Chapter 3

He drank Spirit Spring Water till his belly was full, his mouth so bland he could raise fish. Li Ping'an licked his lips that had a hint of color, but his stomach still growled rebelliously. Experts say you can live seven days on water alone? Bullshit! He now walks unsteady, weak as if his feet are mixing garlic. The foundation of his past‑life soul stuffed into this broken shell leaves him stifled, wanting to bang his head against the wall.

He was like a starving mad village dog, continuing to scavenge in the village ruins. A broken pottery jar? He stashed it in his space—at least it could boil hot water to warm his intestines. A rusty sickle? Gripping it in his hand was better than nothing, even though it looked like scrap iron. He wandered for half a day; not a living thing in sight, not even a scrap of mouse fur. The craving for meat in his gut made his eyes turn green. Meat… in his dreams it was all oily and fragrant roast.

Night, dark as ink. The broken grass hut was colder than an ice cellar. Li Ping'an curled in a corner, his stomach growling like thunder, and only after great effort did he drift off.

「Rustle… over there… the shed…」

「There's life… go… take a look…」

「Hungry… so hungry… never mind… first…」

Low, inhumanly hungry whispers, like an ice‑cold Poison Snake, slithered along the ground into Li Ping'an's ears. All his hairs stood up at once! A jolt, he flung his eyes open, his heart pounding in the silence like it would burst his chest! Not a dream! There really are people! Two of them, judging by the sound! Their aim is clear—they're coming for his "vitality"!

Fear hit like ice water poured over his head, then was immediately overwhelmed by a fiercer evil fire. Eating people? Holy shit, he'd walked straight into a gun barrel! He silently snatched the rusty sickle at hand; the icy rust mixed with earthy stench shot straight up his nostrils. His body tensed like a fully drawn hard bow, every cell screaming: 'I don't want to die!'

Heavy, dragging footsteps echoed in the dead night, unusually grating, moving toward the broken grass hut. He even caught a faint, nauseating greasy stench… could it be human oil?

Intent! He suddenly remembered that little "ability" of his! No time to think, his mind instantly condensed, like an invisible tendril, and he thrust it out toward the source of the sound!

Buzz!

A strange "field of view" exploded in his mind! Not sight, but "sense"! Outside the shed, about ten meters away, two blurry figures radiated sky‑high malice and the aura of hungry ghosts, sneaking closer! One gripped a bone‑short knife polished to a gleam, its blade flashing cold in the dim light! The other also held a weapon! The two hunched over, their eyes flashing with beastly gleam in the darkness, locked onto the broken shed where he hid!

"Fuck… do they really think I'm a side dish?" Li Ping'an's inner evil fire blasted through his crown! Fear was instantly crushed by killing intent as sharp as ice shards. First strike to eat meat, second to eat dirt! In this damned place, there's no reason—only you die or I live!

His thought was faster than lightning! Instinctively he twisted that intent into two invisible spikes, wrapped with all his anger and will to survive, and viciously stabbed them at the two hungry ghosts' heads!

「Uh」「Ah! 」

Two pained, astonished grunts exploded! It was as if an invisible club had been slammed hard into their crowns! The two figures stiffened instantly, like puppets with cut strings; the short knives in their hands clanged "clang" against the frozen ground as they pitched forward rigidly, twitching, emitting hoarse "huh‑huh" sounds from their throats, unable to move any further.

Success! The mental strike worked! Li Ping'an's back instantly soaked with sweat, his heart pounding like a drum. That blow had drained over half his spirit, his brain aching as if pricked by needles. But he didn't dare stop! He snatched the sickle, like a night cat, and slipped out of the grass hut soundlessly.

Under the pallid moonlight, the two men on the ground were still twitching. Their faces were yellow and emaciated, eye sockets sunk, the corners of their mouths smeared with suspicious oil. Their eyes held primal hunger mixed with the dazed terror of being felled by an unknown power. Li Ping'an's stomach churned, he fought back the urge to vomit. He stepped forward, planted a foot on the wrist of the knife‑wielder, and pressed the icy blade of his rusty sickle against the man's withered neck.

"Speak! What year? Which part of Henan? Which way to the nearest big city?" His voice was pressed to an extreme low, hoarse and icy, killing intent rising.

