Zhang Ruochen's gaze sharpened as he spoke with resolve, "Mother, don't worry. I will become a strong warrior as soon as possible and protect you with my own strength."
Clutching the Blood Pills, Zhang Ruochen returned to his room and resumed his rigorous cultivation.
"Your Highness, I've heard that a martial artist must not only take Blood Pills but also practice cultivation techniques. Only with a proper technique can one open their meridians," the maidservant Yun'er remarked.
Watching Zhang Ruochen's departing figure, Lin Fei bit her lip, nodding bitterly. "I know. But even the most basic techniques cost at least 500 silver coins, and I simply can't afford that right now. Besides, with the Empress and the Grand Master controlling the court, there's no way the Empress will allow Chen'er to access the cultivation techniques and martial skills in the Library Pavilion. It seems I only have one option left."
Yun'er's eyes widened. "Your Highness, are you going to ask the Lin family? But three years ago, you severed ties with them. Will they really provide the Ninth Prince with a cultivation technique?"
Lin Fei's eyes misted with tears as she recalled old memories. "If they're willing to give Chen'er a technique, I'm willing to kneel and apologize, even if it means begging them on my knees."
"But, Your Highness, it wasn't your fault back then…" Yun'er sighed softly.
Inside the inner space of the Temporal Spirit Stone, the spiritual energy was extraordinarily abundant, about twice as dense as in the outside world.
In Yunwu Commandery, any mountain or river with a spiritual energy density of 1.5 times the norm would already be considered a prized cultivation ground, fought over by the major families.
Seated at the center of the inner space, Zhang Ruochen took out the jade bottle containing ten Blood Pills. He carefully tipped out one pill and brought it to his nose, taking a light sniff.
Though the Blood Pills were made from the blood of savage beasts, they carried no bloody odor. Instead, they exuded a faint, refreshing fragrance.
The alchemists who refined the Blood Pills had removed the bloody stench and added herbs like tiger-root grass and mandala flowers.
Regular consumption of Blood Pills not only provided martial artists with a continuous supply of stamina but also improved their meridians, bones, and internal organs, making their bodies stronger.
"This is only a first-grade Blood Pill," Zhang Ruochen muttered to himself. "But for my current cultivation level, a first-grade Blood Pill will suffice."
He swallowed the Blood Pill, quickly sealing the jade bottle and placing it back on the stone platform.
With the aid of his true energy, the Blood Pill's essence rapidly dissolved, supplying Zhang Ruochen with an endless stream of stamina.
"Although I've reached the early stage of the Huangji Realm and officially become a martial artist, my physical body is still too weak compared to others. If I don't strengthen my body, I'll be at a disadvantage when fighting other martial artists of the same realm."
For martial artists, cultivation wasn't just about refining true energy but also mastering martial techniques.
"Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm!"
The image of this profound palm technique appeared in Zhang Ruochen's mind. In his memory, it ranked among the top three martial skills, perfectly suited for his current training.
His legs spread apart, lowering into a stable stance. Channeling his true energy into his legs to root himself, he slowly raised his arms and began practicing the palm strikes in a mysterious, rhythmic sequence.
In his mind, he envisioned himself as an ancient, powerful dragon-elephant—a mythical creature of boundless strength—facing off against a black dragon from the abyss, each strike imbued with every ounce of power in his body, as if trying to unleash every last thread of his strength.
Each palm strike he threw caused his muscles to tense and pull, merging true energy with his muscles and bones, transforming them, making them tougher and stronger, and eventually integrating his physical form with his true energy.
The Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm consisted of thirteen palm strikes, categorized as a lower-tier King-level martial skill.
In fact, if the technique was mastered up to the thirteenth strike, its power could rival even Divine-level martial skills.
Cultivation techniques and martial skills were divided into five levels: Human, Spirit, Ghost, King, and Divine.
The first palm strike of the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm, Stampeding Elephant, was comparable to a lower-tier Human-level martial skill.
The second strike, Flying Dragon in the Sky, matched a mid-tier Human-level martial skill in power.
The third strike, Dragon-Elephant Returns to the Fields, was as powerful as an upper-tier Human-level skill.
The fourth strike, Dragon Shadow Elephant Shape, rivaled a lower-tier Spirit-level martial skill.
…
The thirteenth strike of the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm was known as Dragon-Elephant Destroys the World. Its power could rival Divine-level skills, unleashing unimaginable destructive force.
While the first few strikes were relatively low in power, the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm was extremely difficult to cultivate. Very few martial artists could even master the seventh strike.
From the seventh strike onwards, each additional strike required an immense amount of time and effort. Those who couldn't withstand the overwhelming masculine and fiery energy coursing through their bodies during training risked self-immolation.
For these reasons, the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm was only considered a lower-tier King-level martial skill.
Though it was difficult to master, it was exactly what Zhang Ruochen needed right now. It could help him strengthen his body in a short amount of time.
