Chapter 43: Apprenticeship and Disciples: The Man of Fang

Tap-tap-tap.

A kitchen knife moved swiftly across the cutting board, turning a whole block of meat into thin strands in the blink of an eye.

“Xiao Xi, bring the meat plates up quick—I’m done cutting.”

Zhao Wenjun called out, now wearing an apron tied around his waist.

In hand, the knife transformed him from a ruthless killer of zombies into a chef.

His movements flowed like clouds and water, without the slightest hesitation.

Ever since receiving Fang Shi’s order, Zhao Wenjun had led his men straight upstairs in a flash.

They directly took over Xiao Xi and Zhai Yan’s duties, leaving the two utterly stunned, thinking Zhao Wenjun had suddenly found his conscience.

But after asking around, they learned Fang Shi had returned.

Instantly changing their expressions, they eagerly joined the work.

Earlier, they had been naive, unaware of the cruelty of the apocalypse.

They thought zombies were the only threat, and that Firewing Birds only appeared at night, posing no real danger.

Humanity would soon restore its former glory.

But after the first wave, Firewing Bird numbers surged, and the distances between land patches expanded.

Anyone with eyes could see the future would be grim.

Now, a powerful figure who could single-handedly kill Firewing Birds had appeared.

If you don’t cling to his leg now, aren’t you just stupid?

Even Xiao Xi, who had initially hated Fang Shi, changed his attitude.

What else could they do? Alien creatures were terrifying—swarming in daylight, and just glancing out the window revealed dozens.

These creatures, more terrifying than zombies, would doom humanity if left unchecked—there was no future, only slow death.

“Brother Zhao, there’s no meat left—you all chopped it all up.”

Xiao Xi said helplessly.

There were only six Firewing Birds total; Xiao Xi and his partner had spent half the day processing them.

Then a crowd showed up at night—gone in an instant.

Zhao Wenjun paused: “Then quickly boil a pot of meat broth.”

“Master Fang came back so late—he must not have eaten well. We must take care of him.”

Xiao Xi snorted: “It’s already boiling. Luo Bowen said he’s a chef—he volunteered to cook right away.”

Zhao Wenjun was startled: Luo Bowen was a chef? How had he never known after all those years of working out together?

He only remembered Luo Bowen was henpecked, always cooking at home.

Could it be…?

…

After finishing everything, Fang Shi finally had time to consider how to handle Zhao Wenjun and the others.

Earlier, he’d sent them to process the Firewing Bird meat just to get them out of the way and avoid delaying his own leveling.

Now that he had free time, he needed to decide how to properly assign them.

First, Zhao Wenjun’s abilities were clearly strong.

He had dared to fight and lead others from the very start of the apocalypse.

Besides, if he weren’t capable, he could never have become leader of the Ancheng settlement.

But his future potential was limited—he was merely an ordinary Legendary Stronghold.

Otherwise, the Ancheng settlement would never have fallen so easily.

Fang Shi still clearly remembered how the settlement collapsed when Zhao Wenjun died.

Monsters surged in like a tide; everyone wished they had two extra legs.

In truth, Fang Shi didn’t know whether Zhao Wenjun had refused to retreat—or simply couldn’t.

He had built the settlement, and he died in it.

Like fire lighting up the night sky, then falling like a meteor.

Fang Shi asked himself: if he faced this, could he fight to the death without retreating?

The answer was: he didn’t know.

Heroes rise from the ordinary; no matter how many hypotheticals you imagine, nothing compares to being there.

To prevent such a tragedy from happening again,

Fang Shi had decided: he would teach Zhao Wenjun the Fang Family Breathing Method.

He was currently the only person Fang Shi could teach it to.

Because the Fang Family Breathing Method originated from the Ancheng settlement.

And Zhao Wenjun, leader of the Ancheng settlement, was not bound by the contract’s restrictions.

What Zhao Wenjun did afterward, Fang Shi wouldn’t concern himself with.

He believed that with Zhao Wenjun’s abilities, and having received the breathing method early,

he would grow even stronger, and the Ancheng settlement would not collapse again during the fifth wave, as it had before his rebirth.

Meanwhile, Fang Shi himself would leave the Ancheng region, to see just how vast this world truly was.

He harbored a thought: to end the apocalypse once and for all.

So he would no longer wander between life and death.

And yet, the entire Ancheng region was minuscule compared to Blue Star.

Even such a tiny place had produced a Legendary Stronghold.

Precisely because it was so small, supporting even one Legendary Stronghold was already at its limit.

To grow stronger, one had to leave Ancheng—otherwise, there wouldn’t even be enough experience to level up.

Moreover, Fang Shi wanted to meet the martial immortals and peerless sword immortals he’d only heard of in legends.

What did they think of the apocalypse? What solutions did they have?

Fang Shi suspected the fifth wave was certainly not the end.

When the sixth, seventh, even the hundredth wave came,

would humanity keep resisting forever?

Endlessly, without conclusion—eventually, they would be defeated.

…

“Master Fang, Master Fang, you’re here!”

Zhao Wenjun rushed forward eagerly as Fang Shi appeared.

He respectfully invited Fang Shi to sit and served the freshly cooked dishes.

