Martial Arts: Starting with Upgrading the Dilapidated Temple

Daheng, Chenzhou, on the banks of the Shuilan River, at the Sunset Ferry.

The river water was murky, with a fishy smell of rust and rotting aquatic plants.

The river wind howled, carrying moisture, and pounded against the dilapidated martial temple by the ferry.

"Squeak—"

Xu Hao pushed open the temple door and stepped inside.

The temple was dimly lit, and the clay statue of the God of War in the center was mottled, with half of its arm broken off and only half of the divine weapon in its hand remaining, revealing the straw-made body inside. It was impossible to imagine what the divine weapon had once looked like.

A few piles of dry grass were scattered in the corner, where the nearby refugees slept. At this moment, there was no one there; they must have gone to the river to try their luck.

Xu Hao walked up to the incense table, skillfully took out a dusty rag, and began to wipe the dust off the table.

He was a cleaning worker at the ferry dock, responsible for cleaning the dock and the abandoned martial temple.

"In this world, even martial gods can't protect themselves, so how are ordinary people supposed to survive?"

Xu Hao muttered to himself, his hands still moving, and looked up at the broken statue of the God of War, his eyes vacant.

It's been three months since I transmigrated here.

During those three months, he saw mostly dead people.

Some starved to death, some died of illness, and some even died from qigong practice gone awry and their bodies exploded.

A few days ago, there was a heavy rain upstream, and several corpses floated down the river. They were all muscular and had practiced martial arts, but after death, they were no different from the other corpses and swelled up in the water.

Together with the other laborers, he used long hooks to pull the corpses ashore and drag them to the mass grave to bury them.

The feeling of that hard, iron-like touch still lingers on my fingertips.

The Great Heng Dynasty valued martial arts. From the royal family to ordinary people, families with the means would have their children learn martial arts.

In the martial arts world, sects and schools abound, and it is said that when martial artists reach a high level, they can split mountains and stop rivers with a single punch, and even fly with their bare bodies.

Legend has it that the founding emperor of Daheng was a martial artist who possessed unparalleled divine skills, swept across the land, established Daheng, and suppressed the world.

But those are all too far away.

For homeless people like Xu Hao, martial arts are merely a tool used by powerful figures to oppress them.

Xu Hao sighed, unscrewed the kettle, and took a sip.

The water was murky river water that had settled, and it had an earthy smell, but he drank it with great relish.

After finishing his water, he lowered his head again and continued wiping the incense table.

Just as his fingers touched a groove in the center of the incense table, a soft "buzz" suddenly went through his mind.

A painting with a faint glow unfolds in the depths of consciousness.

Name: Xu Hao (17)

[Martial Realm: Mortal]

【Blessed Land: Sunset Ferry Martial Temple: LV2 (Cannot be upgraded yet)】

[Blessed Land's Miraculous Effects: Harmony of Qi and Blood (Initial), Qi and Blood Sensation (Initial)]

[Progress of cleaning the blessed land: 100/100]

[Current Blessed Land Treasure: Listening Talisman]

[Treasure Effect: Grants keen hearing and sharp eyesight, allowing the user to hear the slightest rustling of grass within a mile and perceive subtle changes in the surrounding atmosphere.]

Become!

Xu Hao's fingers trembled slightly, then he pressed down firmly on the groove.

To prepare for this day, he would get up before dawn every day and sweep every inch of the dilapidated temple countless times, not even letting go of the dust behind the statues.

When he was reborn, this body was in this dilapidated temple. As soon as he opened his eyes, the "Record of Blessed Lands and Grottoes" appeared before him.

By working and surviving in one place for a long time, one can transform that place into a "blessed land".

Upgrading a blessed land not only grants benefits, but also produces treasures.

Although the Martial Temple at Sunset Ferry is dilapidated, its special location connecting the land and water routes means that even though no one worships it normally, it still retains a faint trace of "fierce energy" and "blood energy" because it was once dedicated to the God of War.

It took Xu Hao three whole months to upgrade this place to level two.

Xu Hao took a deep breath to calm his excited emotions.

Continue wiping the incense table until your fingers touch a talisman paper as thin as a cicada's wing, which appears out of thin air in the groove.

He quickly stuffed the talisman into his sleeve and hid it close to his body.

This "Listening Talisman" is his lifeline in this chaotic world.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the temple gate.

"How come this dilapidated temple is so clean?"

A rough, loud voice rang out, tinged with surprise.

Xu Hao's heart skipped a beat, and he turned around.

Three men dressed in black robes strode in. The one in the lead had a fierce face and bulging muscles all over his body, and the ground trembled slightly when he walked.

This is a steward of the Caobang wharf, who practices an external martial art called the Shattering Stone Fist. He can shatter rocks with a single punch and is ruthless. Xu Hao had seen him at the wharf several times.

The steward scanned the temple, his gaze finally settling on Xu Hao.

"Are you a janitor who sweeps the floors?"

Xu Hao lowered his head and replied meekly, "Yes, sir, that's right."

"Hmm, they are quite diligent," the steward casually remarked, his gaze sweeping around the temple grounds.

Xu Hao showed no outward expression, but his heart stirred slightly.

Why did the members of the canal gang, who usually wouldn't even glance at this dilapidated temple when they passed by, suddenly come in today?

The deacon walked around the temple without noticing anything unusual, then sat down on the prayer mat in front of the incense table, took a swig from the wine gourd at his waist.

"I'm exhausted. This awful weather is unbearably hot."

The other two subordinates also sat down and began to complain about how difficult business had been lately.

Xu Hao stood to the side, not daring to breathe.

He was just a lowly servant; if he offended these gentlemen, he would probably be thrown whole into the river to feed the fish.

Xu Hao stood to the side with his hands at his sides, listening to the slight warmth of the breath talisman pressed against his chest. He could clearly hear the subtle sounds of the three people breathing, their heartbeats, and even the flow of blood.

The deacon's heartbeat was slow and strong, like a muffled drumbeat, while the other two seemed a little weak.

Xu Hao felt a chill run down his spine. Was this the physique of a martial artist?

"Damn it, those bastards from the Salt Gang are getting too big for their britches lately." One of his men spat. "Yesterday at the docks, they even dared to steal our business."

The steward snorted and slammed the wine pot heavily onto the incense table.

"A bunch of water ghosts who only know a few insidious palm techniques, what's with their arrogance?"

"If it weren't for the gang leader's recent actions... I would have led a bunch of men and destroyed their hideout long ago."

Before he finished speaking, footsteps sounded outside the temple gate, followed by a sinister laugh.

"Zhao Tiequan, you're really talking big. Aren't you afraid of biting your tongue?"

Five men dressed in gray-blue short jackets and straw sandals filed in. The leader was a tall, thin man with sunken eyes and thick, bluish-black knuckles.

They're from the Salt Gang!

Xu Hao's heart tightened, and he took another half step back into the shadow of the statue, pressing himself against the pillar next to it.

The talisman in his arms was slightly warm, and he could "hear" the damp, cold aura flowing within the tall, thin figure.

In stark contrast to the masculine deacons of the canal gang.

Zhao Tiequan abruptly stood up: "Sun Niqiu! You fucking want to die, coming all the way to the Temple of the Martial God?"

Sun Niqiu, the tall, thin man, gave a forced smile upon hearing this: "This dilapidated temple has long since lost its incense offerings. I'm only here to give face to the God of War."

"But you, Zhao Tiequan, seem to be having a lot of free time."

"Are you afraid of running into me on the river?"

The atmosphere instantly became tense.

The two groups were only a few feet apart. Xu Hao huddled in a corner, feeling the oppressive atmosphere spreading through the air.