Chapter 122: 122. Planning

122. Chapter 122: Planning

To avenge their fallen senior and junior brothers, and to reclaim the Zhao Family Martial Arts Gym, became the next task for everyone.

With a goal in mind, everyone found renewed motivation; even Master Zhao Ge regained some vigor, no longer slumped in despair as before, and began plotting how to seek revenge and recover the gym.

Everything required a plan and structure; one could not act on impulse and ruin everything.

After all, the Zhao Family Martial Arts Gym now had only this small group left—if they suffered another setback, they would never recover.

Thus,

everyone sat around the bonfire inside the ruined temple, discussing their next course of action.

Li Yi said nothing; he merely stood aside, listening quietly, for he was still unfamiliar with everything in this world and did not know which enemies his master faced—he only knew his primary mission was to save his master, a mission still incomplete, since Zhao Qian had told him the coffin mushroom needed to heal his master had been stolen by a traitor within the gym.

Though his master had drunk the Extraordinary Water and his injuries had improved, without the coffin mushroom, he would not live long.

He also intended to better understand and explore this world while helping the Zhao Family Martial Arts Gym.

By the bonfire, Sister Rong, as the senior sister, now spoke methodically: “We are currently being hunted by the Han and Jin family martial arts gyms. Although Big Brother’s appearance killed this wave of pursuers, their losses were so severe that they will surely be enraged and will not let us go—so for the time being, neither we nor Master Zhao must show our faces in San Yang City, lest we alert the enemy.”

“Therefore, I suggest we first find the traitor and reclaim the coffin mushroom, preventing them from using it as leverage. Once we have the coffin mushroom, Master’s injuries will heal; after we recuperate further, we can openly reclaim the gym—given their fear of Big Brother’s and Master’s strength, they won’t dare resist.”

Zhao Qian nodded: “Sister’s plan is sound. I agree.”

“Saving Master is most important. Once we recover the coffin mushroom and his injuries heal, we can do anything.” The Skinny Monkey also nodded in agreement.

Zhao Ge considered it and agreed with Rong’s plan—it was safe and low-risk.

But he did not immediately nod in approval; instead, he turned to Li Yi beside him: “Meng De, what do you think?”

No matter the plan, its success hinged on Li Yi—he was currently the strongest among the few remaining.

Li Yi simply asked: “Master, I want to know: in San Yang City, who are our true enemies? What are their respective strengths? Only after understanding these can I proceed with my next move.”

“The ones who hunted me most fiercely and relentlessly are the Han and Jin family martial arts gyms. Their gym masters, Han Tianbao and Jin Zhihuan, are both Qi-Opening martial artists, just like me. Before my injury, my strength was roughly equal to theirs. But these two gyms have been rooted in San Yang City for years; their disciples are formidable, and altogether they have at least a dozen Blood-Cultivation experts.”

Zhao Ge now began detailing the situation in San Yang City: “But I suspect the San Yang City Prefect is secretly pushing this forward. Otherwise, these two gyms have always been at odds—they could never have acted so swiftly and in such perfect coordination without some secret agreement.”

“Master, what is the strength of the San Yang City Prefect?” Li Yi asked again.

“Also Qi-Opening.”

Zhao Ge spoke seriously: “San Yang City is small and lacks resources—it cannot produce martial artists stronger than Qi-Opening. Just our few of us have nearly drained San Yang City and its surroundings. Cultivating martial arts consumes vast resources: cultivation methods, medicinal herbs, daily expenses, gym maintenance. Three gyms are already the limit—if a fourth were added, the city’s tax revenue would collapse, and many would starve.”

“I know this, and so do Han Tianbao and Jin Zhihuan. But to avoid falling behind, these three gyms have spent years secretly and openly strengthening themselves, recruiting large numbers of disciples and building influence, all out of fear of being swallowed up.”

Here, a look of helplessness appeared on Zhao Ge’s aged face.

To survive in San Yang City, he had to do this—otherwise, the Zhao Family Martial Arts Gym would have collapsed long ago.

Li Yi now understood.

