Chapter Forty-Three: Inner Energy, Second Realm

“No, we must get to the bottom of this. Zixu, you are a first-level martial artist; as long as you don’t encounter that Black Bear, I doubt anyone in this area could stop you.”
“Go down the mountain with the messenger and investigate what really caused my son’s death. Also, visit Wolfname Village to see if what Hu San claimed is true.”
“Whoever killed my son must pay in blood, even if it was Black Bear himself.”
With this, the Second Chieftain made his decision, and no one dared object.

Soon, the Second Chieftain’s trusted aide, Ling Zixu, accompanied the messenger down the mountain, heading straight to Wolf Fang Stronghold. Little did they know, as they left Wolf Heart Stronghold, news of their departure had already reached the forests nearby.

Within a dense mountain ridge, Hu San sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, endlessly circulating the warm current within his body to transform it into inner breath. Suddenly, he sensed something and looked to his side, where a figure swiftly parted the thickets and appeared before him.

Looking closely, the figure was none other than Lin Hu.

“What is it?”

Hu San gently calmed his breath, drawing all energy back to his core.

“Third Brother, someone from the group you told us to watch has left the mountain, accompanied by a man in purple robes. An old bandit recognized him as Ling Zixu, the Second Chieftain’s confidant and a martial artist. Judging by their hurried looks, they seem to be on urgent business.”

Lin Hu reported all this in one breath, his face worried. “Has our secret been exposed?”

“No, it’s only a suspicion. They’re going to investigate the scene.”

A look of understanding flashed in Hu San’s eyes. The messengers sent by Wolf Fang Stronghold who never made it here—apart from those intercepted by Black Bear—most had died at his own hands.

Since so much time had passed and he felt he could hide it no longer, he had allowed this messenger to go but secretly kept a close watch on them.

“Hurry back and keep an eye on the other messengers. Remember, do not let yourselves be discovered.”

Hu San stood, smiling. “The big fish is about to bite. If they wish to investigate me, they’ll have to wait a couple more days.”

On the only road from Wolf Heart Stronghold to Wolf Fang Mountain, one side was a sheer cliff, the other an unfathomable abyss. In the darkness, Ling Zixu, pale as snow, looked weakly at the youth holding a blade not far away. His right arm hung by a thread, attached only by some skin and flesh.

Not far from him lay the corpse of the black-clad scout, eyes wide open in death.

As they traveled, Hu San had ambushed them. The scout hadn’t even managed a single move before Hu San’s blade ended him. Ling Zixu, a martial artist, reacted quickly but was shocked by Hu San’s prowess—he could barely withstand a few blows before his right arm was severed.

“Why? Hu San, have I ever offended you?”

Knowing his situation was dire, Ling Zixu no longer cared for a martial artist’s dignity and forced the words out through gritted teeth.

“With your intelligence, do you really not know why?”

Hu San’s figure tensed slightly. After fighting experts like White Bear, battling Ling Zixu now made the difference clear. Though both were martial artists, Ling Zixu was far inferior.

“You… was it you who killed the Second Young Master? How could that be?”

Ling Zixu swayed, his pupils contracting in disbelief.

“I didn’t want this either, but some things must be done, some people must become enemies.”

No sooner had Hu San finished than Ling Zixu staggered again, but this time he threw himself toward the slope, rolling down without any attempt to protect himself.

Knowing he was no match for Hu San, he gambled for survival by flinging himself down the steep hillside, not caring whether he lived or died in the fall.

The reason for Hu San’s ambush had become clear to Ling Zixu the instant the scout died. All his efforts had been to win this one chance to leap down the cliff.

“No need to rush.”

As if expecting this move, Hu San drifted diagonally, light as a wisp of smoke, reaching Ling Zixu just as he began to fall.

Two crisp sounds rang out. Ling Zixu’s body hung in the air, but he would never reach the bottom of the cliff. Hu San had pinned him to the rocks with his blade, the weapon piercing straight through his chest and deep into the stone. A broken tip flew far away, showing the force behind the blow.

“Cough… cough… The Second Chieftain will never let you go. I’ll be waiting for you, for your whole family, on the other side.”

He barely forced out the words, blood gurgling from his throat.

“We’ll see who survives whom. For now, it’s your turn to fall—don’t delay.”

