Chapter 137: BODY ALTERING (2)

With firm, unhesitating steps, he climbed the stone platform beside the cauldron and stepped straight into the boiling, dark-amber broth.

Sizzle—!

The instant his feet submerged into the liquid, Li Yan’s body went completely rigid!

"Ugh—!"

A suffocating gasp caught in his throat.

It felt as though he had stepped into a lake of molten iron. The ferocious medicinal properties acted like millions of ravenous fire ants, forcefully tearing through his pores and burrowing beneath his flesh!

Every inch of his skin turned crimson red, steam hissing off his shoulders as the searing liquid rose to his collarbones.

Crunch... crack...

A faint, muffled sound resonated from deep within his body.

The domineering medicinal power did not merely scald the surface; it crashed through his muscle fibers like a tidal wave and slammed directly into his skeletal frame!

It was as if an invisible blacksmith were swinging a thousand-catty divine hammer against every single bone in his body, violently shattering the brittle mortal calcifications, purging the gray impurities, and reforging them into indestructible iron marrow!

"Master!" Anyu cried out in horror, taking an involuntary step forward. "His veins are bulging! We should add cold spirit spring water to dilute the broth, otherwise—"

"Stand down," Fu Hanzheng ordered in a low, thunderous voice, extending a palm to block Anyu. His knuckles were pale, his own heart hanging in his throat, but his gaze remained locked onto Li Yan.

"If you dilute the broth now, the medicinal matrix will collapse, and all his suffering will be for nothing! Look at his eyes."

Anyu froze and looked. Submerged in the bubbling cauldron, Li Yan’s slender frame was trembling violently from the sheer physical shock. His knuckles were clenched so hard against the bronze rim that the skin had split, dark red blood dripping down the ancient runes.

His jaw was clamped shut with bone-grinding force, blood trickling from the corner of his lips where he had bitten straight through his own flesh.

Yet, beneath his sweat-drenched, matted bangs, Li Yan’s eyes were wide open—burning with a terrifying,

unyielding fire.

Not a single cry of surrender escaped his lips. Not a single plea for mercy was uttered.

Even as his muscles tore and his marrow boiled, the gaze of this youth remained as cold and unshakeable as a thousand-year-old glacier.

Pain? Let it burn, Li Yan thought in his mind, his vision swimming with flashes of crimson and gold. Burn away the weakness. Burn away the fragile mortal shell. In this life, no one will ever break my bones again. No one will ever force me to my knees.

Time lost all meaning inside the stone pavilion.

One incense stick of time... two incense sticks of time... half an hour...

Anyu watched in utter disbelief, his jaw slack and his heart trembling. He had cultivated for ten years and seen countless proud prodigies enter this very courtyard, yet he had never seen any disciple endure the Nine-Turn Broth without circulating protective Qi for longer than fifteen minutes. Most disciples screamed until their throats tore before passing out cold.

Yet Li Yan sat there for nearly an hour, his breathing gradually steadying from ragged gasps into deep, rhythmic cycles.

Whoosh—

Suddenly, the dark-amber color of the broth began to fade at a speed visible to the naked eye.

The medicinal essence, which had been violently rampaging, was steadily being devoured by Li Yan’s reinforced flesh and tempered bones. Layer by layer, the murky herbs dissolved, until the liquid inside the cauldron turned as crystal-clear and pure as mountain spring water.

Clang.

Li Yan’s hands pressed against the rim of the cauldron.

With a light, effortless push, his slender body vaulted out of the bronze vessel, landing smoothly and silently upon the stone floor.

Steam billowed off his fair skin like celestial mist. Anyu gasped softly, unable to tear his eyes away.

The youth standing before them was completely transformed.

Li Yan’s skin, which had previously held a sickly, feverish pallor, now gleamed with the lustrous, flawless radiance of warm white jade. His posture was straight as a drawn bow, his waist slender yet carrying a hidden, terrifying elasticity. Beneath that seemingly fragile, porcelain surface, there was not a trace of weakness left—only dense, streamlined muscle fibers coiled like steel springs.

Li Yan slowly clenched his right fist.

BOOM!

A sharp, explosive sonic boom cracked through the air of the chamber simply from the force of his fingers closing together!

There was no spiritual light, no glow of elemental attributes, no fluctuation of internal Qi.

It was pure, unadulterated physical brute force. With a single casual grip, Li Yan could feel the power of at least eight hundred catties thrumming through his veins.

Li Yan exhaled a long breath of white vapor, his phoenix eyes gleaming with quiet clarity.

Fu Hanzheng stared at his little disciple for several moments before letting out a soft, relieved chuckle. He stepped forward and placed a hand on Li Yan’s shoulder.

When his palm made contact, he felt not fragile flesh, but the solid, immovable density of forged divine iron.

"You endured it well," Fu Hanzheng said softly, his voice devoid of his usual playful banter, replaced by deep, genuine gentleness. "Far better than this Master anticipated."

He picked up a clean outer robe of refined cyan spirit silk from the nearby rack and draped it over Li Yan’s shoulders, wrapping the warm fabric around him.

"Master..." Li Yan said quietly, pulling the lapels together. "The disciples outside... They are speaking of me as a cripple. Rumors travel faster, I have not left the courtyard since I returned yet rumors of my being cripple has spread."

Fu Hanzheng picked up a warm towel and handed it to him, his expression utterly nonchalant, as if hearing about passing flies.

"Let them speak," Fu Hanzheng smiled faintly, shaking his head. "The road of cultivation belongs to you, not to the mouths of passing strangers. What does the opinion of mediocre people have to do with you? You do not owe them a show, nor do you need to prove a single thing to anyone in this sect."

Fu Hanzheng turned toward Anyu. "Anyu, have the kitchen prepare a pot of spirit mushroom congee and some honeyed jujubes. Your Junior Brother hasn’t had a proper meal in days."

"Yes, Master. Right away!" Anyu nodded quickly, looking at Li Yan with deep admiration before hurrying out of the chamber

.

Fu Hanzheng looked back at Li Yan, his gaze steady and warm.

"The rumors outside will only keep the noisy ones away from your ears. If they believe you have fallen, let them think so. It gives you the peace to build your vessel in silence. Tomorrow, the Sword Techniques lecture is simply for you to understand how a blade moves in a practitioner’s hand. Go, listen, and learn what is useful to you. As for the rest... do not pay them any heed."

Li Yan tied the sash around his waist, feeling the tranquil warmth of the room settle over his bones.

Prove himself?

Li Yan’s lips curved into a faint, indifferent smile. He had never cared for the praise of the crowd, nor did he feel the slightest urge to satisfy their curiosity.

To him, their mockery was nothing more than wind brushing past autumn leaves. Let them laugh, let them sneer, let them lower their guard completely.

"This disciple understands," Li Yan murmured softly, bowing his head toward Fu Hanzheng. "I will eat well, rest, and follow only my own path."