From the fusion of Tongbei Quan to the Longevity Martial Saint

After Kuang Shisan left, only Zhanbo, who was brushing off the dust, and Fang Qing, who was standing still, remained at the scene.

Zhanbo grumbled and shook his shoulders, then vigorously picked at his ears, expelling a lot of dust. He then let out a long breath, and the anger on his face gradually subsided.

He dusted himself off, grinned at Fang Qing, revealing a set of fairly clean teeth. His smile carried a hint of familiarity and naivety, a stark contrast to his earlier furious demeanor.

"You're new here, Fang Qing, right?"

As he spoke, he walked towards Fang Qing.

"My name is Zhanbo, and I'm ranked ninety-eighth. Look, I'm just one above you."

"That guy, Kuang Shisan, has such a dog-like temper. He's strong, always itching for a fight, and he's a scoundrel."

"But he's not a bad person... at least he's open about things and doesn't play dirty tricks."

He walked closer and naturally reached out to help Fang Qing carry her simple bag:

"You don't know where you're staying yet, do you? Come on, I'll take you there. Here, accommodation is strictly assigned according to ranking, one person per room, from row one to ninety-nine."

"I live at number ninety-eight, the one right in front of yours. As for Kuang Shisan..."

He pointed to a more spacious area in the distance.

"Look, it's right ahead!"

"That's the exclusive area for the top ten, a separate courtyard, and the treatment is different. I advise you, it's best not to go there unless you have to. Those guys are monsters among monsters, each with a weirder temper than the last. If you mess with them, getting a beating is the least of your worries."

When Zhanbo said this, a complex look of lingering fear flashed across his face, clearly indicating that he had experienced personal pain.

"If your ranking improves, remember to change rooms promptly! This is the rule, and also common sense for survival. Otherwise, if someone tries to challenge or raid you, you might end up in the wrong room and become someone else's scapegoat."

Upon hearing this, Fang Qing's lips twitched slightly.

Just as Kuang Shisan had said, the rules of this preparatory camp were full of competition and danger. Even the accommodation was tied to the rankings in real time to ensure that "the wronged have a culprit and the debtor has a debtor."

There's nowhere to hide. If the rankings change and you're slow to move, you might end up getting beaten up for no reason.

"Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother Zhan."

Fang Qing sincerely thanked him.

"Oh, don't be so polite, we've all been through this."

Zhanbo waved his hand, picked up Fang Qing's luggage, and led him familiarly to a row of neat and simple stone houses, finding the one marked number ninety-nine.

The room is right next to number 98, very close.

Opening the door, the interior was extremely simply furnished: a hard bed, a set of table and chairs, a simple wardrobe, and a washbasin stand—that was all. But it was fairly clean.

"You can stay here for now. If you need anything, you can apply for it at the camp's general affairs office." Zhanbo placed his luggage on the bed and gave a few more instructions.

After thanking Zhanbo, the other party grinned, casually waved his large, calloused hand (from years of martial arts training), and turned to walk back to his room.

Before long, Fang Qing saw Zhan Bo bring over blue bricks, sand, and a bucket of mixed cement from somewhere.

He deftly shoveled soil and mixed mud, skillfully stacking bricks neatly, and then carefully smoothed the gaps with a trowel. In no time, he had repaired the large hole that Kuang Shisan had punched into the wall, making the wall surface smooth and new, leaving only a slightly newer mark.

Judging by his skillful movements, Zhanbo is clearly not a novice at this kind of repair work.

Fang Qing then turned around and went into the room ranked last.

The room was small, so he placed his luggage on the corner of the bed and looked around the room, finally settling on the old wooden table against the wall.

A few calligraphy brushes and some yellowed scraps of paper were scattered on the table, apparently left behind by the previous guest.

Feeling utterly bored, Fang Qing's mind stirred slightly.

He walked back to his bag and took out a small cloth bag carefully wrapped in oil paper.

Unwrapping the cloth bag revealed several dark, egg-sized spheres.

This was the very same thunderbolt he had obtained from Gu Changyuan at the Liu family, the salt merchant's residence.

At the time, the head of the Liu family tried to ignite them, but the fuse got damp and became a dud, which Fang Qing got by.

These firecrackers have a rough structure, filled with gunpowder and scrap iron, and are ignited by an exposed fuse.

In principle, it is somewhat similar to modern hand grenades.

Fang Qing had personally witnessed the explosion of this thing; the sound was like thunder, and fragments flew everywhere. In an era like the Great Qian Dynasty, where cold weapons were the mainstay, it was indeed a powerful weapon.

He planned to modify these duds, hoping they might become a valuable trump card.

According to Fang Qing's judgment, this type of Thunderbolt poses a great threat to martial artists below the Body Tempering Realm, but its disadvantages are also very obvious: the fuse must be lit with a fire tumbler, and it becomes completely useless as soon as it rains or underwater.

This is a common problem with this type of firearm in the current Daqian Dynasty.

After a moment's hesitation, Fang Qing pulled out a blank sheet of paper and then took out a piece of charcoal pencil from the corner of the cloth bag.

He leaned over the table, focused his mind, and began to sketch.

The charcoal pencil scratches across the paper, the lines gradually becoming more complex, forming a precise structural sketch.

If a modern military enthusiast were here, they would immediately recognize that this is clearly an anatomical diagram of a classic pull-ring grenade!

Compared to existing ignition devices, the pull-ring design integrates the ignition mechanism entirely within the device, igniting through impact or friction without requiring an exposed flame. Its reliability and applicability are far superior.

Fang Qing focused on the major renovation project at hand.

Time slipped away quietly as I focused on my work, and before I knew it, an hour had passed.

"Thump, thump, thump."

Just then, a knock sounded on the door, neither too loud nor too soft, exactly three knocks.

Fang Qing put down his charcoal pencil, got up, and opened the door.

Kuang Shisan had previously said he would come to find him in an hour, and now that time has just passed, the person outside the door must be the one.

However, when the door opened, standing outside was Zhanbo, who had returned.

He rubbed his large hands together, a slightly embarrassed and awkward smile on his bronze face.

"Senior Brother Zhan?"

Fang Qing was slightly surprised.

Zhanbo's face flushed slightly, and after a couple of gulps, he finally spoke in a muffled voice:

"Junior Brother Fang, um... I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I think it would be better if we had a fight first."

"I'll remove the 'pending' sign from your name and put you properly in the 99th position. Only then will I feel at ease. You see... Junior Brother Fang doesn't mind, right?"

Fang Qing glanced at him. Zhanbo's eyes revealed his straightforwardness, mixed with a hint of barely perceptible expectation.

After a moment's thought, he nodded: "Very well, then please give me your guidance, Senior Brother Zhan."

……

About the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.

Zhanbo lay sprawled on the floor, staring blankly at the ceiling, his chest still heaving violently.

His mind was buzzing, replaying the lightning-fast exchange of blows in his head:

Just as he got into position and before he could even throw a punch, his opponent's figure flashed like a ghost. The next moment, an overwhelming force that he couldn't resist came from his side, sending him flying into the air before crashing heavily to the ground.

My whole body ached, especially the side of my stomach where I was hit, which was burning painfully.

"Who am I? Where am I?"

……