In this ancient world, a city’s resources were limited, and martial artists were heavy consumers—eating and using much, producing nothing. The three gyms had indirectly drained San Yang City dry, and each feared being outmatched and swallowed by the other two, so they could only continuously strengthen themselves—recruiting soldiers, training disciples.

Thus, a vicious cycle began.

Originally, each of the three gyms had one Qi-Opening expert as its pillar; though they secretly competed, none could overcome the others.

Until news spread of Master Zhao Ge’s soul injury—the balance shattered.

The Zhao Family Martial Arts Gym became the first to be devoured.

The San Yang City Prefect, as the official authority, naturally welcomed this outcome—he wished to reduce the number of martial gyms under his rule, so he aided the other two gyms, wiping out the Zhao Family Gym overnight, and to prevent any resurgence, he insisted on total annihilation.

If Master Zhao Ge had not died, and one day recovered his strength, a Qi-Opening expert seeking revenge would force them to pay a heavy price.

After sorting this out, Li Yi had a rough idea in mind. He looked at the group and said: “After hearing Master’s account, I have a plan.”

“What plan, Big Brother? Please speak.” The Skinny Monkey said at once.

Rong and Zhao Qian also raised their heads to look at Li Yi.

Li Yi’s face was stern. He said: “It’s simple. Kill the two Qi-Opening martial artists in San Yang City. Without their Qi-Opening masters to hold them up, the Han and Jin gyms will be powerless—trees fall, monkeys scatter. Then, when Master simply appears and reflags the gym, we won’t even need to fight—the Zhao Family Martial Arts Gym will be rebuilt.”

“As for the coffin mushroom Master needs for healing, in a few days, when I go to San Yang City to kill, I’ll just kill the traitor along the way and take it back directly—why make it so complicated?”

At these words, everyone was startled.

Was this really so crude and direct?

“Qi-Opening martial artists are very strong. Do you have confidence you can defeat them?” Zhao Ge asked gravely.

Li Yi grinned: “I’ve never fought one—I don’t know. But killing your Blood-Cultivation experts is as easy as eating and drinking. I suppose I can handle a Qi-Opening expert too.”

He was a Spiritual Insight cultivator; his strength was hard to categorize in this world. Since he had never fought a Qi-Opening expert, he couldn’t gauge his chances.

“Not knowing is unacceptable. Rushing into battle and losing means total defeat.”

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Ge said at once: “Meng De, wait a few days while I recuperate. Then I’ll spar with you, so you can understand the strength of Qi-Opening martial artists. I’ll also teach you methods to toughen your skin and flesh, and train your tendons and bones. Your body still has great potential to unlock—if you retrace the martial path, you might be surprised.”

“Master, are you asking me to start cultivating martial arts from scratch? Won’t that take a long time?” Li Yi said.

“For others, it might take ten years. But you, Meng De, are extraordinary—you cannot be judged by ordinary standards. Perhaps ten days or half a month will suffice. How far you can go, even I cannot predict.” Zhao Ge then asked: “Rong, how many Blood-Energy Pills did we harvest from these corpses?”

“Not many—only one hundred and twenty-one in total,” Rong replied at once.

Zhao Ge nodded: “Good. Keep eleven—we three will share them. The rest, all give to Meng De for training. Also, gather and count all the silver and gold. Tomorrow, go to the market and buy more meat and good medicine. Sell any steel blades, bows, crossbows, and horses you can—keep only five horses. Remember to burn off the gold seals on the horses, so enemies won’t track us.”

Rong accepted each order, her mind already forming a plan.

“Blood-Energy Pills? What are those?” Li Yi asked curiously.

Rong smiled: “Big Brother, Blood-Energy Pills are for martial cultivators. They’re made by simmering potent herbs with rare birds and beasts, replenishing blood and qi, strengthening tendons and bones, aiding cultivation. But ordinary martial artists can’t afford them—each tiny pill costs ten taels of silver, enough for an ordinary family’s yearly expenses.”

“I see.”

Li Yi now understood: his master intended to concentrate all resources on him, to have him retrain in martial arts and rapidly increase his strength.

But then he remembered something: “Zhao Qian, bring me my backpack. I have some things inside that might be useful.”

“Yes, Yi Brother.”

