The corner gives the wooden martial arts master, whose martial arts are equivalent to a harem.

The center of Xiguan City.

In Gu Chuanhen's eyes, the government, which should have been a dignified and authoritative institution, was nothing more than a dark and filthy den.

Two bailiffs stood at the door, staring at Gu Chuanhen, one of them looking at the grievance drum to the side.

The ash on the grievance drum forms a net, and the single mallet is fixed to the drum frame, making it impossible for ordinary people to pull it out.

In this world, who has been wronged? Who dares to have been wronged? Therefore, the grievance drum is absolutely useless.

"Darling baby~ You just said you wanted to conquer the world, but do you even know how?"

Bajiquan watched Gu Chuanhen walk towards the Xiguan City government office. She asked.

"I don't know how to fight, but I know how to get people to fight me." Gu Chuanhen stood in front of the government office, reciting Bajiquan.

The sixteen-year-old boy was neither a wise fool nor a genius; he was simply a young man who was more mature than his peers.

He doesn't understand politics or people's hearts, he doesn't understand farming or crafts; all he understands is martial arts, which he now possesses with the ultimate experience card.

However, the "ultimate" part of this experience card only lies in the path of martial arts that is "not yet a theoretical foundation"—the martial arts path that combines life and death.

In short, his attainment of the Divine Realm was merely an illusory castle in the air; he had simply used his own observations and the power of his domineering thoughts to force himself to become a Divine Realm warrior. Farm ducks can't swim as well as wild ducks.

He did not see the god in his heart, nor did he hear the other warriors who had seen the god recount many of the wonders of seeing the god. He only knew that the warriors who saw the god had a body protected by strength, and their divine power was enough to lift a cauldron. With their bodies indestructible and impervious to swords and spears, they could easily take a head from a vast army. Beyond that, he knew nothing.

Because of the vast amount of ignorance he had, he was unable to fully utilize the divine abilities of the realm of seeing gods.

But importantly, this fake encounter with the god is the foundation of martial arts that ensures both life and death.

I, a martial artist who believes in both life and death, thought that this illusory castle in the air called "Seeing the Gods" was being grasped from above and lifted from below by a pair of hands that possess both life and death, so that it wouldn't fall.

Two illusory things complement each other, radiating a true brilliance in this world.

Therefore, even if one does not have the strength to truly see the gods, but only possesses martial arts that ensures both life and health, that is enough.

Therefore, he is not afraid of being hit. Nor is he afraid of being hit.

"You want someone to beat you up? Then I'll have to ask you what that means."

It's unclear what the ancient lineage of Bajiquan was thinking.

"I don't know the geography of this world, and I only know a little about the situation. But what I saw when I first arrived—the blood-soaked buns, the corpse collector's description of the Corpse Fist Sect, and the background information from the back alleys—gave me a general idea of ​​what this place is like."

This situation is not much different from the beginnings of the humiliating era described in history books.

I don't possess any extraordinary talent, much less a leader of great ambition, but I know how to mock.

Gu Chuanhen smiled.

"Rebellion is the best mockery. If you don't rebel, you'll be in trouble. And since I'm going to rebel, I need a territory. This place will be my territory."

To conquer this territory, we must first target the imperial court and the martial arts faction of the Corpse Fist Sect.

In this situation, no one will listen to reason, but might makes people afraid. And if they are afraid, then some people will listen to me.

In short, it all boils down to one word: Fight! Fight with your Bajiquan, the most powerful and fierce fist technique in the world!

His words resonated deeply.

Regardless of whether it's wise or not, from a general perspective, this line of thinking does have a certain degree of wisdom.

But from a martial artist's perspective... why bother with all that? Just fight!

"Hey—Darling babe~ You're so handsome, I love your teeth!"

The Bajiquan practitioner's face revealed a madwoman's smile, as if he believed that those who shared his wicked nature were kindred spirits.