The man on the ground, shivering from the cold sickle and having his courage shattered by that strange "attack", had a scattered gaze: "…M… Republic of China year thirty… Yu… central Henan… heading east… Kaifeng… there… there's a road…"

Republic of China year thirty! 1941! Central Henan! Kaifeng!

His sister Li Pingle was to the east!

"You… ate people?" Li Ping'an's voice was cold as an icicle in the depths of winter.

The man on the ground had his eyes darting in terror, his lips trembling without a sound, but his expression confessed more clearly than any words.

Li Ping'an closed his eyes, drew a deep breath of cold air reeking of blood and decay. When he opened them again, the last trace of hesitation had frozen into ice shards. His wrist sank.

Puchi.

The sound of the sickle slicing skin and flesh was especially gruesome in the dead silence of night. Another guy trying to struggle was just as swiftly dispatched. The motion was clean, carrying an almost numb chill. No pity, no nonsense. In this hell, being soft‑hearted is seeking death.

He crouched, picked up the two short blades that had been sharpened to a keen edge. Their hilts still held a hint of body heat, and gave off an indescribable fishy odor. Far superior to the broken sickle—hundreds of times better! He wiped the blood off with a rag and stashed them in his space. Monster‑slaying loot, secured.

The smell of blood drifted on the night wind. Li Ping'an stood beside the two corpses, his stomach hollow and twitching, yet he felt no appetite at all—only the drained weakness after surviving a ordeal and a chill seeping from his joints. He had killed someone. It wasn't the earth‑shattering catastrophe he'd imagined; just a heavy, mud‑like feeling underfoot, and the imagined sticky grime on his hands that wouldn't wash off. He shook his hand and cursed to himself: "Just think of it as slaughtering two mad dogs."

Go back to the shed? Forget it. This place is no place to stay. The smell of blood is a banner inviting disaster.

He sank his intent into the space. The corn he'd planted earlier shone with golden, plump ears that dazzled the eyes! The wheat heads hung heavy and full! Those unknown seeds had sprouted into a small patch of lush green bok choy!

"Nice haul!" Li Ping'an's spirits lifted. Food's got, weapons got, route known! What's he waiting for?

With a thought, harvesting began! The corn ears automatically detached from the stalks and piled up. The wheat threshed, white grains gathering into a small mound. The greens were neatly stacked. Mature plants turned to ash, new seeds precisely planted. The space farm's assembly line was super efficient.

His stomach growled with hunger. He exited the space, now holding a plump, fresh corn ear. Raw or cooked, he just bit in! Sweet juice mixed with soft, plump kernels burst forth, the long‑missed scent of food and abundant vitality sliding down his throat, a warm current surging through his limbs! Refreshing! Better than downing ten buckets of Spirit Spring Water!

After a few bites of a corn ear, his hunger eased slightly; a surge of heat rose from his dantian, his whole body buzzing! He wouldn't sleep the rest of the night. He snatched the two short blades still stained with blood, strode out of the grass hut, and came to the open ground where he'd practiced his fists the night before.

Moonlight like water. He closed his eyes; the slow‑grinding feeling from last night lingered. But tonight was different! His chest held pent‑up ferocity, the ruthless will from escaping death, now a blazing fire singeing his eyebrows!

Sink the shoulders, drop the elbows! Loosen the waist, seat the hips! Two‑Pillars stance!

As soon as the frame opened, the sensation was worlds apart!

His body had been remodeled by the Spiritual Spring, and having just filled himself with solid food, he was no longer the leaky sack of yesterday. A faint but genuine warm current, following his breath, subtly coiled in his lower abdomen dantian.

He moved!

No longer a snail's crawl! His movements suddenly carried wind! He threw out a "supporting strike"; his fist tore the air with a crisp "crack"! Power rose from his feet, ground‑up, through waist and hips, up the spine, straight to the fist tip! Though still tender, the rudimentary form of bones and tendons ringing in unison had appeared!

「Hmph」「Ha! 」

A deep exhalation rang out, bursting with the force of his strikes! No longer mute training. Every punch, every kick carried a sharp wind‑cutting whistle! Heart intent and fist intent merged in this moment like milk and water! The battle memories of his past life, like a unsealed flood, surged wildly into this newborn, ravenous body!

