Dual-wielding! 100x proficiency, I'll grind my way to godhood!

When the village chief led Chen Mo on the road, it was still dark.

Before setting off, Chen Mo carried two bags of rice to the village chief, hoping to exchange them for something.

He analyzed that the village chief said he was at the third level of body refinement, which meant his punching power was about 250 jin. The power bonus from a mastered "Stone Shattering Fist" was 60 jin, which, combined with his original 100 jin, would be 160 jin, which was obviously not enough. Therefore, he deduced that the village chief must have practiced other martial arts.

So he wanted to take advantage of the village chief.

The village chief took the rice bag, supporting the bottom with one hand and reaching inside with the other to grab a handful.

The rice grains slipped through my fingers with a soft rustling sound.

He opened his palm, brought it close to his eyes, and looked at each one individually.

Each grain is plump, shiny white, and free of broken grains or chaff.

He picked up a pill, put it in his mouth, chewed it, and his eyes lit up.

"This rice..."

He grabbed another handful, clutching it in his hand as if he were holding something valuable.

"It's so much better than what's grown in the village. If this could be grown, how much could one acre yield?"

Chen Mo said, "The yield is 1,000 jin per mu."

The village chief's hand trembled slightly.

He farmed all his life. The soil in Stone Village was poor; a harvest of 200 jin per mu was considered a good year.

A thousand catties?

He tied the rice bag tightly, placed it on the table, and pressed it down with his hand, as if afraid it would escape.

"You just said this rice was brought from your hometown?"

His voice was a little dry.

"Um."

"Are there still any in your hometown?"

Yes. Seeds are also available.

The village chief remained silent for a long time.

He sat on the edge of the bed, his hands resting on his knees, rubbing his fingers back and forth.

Chen Mo didn't urge him, but stood aside and waited.

"The land in Stone Village is not good."

The village chief spoke, his voice very low.

"Nothing grows well. The villagers work hard all year, and the harvest is barely enough to eat. In years of famine, they have to go up the mountain to dig for wild vegetables. The children are so hungry that they are pale and thin. How can they practice martial arts? They can't even stand up properly."

He looked up at Chen Mo, his eyes a little red.

Do you know what 1,000 catties per mu means?

His voice trembled.

"Stone Village has a dozen or so households, with sixty or seventy people. One mu of land there is equivalent to five mu in the past. If all the land in the village is cultivated, there will be more grain than we can eat, and we can even sell it in town for money. The children will have enough to eat and the energy to practice martial arts. The village... can come back to life."

He stood up, walked to the corner of the wall, pried out a loose brick, and pulled out an oilcloth bundle from inside.

Upon opening, there were two yellowed handwritten manuscripts.

One book is "The Wild Bull Fist," and the other is "The Secret of Nourishing Qi."

"When I was young, I was out making my way in the world and I collected these two martial arts manuals. I originally intended to leave them to the younger generation in the village, but in the past few decades, no one has been able to practice them."

He handed me the two books, his hand trembling slightly.

"Take it, about the seeds..."

Chen Mo took it, flipped through a few pages, pretended to put it in his bundle, but actually put it in his copper ring, planning to study it again later.

"Leave the seeds to me."

"Rice seeds alone are not enough. Next time I come back, I'll bring some corn, potato, and sweet potato seeds. These things have high yields, are drought-resistant, and can be grown on the land in Stone Village."

The village chief's lips moved a few times, as if he wanted to say something.

He picked up the rice bag, put it in the cupboard, and locked it.

"Let's go. To town."

The village chief carried a cloth bundle containing dry food and a change of clothes.

Chen Mo followed behind, wearing a coarse cloth short jacket given to him by the village chief. It was dusty and gray, with the cuffs a bit too long and rolled up twice.

"Don't say anything carelessly when we get to town."

The village chief didn't even turn his head. "Let's test our strength first, then we'll talk after we're inside the martial arts hall."

"Um."

"The Zhao family is not to be trifled with; avoid them if you see them."

"Um."

The village chief glanced back at him, seemed about to say something, but then swallowed his words.

After traveling thirty li, the two walked along a small path before reaching the main road. The main road was a dirt road, but it was fairly smooth and large enough for a horse-drawn carriage to travel on.

Chen Mo decided to get a motorcycle next time. The 30-mile journey left his legs numb, and he had to rest several times.

As the sun rose higher, the outline of the town finally emerged from the horizon.

Bluestone-paved road, two-story wooden building, with various colorful signs hanging on the roof.

Voices came from the other end of the street, mixed with the sizzling sound of fried dough sticks and the neighing of mules and horses.

The village chief didn't rush to the martial arts school; instead, he took Chen Mo for a walk around the streets first.

Chen Mo observed the cloth sellers, blacksmiths, and sugar figurine sellers one by one.

As he passed a pharmacy, he glanced inside.

Behind the counter sat a shopkeeper, and on the counter were several porcelain bottles with red paper labels that read "Qi-Boosting Powder" and "Bone-Strengthening Pills".

"The Zhao family's pharmacy."

The village chief lowered his voice, "Half of the pharmacies in town belong to the Zhao family."

Chen Mo nodded without saying anything.

The martial arts school is located at the east end of the town, with a stone tablet measuring strength standing at the entrance, taller than a person.

