Chapter 107: Thousand Hammer Forges Iron Bones

Lin Chen stepped into the iron room, the door slowly closing behind him.

The entire iron room plunged into darkness at once.

Snap!

The next moment, a beam of light descended from the front wall of the room.

Lin Chen looked up—the light came from a small hole in the ceiling, illuminating only an ancient, simple painting hanging on the wall.

His gaze instinctively fell upon the painting: a figure holding an iron hammer.

Puff!

The instant he stared, a vast force surged toward him, like a solidified sledgehammer slamming into his body.

This force seeped through his skin, sinking deep into his marrow, hammering every inch of muscle, every bone, again and again.

In a single breath, blood seeped from Lin Chen’s skin.

Snap!

The next moment, the light vanished, and the room returned to darkness.

Lin Chen’s heavy breathing echoed clearly in the room; feeling the agony throughout his body, he finally understood the meaning behind the mysterious smile Yan Qianbei had given him when he turned around.

This was true suffering.

Cultivating Iron Bone Art involved striking one’s own body, but at least he controlled the pace and had prepared mentally.

Cultivating Iron Bone Art involved striking one’s own body, but at least he controlled the pace and had prepared mentally.

But this Thousand Hammer Painting was different—he had merely glanced at it, and his entire body had been struck.

Who had painted this Thousand Hammer Painting? Was it also a type of martial will scroll?

The martial arts of this world were stronger and more miraculous than he had imagined!

First the martial will scroll, now this Thousand Hammer Painting—both revealed the terrifying power of this world’s martial arts.

This power defied reason!

Yet it was precisely this power beyond reason that stirred his soul.

Lin Chen licked his lips, tasting the metallic tang of blood, his expression turning eager—only such powerful, miraculous martial arts made his pursuit worthwhile.

If his initial motivation for stepping onto the martial path had been to change his fate—from a powerless commoner to someone with status and standing—

Then now, his drive to advance in martial arts had gained another layer.

The pursuit of this power beyond human comprehension.

Snap!

A crisp sound echoed in the iron room; the light from the ceiling descended again, illuminating the Thousand Hammer Painting on the wall.

Lin Chen activated Iron Bone Art; his internal blood surged wildly, his bronze-hued skin trembling.

“Come.”

His gaze locked once more onto the painting.

Boom!

The vast force surged again, but this time Lin Chen was ready—he used his internal blood to resist its terrifying impact.

One breath, two breaths…

Under the force’s assault, he held out for only two breaths before collapsing.

The agony of the sledgehammer struck his body once more.

The light faded; the force dissipated.

Lin Chen gasped for air—this time, blood seeped from all five orifices.

“If I keep going like this, I can barely endure one more strike. Since Yan Qianbei brought me here, it can’t be just to let me suffer blows all over.”

Lin Chen lowered his head, thinking: the Iron Bone Art taught at Zhenyue Martial Hall—whether striking his body with fists or using external tools—always had him aligning his internal blood flow with the rhythm of Iron Bone Art during impact.

So, when the sledgehammer struck, he needed to sense its rhythm and match Iron Bone Art’s flow to it.

Realizing this, Lin Chen took a deep breath, relaxing his entire body; the darker it became, the sharper his focus grew.

The title “Pitch Black to the Core” reached its peak at this moment.

Snap!

The light reappeared.

Lin Chen’s eyes locked onto the painting—this time, he saw the figure’s hammer-swinging motion.

Though the figure was blurred, the instant the hammer swung, Lin Chen instantly adjusted Iron Bone Art’s flow to match its speed.

Puff!

Lin Chen spat out a mouthful of blood.

Darkness returned, but his eyes gleamed brightly within it.

He was right.

To resist the sledgehammer’s force, he had to synchronize Iron Bone Art’s rhythm with the rhythm of the hammer striking his body.

Easy to say, impossibly hard to do.

To maintain thought and notice every shift in pain under such extreme agony was no simple feat.

“Again!”

Lin Chen’s eyes held firm resolve as he stared at the painting for the fourth time.

The light appeared; the sledgehammer fell.

“Arm!”

In Lin Chen’s vision, the hammer struck his entire body at once—but as he forced himself to stay conscious the moment agony hit, he caught the origin of the pain.

Right shoulder!

The sledgehammer’s first point of impact was his right shoulder.

Like a man stepping on an ant—though it seems the foot crushes the whole body at once, careful observation reveals the foot first contacts a specific spot on the ant.

With this insight, Lin Chen adjusted his breathing, waiting for the next hammer strike.

