast, Su Chen had matched Li Mo’s two-year progress in just over ten days—a pace that was nothing short of astonishing.

"I wonder what level I’ve reached in White Stone City", Su Chen thought, but quickly dismissed the idea.

What did it matter? Cultivation was about growing stronger, not comparing oneself to others.

Returning indoors, he ate breakfast. Before heading out, a knock at the door interrupted him.

Opening it, he found two men with red sashes tied around their waists.

"We’re from the Blood Robe Gang", one said flatly. "It’s the start of the month—you owe your head tax."

The Blood Robe Gang? Su Chen had heard of them. Among the outer city’s factions, they were a formidable force, far superior to the Tiger Gang or Black Water Gang.

Su Chen pursed his lips. "How much?"

"Ten copper coins."

After a pause, Su Chen retrieved ten coins from his pouch and handed them over. The men took the payment without another word, turning to collect from the next household.

Standing at his door, Su Chen watched as his neighbor paid just as swiftly—also handing over ten coins—before turning away.

Weighing his nearly empty coin pouch, Su Chen shut the door and left.

He headed straight to the teahouse, where he studied diligently, occasionally glancing at the Black Water Gang’s courtyard across the street.

The previous night’s battle must have been fierce. At dawn, people were already bustling in and out, scrubbing bloodstains from the ground.

Within half a day, the Black Water Gang had become history, replaced by a new faction.

This aligned with Su Chen’s expectations—the gang that had attacked them last night had swiftly seized control.

Without Liu Heishui, the Black Water Gang had crumbled into chaos, easily eradicated.

Su Chen noticed that aside from Liu Heishui’s two loyal subordinates, the rest had already pledged allegiance to the new gang.

He studied until evening before returning home.

Over the following days, Su Chen avoided the teahouse entirely.

He focused on mastering the Great Qian Dynasty’s written language while seeking ways to earn money.

The reason for studying was simple: Su Chen had a lingering suspicion.

While the Progress Panel accelerated his martial arts mastery, it wasn’t omnipotent. There was a prerequisite—he had to "practice" the techniques.

For instance, when cultivating the Iron Thread Fist, he’d needed to observe Li Mo’s demonstration before it appeared on his Progress Panel.

Similarly, when cultivating the Iron Sand Palm, he’d had to piece together the complete secret manual and practice it before the Progress Panel recognized it.

In short, to learn a secret manual, he at least needed to have practiced it.

But what if future manuals were purely textual, lacking physical techniques? If Su Chen couldn’t even understand the text, how could he cultivate?

This was why he’d decided to study.

Thankfully, learning posed no major issues, but earning money proved unexpectedly difficult.

He’d assumed his status as a martial cultivator would make finding work easy, but reality disagreed.

In any world, without connections, truly lucrative opportunities wouldn’t open for you.

The jobs available in the open market were either beneath his skills or paid pitifully little.

After days of searching fruitlessly, he abandoned the effort.

As for leveraging his past-life knowledge? That was wishful thinking.

In his previous life, he’d been a truck driver, lacking expertise in crafting perfumes, seasonings, glassmaking, or other profitable trades.

Even if he had, others wouldn’t cooperate willingly.

He could force collaboration, but that would invite trouble.

Most lucrative trades were monopolized by gangs or families.

Attempting to interfere would draw retaliation from these powerful forces.

White Stone City operated under its own rigid system—anyone disrupting it would face consequences.

Unless Su Chen possessed absolute strength, unafraid of any challenge.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t there yet.

"Thankfully, nearly twenty days have passed since I began training. It’s time to visit the martial arts institute!"

...

On this day, the Hong Martial Arts Hall buzzed with unusual activity.

Today marked the day Hong Ming would formally accept a disciple.

Half a month earlier, when Qin Hao had mastered the foundational techniques and formed an iron bloodline, Hong Ming had promised to accept him as a disciple upon stabilizing it.

Three days prior, Qin Hao had successfully stabilized his bloodline. Overjoyed, Hong Ming declared him the eighth formal disciple of the Hong Martial Arts Hall.

Selecting an auspicious date three days later, Hong Ming arranged a formal initiation ceremony and invited his other disciples.

Those without pressing matters attended.

"Qin Hao, come here. Let me introduce you to your seniors", Hong Ming called, his face glowing with satisfaction as he gestured to Qin Hao, who wore unusually formal attire.

He introduced them one by one: "Your eldest senior, Wei Ping, and fourth senior, Wu Hai, are on caravan escort duty. Third Senior Sister Liu Fang is away on business. This is your second senior, Zhou Tao; fifth senior, Hu Zong; sixth senior, Fang Yanxun; and seventh senior, Li Mo."

Qin Hao bowed respectfully. "Greetings, second senior, fifth senior, sixth senior, seventh senior."

"Haha! We’ve heard much about you from Master Hong. Now that we’ve met, you truly are a remarkable young man", Zhou Tao laughed, returning the bow. The others nodded in agreement.

Qin Hao’s expression grew slightly awkward as he scratched his head, unsure how to respond to their praise.

With some time before the meal, Hong Ming left the group to interact freely.

Zhou Tao and the others immediately engaged Qin Hao in conversation.

Meanwhile, Su Chen gazed at the long-familiar martial arts institute, a wistful expression on his face.

After so many days away, would the institute even remember him?

Shaking off his wandering thoughts, he strode toward the institute’s entrance.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end