A notice was posted nearby: Any male aged 15 to 25 with a punching strength of 130 jin can enter the school to learn martial arts by paying 20 taels of silver.

There was a long queue at the entrance, filled with teenagers, dressed in patched clothes, huddled together in a dusty mess.

A martial arts student stood beside the stone tablet, holding a roster in his hand, and shouted at the top of his lungs, "Next!"

The line was very long, and most of the common people couldn't even lift a hundred pounds, so they walked away dejectedly.

The martial arts school disciples drew a line on the roster without even looking up.

When it was Chen Mo's turn, the martial arts school disciples looked him up and down: "Which village are you from? What's your name? How old are you?"

"Niba Village, Zhang Deshuai, twenty years old."

He is twenty-six years old this year, but he has fair skin, short and neat hair, and a straight posture, making him look younger than his actual age.

The martial arts disciple didn't ask any further questions, and pointed to the stone tablet: "Give me a punch."

Chen Mo walked up to the stone tablet and casually threw a punch.

The stone tablet slid down to 130 pounds and came to a steady stop.

Not too much, not too little, just enough to pass.

The martial arts disciple nodded and made a note in the register: "First level of Body Refinement, entry-level. Pay twenty taels of silver, stay in a shared dormitory."

Chen Mo took out the silver from his pocket and handed it over naturally. The silver was bought when he returned to Blue Star last time; it was ten catties of silver and one catty of gold, cut into pieces and placed in a copper ring.

He took the wooden plaque and walked towards the village chief.

The village chief didn't know why Chen Mo was hiding his strength and identity, but he didn't ask any further questions.

At that moment, a horse-drawn carriage stopped in front of the martial arts school.

A young man in brocade robes stepped out of the carriage, followed by two attendants.

Someone in the crowd whispered, "Li Mingyuan, the young master of the Li family."

Li Mingyuan walked to the stone tablet, and the martial arts school disciples quickly made way for him.

He threw a punch, and the stone tablet slid down to the fifth level of body refinement.

A collective gasp filled the air.

Director Zhou stood up from his armchair, walked up to Li Mingyuan, and looked him up and down.

"Excellent. From today onwards, you are my personal disciple."

Li Mingyuan bowed and was led into the inner hall by Director Zhou.

The crowd erupted in excitement; some were envious, some were jealous, and some sighed.

One of the commoner disciples whispered, "There are only two spots for direct disciples, and the Li family has taken one."

Another said, "Even if we were blessed, it wouldn't be our turn. The scions of noble families have elixirs and cultivation techniques, while we can't even get enough to eat."

Chen Mo stood in the crowd without saying a word.

At that moment, another carriage stopped.

A young man in brocade robes stepped out of the carriage. He was even more flamboyant than Li Mingyuan. He had a jade pendant hanging from his waist and a thumb ring on his finger. His face was pale and emaciated, and his eyes were dark-rimmed. It was clear that his body had been ravaged by wine and women.

The crowd's voices suddenly fell silent, and some people took a half step back.

"Zhao Yong of the Zhao family, is at the eighth level of Body Refinement and is the leader of this generation of the Zhao family."

Zhao Yong strode into the martial arts school, ignoring the civilians queuing up, and went straight to Master Zhou.

Director Zhou had just seen Li Mingyuan off and hadn't even had a chance to sit down yet.

Zhao Yong stood in front of him, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, but loud enough for the entire martial arts school to hear:

"Master Zhou, the rules of the martial arts school need to be changed. Accepting just anyone is a waste of food and medicine. Twenty taels of silver is enough for a peasant to eat for two years. It's a waste to throw it away. We might as well go home and farm. The martial arts school's medicine is better used to feed dogs than to feed them."

Director Zhou's face twitched.

He lowered his voice and said, "The rules of the martial arts school are none of your concern, Young Master Zhao."

Zhao Yong chuckled, his gaze sweeping over the queuing commoners before lingering on Chen Mo's face.

Short hair, fair skin, and tall stature made him stand out in the drab crowd.

He frowned slightly, but said nothing, and turned to leave.

Shortly after, a gasp of surprise came from the direction of the force-measuring stone tablet.

A thin boy punched the stone tablet, causing it to slide down to 160 pounds.

The martial arts students' eyes lit up, and they ran over to whisper a few words to Master Zhou.

Director Zhou walked over and looked the boy up and down: "What's your name? How old are you?"

"Zhou Ping, seventeen."

Director Zhou nodded, carefully examined his bones, and patted him on the shoulder: "You have good potential. From today onwards, you are my personal disciple."

Zhou Ping stood there stunned, while the civilians queuing next to him erupted in commotion.

Some people patted him on the shoulder, and some people were happy for him.

Chen Mo stood in the crowd, watching Zhou Ping being led into the inner hall.

Of the two spots for direct disciples, one was taken by the Li family and the other by a commoner.

The Zhao family seemed to disdain entering the martial arts school.

The village chief pulled Chen Mo aside and said in a low voice.

"The dormitory at the martial arts school is in poor condition, and it's crowded and chaotic. If you're not comfortable with it, I'll go to town and ask someone I know to see if there's any cheap place to rent."

Chen Mo nodded: "Then I'll have to trouble Uncle Zhou."

After saying a few words to the martial arts students, the two headed towards the town.

He never intended to stay at the martial arts school; too many people and distractions would make it inconvenient to conduct business.