From the fusion of Tongbei Quan to the Longevity Martial Saint

Zhanbo muttered to himself, his eyes unfocused, "How...how did I end up here so soon after we started?"

He didn't even see what move Fang Qing used.

Moreover, Fang Qing never used his Falcon Spear from beginning to end.

If the spear were to be used, Zhanbo had no doubt that he would not even last a single exchange.

In a daze, a hand reached out in front of him. The fingers were long and slender, with distinct knuckles. Zhanbo looked up and saw Fang Qing leaning slightly over him, looking at him with a calm expression on his face.

"Senior Brother Zhan, you flatter me."

Fang Qingdao.

Zhanbo grasped that hand, using it to help him stand up. He rubbed his still numb side and said with a wry smile:

"Junior Brother Fang, you're really amazing... I'm impressed."

He was quite straightforward; after admitting defeat, he stopped arguing and turned around to help Fang Qing tidy up the scattered items on the table, preparing to move.

According to the rules of the Salt Patrol Guard Reserve Battalion, when the rankings changed, their living quarters were also switched.

The winner moves to a higher-ranked room.

Seeing that Zhanbo moved quickly and efficiently, and that his expression showed little frustration or resentment, but rather a sense of relief and ease, Fang Qing couldn't help but feel curious:

"Senior Brother Zhan doesn't seem to care about this?"

Upon hearing this, Zhanbo grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth: "Hey, what's there to care about? In our preparatory camp, ranking ninety-eighth and ninety-ninth are basically both at the bottom, there's not much difference."

"I was always at the bottom of the class before you came here, I'm used to it."

His tone was open and magnanimous, revealing a calmness that came after experiencing many setbacks.

As he spoke, he remembered something and walked outside, heading straight to the wooden archway a few feet away that stood in the center of the courtyard, recording the rankings of all the reserve camp members.

The archway was made of fine hardwood and densely covered with names. Zhanbo found the ninety-eighth and ninety-ninth positions, reached out and grabbed the small wooden plaque with his name engraved on it, and pried it off with a forceful pull.

Then, he casually moved Fang Qing's name tag from the "Pending" column to the slot for the ninety-eighth place, and then extended his index finger, using the strength of the fifth level of body tempering, and gently brushed the two words "Pending" after the ninety-ninth place.

The wooden pieces fell softly, and the two characters vanished in an instant.

He stuffed his name tag into the empty seat at number ninety-ninth, clapped his hands, and walked back happily.

"Besides, being at the bottom has its advantages."

Zhanbo took the bowl of water Fang Qing handed him, took a big gulp, wiped his mouth and said, "Every time the top ten guys in the camp open a betting market, the odds for bottom-ranked guys like us are pitifully low, and nobody bets on us."

"So, it's actually quite peaceful. As long as you don't cause trouble, basically no one will bother you while you're cultivating."

Upon hearing this, Fang Qing raised an eyebrow slightly.

He astutely grasped the key information: the betting odds were being manipulated by the "top ten" players.

This means that the top ten individuals have the privilege of setting some of the rules within the camp, demonstrating their strength and influence.

This was somewhat unexpected for Fang Qing; it seemed the waters of the reserve camp were deeper than he had imagined.

Zhanbo was helping Fang Qing put away her things when his gaze inadvertently swept across the table and was immediately drawn to the few sheets of draft paper covered with strange lines.

The paper was covered with drawings of disassembled spherical objects, marked with many symbols and lines he couldn't understand.

He scratched his head, looking at Fang Qing with a surprised expression:

"Junior Brother Fang, you...you even know about this?" He pointed to the sketches and added, "With your skills, I think you're not much worse than that madman Kuang Shisan. I didn't expect you even have similar hobbies..."

Fang Qing looked down at his few hastily drawn, somewhat sloppy sketches of a pin-operated grenade, then looked up and asked:

"What makes you say that, Senior Brother Zhan?"

