Ultimate True Lord

Several months ago, when I first started learning Red Sand Palm, such words appeared on the original furnace, but it has been showing that it cannot be strengthened ever since.

Jiang Ming knew that two conditions were required for the Primal Furnace to be activated.

First, sufficient essence and blood. Jiang Ming was satisfied with this. The Primal Furnace was already covered with Taotie patterns, indicating that his essence and blood were fully stored and could be transformed into a blazing furnace at any time. As for the second, another cultivation technique served as fuel.

After repeated experiments, he discovered that even techniques used as fuel couldn't be the common, low-quality ones. Superficial martial arts were useless; the Primal Furnace showed no reaction.

To meet the requirements of the Primal Furnace, one would probably need a martial art similar to the Red Sand Palm.

Or rather, at least the upper limit of this martial art must reach the first level of the Red Sand Palm, the White Sand level, which is the hardness of the martial art, and exhibit extraordinary characteristics before it is qualified to become kindling.

"This kind of martial art, while not as good as the Red Sand Palm, isn't something you see everywhere. The key issue is, even if I found it, whether the person would be willing to teach me is another question, and I don't have any money."

Jiang Ming possesses a treasure trove, but due to the current situation, he is temporarily unable to use it, which is somewhat disheartening.

Frustrated, he had no choice but to calm down and continue practicing, punching and kicking the wooden stakes solidly.

Jiang Ming's physical constitution was already below average, so his martial arts training progress was naturally slow. If the training progress of outer court disciples were divided into three levels, those with below-average physical constitution would only be classified as third-rate, like Lin Lei.

However, Jiang Ming used all the money he had spent on apprenticeship to buy food, and he practiced diligently every day, making him one of the most hardworking students in the outer academy.

With this drive, he actually managed to catch up with the second-tier students. However, even so, there was still an insurmountable gap between Jiang Ming and the inner court disciples.

"Clap clap clap, clap clap clap!" The dull sound of striking the wooden stake echoed continuously in the outer courtyard, lingering for a long time.

……

……

As dusk falls, the setting sun paints the sky a vibrant orange-red, its afterglow slanting across the bricks and tiles of the streets and alleys. A gentle evening breeze rustles through the treetops, stirring up scattered withered leaves, carrying a touch of desolation and coolness as it slowly sweeps across the entire city.

Deep within the winding alleys of Fenghepu, there sits a seemingly ordinary house. The courtyard walls are low, and the gate is old, making it look no different from the surrounding residences. But this is the headquarters of the Gray-Clad Gang.

With a creak, the courtyard gate was gently pushed open.

A burly man limped out, each step sending a sharp pain through his twisted ankle, causing him to grimace, gasp, and stagger slightly.

The man in gray raised his head, revealing a face full of fleshy muscles, with a black mole on his nose. He was none other than Zhang Hu, Zhang Heimao.

He lifted his foot slightly; it was from when he twisted his ankle that afternoon while helping the gang secretly abduct a young girl and climbing over the wall to escape.

At that moment, he couldn't care less about the pain. He subconsciously raised his hand and pressed it against the inside of his clothes, feeling a hard object pressing against his chest.

The martial arts manual he had just acquired was tucked close to his body, heavy and making him feel both nervous and excited.

It turns out the gang actually had such a good thing hidden away; all his efforts weren't in vain.

The Gray-Clad Gang is clearly just a low-level gang, yet they somehow acquired a lot of martial arts techniques.

Although these martial arts skills cannot compare to the orthodox martial arts taught in martial arts schools, they can still reach the level of "Gang Jin" when practiced to their peak, making them true martial arts skills, far superior to the crude techniques used on the streets.

This kind of legitimate martial arts has always been passed down only in martial arts schools, or by a few martial arts masters who hold onto their family's secret techniques. Unless they are so poor that they can hardly afford to eat, these people would never easily pass on their skills to outsiders.

"Who cares? As long as I get my hands on this Bone-Entangling Claw, that's enough. If I can master this skill..." Zhang Hu stroked the manual in his arms, a greedy glint in his eyes.

"Hehe, then I'll have a higher status in the gang and be able to make more money. I'll have no worries about food and drink at taverns and brothels."

As he pondered these thoughts, he quickened his pace slightly, hurrying towards his lodgings. Zhang Hu lived on the edge of Fenghepu, near the city wall, in a remote and bustling area.

