Chapter Forty-Three: Vitality Like a Furnace

“Not good…”

He sensed the forceful wind rushing at him, sharp as a blade. Then he saw Lin Anguo’s palm turn blackish-green and swell suddenly.

Xiao Nan narrowed his eyes. Without a second thought, his feet slid back as he retreated rapidly.

He hadn’t expected that Lin Anguo, the school’s vice principal, would shamelessly attack a student in front of the entire school. Yet, his countless brushes with life and death had trained him never to let down his guard, even in the safest circumstances.

Now, with his spiritual power greatly enhanced, he possessed a peculiar sensitivity to danger.

The instant Lin Anguo made his move, Xiao Nan reacted as well—acting a split second faster to respond.

“I can’t take this head-on; I must dodge…”

“He’s a second-rank tendon-refining martial artist, with two thousand pounds of force… His entire musculature and tendons are unified, making his strikes both swift and fierce—enough to shatter stone or rend iron as if it were mud.”

“I can only evade his solid blows and aim at his openings, trying to keep him occupied long enough for someone to intervene… If that fails, I’ll just have to escape the school.”

Over these past few days, Xiao Nan had done his homework. Martial theory was a required subject for the martial arts exam, so of course he had reviewed and organized his understanding.

He was thus familiar with the martial ranks of this world.

The limit for an ordinary person was 5.0—the so-called blood energy value. But reaching a thousand pounds of strength didn’t make one particularly formidable. In his previous life, yes—it would have been enough to fear no one.

Thirty years ago, a spatial experiment went awry, opening a portal to an unknown realm. Since then, a strange energy had appeared in the skies.

Scientists called it active energy; the Daoist and Buddhist sects referred to it as spiritual qi.

But at the Martial Arts University, it was universally termed Life Vital Energy—signifying a new beginning, the dawn of evolution, and the foundation of martial enlightenment.

Before this energy appeared, the human limit of 5.0 blood energy, a thousand pounds of force, was the pinnacle of combat prowess. Now, it was simply the starting point—the bare minimum to progress in martial cultivation.

Advancing into the ranks, one could use spiritual power to channel vital energy, further strengthening the body, awakening potential, and remaking oneself.

The bottom three ranks of martial artists focused on tempering muscles, bones, and skin—not merely as a metaphor, but literally refining and forging them.

They could transform their flesh and bones into something beyond imagination.

With spiritual power as the root, and blood and vital energy as the fuel, upon reaching first rank, the skin became tough as drum leather, muscles as solid as a wall—body sheathed in a heavy armor.

Upon perfecting the first rank, one’s strength typically reached fifteen hundred pounds.

Most remarkable was the defensive power of their skin and muscles. Even small-caliber bullets couldn’t penetrate this shield. Even if struck, it would only leave a shallow mark, and a flex of muscle would force the bullet out.

On the previous Earth, this level of strength belonged in legend; here, it was but the lowest rung.

At the second rank, tendon refinement, all tendons and sinews throughout the body were unified.

When exerting force, it was like a hundred or a thousand powerful bows drawn at once—speed and power beyond compare, capable of shattering stone.

At this stage, a martial artist could attack or defend with equal efficacy. Any martial technique unleashed would display terrifying might, making them the mainstay in repelling invaders and wild beasts.

At the third rank, bone refinement, one’s bones became like steel or jade, gleaming with a golden luster.

Even after death, their bones could be forged into swords and blades. Standard weapons could scarcely harm the body of a third-rank warrior.

Upon perfecting bone refinement, their bodies grew so powerful that a casual gesture could generate two thousand pounds of force—tossing cars as easily as toys.

At this level, they were no longer of the same species as ordinary humans.

A typical building would be no obstacle—to them, a simple collision would punch a gaping hole through reinforced concrete.

And now, the one attacking Xiao Nan was a second-rank tendon-refining martial artist at the peak of his power…

Lin Anguo, with his scholarly glasses, looked refined, but his attack was brutal and merciless—utterly shameless.

It was understandable, given his son had been beaten so badly. What use was saving face now?

For a vice principal to lay hands on a student—this was no act for an ordinary man.

“Watch out!”

The students cried out in alarm.

At this moment, friendship or rivalry mattered little.

A teacher bullying a student—abusing his power—was inconceivable in their eyes.

If all teachers acted this way, how could any student feel safe at school?

“Enough!”

A clear, commanding voice rang out.

Just as Xiao Nan moved, he stopped short.

He realized he no longer needed to stake his life, nor to flee in desperation.

Before him appeared a lithe, graceful figure with a slender waist and rounded hips, standing sideways with poise. At some point, she had extended her delicate hand.

“Crack!”

Their palms collided.

A wave of air burst outward from the impact.

Lin Anguo, charging like a mad bull, was suddenly forced back, his body bending backward as he slid across the ground, dragging two deep furrows several meters long.

He was pushed back five or six meters.

He swung his right hand behind his back, shaking it; it felt numb and weak.

Such immense power.

“Tang Zhixuan, this is none of your concern. Stay out of this.”

Lin Anguo’s eyes were cold and vicious. With a flick of his foot, he sent a steel spear into his grasp, readying it for another attack.

“How laughable. As a school leader, you shamelessly attack a student—do you really think that’s justified?”

Tang Zhixuan narrowed her eyes, huffing coldly—clearly angered.

This old man was about to deal a deadly blow…

If Xiao Nan were seriously injured at school, her junior sister would never forgive her.

That simply wouldn’t do.

“Take my ‘Crescent Wave Slash’!”

Tang Zhixuan’s right hand moved almost imperceptibly.

A blood-red crescent, misty and swift as a stream of light, slashed towards Lin Anguo.

The ground split open in a deep groove along its path.

As the crimson arc swept past, Lin Anguo met it as if facing a dire threat, raising his spear horizontally to block.

A crisp snap.

His grip lightened—the spear broke in two.

Sweat poured from his forehead as he looked down at the tear in his shirt front, cold perspiration beading on his brow.

He could feel it—that blood-red arc vanished the instant it reached him, a clear warning.

Her strength was immense, yet perfectly restrained and measured—she had clearly held back.

“Fourth-rank organ refinement, blood energy like a furnace…” Lin Anguo croaked.

In truth, upon seeing that blood-red crescent, not only Lin Anguo and the students, but even Xiao Nan understood.

It was the immense power of one’s internal organs—blood energy unleashed, cleaving the air and manifesting as a blood-colored strike.

They called it ‘Crescent Wave Slash,’ as if it were some mythic technique.

In reality, it was simply an air slash.

Just as a bullet moving too fast creates a shockwave, so too could a sword’s force.

Blood energy erupted, compressing the air into a wave, condensing it to form…

It could wound or kill in a single motion.

Tang Zhixuan curled her lip. “A mere second-rank tendon-refiner and you think so highly of yourself? Today’s assessment is just a test among students. Accidents can happen when sparring—let’s leave it at that.”

She waved her hand, casually rebuking the vice principal as if chiding a subordinate—utterly imperious.

It was all a bit absurd, yet at that moment, not a single student found it strange.

When your strength was superior, your word was law.