The Art of the Invisible Strike

Chapter 5

The hunger was the first thing Han Feng felt every morning. It wasn't the normal hunger of a boy who had missed a meal. It was a deep, gnawing ache that felt like his stomach was trying to eat his own spine.

His Copper Skin transformation was progressing, but it had a high price. His body was like a furnace now. To keep his muscles vibrating and his bones hardening, he needed massive amounts of energy.

The watery porridge the sect gave the servants was no longer enough. If he didn't get concentrated nutrients soon, his body would start to break down its own muscle for fuel. He would wither away before the Culling even began.

"I need Vitality Pills," Han Feng whispered to himself.

Vitality Pills were not magic. They were essentially power food, highly concentrated spheres of meat protein, herbal fats, and mineral salts, compressed under high pressure. 

One pill could provide a man with enough calories for a week. For a cultivator, it was the fuel for their internal engine.

The problem was the cost. One Vitality Pill cost ten silver coins. A servant like Han Feng earned two copper coins a month. It would take him decades to buy just one.

But Han Feng was no longer just a servant. He reached into his hidden pocket and felt the heavy weight of Enforcer Tie’s money pouch. 

Inside were fifteen silver coins and a handful of copper. It was enough to buy a small jar of pills, provided he didn't get caught.

Han Feng waited until the sun began to set, casting long, bloody shadows over the Azure Cloud Sect. He pulled a tattered, hooded cloak over his shoulders to hide his metallic eyes and his copper skin. He headed toward the "Under-Alley."

The Under-Alley was the sect’s unofficial black market. It was located in a damp canyon between the servant quarters and the outer wall. 

Here, failed disciples, crooked merchants, and desperate thieves traded goods that the sect officially forbade. 

The air here was thick with the smell of cheap tobacco, roasting meat, and the metallic tang of old weapons.

Han Feng kept his head down as he pushed through the crowd. He saw men with missing limbs, women with scarred faces, and young disciples looking for a shortcut to power.

He stopped at a large, wooden stall draped in purple silk. Behind the counter sat a fat man with greasy hair and rings on every finger. 

This was Merchant Gao, a man known for having the best supplies, and the worst temper.

"What do you want, rat?" Gao barked, not even looking up from his ledger.

"I need a jar of Second-Grade Vitality Pills," Han Feng said. He kept his voice low and raspy.

Gao looked up then. He squinted at Han Feng’s tattered cloak. He saw the dirt on Han Feng’s boots. A sneer curled his lip. "Second-Grade? Those are for real disciples. You look like you belong in the Discard Pit. Move along before I have my guards toss you out."

"I have the silver," Han Feng said. He produced three silver coins and placed them on the wooden counter.

Gao’s eyes widened for a second, but then his sneer returned. "Only three? A jar is twelve. And besides, even if you had the money, a Null like you would just blow up if you ate a Second-Grade pill. Your broken roots couldn't handle the pressure. It would be a waste of good medicine."

A few nearby shoppers laughed. "Look at the beggar!" one shouted. "He thinks he can buy his way out of being trash!"

Han Feng felt a spark of anger, but he forced it down. He didn't want a fight. He needed the pills. He looked around the stall, trying to find something he could use to bargain.

That was when he felt it.

Since his Bone-Forging began, his senses had changed. He didn't see "magic," but he was incredibly sensitive to vibrations. Everything in the world has a frequency. Solid wood vibrates differently than hollow wood. Gold vibrates differently than lead.

Han Feng’s nerve sight, his brain's ability to process these micro-vibrations, suddenly focused on a display case behind Merchant Gao.

Inside the case was a beautiful, glowing red root. It was labeled as "Crimson Heart Root: 500 Silver Coins." A wealthy-looking outer disciple was currently leaning over the counter, mesmerized by it.

"Is it true, Master Gao?" the wealthy disciple asked. "Will this root really triple my blood-flow speed?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Gao said, his voice turning oily and sweet. "It was harvested from the Blood-Peak Mountains. It’s a rare treasure. If you eat this, your physical strength will reach the Second Realm in a week!"

Han Feng looked at the root. In his mind, he "sent out" a small vibration through the floorboards. The vibration hit the display case and bounced back to him.

The root didn't vibrate like a living plant. It vibrated like... wax. And the "glow" wasn't coming from the plant’s energy. It was coming from a small, battery-operated heating stone hidden in the base of the velvet cushion.

Han Feng walked forward. "Don't buy it," he said clearly.

The market went silent. The wealthy disciple turned around, looking confused. Merchant Gao’s face turned a dangerous shade of purple.

"What did you say, you piece of filth?" Gao roared.

"It’s a fake," Han Feng said. He stepped closer to the counter. "The Crimson Heart Root is supposed to have a pulse. If you touch it, you should feel a rhythm like a heartbeat. This thing is dead. It’s just swamp ginger soaked in red dye and coated in wax."

"You dare!" Gao screamed. He reached for a heavy club under the counter. "I’ll kill you for slandering my business!"

"Wait," the wealthy disciple said, holding up a hand. He looked at Han Feng, then at the root. "If it's a fake, prove it. If you're lying, I'll let Master Gao break your arms."

Han Feng didn't hesitate. He didn't use a punch. He simply reached out and flicked his finger against the glass of the display case.

He didn't just hit the glass. He used "Internal Resonance." He sent a high-frequency shockwave through the glass, tuned specifically to the frequency of wax.

The glass didn't break. But inside the case, the "Crimson Heart Root" suddenly began to shiver. The red wax coating began to crack and flake off. Underneath, a pale, smelly piece of common swamp ginger was revealed. The "glow" flickered and died as the heating stone was knocked out of place.

The crowd gasped. The wealthy disciple’s face went pale with rage.

"You... you tried to sell me a piece of trash for five hundred silver?" the disciple hissed at Gao.