Chaotic Times and Disasters: I Hunt Down Martial Arts Masters and Become a God

The next morning, after having breakfast, Fu Qing asked Shen Yao for directions and then found the weapons shop.

A row of weapon racks was placed in front of the shop, with spears, battle axes, and spiked clubs stuck on them.

The wall was covered with knives—ghost-head broadswords, willow-leaf knives, horse-slaying swords, all kinds from small to large.

Inside the shop, a half-person-high iron furnace was glowing red-hot, and a shirtless blacksmith was swinging a sledgehammer to smash a piece of iron that was burning white, with sparks flying everywhere with each strike.

Fu Qing walked into the shop and glanced at the row of large, ghost-head swords on the wall.

Behind the counter stood a short, stocky man with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his arms, which were reddened by the fire.

This man is called Han Tie, the best blacksmith in Ironblood City. It is said that even the centurions of the border army ask him to forge their knives.

Han Tie glanced at Fu Qing, then took a large, ghost-headed sword from the wall. The hilt of the sword was engraved with the character "Han".

He placed the knife on the counter. "Refined steel, tempered seven times, it won't chip when cutting stone. Five taels of silver."

Fu Qing took the knife and weighed it in his hand.

The weight was just right, about 30% heavier than the one he was holding now, but the center of gravity was well distributed, and it didn't feel heavy in his hand.

Just as he was about to take out his money, a hand suddenly reached out from the side and snatched the knife from his hand.

"I'll take this knife."

A young man in his early twenties stood to the side, wearing a brocade robe, a jade pendant hanging from his waist, and a jade thumb ring on his finger.

He twirled the ghost-head broadsword in his hand and casually tossed a silver ingot to Han Tie.

"Ten taels, keep the change."

Han Tie looked at Fu Qing, then at the young man, and hesitated.

He tapped his fingers twice on the counter, but before he could speak, the two guards behind the young man took a step forward.

Both guards were burly and wore identical gray short jackets, with prominent temples.

One of them placed his hand on the counter, his five thick, radish-like fingers spread out, staring coldly at Han Tie.

Han Tie swallowed back the words he was about to say, lowered his head, and pushed the knife to the young man.

Fu Qing looked at the young man's face, which was fair and clean, with his chin held high.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, somewhat displeased, but he had just arrived in Ironblood City, where there were rules against private fights.

If you break this rule and get kicked out, you won't be able to join the border troops, you won't be able to buy the house, and all your previous plans will be ruined.

He turned to leave.

"stop."

The young man spoke from behind, and Fu Qing stopped but didn't turn around.

The young man walked around to Fu Qing, tilting his head and looking him up and down.

"New here, huh? You look unfamiliar."

Fu Qing didn't reply.

"Let me tell you the rules of Ironblood City Market..."

The young man slung the large, ghost-headed sword engraved with the character "Han" over his shoulder, declaring, "What I, Duan Peng, have set my sights on is mine."

Fu Qing looked at the young man in front of him with no expression on his face. "Take it if you like it."

He turned and walked out of the weapons shop.

The young man scoffed behind his back, "Coward."

The two guards laughed along, and several pedestrians on the street lowered their heads and walked around the three people, as if afraid of getting into some trouble.

...

Back home, Fu Qing asked Mr. Shen about it.

"Duan Peng?"

Mr. Shen frowned upon hearing the name.

"Young City Lord, Duan Tieshan's only son, has been spoiled since childhood and has been running rampant in the city for a long time. He has done a lot of things like bullying men and women. Last year, he even crippled a merchant's woman because of a robbery. Duan Tieshan paid the woman a sum of money to settle the matter privately."

"What is his cultivation level?"

"Body Tempering Level Two, but his two guards..."

Old Mr. Shen held up five fingers. "A master of the fifth level of Body Tempering, he was handpicked by Duan Tieshan from the border army specifically to protect his good-for-nothing son. My benefactor, why do you ask this?"

"It's nothing."

Fu Qing shook his head. "Just asking."

