Chapter 63: Copper Bones Turn to Iron, Strength Soars

"Weapons are lifeless; people are alive. You must learn to exploit a weapon’s strengths—take the sword, for instance: double-edged, light and thin; use thrusts and sweeps, avoid the enemy, seek openings."

"In ancient times, a Sword Saint created Nine Swords, defeating all weapons under heaven, never losing a single duel in his life—that is true realm, something to make the heart yearn."

Li Rui spoke at length.

"Break the sword, break the spear, break the blade, break the arrow. All weapons can be broken—what I hold is the king of all weapons."

Han Qin’s eyes grew brighter with every word.

"Truly, one must listen to the elders!"

He had gained immensely from this; all the knots he had failed to untangle before now opened up clearly.

Li Rui’s theories on weapons were not empty talk—they were deeply practical, every technique born for combat.

These truths could never be learned from the Scripture Tower of Huaqing Sect.

It suited him perfectly.

This trip was truly worth it!

Han Qin rose and bowed deeply to Li Rui.

"Senior."

Those who hear the Dao come at different times; those who attain it are all teachers.

Li Rui was older than him, and in his understanding of weapons, far surpassed him—even though Han Qin’s realm was higher, calling him Senior was fitting.

"By the way, Senior, why have I never heard of a Sword Saint from Yunzhou who created the legendary Nine Swords? Does any legacy of that Senior still exist?"

Li Rui coughed lightly: "A thousand years ago. The lineage is likely lost."

He couldn’t say the Senior named Du Gu was nonexistent, nor that he had never fallen off a cliff to meet a divine eagle.

Han Qin couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret.

Otherwise, he would have gone to seek out the Sword Saint’s legacy—surely he would have gained much.

"Life’s disappointments make up eight or nine out of ten."

He looked up again.

Unconsciously, night had grown deep.

Han Qin felt dazed—he hadn’t realized he’d stayed at Li’s house so long. He rose with a touch of guilt: "Senior, I’ve troubled you too long tonight."

He’d heard that elderly people follow strict routines, retiring early; if disturbed, they fall seriously ill.

Li Rui waved his hand: "No matter."

This disciple of Huaqing Sect had given him a way to consume spiritual soil; he had shared his martial insights in return—simply an exchange.

After bidding farewell, Han Qin left Tianyi Hall directly.

The next morning.

Li Rui went as usual to the black market, rewrote yesterday’s note, and handed it to Liang He.

"Keep an eye out for these materials—buy them outright. Charge it to my account."

All his money had gone to Wu Tu for spiritual soil; now he had only a few copper coins.

A manager borrowing a little credit in his own market wasn’t excessive—compared to the previous few, he’d already become far more restrained.

"Yes, Hall Master."

Liang He nodded.

Since Sun Ming died, Liang He had become the black market’s minor commander.

Why a minor commander?

Naturally, because his seniority and strength were insufficient.

Even with Li Rui’s backing, he still couldn’t command full respect.

So another disciple, highly respected in the black market, was promoted by Li Rui to take Sun Ming’s place as commander.

Liang He thought long and hard, realizing he had much to learn from the Hall Master.

He worked harder than ever.

Before the official end of shift at Shen hour, Liang He had already purchased everything needed.

His efficiency surprised even Li Rui.

"Well done."

He took from Liang He the materials required to consume spiritual soil and praised him.

With such a devoted subordinate, many troubles could be spared.

Back at Tianyi Hall.

Li Rui began “eating soil.”

"Mica stone, cinnabar, actinolite, yangqi grass, dilong flower."

Han Qin’s formula included not only strange stones but also spiritual herbs.

"Grind into powder, mix with spiritual soil, then consume."

He followed the instructions exactly.

It was already midnight.

What if a thief sneaked in? Or if Han Qin harbored ill intent and came at night?

To avoid delays, Li Rui grabbed a pinch of soil and shoved it into a small mouse’s mouth. After an hour, seeing the mouse still lively, he seized the black mixture and swallowed it whole.

"Terrible taste."

First came an overwhelming, unyielding earthy stench, then bitter medicinal bitterness, and the gritty crunch of crushed stone powder.

Conclusion: spiritual soil was disgusting.

But Li Rui had spent years eating dried beans meant for horses in Zhu’s stable—his throat had been raw from it.

His tolerance for foul food had long reached a new height.

Fifteen minutes later.

He had swallowed the entire box of mixed herbal stones and spiritual soil.

"What a thorough meal of soil."

Li Rui wiped his lips, smudged with earth.

Licked his handback.

This was a treasure worth a thousand taels of silver and a hundred taels of herbs—every drop must be consumed.

Finished.

He closed his eyes, carefully sensing the changes in his body.

Soon, his face lit up with delight.

"It works!"

A warm stream surged from his dantian upward to the crown of his head; his entire body grew hot, making him want to strip off his clothes.

Soon, his garments were soaked in sweat.

"Amazing!"

Li Rui’s eyes gleamed.

The effect of spiritual soil was truly brutal.

Far superior to his previous Bone-Enhancing Pills—several times stronger, comparable to a seventh-grade spiritual pill!

His Wu Bones continued to exert force, absorbing all the spiritual energy of the soil.

"Done!"

Li Rui let out a soft cry.

After consuming the spiritual soil, he shattered his bottleneck outright—his copper bones transformed into iron, his strength surging.

Others needed years to progress from copper bones to iron bones; he completed it in less than two months.

The pace was terrifying.

"Is this what it feels like to achieve greatness late in life?"

Deep night.

The streets were pitch-black; only a few taverns still glowed, their servants listlessly waving rags, preparing to close.

Jiang Yan walked the road, gripping her long sword.

Drunk vagrants with timid hearts dared not approach her upon seeing her blade; even bolder ones were silenced by her piercing gaze.

Finally, a group of well-dressed young nobles ignored Jiang Yan’s warning and stepped forward.

"Little miss, your sword looks fierce—want to play with me, young master?"

"To be noticed by Young Master Liu is your fortune."

A thin man with a green jade pendant at his waist was escorted forward.

Just as Jiang Yan drew her sword an inch—

A wine gourd fell from above and smashed onto a boy’s head.

"Who the hell?!"

The boy clutched the back of his skull, whirling around to curse furiously.

Before he finished speaking—

A middle-aged man in a gray robe, drunk and bleary-eyed, staggered over.

"Leave."

His words were light, yet somehow, the youths froze like ice, unable to move.

The next instant.

The sensation of icy coldness, nearly suffocating, receded like a tide.

“You”

A group of boys stared in terror at the middle-aged man, not even daring to threaten him before slinking away.

The middle-aged man walked up to Jiang Yan:

“You’ve grown taller, looking more and more like your mother.”

Jiang Yan silently gazed at the middle-aged man before speaking after a long while:

“Father.”

(End of Chapter)