Zhanbo quickly explained, "Do you know how the nickname 'Crazy Thirteen' came about?"

Fang Qing, being new to the area and unfamiliar with the past of the reserve camp, shook his head and said:

"His surname isn't 'Madman' at all. I originally guessed that since he was ranked 30th, but used '13th' as ​​his nickname, perhaps he aspired to break into the top 13?"

This is the most logical guess.

"You might get the name wrong, but you won't get the nickname wrong." Zhanbo gave a knowing, enigmatic smile, lowering his voice slightly.

"Most of the people who just came in to the camp thought, just like you guessed, that he was arrogant and wanted to use that nickname to motivate himself to break into the top thirteen. But actually, there's more to it than meets the eye."

He pointed to Fang Qing's sketches of thunderbolts and continued:

"Kuang Shisan was obsessed with strange and ingenious things like fire arrows and crossbows. When he first entered the reserve camp, he somehow got his hands on some fire arrows and secretly improved them, greatly increasing their power. Do you know what earth-shattering thing he did later?"

Seeing Fang Qing shake his head, Zhan Bo's expression became even more vivid, as if he had returned to the shock he felt when he first heard the news:

"This madman! In order to verify that his improved Thunderbolt could harm experts above the True Yuan Realm, he actually took advantage of the opportunity when Salt Inspector Lin came to the Five City Garrison of Yancheng to find out where he was staying."

"On a dark and stormy night, he secretly sneaked into the backyard of the inn and threw all thirteen of his improved, large-sized thunderbolts into the window of the room where Lord Lin worked and slept!"

"Good heavens!"

Zhanbo slapped his thigh, his voice unconsciously rising a little:

"You didn't see the scene back then! I heard that Lord Lin had been traveling all day and had just lay down in the post station prepared for him by the Five Cities Garrison, wanting to get a good night's sleep."

"How could he have imagined that, inside the heavily guarded military headquarters, and right next to the salt patrol garrison under his direct command, someone would dare to throw thirteen thunderbolts at him! And not just any thirteen! Lord Lin is a master of the True Yuan Realm, a legitimate third-rank official of the imperial court with real power!"

"And the result?" Fang Qing was also intrigued by this audacious act.

"The result?" Zhanbo clicked his tongue twice. "I heard that the house was engulfed in flames, with loud bangs and tiles flying everywhere. Although Lord Lin wasn't seriously injured thanks to his protective inner energy, he looked quite disheveled!"

"His brocade robe was burned off in half, leaving half of his buttocks exposed! Not to mention his black hair, his two sword-like eyebrows, and his sleek, slicked-back goatee, all of which were singed and charred black, making him almost look like a bald chicken!"

Fang Qing was dumbfounded and subconsciously turned his head to look at the name "Crazy Thirteen" on the archway outside the house.

He originally thought this person was just a competitive martial arts fanatic, but he never expected that he would be a superior who dared to challenge his superior.

He was a madman who could be described as one of the highest-ranking officials in the entire salt inspection system, and who threw thirteen thunderbolts into his bed!

This is no longer "testing the edge of death," it's practically diving headfirst into the abyss of death and even performing a fancy butterfly stroke along the way!

"Then... what was Lord Lin's reaction at the time?" Fang Qing couldn't help but ask.

Zhanbo shrugged his broad shoulders:

"I heard that when Lord Lin came out of the messy house, his face was streaked with black and white. Looking at the broken pieces and wisps of smoke on the ground, he didn't get angry on the spot. Instead, he nodded and said: 'This kid's improved Thunderbolt is indeed quite powerful. He's a talent.'"

Upon hearing this, Fang Qing's eyebrows twitched slightly. Could this Imperial Censor Lin be a magnanimous person who cherishes talent?

Zhanbo seemed to have seen through Fang Qing's thoughts. A strange smile appeared on his honest face as he grinned and said:

"Junior Brother Fang, you've misunderstood again this time."

……