Mr. Shen, who was over sixty years old, was very sensible and didn't ask any questions. He simply stood up with his cane, rummaged through the counter for a while, and handed over a small porcelain bottle.

"My benefactor, this is wound medicine. It's not needed when the border army recruits soldiers, but once you join the border army, you'll inevitably encounter bumps and bruises. Keep this on hand."

Fu Qing took the porcelain bottle, thanked him, and put it into his pocket.

...

Two days passed in the blink of an eye. On the morning of the fifteenth day of the first lunar month, before dawn, Fu Qing got up.

Song Yawei had already boiled water and placed a bowl of hot porridge on the table.

Go early and come back early.

"It's not like we're going to war."

Fu Qing smiled, finished the last mouthful of porridge, put down the bowl, squeezed her hand, and said, "Go register first, and come back at noon."

Song Yawei nodded.

The West City Training Ground is located in the southwest corner of Ironblood City. When Fu Qing arrived, there was already a line of over a hundred people at the entrance of the training ground.

These men were all strong young men; some carried knives, some carried spears, and some were unarmed but their muscles were as strong as those of calves.

Fu Qing glanced around and saw that they were all martial artists at the Body Tempering Realm; there wasn't a single ordinary person among them.

Ordinary farmers don't even dare to queue up.

The procession moved forward quickly. In the center of the training ground, a high platform was erected, and next to the platform stood a huge blue stone tablet, the Strength Measurement Tablet.

Nine horizontal lines are engraved on the monument, each line representing the power limit of a certain level of body tempering. Each person who signs up walks in front of the monument and throws a punch. The line that the punch hits indicates the level of strength at that point.

Fu Qing was in the middle of the line, and in front of him was a burly man practicing a horse stance in front of the strength measuring monument.

The burly man took a deep breath and shouted, then slammed his fist into the surface of the monument, which emitted four beams of light—the fourth level of body tempering.

The burly man grinned as he looked at the four beams of light. The clerk beside him nodded and made a note in the register.

"Ma Hong, Body Tempering Level 4, qualified."

...

When it was finally Fu Qing's turn, he walked up to the strength measuring monument, and an officer on the platform glanced at him.

Fu Qing is too young.

Zhou Tie squinted on the high platform, his nineteen-year-old face standing out conspicuously among a group of burly men in their mid-twenties and early thirties.

But that's not why Zhou Tie noticed him. Zhou Tie noticed him because of his footsteps. His footsteps were light and steady, and each step was exactly the same length. When he stood still in front of the strength measuring monument, his feet were exactly shoulder-width apart.

This level of control over the body is unlike that of a nineteen-year-old.

Fu Qing stood in front of the strength-measuring monument, raised his right hand and casually punched the surface of the monument. The monument lit up with four beams of light—the fourth beam was slightly above the middle, neither outstanding nor at the bottom.

In fact, with his current strength exceeding 200 and approaching the fifth level of Body Tempering, a full-force punch could have made the fourth line shine to the end, and might even have touched the edge of the fifth line, but he didn't.

Sometimes standing out isn't a good thing.

The clerk didn't even look up. "Fu Qing, fourth level of Body Tempering, qualified."

Just as Fu Qing was about to turn and leave, Zhou Tie walked down from the high platform.

Zhou Tie walked up to Fu Qing, his aura as a third-level Bone Tempering Realm cultivator pressing down on him, making the surrounding air feel heavier.

Several people who had just finished their strength tests instinctively took a step back, while Fu Qing stood still, looking up to meet Zhou Tie's gaze.

"Nineteen years old, Body Tempering Level Four."

Zhou Tie looked him up and down. "Have you trained before?"

"I learned a few unorthodox techniques from the hunters in the mountains," Fu Qing said without changing his expression.

Zhou Tie stared at him for several moments without saying anything, then turned and left.

Just as I was about to leave after registering, a commotion suddenly broke out at the entrance of the training ground.

The queue was roughly pushed aside by several people, and a figure in a brocade robe strode in.

Duan Peng.