Chapter 84

Feng Mu didn't oppose joining Douqiong Martial Arts Hall.

After all, that had been his original plan, and now it was free; besides, although this hall seemed far inferior to Canglong Martial Arts Hall, after witnessing that scene in the afternoon, Feng Mu seriously suspected this hall was not ordinary.

A hall harboring a bunch of murderers—could it be ordinary?

Feng Mu chose a locker, put on the black training uniform of a high-level member, and looked at his upright yet gaunt figure in the mirror; cold light flickered in his simple eyes.

"Anyway, whatever medicine Douqiong Martial Arts Hall is selling, I'll eat my fill of sugar-coated bullets first; the rest can wait until they show their true colors."

Feng Mu rubbed his stiff cheeks, using 【Molding Embryo】 for a long time to disguise his facial expressions—the trouble was that the muscles on his face easily stiffened, so he had to rub them from time to time to get the blood flowing.

Outside the changing room.

Seeing Feng Mu come out in his training uniform, Hong Ya's eyes brightened slightly, thinking: "Junior Brother's figure is a bit thin, but he looks capable, with the air of a lean tiger; hmm, it's just that his expression is too simple, lacking presence."

While Feng Mu was changing, Li Bashan had finished a bucket of rice, now using a wooden spoon to pick out rice grains in the bucket, a contrast like Zhang Fei doing embroidery.

Seeing Feng Mu come out, Li Bashan gave up the fantasy of conjuring another bucket of rice from the empty bucket, muttering in his heart: "Strange, Hong Ya always eats slowly; where did she hide her bowl?"

Under Hong Ya's disdainful gaze, he casually wiped the oil from his mouth corner with his sleeve cuff; Feng Mu had sharp eyes and could see several oil stains on her chest too.

"Come, Master wants to test your quality," Li Bashan said in a muffled voice.

He had deliberately lowered his voice, but disciples throughout half the dojo still heard it; some glances cast at Feng Mu revealed envy or jealousy.

Feng Mu turned his head to glance at Hong Ya.

Hong Ya explained seriously: "Our Douqiong Martial Arts Hall teaches without discrimination; every newly recruited disciple must be tested on their foundation, so that guidance can be arranged afterward."

Hong Ya answered very seriously.

Not a single disciple around wearing white training uniforms objected; they all curled their lips in unison.

When we first came in, besides taking money, did you do anything else—have we all collectively lost our memories?

Passing through the dojo's main area, Feng Mu scanned various instruments and apparatuses, most of which were being used by disciples; he glanced twice and withdrew his gaze.

By his current eyesight, it was not hard to discover that these ordinary disciples seemed to have poor foundations; the average strength they displayed was vastly different from Canglong Martial Arts Hall.

Like the difference between regular troops and stragglers.

One side were all top students from various schools; the other side were all bottom-of-the-class poor students, or people like him who had missed the college entrance exam but were not resigned—"social idlers."

Passing through the main area, inside was a region smaller by a circle.

Gone were the miscellaneous equipment outside, and also those technological instruments; inside was just a ring roped off with ropes.

Around the ring were scattered some iron man stakes for practice, shaped 1:1 like humans, cast entirely of steel.

Feng Mu was stunned for a moment; he had thought the inside would be more advanced and more technological than the outside, but unexpectedly, the inside was so... shabby?

Not like a new-school martial hall of this century, but more like "relics of the previous dynasty" from a hundred years ago, with an old-school air that couldn't keep up with the times.

High-level member area, just this?

No wonder there were few people in this high-level member area; what came into view was exactly... those familiar faces from this afternoon.

One two three four five six seven!

Feng Mu counted; including Li Bashan and Hong Ya, there were only seven people in total, five men and two women, none wearing the training uniforms issued by the hall, but each in their own everyday clothes.

Two were sitting cross-legged on the ground resting.

The remaining three were each frantically pounding the iron man stakes, without protective gear or boxing gloves, their fists or elbows slamming up with bang bang bang sounds, until the iron man stakes were oozing blood.

Naturally it was not the iron man stakes bleeding, but the people punching had split skin and flesh and were bleeding.

Yet in Feng Mu's view, these people's movements did not stop at all, as if feeling no pain or sensation; even when their skin and flesh split open to reveal bone, their movements became faster and fiercer.

Expressionless, not groaning in pain, their brows full of fierce and murderous aura, like a group of monsters wearing human skin, even more monstrous than living people.

The iron man stakes were everywhere stained with fresh and old blood, dyed on and seeping inside, turning into a black that no amount of washing could scrub off.

Feng Mu knew he was a monster forged by 【Eat Iron】, but he could not compete with steel without pain or sensation either.

Yet these people before him were merely mortals of flesh and blood, yet they seemed as if they would not stop until they smashed the iron man stakes to pieces, looking even more like monsters than real monsters.

"This afternoon it was their collective death gaze that made the evil iron in my stomach suddenly digest 1%," Feng Mu pondered the connection behind it.

So, was the trigger being gazed at by death?

Or was the trigger that these few people had something special?

Or perhaps it required a combination of both, satisfying both at once?

When Li Bashan and Hong Ya led people in, these people's hand movements did not stop; they only gazed over with their eyes, some polite, some not, sizing up Feng Mu up and down.

But this time being collectively sized up by them, the evil iron in Feng Mu's stomach had no movement, leaving Feng Mu slightly disappointed in his heart.

Li Bashan turned his head and grinned, his palm-fan-like big hand pinching Feng Mu's shoulder, saying in a deep voice: "Our Douqiong Martial Arts Hall is not quite like other martial halls."

"Those things like fist force, attack speed, technique rating measured by instruments—none of that counts here."

"Even things like innate bone quality, talent, and comprehension are all discounted here."

"Because, Master taught us since childhood that people cannot trust machines too much; machines are dead things, while people are living things, so the test of people can only be done by people comparing."

"Data is not important; what matters is only within a square inch—who is standing, and who is down?"

Li Bashan pushed Feng Mu toward the center ring, saying at the same time: "Master wants me to test your quality, so you go pick someone to fight; after the fight, I will have seen clearly for Master."

Li Bashan had one more thing unsaid in his heart: that you would definitely be the one down, but that didn't matter; what he wanted to see for Master was how you went down.

Because going down could reveal a person's true nature more clearly than standing.

Feng Mu pulled open the rope and ducked into the ring, his face showing simplicity and confusion; he looked at the people in the ring, and as his gaze wandered, those few who had been pounding stakes also stopped their movements and looked back at him with their eyes.

Very strange.

There was not a bit of contempt in these people's eyes, even though Feng Mu appeared to be just an ordinary useless disciple, for some reason favored by Master Li Guishe.

No contempt, no disdain; on the contrary, there was a trace of eager desire in their eyes.

As if they didn't care at all about the opponent's strength; they were just tired of pounding iron man stakes and wanted to find an opportunity to relive the feeling of fists hitting a person.

At this moment, being collectively watched by everyone, although it could not yet be called a death gaze, Feng Mu vaguely felt the evil iron in his stomach had a faint response.

The evil iron was digested a little bit...

End of Chapter