Chapter 10: The Formula

Beside the well, Chen Mu sat on a bamboo stool, using a cold, wet towel to soothe his aching arms. He had pushed himself too hard during his first training session, leaving his muscles sore and stiff. He dared not continue; in this ancient world, medical care was primitive, and he couldn't afford to permanently cripple himself.

The chill of the well water against his skin made him shiver, and his mind involuntarily drifted to the Wang family. Just yesterday, he had marveled at their wealth and prosperity, yet in a single night, the entire direct line of the family had been wiped out. Whoever had the power to annihilate the Wang clan so silently must be a fearsome bandit indeed.

"They must be someone like Chief Constable Lu, capable of incredible feats," Chen Mu thought. If someone as weak and inexperienced as himself were to cross paths with such people, he would likely be dead before he even knew what happened.

"I must find a way to learn martial arts," he resolved. "First, I need to make money. With money to pave the way, everything becomes easier. Unfortunately, money is not easy to come by." He sighed. After a month and a half of seclusion, he had finally mastered a second-tier drawing skill and thought it would change his fortunes, only to be targeted by Master Yan on the very first day. He just wanted to earn an honest living—why was it so difficult?

Master Yan was a villain, too, actually wanting to have his hands crippled. Although he had managed to stir up some trouble for the Miaohua Studio by involving them in the Wang family case, the actual effect remained to be seen. "That’s as far as I can go," Chen Mu sighed. He was just a poor scholar with no connections; he couldn't afford to openly antagonize a local tyrant like Master Yan. "I can't go to Anle Square anymore," he brooded, desperate for a new way to make money.

***

At the Qingshan County Magistrate’s office, Master Yan walked out with a livid expression, his heart aching over the hundred taels of silver he had just lost. He couldn't understand what had gotten into the County Lieutenant—how could he, an old man with no strength to truss a chicken, have possibly wiped out the entire Wang family?

"Such a greedy, unscrupulous wretch! We shall see how long he can remain so arrogant!" Master Yan grumbled.

"Lower your voice, Master Yan!" a middle-aged man beside him whispered urgently. "We are right at the magistrate's gate."

"He dared to do it, yet he fears my words?"

The middle-aged man gave a bitter smile. "I'm only afraid they'll hold onto a pretext and extort us for more." Master Yan’s face flushed red; he knew those greedy bailiffs were capable of exactly that. He let out a cold snort and marched away, the middle-aged man shaking his head as he hurried to keep up. "The Wang family was a massive clan, slaughtered in a single night. A case of this magnitude involves so many. Cutting our ties to it is simply paying a price to avoid disaster," the man comforted him. Master Yan nodded, deciding to accept his bad luck.

***

Master Yan grew even more depressed thinking about how a massacre could possibly involve them. A technique for removing pigments? Who would know such a thing? If he ever found out who was pulling the strings behind his back, he would make them pay.

They talked more about the massacre, speculating on which ruthless bandit could have overcome the Wang family’s many guards. As dusk fell, Master Yan—who would usually be heading to Anle Square to amuse himself—felt his heart bleed for the lost silver. Feeling the remaining broken pieces of silver in his sleeve, he had no heart for pleasure. After parting ways with the middle-aged man, he wandered home through the twilight.

Just as he turned a street corner, a burlap sack descended from above, swallowing him whole. Before he could even open his mouth to plead for mercy or cry for help, a whistling sound cut through the air—*thwack, thwack, thwack!*—followed by his own pained cries. Before he could offer any resistance, a sharp pain struck his neck, his eyes rolled back, and he lost consciousness.

***

At the East Market vegetable stall, Chen Mu stood before a butcher. "Butcher Zheng, give me ten catties of pork belly and a slab of cured ham."

"Scholar, have you struck it rich?" The fat on Butcher Zheng’s face rippled as he laughed and sliced the meat.

"Nothing compared to you, Zheng. Just a small gain, enough to afford some meat," Chen Mu replied cheerfully, in high spirits. With his arms too sore to continue practicing the Flying Locust Stone technique, he had been wandering near the magistrate’s office to see if the Miaohua Studio painters had been arrested. When he spotted Master Yan, he decided that it was better to resolve grievances than to bear them, thinking he might have a private word with the man. After all, he had worked too hard to reach the second tier in his drawing ability to let it go to waste. If things went well, they might even make money together—joining the enemy was, after all, a standard procedure when one couldn't defeat them.

He had noticed a discarded burlap sack and some scattered firewood at the corner. Seeing Master Yan’s back, Chen Mu thought an old friend deserved a surprise. He had simply picked up the sack, grabbed a wooden club, and followed him silently...

***

In the days that followed, the atmosphere in Qingshan County grew noticeably tense. The bailiffs patrolled the streets daily, and many petty thugs were thrown into prison in hopes of finding a clue about the Wang family massacre. Clearly, County Lieutenant Du was desperate. Chen Mu dared not wander about, staying indoors and eating meat while diligently practicing his throwing. Thanks to the silver he had "reclaimed" from Master Yan, he could afford the nutrition needed for his training.

As his proficiency with the Flying Locust Stone improved, Chen Mu noticed that not only was his accuracy increasing, but his raw strength was also growing. The most obvious change was that he could now see clear muscle definition on his arms! He had been a scrawny weakling before, but now he was actually growing muscle.

"Increasing proficiency doesn't just improve technique!" Chen Mu squeezed his firm forearm with delight. He focused his mind, and the gray wall appeared: *Writing: 1043/10000/Second Tier; Drawing: 157/10000/Second Tier; Throwing: 3229/10000/First Tier.*

"This is only the first tier. If I reach the second tier, there will be a qualitative change..." Chen Mu’s heart ignited. He had underestimated the gray wall! The visible growth of his strength kept him obsessed with his training, unable to stop, until a knock sounded at his door.

"Chief Constable Lu?!" Chen Mu’s scalp tightened. Why was he here again? Was he going to be dragged off as a scapegoat?

"The magistrate’s office has found clues to the culprit and wants you to draw a portrait of the wanted man," Lu explained with a smile. Chen Mu exhaled in relief. He locked his door and followed Lu toward the office.

"Chief Constable, how did the office find the culprit?" Chen Mu asked curiously.

Lu looked at him strangely. "We have you to thank for the reminder, Master Chen. The Miaohua Studio provided the formula for the pigment-removing solution. That allowed us to track down the pharmacies in the city, which led us to the culprit's trail."

Lu had originally thought Chen Mu was just using the office to exact revenge on the studio, but he never expected the studio to provide the key clue. Lu felt a pang of guilt; he had wronged an innocent man.

Chen Mu was stunned. *The Miaohua Studio actually had the formula?! I was just trying to stir up trouble for them! How did that become the key clue?*

Immediately, another question occurred to him: If the formula provided by the studio was useful, it meant it was real. Was their formula the same version as his own? Could the gray wall actually steal someone else's secrets?