A cold gleam in his eye, Hu San smashed Ling Zixu’s skull with a punch, then pulled out the broken blade and pushed both him and the scout’s body into the abyss.

“Second Chieftain, Great Bend Nation!”

After erasing all traces of the fight, Hu San narrowed his eyes in the howling wind, pondered for a long time, then slipped away into the night.

Days passed. The Second Chieftain waited for news from Ling Zixu, but as if blown away on the wind, both Ling Zixu and the black-clad messenger vanished without a trace.

For now, the Second Chieftain had no idea that disaster had already struck. He kept waiting.

Ten days later, atop a mountain peak, the newborn sun bathed the land, late spring’s warmth emerging. On a giant boulder sat a figure shrouded in white mist.

After a long time, the mist around him trembled. Vortices appeared above his head, at his chest, and at his core, radiating waves of energy.

The white mist began to contract, slowly being drawn into the three points, until finally, his true form was revealed.

Bathed in the gentle sunlight, a bronze-skinned youth sat quietly, his expression peaceful, as if lost in the deepest of dreams.

“Exhale—”

When all the mist had dissipated, the youth’s lips parted and he let out a soft breath, his eyes flickering before opening wide, a sharp light flashing and then vanishing, replaced by a calm as deep as the sea.

This was, of course, Hu San, who had now successfully broken through to the second stage of inner breath.

“So this is what it feels like to be a second-stage martial artist. My raw strength hasn’t increased much, but once I circulate my inner breath, my endurance and power are more than thirty percent greater than before.”

He clenched his fist, carefully sensing the changes of this new realm, and assessed the improvement in his abilities.

Now, for the first time, he truly surpassed White Bear. Against such an opponent now, he could not only fight but kill.

“White Bear is the third chieftain of Black Bear Stronghold, but how does he compare to Mohe? Still, since Black Bear Stronghold was destroyed by Wolf Heart Stronghold, White Bear must be weaker than Mohe. How many chances would I have if I faced Mohe now?”

“If facing Mohe is so uncertain, what about against the Second Chieftain, Chen Zhou?”

Mohe was the third chieftain of Wolf Heart Stronghold, and Chen Zhou was the Second Chieftain. Hu San had learned this after much investigation.

“If I want to be absolutely safe, I must raise my inner breath to the third stage before challenging Chen Zhou, unless my physical strength increases greatly.”

“If my guess is right, both the Second Chieftain and Mohe have reached the second major realm—projecting their inner breath outward, able to wound with a leaf or a flower. I must tread very cautiously.”

Of all the martial artists Hu San had faced, the strongest had not exceeded the third stage; he could not yet imagine the force of the fourth stage, but it must be terrifying.

This was clear from the day atop Wolf Fang Stronghold, with that thousand-pound boulder. Hu San could only move it with great effort; White Bear struggled as well, but Black Bear could send it flying yards with a light kick. That was just a hint of the second great realm’s power. Hu San was far from being able to match it.

Fortunately, he did not yet have to face Chen Zhou directly; time was still on his side.

Another half month passed. As the stronghold’s atmosphere grew more restless, the company led by Hu San finally received their first opportunity to descend the mountain and rob travelers.

Such chances were rare. Since joining Wolf Heart Stronghold, Hu San’s group had been waiting in line for two or three months before this opportunity came.

Everyone was eager, secretly hoping for a rich merchant caravan the next day; otherwise, they would have to return in disappointment and empty-handed.

As this was their first official raid, Hu San was summoned back from the deep mountains.

To ensure nothing went wrong, the stronghold assigned an experienced bandit to instruct Hu San’s group in the tricks and precautions of highway robbery.

In the main house of their camp, Hu San scratched his head as he looked over a roster—the very list the old bandit had left behind.

There was nothing else in it but the names of hundreds of merchant caravans.

Remarkable—each caravan had deep and powerful backing, their influence in the Qilian Mountains far beyond that of the newly founded Wolf Heart Stronghold. Some had histories stretching back decades, even centuries.

Most listed were caravans under their protection, specially marked by the old bandit so that Hu San and the others would avoid robbing them and bringing disaster down on Wolf Heart Stronghold.

“Damn, who would have thought there were so many powerful forces in the Qilian Mountains? Am I just a frog at the bottom of a well?”

Turning the list over and over, Hu San examined the background of each caravan, finally finding the one protected by Wolf Heart Stronghold on the last page.