"I'm glad you like it." Gu Chuanhen let out a long sigh, thinking to himself, "It seems that it becomes difficult to increase the favorability level after it reaches a certain point. But that's good, at least the difficulty of this dungeon won't increase too much due to excessive favorability."

Then, he nodded slightly.

"So, Bajiquan, are you ready to wreak havoc with me?" ["Of course I'm ready!"]

"Our date, which will make us enemies of the whole world, is about to begin its first step!" ["Hmm! That's right! It's about to begin its first step! Hehe!"]

The Bajiquan style, which shares the same spirit as the ancient legend of hatred, reveals a shocking yet ferocious smile of nuclear cancer.

Influenced by the Bajiquan principle of unity of mind and body, Gu Chuanhen instantly broke into a smile.

The two constables were terrified when they saw Gu Chuanhen's smile, and their disciplinary rods clattered to the ground.

"A ghost!" he cried out twice before fleeing in panic.

Gu Chuanhen swaggered into the government office.

···

A moment later, he had knocked down all the yamen runners and constables in the government office, their broken arms and legs causing them to groan.

The only one with all his limbs intact was trembling with fear.

Gu Chuanhen patted the man on the shoulder.

"Go, find the highest-ranking and most influential person here, and tell him to send a message to the imperial court saying that Gu Chuanhen of Xiguan City has rebelled. Oh, right."

Tell the imperial court that Gu Chuanhen of Xiguan City is the fourth-generation leader of the Human King Eight Extremes Sect.

Then he asked another question.

"Where is the Corpse Fist Sect again?"

"The one is the sect located at the top of the city's east side."

-

At the end of East Street in Xiguan City lies a sinister and eerie place that ordinary people are forbidden to approach, and even government officials avoid it.

Despite the towering gates and walls, even the midday sun could not conceal the eerie and sinister aura emanating from the building.

The reason is simple: this is the headquarters of the Corpse Fist Sect, the largest sect in Xiguan City.

All the dead, regardless of age or gender, must be sent here to be used by the martial artists of the Corpse Fist Sect to train various types of fist corpses. These corpses are then escorted by special personnel to the imperial court and then thrown into the battlefield against the Wu Kingdom.

By midday, the corpse collectors who had collected the decapitated bodies had become acquainted with the liaisons from the Corpse Fist Sect.

The body collectors leaned against the carts filled with corpses, waiting for the money to rain down on their heads.

This group met another group that had just arrived, and afterwards they exchanged betel nuts and tobacco, all appearing quite amicable.

Over there, several accountants were fiddling with abacus beads, meticulously calculating and collecting the other corpses.

Here, an accountant was weeping bitterly, speaking between sobs.

"There are seven corpses in total. We don't want the seven heads, but since we've already brought them, we'll give you an extra charge. The heads and bodies together will cost thirteen taels, making a total of ninety-one taels. Let's round it down to ninety taels."

After the Corpse Fist Sect's accountant who received the body wrote it down, a disciple who was guarding it took out nine silver ingots from his money bag, handed them over, and then shouted loudly again.

"Seven guests!"

Two disciples ran over, calling out politely and enthusiastically, "Welcome! Brothers, uncles, aunts, and other guests (sisters, cousins, and other female relatives), please come in!"

Then came a few more calls of "Guest!" and "Coming!" It seems the accountant over there has finished calculating.

It was as bustling as an inn, with people stopping for a meal and listening to an old man telling stories. It didn't look like a place where corpses were bought and sold.

Someone asked, "Why is the accountant crying?"

"Among the dead rebels was his youngest son, who had severed ties with him. Now, his body has entered the Corpse Fist Sect, and he can't even be properly buried." Someone answered in a low voice, "But at least, he managed to get his head taken along, so at least he can be buried."

"Luckily, they've already severed ties, otherwise, this could have brought disaster to the family." Someone said with relief, "Sigh, it seems the youngest son knew the situation too, sigh."