In the distance, a low house is squeezed at the end of the alley, with two clotheslines sticking out from the top of the wall.

Not far from the house was a tangled patch of weeds, and a faint, fishy smell wafted over. The simple outhouse at the end of the alley was built in the weeds, with its bricks and stones crooked. This was the public toilet for the entire alley.

Zhang Hu pushed open the door and went inside, staying for a quarter of an hour.

When he came out, his ankle had been treated with liniment, and he walked much more nimbly.

Zhang Hu held a money bag in his right hand, pinched the opening between his fingers and weighed it in his hand. A lewd and smug smile spread across his face. He was only thinking about quickly relieving his immediate need and heading straight to the pleasure quarters.

He stuffed the money pouch into his pocket, walked into the stinking latrine, pulled down his pants, and squatted down.

Zhang Hu had one foot on the ground, his other injured foot supporting him. As he enjoyed himself, he took out the Bone-Entangling Claw, a martial art he had just acquired and hadn't had time to examine closely yet.

Using the light of the setting sun, he flipped through the first few pages, where the characters' moves and actions were depicted in a comic book style, quite clearly.

"Rustle... Crack..."

As he was looking around, he heard footsteps crunching over dry weeds outside the latrine.

"Cough cough cough!"

Zhang Hu coughed loudly a few times, indicating that there were people inside.

But the footsteps outside didn't stop; instead, as if they had confirmed something, they quickly approached step by step.

"Squeak..."

The already dilapidated wooden door was pushed open directly.

Zhang Hu, with his fiery temper, immediately launched into a vicious tirade: "Are you deaf? Didn't you hear someone in the outhouse? Damn it!"

His face was contorted with anger, his mole twitched, and he suddenly looked up.

"puff!"

A cloud of blindingly white quicklime was thrown at his face!

"Aaaaaah!"

The lime stung my nose and burned my face, and it even got into my eyes. My eyes were irritated and I teared up; the lime heated up rapidly when it came into contact with my tears.

Zhang Hu felt a sharp pain in his eyes and screamed repeatedly. He lost his balance and fell straight into the latrine. He instinctively raised his hands and grabbed at his surroundings, trying to steady himself.

Suddenly, a calloused hand reached out, grabbed Zhang Hu's arm, and pulled him away, saving him from falling into the cesspool.

But the next second, bang!

A brick slammed into his temple, Zhang Hu's mind went blank, countless stars flashed before his eyes, and blood streamed from his nose.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The attacker didn't stop for a moment, his movements were slow and ruthless, and his blows were extremely heavy. He then smashed Zhang Hu's head three more times, leaving it covered in blood.

At this moment, Zhang Hu had an injured ankle, his pants were off, and his eyes were blurred by lime. He couldn't stand up, couldn't run away, and couldn't see.

No matter how skilled or brave he was in street fights, he was powerless to fight back at this moment.

Zhang Hu collapsed to the ground in frustration, bleeding from his mouth and nose. He clawed at the ground with his hands and feet, his whole body twitching slightly, and he was no longer able to resist.

"Will you beg for mercy?"

A foot stomped down heavily, stepping on the back of his hand and grinding it back and forth a few times, making a faint cracking sound from the knuckles.

"Who are you!?"

Zhang Hu cried out in pain, his voice weak and trembling, and asked in fear.

"you guess."

The figure looking down at him hefted the blood-stained brick, seemingly intent on leaving him to die without knowing why.

Zhang Hu roared threateningly, "If you kill me, the Gray-Clad Gang will never let you go. They'll dig three feet into the ground to find you and tear you to pieces!"

The figure chuckled softly upon hearing this, then slowly leaned down to his ear, its voice sinister and filled with chilling malice.

"Instead of worrying about that, you should worry about your elderly parents, your beautiful wife, and your young children. I've heard your wife is quite attractive; once you're dead, hehe..."

These words pierced Zhang Hu's heart like a sharp blade. His eyes instantly widened in fury and despair, and he roared with all his might, "If you dare touch them, I'll haunt you even in death!"

He froze halfway through his shout. The voice he had just heard was becoming more and more familiar. A wave of horror washed over his face, and Zhang Hu stammered.

"No...you...you are...Jiang..."

"Bang!"

The blood-stained brick slammed down, and the rest of the words came to an abrupt halt.