Zhao Qian immediately rose from beside the fire and brought over the sniper rifle along with Li Yi’s backpack.

Li Yi took it, placed the rifle aside, unzipped the pack, and pulled out a vial of Golden Nutrient Liquid, handing it over: “Master, try this. It’s what cultivators in my world consume. I don’t know how it compares to Blood-Energy Pills.”

Zhao Ge took it and couldn’t help exclaiming in wonder.

The large crystal glass vial alone was priceless—worth a considerable amount of silver and gold.

The medicine inside was strange: entirely golden, shimmering with specks of brilliance, like a concentrated elixir that had simmered for ages but never solidified into a pill. It resembled the Extraordinary Water he had drunk before, but likely lacked its potency.

“Let me taste it.”

Zhao Ge had no doubt the medicine was dangerous—he merely feared his aged body couldn’t withstand such potent nourishment, so he sipped cautiously.

The taste was good, the texture pleasant—better than some drinks in the city.

Zhao Ge closed his eyes and carefully felt the effect.

Soon, he noticed his hunger vanished.

Clearly, the medicine was very filling.

But then Zhao Ge was startled: his body, nourished by the potent medicine, was healing old injuries, his blood and qi were rising, and he even felt his aging organs growing younger.

This was only a sip. If he drank regularly, a martial artist’s body could be restored to peak condition—and even extended in lifespan.

Zhao Ge suddenly opened his eyes, his spirit visibly revived. He stared at the Golden Nutrient Liquid, his hand trembling slightly.

This was medicine that could extend life.

If word got out, it would be fiercely fought over.

Did Meng De drink this daily?

No wonder he had measured 150 years of yang life back in Ghost Street.

“Master, how’s the medicine? Is it good?” The Skinny Monkey leaned over, curious: “Can I try a sip? See what it does?”

“This is top-grade medicine—far superior to Blood-Energy Pills. It heals injuries, strengthens blood and qi, nourishes tendons and bones, and fills the stomach. Meng De, how many vials do you have?” Zhao Ge carefully resealed the vial and shot the Skinny Monkey a stern look.

He did not mention its life-extending properties, fearing trouble.

The Skinny Monkey, scowled at, retreated sullenly.

“Master, I brought ten vials on this trip,” Li Yi replied.

“Ten vials of this medicine, plus a hundred Blood-Energy Pills—surely enough. Meng De, put it away. Each drop is precious—save it. Only you get it; no one else.” Zhao Ge said, handing the vial back.

Li Yi did not take it, only smiled: “Master, keep this one. If you need more, just ask me. Right now, healing your body is most important. And in my world, this medicine isn’t especially rare—you can buy it with money. I just came here in a hurry, didn’t know I’d be coming to Xingzhou, so I wasn’t prepared. Next time, I’ll bring several crates to honor you.”

Though the Golden Nutrient Liquid cost ten thousand per vial, his bank account held forty million—he could easily afford many more.

Zhao Ge shook his head: “No. We have so little. Every bit used is gone. Until we rebuild the gym, we must ration everything.”

“We may have little, but we can spare this one for you,” Li Yi said seriously. “Master, take it.”

“Father, just take it—it’s Yi Brother’s sincere heart,” Zhao Qian immediately pulled Zhao Ge’s arm, deeply concerned for his health.

Rong also urged: “Master, your body matters most. Don’t deny yourself nourishment. Big Brother clearly saw this, which is why he insisted you keep one vial. Once everything improves, we’ll have no lack.”

Persuaded by them, Zhao Ge no longer resisted. He sighed: “Fine. I’ll take this one vial—but I won’t hoard it. Rong, Skinny Monkey, you two drink some too. It will help your injuries.”

“This… how can that be?” Rong exclaimed.

Zhao Ge’s tone was firm: “It’s decided. You’re young—you mustn’t leave hidden injuries that ruin your future path.”

Even as he counted every resource, he still set aside a portion to share with his injured disciples.

Li Yi watched, his heart uneasy.

But he understood: this was the way of survival in this world.

To survive, resources must be concentrated to produce one powerful martial artist.

Thus, everyone saw Li Yi monopolizing all resources as perfectly natural—no one felt wronged or resentful.