"Tsk, his own son is dead and he's still doing this?" someone scoffed. "Is he even a father? So cowardly."

"Sigh, he still has an elderly wife, mother, eldest son, daughter-in-law, and grandson at home. These days, even cabbage is priced like this." Someone gestured with a few fingers, shook his head bitterly, and wrapped the thin rat-tail whip that could pass through the hole of a copper coin around his neck to ward off the chill in his heart.

"If he doesn't do this work, how can he feed and clothe his family?" "That's right, if he doesn't do this work, there are plenty of other people who will."

···

The accountant was still crying, while the other accountants shook their heads helplessly. Was it a case of "the rabbit mourns the fox's death, and other animals grieve for their own kind"? Not at all, it was merely a feeling of pity and sympathy, but they themselves were barely able to save themselves and could not offer a helping hand.

Even if the relationship is severed, he is still the father of a traitor. What's that saying again? If the upper beam is crooked, the lower beam will be crooked too. If the son is a traitor, then the father is not necessarily a good person either. Even worse, he will definitely "assume" that the whole family are traitors.

In this world, you can't explain these things just by talking.

"So annoying, what's the big deal about losing a son? Crying and wailing, it's so noisy~" a disciple of the caregiver muttered, picking his earwax.

Another disciple glanced sideways at his companion and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"Of course you don't care if it's not your son who died." The companion didn't say anything, only muttered to himself.

Amidst mournful cries of "My son—" and "My baby—", the nameless corpse and the head that had fallen and been picked up were carried inside the door.

"He's so noisy, it's driving me crazy—I really want to kill him."...

Numerous corpses, arranged in different orders, were brought inside on palletized carts. The corpses listened to the sounds outside the door.

"You say your son is among the rebels? Then you're a rebel too! Rebels must be killed on the spot!"

The martial artist's fist strikes with devastating force, silencing all cries.

"Phew, finally some peace and quiet." The man wiped the blood off his fist.

They didn't care at all about the looks or opinions of others.

Then, another corpse entered through the door.

Tears still clung to his unseeing eyes, sliding down his cheeks.

Water droplets fell onto the damp soil surface, slowly seeping into the underlying limestone and fragments of glass from the Kingdom of Ba.

It dried in no time.

The corpse in the accounting office followed the other corpses into the wiring inside the door.

The rows of disciples corresponded to doorways separated by curtains, their paths intersecting like tracks that could change course at any moment.

Lifted by strong arms, the corpses were sorted and passed through their respective doorways in an assembly line fashion.

Those are men and women, those are the elderly and children.

Once inside, you'll find missing limbs here, and mutilated torsos there...

The seven headless corpses were also sent down below.

The headless corpses floated down the cave-like boat via a human-powered conveyor belt standing on the cave steps.

It was cold, damp, and rustling, like the rapid growth of hair and nails, that came from the spacious cellar, one after another, forming a symphony of sounds like a theatrical performance.

The originally spacious area was occupied by large, round jars, making it feel cramped and oppressive.

Those large, round jars were all taller than a person, and ladders were placed around their bellies.

The seven corpses were placed into the newly emptied jars; because their bodies were stiff, they were able to stand upright inside.

The disciples, who had been waiting for a long time, exerted their strength and climbed the ladder. They carried buckets of soil called "Four Yin," which was made from a mixture of pine, willow, locust, and other wood chips and materials.

Pour it out, bury it, until the body is no longer visible.

Then another group, carrying black dog blood, crow blood, and child blood, deftly climbed the ladder and poured buckets of water onto the plants at precise times.

At the very top of the cellar, four elderly martial artists stood with their hands pressed against jars. Their internal energy moved swiftly within the jars with exquisite skill, flowing through the eight extraordinary meridians of the corpse to clear the blockages, as if irrigating it with incorruptible vitality.

The damp soil churned and surged like cement, bubbling and boiling.

With a "pop," it explodes, then reappears, explodes again, and reappears... over and over again.