Fang Shi sat down calmly and looked around.

In the candlelight, everyone—including Xiao Xi and Zhai Yan—stood respectfully to the side.

No one dared act out of turn; no one dared show discontent.

As if it were all perfectly natural.

The brutal apocalypse had smoothed all their edges in just four days.

Fang Shi was already accustomed to the hierarchy of the apocalypse.

When an individual’s strength surpasses the collective,

even the most benevolent superior inspires awe in those beneath.

Because life and death rest in another’s single thought.

“Zhao Wenjun, what do you want?”

Fang Shi finished dinner quickly; the others dispersed.

Only Zhao Wenjun and a middle-aged man remained.

Before Zhao Wenjun could speak, the middle-aged man dropped to his knees with a thud.

“Bang!”

The man banged his head hard on the floor, voice choked: “Please, Master Fang, save my family!”

“My father is bedridden; my mother is elderly.”

“My wife is ill; my son is at school.”

“Now I don’t know if they’re alive or dead—I want to save them, but I’m powerless.”

As he spoke, the man broke into tears, voice trembling with grief.

Zhao Wenjun watched this scene, feeling the same pain.

Humans are not solitary beings; everyone has ties in this world.

Zhao Wenjun was no different—he had come to Ancheng to work, his parents far away in Tongchang County.

He didn’t want to rush to them—he knew it was utterly unrealistic.

Zhao Wenjun was more rational than most.

He understood: under the current apocalypse, his parents’ chances of survival were slim.

With his current strength, rushing to find them would be meaningless suicide.

After all, only by surviving could one have hope.

That’s why Zhao Wenjun had become so bold—even daring to attempt hunting Firewing Birds.

This is also why he had the support of everyone on the team.

Without improving your own strength, you will eventually be trapped in a corner, unable to even search for your parents, wife, and children.

Unexpectedly, what followed was a long silence.

Fang Shi sat on the sofa, his gaze shifting toward the window, lost in thought.

He simply refused to answer the middle-aged man’s words.

Seeing this, the middle-aged man felt even greater sorrow, yet continued to bang his head against the floor.

Zhao Wenjun sensed something was wrong and quickly stopped the middle-aged man’s actions.

He bowed apologetically to Fang Shi: “Luo Bowen is immature. Master, please forgive him, forgive him. We’re leaving now, right away.”

Saying this, he forcefully lifted Luo Bowen’s body, ready to drag him away.

“You’re just leaving like this?”

Fang Shi’s voice was calm; moonlight streamed through the window, casting a deep silver glow over his cultivation robe.

Zhao Wenjun’s heart jolted—had their action offended this man?

Those rumored to possess great ability often have eccentric temperaments, hard to please.

Could Master be one of those kinds?

“Master, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Actually, I’m anxious about my parents at home, so I deliberately sent Luo Bowen to test you.”

“It’s my fault, it’s my fault.”

As he spoke, Zhao Wenjun dropped straight to his knees with a thud.

Luo Bowen, who had just been in despair, saw Zhao Wenjun’s action.

He was stunned, trying to pull Zhao Wenjun up—but he had nowhere near Zhao Wenjun’s strength.

So he knelt down too.

Fang Shi said calmly: “Since you’ve knelt, why not knock three more head-bangs?”

“Oh, by the way—only Zhao Wenjun needs to knock. Luo Bowen, you don’t.”

Without hesitation, Zhao Wenjun heard Fang Shi’s words and immediately banged his head three times.

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

So fast that Luo Bowen beside him hadn’t even reacted.

After the three head-bangs ended, Zhao Wenjun and Luo Bowen, both trembling with anxiety, heard a loud laugh.

“Good! Good! Good!”

“Whoosh!”

Fang Shi rose instantly from the sofa and appeared before Zhao Wenjun.

He reached out and stroked Zhao Wenjun’s bald head, smiling: “The Immortal strokes my crown; I tie my hair to receive longevity. Though you have no hair, you may grow some later.”

Luo Bowen stared, utterly bewildered—what just happened?

A moment ago, the air had felt like it would freeze; now, was it warming up?

Zhao Wenjun, no doubt the kind of man destined for legend, instantly understood. He cried out: “Master! Let your disciple pay his respects!”

He moved to bow deeply, but Fang Shi immediately stopped him: “The ritual is complete—no need to continue. Giving a man a fish is not as good as teaching him to fish.”

“You face many hardships, yet I am only one man.”

“Therefore, I take you as my disciple and teach you the Fang Family Breathing Method to strengthen your cultivation base.”

Then Fang Shi turned his gaze to Luo Bowen: “Where is your home?”

Luo Bowen, still dazed, finally snapped out of it and cried out in ecstatic joy: “Master, my home is in...”

“Then good. Tomorrow morning, I head north to hunt the Firewing Bird—but I still need a bait.”

Luo Bowen understood instantly, his heart overflowing with willingness: “I can be the bait! I can be the bait!”

His voice trembled with urgency, as if afraid Fang Shi would change his mind.

“By the way, one more thing—you keep calling me ‘Master.’ I’m not used to it.”

Fang Shi walked to the window, his back to them: “Fang means Dao. I seek the art of sustaining life to cross through calamities.”

“You may call me Fangshi.”