Iron Mountain Lean, Splitting Mountain Palm! Fierce Tiger Hard Climb! Stand‑Ground Cannon! The hard, powerful moves of Eight Extremes Boxing, under his hands, became faster and smoother! No longer imitation, but true mastery! Sweat gushed forth like broth, steaming into white mist in the cold moon. Muscles bulged amid the ache, joints cracked with fine snaps! Each maximal exertion made that dantian warm current grow a bit, its flow swifter.

Hungry? A thought and the fresh corn from his space was in his hand! Two or three bites and it was gone, cob and all chewed up and swallowed; the abundant vitality combined with Spiritual Spring nourishment instantly turned into a rolling heat flow, supporting this frenzied tempering!

Train! Train to the death!

Crush the frustration! Erase the fear! Grind the weakness this damned world gave us into dust!

Blade light followed him, coordinating with his fists and feet, tracing chilling arcs in the clear cold moonlight. His intent stretched ten meters, like an invisible domain—every rustle of wind‑blown grass lay within his grasp! A flick of intent sent a clump of earth a few meters away shooting up with a "whoosh", which he blasted apart mid‑air with a punch!

Control! An unprecedented sense of control! Body, power, space, intent! In this frenzied night, they began to truly twist into a single rope!

He trained without fatigue until the eastern horizon whitened. Li Ping'an's whole body steamed with heat, sweat soaking his torn coat. He suddenly gathered his strength, stood firm in the "embracing the infant" posture. The white vapor exhaled from his nose and mouth condensed and held, like an arrow.

Just then, at the edge of the eastern horizon where the fish‑belly white began, a wisp of extremely faint, almost imperceptible purple qi seeped out! That purple qi, as if sentient, spanning a vast distance, was drawn to Li Ping'an's now highly concentrated, unified essence, arriving instantly; it slipped in through the slight opening of his mouth and nose like a silken thread.

Boom!

A warmth far purer, vaster, and more abundant than the previous dantian heat flow, like scorching lava, burst open in his lower abdomen! That warmth instantly turned into a lively, warm true qi, needing no guidance, it surged and wandered on its own along the meridians of his limbs and bones! Wherever it passed, the soreness and fatigue from last night's frantic training vanished completely, his bones and tendons sang in unison, as if he had been reforged!

The buzzing in his ears vanished; the rustling of insects crawling in the dry grass afar and the mournful whistle of wind through the broken wall became crystal clear, as if right beside his ear! His vision sharpened instantly, he could see the grain on the dry twigs and branches a hundred meters away in perfect detail! His awareness then burst outward like mercury spilled on the ground; within a twenty‑meter radius, every minute detail lay exposed!

He lowered his head, looking at that pair of hands still thin yet seeming to hold thunder. His five fingers slowly closed, his knuckles crackling like fried beans! A heavy, condensed, sharp aura, like a drawn treasure blade, naturally erupted! Last night's weakness and clumsiness vanished like smoke! Only the sharpness forged by a thousand hammerings remained!

Clear strength! When the water reaches the channel, it flows naturally! Spiritual Spring as foundation, heaven‑defying comprehension, life‑and‑death pressure, frantic painful training, vitality of space, plus this strand of heaven‑sent purple qi… finally let this body truly break out of its cocoon! Internal force flows unimpeded, release and retrieval follow the heart!

He walked up to a half‑collapsed earthen wall. Without gathering power, without a run‑up, simply and plainly, he threw out a single Collapsing Fist!

Bang!

A muffled thunder‑like boom! The earthen wall shuddered violently; the fist imprint sank deep, and spider‑web cracks exploded outward in an instant! Fine dust and earth floated up.

Li Ping'an withdrew his fist, gazing at the clear pit in the wall, the corners of his mouth slowly curving up. No longer self‑mockery, it was the edge forged in fire!

He turned, his eyes like lightning, shooting toward the east where the sun, straining to rise above the horizon, was stained blood-red. That place was Kaifeng, the direction of his sister, and also the exit from this man-eating hell.

"Time to go." His voice was steady, landing with weight. He gave one last glance toward the direction of his parents' grave, drew a deep breath of this despairing land's air. No longer hesitating, he strode forward, facing the rising, blood-red sun, heading east without looking back. His slight figure dragged a long, lonely yet resolute shadow across the barren earth. The broken grass hut behind him, like an abandoned shell, was gradually swallowed by the morning light.