Chapter Eleven: Mighty Meridians

A dense, ominous horde of beasts surged forward with a force that could chill the bravest heart. At the forefront of the stampede, a masked youth could be seen, waving energetically at those in the distance.

A nervous gulp broke the silence—no one could tell who it was, but it snapped everyone out of their daze.

“Uncles of the Wang family, I’ve brought you a gift. These netherbeasts are rare treasures, seldom seen even in a lifetime.” The youth sprinted closer. Before anyone could react, he sprang from the ground, leaving a pair of deep footprints behind, and vaulted over the wall into the Wang family’s medicinal garden.

“Damn brat! Everyone, run! We’re no match for this beast horde—staying means certain death! All we can do is hope that the Blackrock Wall will deter them!” The captain of the guard was the first to regain his composure, barking out urgent orders.

Once Jiang Yue slipped into the Wang family’s herb garden, he darted through a crack in the shed and slipped out the other side. All the guards’ attention was fixed on the monstrous herd outside the gates; none had time to spare for a mere child.

Watching from a distance as the Wang family’s garden descended into chaos, Jiang Yue let out a cold laugh. He slid into a nearby alley, making his way toward the Jiang residence.

“Useless fools! What good are you to me?” In the council hall of the Wang family’s main courtyard, the clan leader, Wang Shan, sat with a face clouded in storm. “The medicinal garden is the backbone of our family’s wealth, and now it’s been reduced to ruins. The rarest of our herbal servants—killed or maimed beyond price. And you have the gall to plead for forgiveness? You expect me to believe that a mere child led such a vast beast horde here? You must think me a fool. Even I would struggle to survive against such monstrous numbers!”

“Patriarch, the failure to protect the garden is ours alone. But this horde contained several tier-three netherbeasts—charging in would have been suicide. As for the matter of the child…” A grim-faced youth rose to his feet, stripping off his guard’s uniform to reveal the same white robe as the patriarch. His voice was low and somber: “It’s true.”

Wang Shan’s eyes narrowed to slits, a deadly chill radiating from his gaze.

With a sharp crack, the sturdy wooden chair beneath him splintered to pieces in his grip. “Do any of you recognize who it was?”

The youth shook his head bitterly. “I know every notable young man in Jiuyan Town. To survive under the stampede and lure the beasts to the garden, his cultivation must be at least at the Nether Disciple level. But I have no memory of such a person.”

Wang Shan rose slowly, his body trembling in rage. “Find him. I want his name. I’ll not rest until I kill that boy with my own hands. And send word to the Fang family patriarch—have him—”

“Yes, sir!”

…

Jiang Yue had no inkling that his impulsiveness had plunged the Wang family into a looming financial disaster.

---

The Five-leaf Celestial Flower—a rare nether herb. Jiang Yue wondered just how far this would elevate his cultivation. As soon as he entered the Jiang residence, he slipped into his small room, locked the door, and sat cross-legged on the bed with the flower cradled to his chest, eyes closed in concentration.

A faint, eerie wail echoed in his mind, signaling his entry into the Blood Prison Killing Field.

“This time, I’ll strengthen my right arm.” The blood-hued phantom edged closer. Jiang Yue silently measured the distance, then, just before the crimson blade descended, his body moved with sudden speed.

Two dodges to the left and rear, then a swift move to the right—his arm collided head-on with the scarlet blade.

He hissed in pain. Though he had endured this agony countless times and knew it was only an illusion, the sensation of his flesh being torn was unerringly real.

Biting back the pain, he sat cross-legged and began to meditate.

As expected, the moment he entered a meditative state, countless streams of light appeared around him, surging toward his wounded right arm. The gaping, blood-soaked wound vanished in an instant, and a new, unblemished arm slowly formed.

“What power! If only I could wound myself in this illusion, I could use this endless energy to strengthen my whole body! But the area I can ‘sacrifice’ must be small, or I’d die outright.” Jiang Yue sighed, but he was not greedy by nature. Once his right arm had fully regenerated, he began absorbing the energy flowing into him.

But something was wrong. As soon as Jiang Yue closed his eyes again, he felt a surge of dread.

For some reason, the energy around him quickened, flooding into his body and rampaging through his delicate meridians.

“This is bad—at this rate, my meridians will shatter!” He struggled to regain control, only to discover he’d lost all command over his body.

A faint crack—his meridians finally ruptured under the onslaught, and then, as if a dam had burst, the rest followed in rapid succession.

And yet, this was only the beginning. Once the meridians were broken, the wild energy found an outlet, rushing to the damaged channels and, astonishingly, beginning to repair them at a frantic pace!

When the healing was complete, the energy surged anew, tearing the meridians apart, only to mend them again—over and over, in a relentless cycle.

After what seemed an eternity, the process repeated five times. Only then did the rampant energy subside, flowing gently toward the Nether Acupoint, where it condensed into a small bead, closely resembling the three-stage bead from before.

---

The path of Nether Martial Arts was to circulate netherforce through the meridians, strengthening the body itself. But with the unique training method of the Blood Prison Killing Field, Jiang Feng no longer needed such laborious processes—he need only focus on fortifying the more difficult regions, such as his torso and neck.

Moreover, the strength of the meridians was directly tied to the might of future nether techniques—the thicker the meridians, the greater the power unleashed.

Marveling at the transformation within, Jiang Feng murmured to himself, “If my meridians were once but a trickling stream, now they are a rolling river.”

With a chuckle, he closed his eyes, unwilling to waste a single moment of cultivation.

When he finally emerged from meditation—who knew how much time had passed—he was astonished by the leap in his strength.

Nether Martial Arts, fourth stage!

To rise from the first to the fourth stage in one leap—such progress defied belief.

His stomach growled loudly, a sudden wave of hunger overtaking him. “Who knows how many days have passed this time? I still can’t control the length of my closed-door training. No matter—step by step.”

Clenching his fists, Jiang Yue hurried to the mess hall.

There he found a bowl of porridge and a chicken; he devoured them ravenously in just a few mouthfuls, yet the hunger refused to abate.

“It must have been a long time… I wonder what’s become of the Wang family?” A sly smile curled Jiang Feng’s lips as he returned to his room, picked up a sack of spoils from the forest, and set off for the marketplace.