A man dressed in black robes stood before the altar, meticulously drawing the secret talismans of the Corpse Fist Sect with great effort and dedication.

The vitality that should have been at its peak has long since declined to its lowest point, yet it still forces itself to exert its strength.

He looked to be in his forties, and you could still see some of his youthful handsomeness in his face. However, he was now haggard and bald, with a sparse ring of hair around his sides, protecting the shiny scalp in the middle.

As soon as a talisman was made, a disciple would quickly affix it to the altar.

Suddenly, an elderly martial artist, exhausted and with failing eyesight, was about to collapse. The man who opened the altar reacted quickly and threw out a talisman.

Only after the talisman was affixed to his back did the old man still have the strength to continue cleansing the bones and marrow of the corpse in the altar.

"Elder, you must hold on! Our entire clan of hundreds of mouths depend on the five of us to feed them. The kitchen said today that the grain reserves can last for two more days. As long as this batch can be delivered to Lord Nalan, the imperial court will be able to distribute more grain to us." The bald clan leader offered empty promises to appease the hungry.

The elder's cloudy eyes followed the sound and seemed to see a young boy.

"Hey, Sixth Brother, I think I see what you looked like when you were a child." The old man smiled, reminiscing about the past.

Back then, the Corpse Fist Sect wasn't as infamous as it is now. Everyone was just practicing a fist technique called "Zombie Fist." The sect wasn't so lifeless or arrogant. But for some reason, it suddenly started relying on corpse refining to protect its members, and most of the members changed.

Originally, it was only to protect the disciples from the battlefield, but all the grain collected by the imperial court was also distributed to Xiguan City in greater quantities. The people of the city spontaneously petitioned and knelt in front of the sect, hoping that the sect could refine more corpses.

The gatekeeper reluctantly accepted the petition.

The number of corpses being refined was increasing, and the imperial court even drove many refugees to Xiguan City, which further increased the number of corpses. With more corpses, the number of corpses being refined also increased.

With more corpses being created, there was also more food and more money, and more people in Xiguan City survived.

However, many of them also died.

Unjustified deaths, premeditated deaths, intentional deaths... more people died than lived, and when the refugees arrived, more people lived than died.

This shouldn't be correct.

But... but what exactly is wrong?

Suddenly, he took another breath, and the intermittent bursts of internal energy flowed back into place.

Where did things go wrong? When did they go wrong? These questions were no longer important to the members of the Corpse Fist Sect.

The elderly martial artist, with failing eyesight, walked towards the jar where he was about to undergo bone-cleansing and marrow-washing.

The important thing is that those who are still alive cannot die.

Then he heard a noise outside the door.

It seems someone broke in?

What happened?

-

"My son—" "My baby—"

"You say your son is among the rebels? Then you're a rebel too! Rebels must be killed on the spot!"

The martial artist threw a punch, his arm stiff and unable to bend, yet his strike was incredibly fast and powerful, shattering the heart.

Gu Chuanhen, who had just strolled to the eastern end of the city, witnessed this scene.

Seeing the various expressions on his face, Gu Chuanhen approached a corpse collector.

"Uncle, what happened?" He subtly stirred the thoughts in the corpse collector's mind with the shared domineering power of Bajiquan.

The old man who collected the bodies looked sorrowful and said in a low voice.

"Our Xiguan City can only rely on the Corpse Fist Sect. Their disciples can just fabricate a crime against anyone they don't like, kill them with one punch, and then send them in to be refined into corpses to be sold to the imperial court for money or grain. Poor old Pang, he..."

The body collector picked out the key points and answered all questions. In a short time, Gu Chuanhen had figured out the general situation.

As the corpse collector finished speaking, Gu Chuanhen nodded slightly.

He had figured out the cause and effect, and understood the situation in Xiguan City.

Then he turned his cold gaze to the disciple who had just killed someone.

