Chapter 035: Changes

His whole body felt drained of strength, his clothes were drenched with sweat, and he was gasping for breath from exhaustion.

Though he had expected it to be difficult, he hadn’t anticipated that this Bull Demon Technique would tax him to such a degree. He had merely practiced it once, yet it felt as if he had run a hundred kilometers—weak and utterly spent.

It reminded him of when he had first begun practicing swordsmanship, indistinguishable from any ordinary person.

“This is only the first stage described in the manual, and already I’m completely exhausted. If I push any further, I might just collapse from fatigue,” he mused.

He now understood even more clearly just how arduous these demonic cultivation techniques were—far harder than climbing to the heavens. This single step alone would block the path of countless warriors who sought to ascend.

No wonder… No wonder Uncle Wang had warned him: if he ever stumbled upon a truly bizarre case, he should run as far away as possible.

There was no need to mention those ominous and deadly curses that spelled doom for anyone who encountered them; even facing demons and monsters was already a challenge beyond the abilities of most humans. The advantage these creatures had over people was simply overwhelming.

And Yao Qian certainly didn’t believe that this Bull Demon Technique represented the pinnacle of demonic martial arts. As the saying goes, “Those who are not of our kind must have ulterior motives.” The same applied to demons—why would they ever bestow their most powerful secrets upon those they regarded as outsiders, as humans?

Though Yao Qian didn’t know how Chen Shanqi had come by this demonic martial art, he could guess it wasn’t by any legitimate means. Surely, a tremendous price had been paid.

Perhaps it was…

A glint of insight flashed in his eyes, but he did not pursue the thought further. Regardless of whether his suspicions were correct, what difference would it make? Was he supposed to right the wrongs of the world? He had neither the leisure nor the inclination, and he knew himself well enough not to believe that wearing an official’s robe meant he was bound to serve the common folk with all his heart.

His monthly salary was only a few taels of silver—barely enough for a decent meal. He was thinking too much; it would be better to wash up and get some sleep.

After regaining a portion of his strength and spirit, he stood up once more and resumed cultivating the Bull Demon Technique.

Though the art might not be among the highest echelon of demonic martial arts, with modifications made by his Blue Star, it was perfectly suited to his current needs.

After practicing the technique just once, he felt every muscle in his body twitching with a strange sensation of swelling. Even the flow of his vital energy and blood seemed smoother.

The effect was far more pronounced than he had anticipated.

He performed the Bull Demon Technique a second time, and this time it was even more overwhelming. As soon as he completed the final movement, his body gave out, collapsing onto the ground. Sweat poured from his forehead, his face flushed red, and heat radiated from his skin as though he were a cooked prawn.

He lay there for who knew how long, recovering his strength and energy before beginning his cultivation again.

So he trained, collapsed, and trained again, repeating this cycle until dusk crept in.

After the final repetition of the Bull Demon Technique, Yao Qian felt as if his body no longer belonged to him—completely numb. His stomach rumbled loudly with hunger, so fiercely that golden stars danced before his eyes. He felt as though he could devour an entire ox.

Suppressing his hunger and fatigue, he rested in place. As night fell, he finally made his way to the Pingyang Restaurant.

This time, however, he chose not to sit in the main hall but selected a private room instead.

As a shareholder owning thirty percent of the Pingyang Restaurant, he naturally enjoyed certain privileges. Before long, a server arrived, carrying a whole roast suckling pig.

The server prepared to greet Yao Qian and even raised a knife, intending to carve slices of meat for him.

But before he could act, Yao Qian reached out and seized the entire pig, tearing into it ravenously—truly like a starving wolf. He even crunched the bones to crumbs and spat them out.

The server’s worldview was thoroughly upended. In less time than it took to drink a cup of tea, Master Yao had devoured the whole roast pig.

“Burp…”

The server stared in disbelief, eyes wide, and burped involuntarily.

Yao Qian paid him no mind and said, “Are there any whole roast lambs or beef in the kitchen? Bring them all here.”

The server thought he had misheard and stood frozen for a moment.

Yao Qian rapped on the table, jolting him back to reality. Swallowing hard, he hurried away. In his haste, he tripped over the threshold, fell flat on his face, then scrambled away, half rolling and half crawling.

A roast suckling pig, a whole roast lamb, dozens of pounds of beef…

By the time Yao Qian was eighty percent full, the pile of bone fragments on the table was nearly as tall as a man, and the server was so frightened he nearly dropped to his knees, staring at Yao Qian as if he were some kind of monster.

But Yao Qian couldn’t care less. He had truly been so hungry that even dirt would have tasted delicious; he had no time to concern himself with others’ opinions.

Besides, he was the restaurant’s real owner—why should he care about the views of his subordinates?

Picking his teeth, he left the private room under the server’s stupefied gaze. Only after he had gone did the sound of dishes crashing to the floor echo from within.

Time passed quickly; in the blink of an eye, three days had gone by.

During these three days, Yao Qian practiced his swordsmanship every morning, then focused on the Iron Shirt and Crushing Heart Palm techniques. In the afternoons, he devoted himself to cultivating the Bull Demon Technique, and at night, he returned to the Iron Shirt and Crushing Heart Palm until the moon was high before finally resting.

Such grueling, almost torturous training brought tremendous rewards.

First, his mastery of the Crushing Heart Palm had reached its first level, and he was gradually gaining true insight into the technique. When he performed it, he could now match about thirty percent of the skill of Chen Shanqi, a veteran master of the palm.

But that wasn’t even the greatest benefit. The real gain was in himself.

Over these three days, his strength and stamina had increased by at least thirty percent, enhancing the power of both his sword and palm techniques.

Moreover, his flesh had become thicker and harder; his skin tighter and more elastic. Coupled with his training in the Iron Shirt, his defensive abilities became even stronger.

Now, even if he faced Chen Shanqi again, he wouldn’t be so battered and desperate, nor would he need to gamble his life.

Even if he couldn’t kill his opponent, he would be able to retreat without risking everything as he had before, staking his life on a single throw of the dice.

There was, however, one drawback. Since beginning the Bull Demon Technique, his previously standard physique had become even leaner, a result that was the exact opposite of his expectations.

Logically, a martial art that tempered flesh, sinew, and skin should have made him more robust, with bulging muscles.

He ought to have transformed into a muscle-bound brute.

Yet after only three days, he had visibly slimmed down, looking from a distance like a tall, thin reed.

Even Uncle Wang, upon seeing him, thought his injuries had relapsed and advised him to stay in Pingyang City a few more days, until he was fully recovered before setting out again.

Only Yao Qian himself knew the truth: he hadn’t lost weight at all. In fact, he had gained a little, and had even grown nearly an inch taller.

“Well, this is fine too—at least my appearance has returned to normal!”