Right shoulder, left arm…

Under repeated hammer blows, Lin Chen began guiding his internal blood to resonate with the hammer’s rhythm.

Fifth strike, sixth strike…

Lin Chen’s breathing and the flow of the Iron Bone Art subtly changed; what had been merely a skilled technique now flowed smoothly, each surge of blood causing his muscles to tremble as if dancing in harmony with the power of the Thousand Hammer Painting.

The pain did not lessen.

Yet Lin Chen now entered a profoundly mysterious state—after each hammer strike, his bronze skin darkened slightly, glowing faintly like a golden armor.

The mysterious power of the Thousand Hammer Painting seemed to sense defiance; its force intensified with each strike, each blow stronger than the last, like a surging tide crashing against Lin Chen’s body.

Blood seeped from his five orifices, seven apertures, every pore—he was drenched in blood, yet his eyes burned brighter than ever.

He could still endure.

Yan Qianbei had said he could enter only twice a month—each chance was precious.

He’d won first place in the March contest; he’d win first place in the county contest too!

…

…

Outside the iron room.

Yan He’an had sat calmly beside the stone table at first.

When he heard three “snaps” from within, he stroked his beard with a faint smile—Lin Chen’s insight into Iron Bone Art was decent; truly a clever man, he’d discovered the secret so quickly.

When six snaps came, his smile deepened…

But at the tenth snap, Yan He’an rose from his stone bench, his aged eyes fixed on the iron room, gleaming with intensity.

Eleventh snap, twelfth snap, thirteenth snap…

By the eighteenth snap, Yan He’an was pacing back and forth in the courtyard.

“Could Lin Chen be entering Iron Bone in one go?”

Yan He’an’s old eyes shifted from shock to anticipation.

The Thousand Hammer Painting contained a thousand strikes; no matter which hardening art one cultivated, surviving the first thirty strikes meant reaching the proficient stage.

Copper Skin, Iron Bone!

“To leap from Copper Skin to Iron Bone in one go? That’s like completing Clear Wind Palm overnight!”

Yan He’an didn’t realize his voice trembled—hardening arts differed from palm or fist techniques.

Hardening arts demanded insight, but above all, they demanded endurance.

Surviving thirty strikes on the first try required not just physical resilience, but extraordinary willpower.

“If he truly endures thirty strikes, he’ll be the first genius in Poyang County in a hundred years!”

Poyang County had produced many geniuses—some entered the ranks before twenty, others reached Internal Organ Cultivation within a year of joining the martial hall.

But those few with lightning-fast progress mostly owed it to rare heavenly treasures.

The most recent example? Jiang the Provincial Graduate.

Yet in Yan He’an’s eyes, only Lin Chen was a true genius.

Resources could be fought for, but insight and willpower couldn’t be altered by external means.

Inside the iron room, no more light appeared. Lin Chen slowly exhaled a turbid breath; he didn’t know how much time had passed—by the end, his body was numb, his will alone sustaining the blood flow of the Iron Bone Art.

“Panel.”

Seeing the “Proficient” entry for Iron Bone Art on his panel, Lin Chen smiled, then slowly pushed open the iron room’s door.

“Young Master Lin!”

The moment the iron gate swung open, Yan He’an’s gaze snapped toward it; seeing a blood-soaked figure drenched in crimson, he couldn’t help but cry out in shock.

“Senior.”

Lin Chen forcibly pulled a smile across his face; as light fell upon his eyes, he felt a wave of dizziness, then the world spun violently, his consciousness fading.

“Young Master Lin! Young Master Lin?”

Yan He’an rushed forward and caught Lin Chen, his bony hand sensing the surging, turbulent blood qi within him—and he exhaled in relief.

Good—he’d merely fainted.

Gazing at the unconscious boy in his arms, Yan He’an truly could not comprehend what had driven Lin Chen to endure this.

Was it the humble disciple’s preciousness of every chance to train?

Yan He’an lifted Lin Chen and carried him out of the courtyard; fortunately, the Martial Garden had no shortage of elixirs to restore the body.

…

…

Yanshan County.

“Lin Chen? The Extreme Martial Path?” A young man, hearing his junior’s report, vanished in a flash—next moment, he plunged into the flames ahead.

The young man left behind stared at his senior’s retreating figure, his face filled with awe.

Though he had seen his senior charge into the fire many times before, each time still left him stunned.

“The top spot in the county contest two months from now belongs solely to Senior.”

(End of Chapter)