Seemingly sensing the unfriendly gaze of the ancient master, the disciple grinned. He was still seething with anger from the commotion, and now this brat had delivered himself to him, ready to fight and have some fun.

Even if his attire resembles that of a martial artist, how powerful can someone so young be?

When it comes to persimmons, you should always pick the soft ones.

"You look like a traitor to me too! Die!"

He took a step and jumped up, standing straight like an old zombie that had been buried in the ground for a long time and was about to become a demon.

Corpse Fist School - Zombie Fist Starting Stance: Corpse Jumps from Coffin.

And those straight, outstretched arms looked like two iron forks piercing towards Gu Chuanhen.

Gu Chuanhen neither dodged nor evaded, but simply stepped forward, closing in on the center gate. Those two arms that couldn't bend couldn't hold or block Gu Chuanhen.

Approaching the center gate, Gu Chuanhen suddenly raised his hand.

With the heel of his right palm, he struck the disciple's chin with a sudden, unexpected force. He didn't even need to exert any strength; he simply used his raw power to knock the disciple's head off.

Without a doubt, the skin, flesh, and fascia of the neck were torn apart, and the entire cervical vertebrae, including the tailbone, were propelled high into the sky.

Bajiquan Tongtian Palm is a simplification of the deadly move, the Heavy Hand Standing Tongtian Cannon.

It was red, liquid, fleshy, and a messy, collapsed mess.

Yet, it cannot be added or subtracted at all, completely isolated by the protective force.

The ancient, immaculate palm strike, undiminished, continued its momentum, delivering another elbow strike as easily as hanging a painting.

Cold blood still gushed from the headless corpse's cavity as it hurtled rapidly into the doorway.

With a loud crash, the headless corpse was embedded in the outer wall of the building inside the door. The corpse was flush with the wall surface and appeared to be intact on the outside, but in reality, it was completely broken inside.

Gu Chuanhen casually raised his hand and threw a punch, which struck the scorpion's head that had just fallen off.

White, milky, like tofu; red, fleshy, they looked like smashed watermelons scattered all over the ground.

But it cannot be increased or decreased at all, as it is completely isolated by the protective force.

The spotless Gu Chuanhen stood outside the door. His mind was clear, devoid of the complex emotions that had just overwhelmed him after killing someone.

"Hehe, darling, you're only sixteen and a peaceful person. Leave the killing to me. This time, and in the future, it won't be you killing, but my Bajiquan killing."

Bajiquan cares about you and uses its domineering power to erase your guilt after killing someone, and advises you not to take it to heart.

She's completely devoted to you, and she truly cares about you. Although she's usually a bit crazy, I never expected her to be so thoughtful.

However, you'll eventually have to face the consequences of killing someone, won't you?

Gu Chuanhen understood the reasoning behind it, but now was clearly not the time to confront it. So, after glancing at it, he said in a low voice, "Thank you, Bajiquan. I will like you even more now."

"Oh, why are you thanking me? You little devil, I like you so much, so of course I don't want you to have any mental problems, hehe."

Bajiquan was saying polite things, but he was secretly overjoyed.

Because she knows that she cares about you and won't let you down.

Then came the ancient legend of hatred and loud voice.

"Gu Chuanhen, the fourth generation leader of the Human King Eight Extremes Sect, saw that the disciples of the Corpse Fist Sect were arrogant and domineering, and committed violence by relying on their fists. Therefore, he took it upon himself to clean up the scum of the Corpse Fist Sect."

The announcement was finished, and the corpse collectors outside scattered like birds and beasts, quickly leaving. The accountants, who had no fighting skills, also panicked and hid inside the door.

Only a group of fearless Corpse Fist Sect disciples rushed out in rows, blocking Gu Chuanhen's path.

They came with a menacing air and ill intentions. Gu Chuanhen raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Gu Chuanhen pointed to the broken "watermelon" on the ground, along with the red and white pieces scattered everywhere, and said very politely.

"You are welcome."