"First strike of the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm: Stampeding Elephant."
Zhang Ruochen steadied his stance, quickly shifted his steps, and charged forward, unleashing the first palm strike.
Steady as a mountain, swift as a stampeding elephant.
He practiced over and over again, exhausting all of his true energy. Only after wiping away his sweat did he sit cross-legged, using the Divine Martial Seal on his brow to absorb the spiritual energy within the inner space of the Temporal Spirit Stone, converting it into an unending stream of true energy.
For nine continuous days, Zhang Ruochen trained within the inner space of the stone, finally mastering the first strike, Stampeding Elephant.
In the outside world, only three days had passed.
"I wonder how powerful my first strike of the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm is now."
Zhang Ruochen stepped out from the inner space and into the courtyard, standing in its center as he channeled his true energy into his legs.
"Stampeding Elephant."
Following a precise rhythm, he charged forward.
As his steps carried him forward, a powerful surge of energy rose from his legs, passed through his waist and spine, gathered at his back and shoulders, and exploded out of his arms.
Though it was just a single palm strike, it activated the strength of every muscle in his body, resulting in a truly impressive burst of power.
Boom!
His palms struck a half-man-tall boulder weighing thousands of pounds. Zhang Ruochen immediately retracted his hands and swiftly retreated to his original position.
Looking at the boulder, he saw two shallow palm-shaped indentations on its surface. The stone had sunk about two centimeters into the ground.
Zhang Ruochen was quite pleased with the result.
Although the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm was only a lower-tier Human-level martial skill for now, it was far more profound than other skills of the same level, producing far greater power.
"The higher the grade of the martial skill, the harder it is to cultivate. If I had tried to practice a Spirit-level skill instead, there's no way I could have mastered it in just nine days—it would take at least six months. Besides, with my current amount of true energy, I wouldn't be able to execute a Spirit-level skill anyway."
Balancing the time spent on cultivating martial skills and techniques was crucial.
Focusing too much on martial skills would slow the advancement of one's overall cultivation level.
Conversely, neglecting martial skills would leave one vulnerable in combat, despite having advanced cultivation.
Regardless, having mastered the first strike of the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Palm, Zhang Ruochen had taken his first real step toward self-defense, after eight hundred long years.
During these nine days, Zhang Ruochen's cultivation had also progressed significantly. His Qi Pool was now completely full of true energy, and he could begin opening a second meridian.
However, to open a meridian, he would need Marrow Cleansing Elixir. The Empress had only provided one dose, which Zhang Ruochen had already used to open his first meridian.
Where could he obtain a second dose, or even more?
"Ninth Prince, Your Highness is looking for you everywhere. What are you doing here?" Yun'er, the maidservant, curiously approached Zhang Ruochen, who was standing in the center of the courtyard.
Yun'er was Lin Fei's and Zhang Ruochen's only maidservant. She was around seventeen or eighteen years old, with a beautiful face, bright eyes, and a sharp chin.
Zhang Ruochen quickly stepped in front of her, blocking her view so she wouldn't see the handprints on the distant boulder. He asked with concern, "Sister Yun'er, how is the injury on your arm?"
Yun'er shook her head gently. "They say it takes a hundred days for bones to heal. It'll still be two or three months before I recover."
Her arm had been broken a few days ago when the Eighth Prince pushed her to the ground. For maidservants like her, breaking an arm was the least of their worries. Even if they were beaten to death, the Eighth Prince would face no consequences.
In a world where strength reigns supreme, the weak have no status.
"Why didn't you buy some bone-healing ointment?" Zhang Ruochen asked.
Yun'er smiled bitterly, enduring the pain in her arm. "Even the cheapest bone-healing ointment costs 200 silver coins. People like us could never afford that. Ninth Prince, it's enough that you care about us. Now hurry, Your Highness is waiting for you. We're going out today."
Zhang Ruochen followed Yun'er, puzzled. "Out? Where are we going?"
"To see Ning Shan! You haven't seen her in a while—you must be excited, right?" Yun'er beamed at Zhang Ruochen, her eyes twinkling.
Whenever Ning Shan was mentioned, Zhang Ruochen's face would flush red with embarrassment, making him look like a shy maiden.
"Who is Ning Shan?" The question nearly slipped from his lips, but he swallowed it back down.
Clearly, the Zhang Ruochen who died of illness knew this Ning Shan very well. Judging from Yun'er's tone, their relationship might have been quite intimate.
If Zhang Ruochen were to ask, "Who is Ning Shan?" it would surely give him away. He decided to remain silent—the less he said, the better.
Fortunately, Zhang Ruochen had always been sickly and withdrawn, rarely interacting with others except for his mother. Otherwise, people would have grown suspicious long ago.
Noticing Zhang Ruochen's calm demeanor, Yun'er was slightly surprised but didn't think much of it. She continued leading the way toward Lin Fei's residence.