Qi Cultivation Starting from the Repair Panel

His body was already critically injured, and since he had already been conserving Qi in secret, he was now close to his last breath.

Chu Zheng took a deep breath, still surrounded by the smell of blood around his nose, and felt a tremor in his fingertips. The excitement of having exerted his full strength had not yet faded.

After calming himself for a moment, he hurried to Song Yun's side to check his pulse.

Feeling the pulse, Chu Zheng's expression subtly changed. The chaotic pulse felt under his fingers was like rain leaking through a roof, winds blowing from all sides; the Qi was scattered, almost indistinguishable from that of a dead man's.

Before he could ponder further, a message suddenly surged on the panel in his mind.

[Song Yun (Zeroth Order): Suffers from a fatal arrow wound to the chest, residual poison in the body not yet cleared, forceful use of Qi led to the brink of death, repairable (0/10)]

This...

The information that flooded his mind left Chu Zheng momentarily stunned. Could it be that he could even repair a person?

Without further thought, Chu Zheng used two of the day's restoration attempts tentatively.

Whoosh—

The effects of the two repairs were immediate. Song Yun's breathing, which had been as faint as a hanging thread, instantly became robust, and his pulse gradually stabilized. Although his body was still gravely injured, his life was no longer in danger.

"You're lucky to be alive."

Chu Zheng murmured softly, lifted Song Yun, and dragged him into the house, hiding him carefully under the bed.

He didn't know the situation outside, so he couldn't run around with Song Yun in tow.

Chu Zheng saved the remaining three opportunities, thinking that caution is the better part of valor. There were eleven more hours until the next refresh, and it was always wise to have a margin for contingencies.

Before leaving, Chu Zheng made sure the room was in complete disarray and then left without locking the door, allowing it to swing open as he strode away.

......

......

The dark night illuminated by the flames, the ancient pavilions that had stood for centuries, now swallowed by the raging fire. Watching this, Chu Zheng's heart twisted in agony.

As a former Cultural Relic Restorer, such scenes were unbearable to him.

The bodies of the dead were scattered on the ground, including Escort Masters, servants and maids of the Song Residence, and cloaked figures in night clothes, all stained with blood against the courtyard walls.

"Kill!"

After crossing two courtyards, Chu Zheng heard a burst of shouting and the faint sound of clashing weapons growing louder.

Clutching the Iron Mace firmly in his hand, Chu Zheng strode towards the noise. As he turned the corner, he came face-to-face with two men in black.

Both parties were startled. Chu Zheng, tall and wielding an Iron Mace, looked intimidating even at a glance. His blood-stained robe added a terrifying aura under the moonlight.

The two men in black, both burly, were each holding a long knife, their hands calloused and their eyes fierce. Clearly, they were not ones to be taken lightly.

After sizing each other up for a few breaths, they relaxed somewhat.

Although Chu Zheng could not yet distinguish the strength of these practitioners of the Martial Path clearly, he was already on the threshold of Qi Refining and could perceive the Qi.

The Qi density within these two men was even less than that of the martial master Chu Zheng had just killed by bursting his head.

The two men in black raised their long knives in unison, a vicious glint in their eyes. To them, Chu Zheng seemed heavy-footed and loud, clearly lacking in martial skill:

"Just a brat who hasn't even begun Qi Condensation. Once we chop off his head, we'll hang it on the city wall tomorrow!"

"Hmph, looks decent enough. After I cut off your face, and make it into a mask, at least your face won't be wasted!"

Chu Zheng said nothing, but the adrenaline surging through his body forced him to react first.

He lunged forward, swinging his Iron Mace with open tendons that cracked like whips, sounding off like a tiger's roar or a dragon's chant. Spiral wisps of steam burst from his pores, like lighting a torch on a cold winter night, sending rolling clouds of white smoke into the air!

"External Skills Master!"

The Iron Mace fell, accompanied by a shriek as piercing as thunder, allowing the two assassins clad in black to react instantly, their complexions dramatically changing, their bodies subconsciously wanting to withdraw.

But it was already too late. In the time it takes to flick a finger, the two Iron Maces had already smashed down onto their heads.

They reacted just as the assassin in the Song Residence's Treasury had done before, raising their swords and attempting to parry with their shoulders bearing the back of the blades, and their knees sunk into a horse stance.

Clang!

However, the colossal strength within the Iron Mace far exceeded their expectations. The finely forged steel swords were instantly shattered, with broken blades embedding deeply into their flesh and bones.

Crack—

The lingering force pinned the two men down onto the green stone slabs, shattering their upper bodies, leaving them incapable of rising again.

Chu Zheng withdrew his Iron Mace, swinging it again without the slightest hesitation, shattering the heads of both men.

In an instant, life and death were separated.

"If you're going to kill, why must you also set fires?"

Chu Zheng murmured in a low voice, shaking his hand to fling off the blood from his Iron Mace, nearly grinding his teeth:

"Such casual destruction, do you realize how much effort future generations will have to spend to restore it?"

Truly deserving of death!

So much history is left incomplete because of such ruthless fires which have buried countless secrets beneath their fierce flames.

This is a man-made disaster.

Chu Zheng quickened his pace, soon arriving at the front yard of the residence.

The front yard had become a sea of flames, with exclamations of killing and the crackling sound of burning structures ringing in his ears.

Chu Zheng dashed through the sea of flames, smashing any assailant in night clothes that he saw with his mace, with not a single one proving to be his match.

Soon, he reached the nearby martial training ground.

In the midst of the training ground was a chaotic battlefield, with individuals engaged in combat everywhere; at a glance, there were no fewer than dozens.

Among them, Song Tonghai was the most conspicuous. Surrounded by three opponents, his every move was filled with sharpness and vigor, his vital energy burning like a blazing furnace, his breath roaring like thunder— he was, without a doubt, a Grandmaster.

Not far from him, Song Lingxue, clad in green clothing, was also strikingly visible. She too was caught in a siege, surrounded by six men in black.

Song Tonghai, facing three adversaries, still showed no signs of defeat, but Song Lingxue nearby was in imminent danger.

After the continuous battles, her hair, which was originally tied up, had become somewhat disheveled, fluttering in the wind, with her clothes stained in much blood, and from the torn fabric, a glimpse of the silver Inner Armor underneath was faintly visible.

Suddenly, the state of the battle changed. Song Tonghai took a forceful palm strike from a Grandmaster and retaliated with a sword attack that sent out a wave of green Sword Qi.

The Sword Qi roared, and from several meters away, it decapitated an assassin, his blood spouting several meters high, causing Chu Zheng to shiver at the sight.

Grandmasters are indeed different from ordinary martial artists, possessing striking capabilities.

This sword move— Chu Zheng did not know if he himself could withstand it.

Reduced by one, Song Lingxue's pressure drastically reduced, gaining a brief respite, but Song Tonghai was gradually losing ground.

Chu Zheng chose not to intervene rashly. The current battle was very dangerous, but it was still vaguely balanced. If he carelessly joined in, it might backfire.

Chu Zheng looked around the training ground, quickly formulating a plan, and silently moved to a corner.

Not far away, there were targets set up with Long Bows and Feathered Arrows, a small archery training area.

Crack—

Chu Zheng grabbed a bucket of Feathered Arrows, snapping the arrowheads off one by one to make palm-length darts.

He was not proficient in archery, but he was quite skilled with darts in his previous life, even having won prizes in professional competitions.