Chapter Seven: The Black Sand Palm

“Hoo…”

In the courtyard, a large iron pot on a wooden rack emitted wisps of white steam.

With his sleeves rolled up and, unusually, dressed in short attire, Qi Xiu stood before the pot, his gaze intense, breathing deeply and steadily.

The pot was filled to the brim with iron sand, fine as soybeans, radiating fierce heat and a strong medicinal scent.

This was the tool for cultivating the Black Sand Palm.

Though the iron sand appeared ordinary, it was mixed with many medicinal ingredients.

Qi Xiu glanced down at his slender, fair hands and curled his lips.

Damn this world.

Forced by circumstances, even a scholar like Qi must begin training in martial arts.

With Master Qian’s birthday approaching, the entire Qian family was busy preparing, and even Qian Yuze, the young master of the mansion, was bustling about.

Having no time for calligraphy, he simply granted Qi Xiu a holiday.

Seizing the opportunity, Qi Xiu purchased all the necessary materials for martial arts training.

In just two days, thirty taels of silver had vanished.

“No wonder people say martial arts are for the rich and literature for the poor—training in martial arts is truly not something ordinary families can afford.”

To cultivate the Black Sand Palm, besides the iron sand and medicinal mix, one also needed a special medicinal wine.

Only then could one ensure the hands would not be injured or deformed during training.

And the ingredients for this medicinal wine—just one portion cost five taels of silver!

Gathering himself, Qi Xiu steadied his mind, following the steps outlined in the Black Sand Palm manual, and plunged his hands into the iron sand before him.

Hiss!

The instant his tender flesh met the scalding sand, burning, prickling, and abrasions assaulted him all at once, flooding into his body.

Clenching his teeth, enduring the pain in his hands, Qi Xiu’s eyes remained resolute as he continued the prescribed movements.

At last, after several minutes, a profound insight rose in his heart.

Summoning his progress panel, Qi Xiu looked it over.

[Calligraphy (First Realm): 75.2%]
[Culinary Skill: 7.8%]
[Black Sand Palm: 0.1%]

“At last!”

Seeing the Black Sand Palm appear on the panel, Qi Xiu exhaled in relief.

Now, things would be easier.

Practice.

He repeatedly thrust and rubbed his hands in the iron sand, changing hand shapes, stretching and training the muscles and sinews of his palms.

Insights surfaced continuously.

Sweat poured from Qi Xiu’s brow like rain, yet suddenly the pain in his hands felt less intense.

Vaguely, it seemed some power was sprouting within the flesh and bones of his hands.

Nine days passed in this way.

---

With the sensation of growing strength each day, Qi Xiu’s passion for martial arts soared.

Were it not for the limits of his body, he would have slept only a few hours each day, dedicating the rest to training.

Yet with such intense practice, drawbacks were inevitable.

First, Qi Xiu’s appetite and the consumption of medicinal wine and ingredients grew daily.

In nine days, just food alone cost two taels of silver.

That was half a year’s food expense for a typical family of three.

Not to mention the far pricier medicinal wine and ingredients.

“I need to find a way to earn more silver. Otherwise, even if I enter the Hall of Brushwork as a pen master, I’ll struggle to sustain my martial arts training.”

Soaking his hands in orange medicine wine, Qi Xiu’s brows slowly relaxed.

[Black Sand Palm: 31%]

“According to the manual, it takes an ordinary person at least ten years to reach the peak of the Black Sand Palm.

That means these nine days are equivalent to three years of hard training for most.”

Withdrawing his hands from the medicinal wine, his once slender, fair palms were now solid and taut, muscles resilient and elastic, the veins on the backs of his hands clearly visible, weaving like intricate rivers across the skin, as if storing boundless power.

“I’m truly curious—what effect will the Black Sand Palm have once it breaks through the first realm?” He clenched his fist, producing a metallic sound, and anticipation flashed in Qi Xiu’s eyes.

Calligraphy’s breakthrough had activated the mystical [Suppress] character.

This martial art, the Black Sand Palm—what kind of transformation would it bring?

…

Knock, knock, knock!

Just as dawn broke, urgent knocking jolted Qi Xiu from deep sleep.

“Who is it?”

Forcing his eyes open—these days, his physical exertion was immense—Qi Xiu stumbled out of bed, standing at the gate.

“Open up! County office investigation!”

The cold, low shout dispelled most of his drowsiness.

With a creak, he opened the gate.

Two officers stood outside, dressed in black and red uniforms, long knives at their belts, faces stern. One held a registry.

“Number Eight, South Guang Lane. Are you Qi Xiu?”

“Uh, yes.”

The sudden appearance of the officers made Qi Xiu tense.

For constables to show up so early—could something from the Qian mansion have escaped and killed?

“Get dressed. Come with us.”

“Sir, may I ask what’s happened?”

Sweeping a glance at Qi Xiu, the constable on the left spoke:

“Last night, everyone at Number Seventeen at the end of the lane was murdered. All residents of your lane are to be taken in for questioning.”

---

Upon hearing the explanation, Qi Xiu’s expression shifted.

Just as he thought!

That thing had come by the other day to scout the area.

He’d assumed that after so many days, nothing would happen.

But it had, after all…

Urged by the constables, Qi Xiu hurried back to dress. Stepping outside, he saw a dozen other residents, all uneasy, standing in the lane.

A massacre in one’s own neighborhood—anyone would be afraid.

Escorted by the officers, they arrived at Baohua County Office.

By then, the sky was fully bright.

“Go in and wait for the County Captain’s interrogation.”

They were herded straight into the back rooms, the constables pushing everyone into the jail cell.

“We’re not criminals—why are we being locked up?”

“This isn’t right!”

“Mother, there are rats in here…”

Some prisoners were already inside, their faces unfriendly and expressions strange. The newcomers protested, unwilling to be locked in together.

“Enough talk. Sit quietly!”

With an impatient bark, the constables turned and left.

“Heh heh, what’s going on? So many people locked up at once.” At the edge of the cell, a bald man eyed the crowd with amusement.

“Just ask and you’ll know.”

A man with a goatee and a face covered in pockmarks sidled up to a silent young man.

“Hey, tell us—what crime did you commit?”

The one questioned was Qi Xiu, brought in along with the others.

The thing from the Qian mansion had started killing.

What was wrong with the Qian family? After all this time, had they still not dealt with it?

Dragged in by the officers, he couldn’t bring brush or ink, and so couldn’t write the [Suppress] character.

If that thing found its way here…

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

More uneasy, Qi Xiu pondered how to escape, but the ruffian beside him kept pestering.

Suddenly, Qi Xiu looked up, grabbed the ruffian’s wrist, and, his anger flaring, furrowed his brows:

“Touch me again, and I’ll break your hand!”

Qi Xiu’s right hand was thick and strong, veins bulging, the skin faintly tinged with blue-black. His five fingers tightened, nearly crushing the ruffian’s wrist.

A practitioner of martial arts cultivates a measure of ferocity.

Having stepped onto the martial path, Qi Xiu was no longer a frail scholar.

His fury was enough to intimidate everyone present.

…