Chapter Eight: Cleansing the Meridians and Purging the Marrow

Ye Chen's previously pleasant mood was shattered by the filth on the bed, nearly bringing him to tears. Wait, something’s off! He suddenly lifted his shirt and saw his body was covered in that same black, foul-smelling mud. Without pausing to ponder, Ye Chen dashed to the bathroom. Only after thoroughly scrubbing himself clean did he stand before the mirror and examine his reflection.

Ye Chen had always possessed a good physique; years spent trekking through the wilderness and battling mutated beasts had endowed him with stamina beyond that of ordinary men. His muscles were taut, with no excess fat. This was the result of relentless training over many years. But now, his muscular lines had grown even clearer, and his previously rough skin was becoming smooth, delicate, and tougher. It was a phenomenon beyond belief—because all this change had occurred in just one night.

Now, Ye Chen was more convinced than ever that practicing the Breathing Technique could enhance his physical attributes. The layer of black substance on his skin must have been the impurities expelled from his body. If the awakening of a physical-type ability granted power in a moment, then Ye Chen’s bodily transformation was a gradual improvement through cultivation.

With a robust physique, whether or not he became a patrol officer, even as a wilderness hunter, his chances of survival would greatly increase. This realization filled Ye Chen with wild joy; he should have been happy yesterday already. He tried to draw a connection between the E-rank Awakened and the beast-level Breathing Technique. If he could learn a new Breathing Technique in the future, would it mean his physical prowess could advance to the level of a D-rank Awakened? That would be extraordinary—he had never heard of any Awakened achieving such an upgrade.

Then another thought came to him. Ye Chen grabbed his broken blade and attempted to infuse all his remaining 18 points of inner energy into the blade at once. He seemed to hear a faint buzzing sound. In the next moment, the length of the blade extended beyond its original thirty centimeters, reaching forty, then fifty centimeters. However, the effect lasted only a fleeting moment before vanishing.

Weakly, Ye Chen sat at the edge of the bed, recovering and reflecting. He realized that once the intangible blade exceeded its normal size, the inner energy consumption increased dramatically. This move would require caution.

...

In winter, warm sunlight streamed through the glass, reflecting dazzling brilliance.

---

The Inner City Lord’s Mansion.

A man with a round head and belly drew aside the curtain in his room. Sunlight poured in immediately, but since the curtain wasn’t fully opened, it only illuminated a small part of the room. In the still-shadowed space stood a large bed. From beneath the white bedding protruded a pair of fair, smooth legs—snow-white and tender, but lifeless. For these were just legs.

Upon the white sheet, a black flower seemed to bloom.

The man by the window raised his right hand to block the glare, apparently displeased by the brightness. From the highest building in the mansion, he could survey everything in the estate: neatly trimmed gardens, ponds glittering with scales, servants hurrying about, and vigilant patrol squads.

A man in a white suit, dressed like a young noble, passed by a maid and boldly pinched her bottom as he walked by.

Lowering his chubby hand, he picked up a tray of coffee, his pinky elegantly raised as he grasped the cup’s handle and sipped gently.

Soon, a voice, aged and gravelly, sounded behind him:

“Lord Mayor, word from the Research Institute—they say Yoya, the Chief Supervisor from the Steel City, intends to join the research on Reagent Zero.”

The mayor turned to the old butler, who was bowing as he gave his report. He asked, “And the result?”

Without looking up, the butler continued, “We refused again, even though she presented documents from the Extraordinary Headquarters. It doesn’t matter; this is our own research achievement.”

The mayor turned back to the window, responding blandly, “Well done.”

The butler remained bowed, hesitated briefly, then whispered, “But there’s also bad news…”

...

Today, Ye Chen rarely dressed up—a secondhand jacket paired with boots hand-stitched by Ye Shanshan. Gone was his usual dusty, worn look. He didn’t plan to venture into the wild today—a stern warning from Ye Shanshan last night. He intended to visit Jin Yinghui’s shop and ask about the progress.

As he passed a crossroads, Ye Chen heard a commotion from the street on his right. Many pedestrians and local residents were clustered together in layers. Patrol officers flitted through the crowd, maintaining order. The cordoned-off area signaled: No entry.

Ye Chen hesitated, but ultimately decided not to meddle in others’ business.

---

Just as Ye Chen arrived at the task posting office, he saw Jin Yinghui stepping out. Cigarette in his left hand, he bent slightly to pat the shine on his leather shoes, his protruding belly pinched into a half-sphere by his belt. Catching sight of Ye Chen in his peripheral vision, Jin Yinghui straightened up. The two men stood silently, gazing at each other.

After a long pause, Jin Yinghui broke the silence, “How’s my outfit? Handsome?”

“Are you going on a blind date?” Ye Chen asked, dead serious.

Jin Yinghui was momentarily stunned, then cursed, “I’m helping you sort out your entry into the Patrol Office, damn it!”

“Then you must be seeking a woman’s help.”

Jin Yinghui: “...”

“Seems I guessed right.”

Jin Yinghui rubbed his forehead. His old friend apparently knew things he shouldn’t, yet he had already promised to help. Too late to back out now.

“Remember to treat me to dinner tonight. Usual place.”

With that, he smoked as he walked toward the inner city gate.

...

Time slipped by, and it was noon.

Ye Chen arrived at Ye Shanshan’s market stall, ready to help with business. Yet Ye Shanshan frowned slightly at his arrival, recalling the smell from his room that morning, her expression tinged with distaste.

Beside Ye Shanshan’s stall was an aunt selling noodle soup, equally skilled, with rich broth, chewy noodles, and generous toppings. Ye Chen often patronized her stall himself.

At that moment, two patrol officers casually took seats at the small table, unloading their standard batons and communicators onto the tabletop.

The taller officer called out, “Auntie, two bowls of noodles, extra meat—one spicy, one mild.”

The shorter, chubby officer asked, “Want some liquor? The shop across the street brews its own—strong stuff!”

The tall officer rebuked him, “Are you crazy? Behave yourself these days, don’t let the captain catch you drinking on duty. Didn’t you see the messages in the group chat this morning? There was an incident last night. We’re lucky—Group Two keeps patrolling, the case goes to Group One.”

Ye Chen angled his head, ears pricked for gossip.