"Get lost! You old fool!"
"You're just a stablehand, don't think too highly of yourself!"
"If you mess up the Third Young Master's business, you'll be in big trouble!"
At the entrance of the Zhao Residence stables, a frail old man was roughly shoved aside, landing on the ground with a thud.
Opposite him stood a young man with slicked-back hair, who looked back at him with disdain before riding off on a chestnut horse.
The frail old man, weak and weary, propped himself up with his right hand and muttered under his breath:
"You little brat, if it weren't for me bringing you into the stables, how would you have reached the Third-rate Martial Artist Realm today? Such ingratitude."
He sighed deeply, his eyes dim as he gazed at the stars in the sky.
Eighty years old this year, and he'd fallen to such a state.
To be scolded at will by a mere servant of the residence.
Back in the day, when he, Chen Anshun, first arrived in this world, he thought he was destined for greatness. He convinced his parents to sell everything and send him to the Hongyang Martial Hall in Qingquan County.
Little did he know, while others could increase their strength by fifty pounds a year just by practicing stances, he could only manage twenty.
His master bluntly told him: "You'll never reach the Second-rate Realm in this life."
Unwilling to accept this, he left the martial hall and joined the Water Gang, earning quick money to buy Qi Replenishing Powder, hoping to speed up his progress. However, mundane affairs slowed his strength growth instead.
Later, he joined the county yamen as a constable, seeking a leisurely job that allowed him to continue training. It worked out well, but he still hit the bottleneck of gaining only twenty pounds of strength a year.
It wasn't until he was sixty that, through years of diligence, he barely reached a thousand pounds of strength, achieving the peak of the Third-rate Realm.
But time was merciless, and as the years went by, Chen Anshun's qi and blood continued to decline.
Twenty years ago, while he still had the strength of a late-stage Third-rate martial artist, he hastily joined the Zhao Residence as a steward in the stables.
As he aged, this year he couldn't even lift four hundred pounds of fodder.
Otherwise, that brat Tian Yang wouldn't have been able to push him over so easily.
Chen Anshun stood up, picked up an oil lamp nearby, intending to feed the horses some hay.
Unexpectedly, a wave of dizziness hit him, and he collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Chen Anshun suddenly spat out a mouthful of black blood.
Lying on the ground, looking at the sky, he felt the stars growing brighter.
In his final moments, a mechanical voice without emotion suddenly echoed in his mind:
"Ding! Host is nearing death, triggering Fate Mandate awakening conditions."
"Loading Fate Mandate..."
"Fate Mandate: Octogenarian Reverse Scale, awakened!"
Is this a golden finger?!
Chen Anshun was jolted awake.
Eighty years! Why did the golden finger only appear when he was about to die?
It was strange indeed.
After the mechanical voice sounded, the dizziness vanished instantly.
Chen Anshun quickly checked the Fate Mandate in his mind.
"Fate Mandate: Octogenarian Reverse Scale."
"Effect 1: Favored by Time, reverses qi and blood decline. One day of training equals a year of past hard work."
"Effect 2: Unlocked (unlock conditions unknown)."
Training one day equals a year?
Does that mean twenty pounds of strength in a day, seven thousand three hundred pounds in a year?
Is this real?
Chen Anshun found it hard to believe.
He instinctively assumed the Hongyang Stance.
Legs apart, center of gravity lowered.
One breath, two breaths...
In just a moment, a faint, almost imperceptible warmth rose from his feet.
Then it spread to his limbs and bones.
This warmth was so small, like a spark in the cold winter, yet it stubbornly nourished his body.
Where it passed, it brought a long-lost tingling and warmth.
Twenty years!
For twenty years, since his qi and blood declined, he hadn't felt this sensation of strength growing!
Tears streamed down Chen Anshun's face.
He cried like a child, releasing years of pent-up emotions.
The cries startled fifty horses into neighing, waking everyone in the Zhao Residence.
"What's with the wailing?"
"Did the old stablehand die?"
"Quick, go check."
Soon after, Guard Steward Lin Wei appeared first, followed by Steward Uncle Zhou.
The two looked at the somewhat lively Chen Anshun, speechless.
"Old Chen, what happened?"
Lin Wei, who was on good terms with Chen Anshun, looked at him with concern.
Chen Anshun quickly waved his hand, smiling as he said:
"It's nothing, just that the Virgin Boy Skill unexpectedly succeeded, and I got a bit excited."
"What? Virgin Boy Skill? Old Chen, you're still a virgin at eighty?"
Lin Wei gasped, looking at Chen Anshun as if he were a monster.
Is there a man in this world so harsh on himself?
A virgin for eighty years?
Chen Anshun's face returned to calm.
Naturally, he couldn't reveal the Octogenarian Fate Mandate, so he used the Virgin Boy Skill as a cover.
In this world, to improve the efficiency of the Hongyang Stance Art, he indeed kept his virgin body, and the mark of the Virgin Boy Skill's success was temporarily reversing qi and blood decline, similar to his Octogenarian Fate Mandate.
He nodded, clasping his hands to thank the two for their concern.
Uncle Zhou returned to report to the master, while Lin Wei was still full of amazement.
"Old Chen, you're something else."
"That brat Tian Yang will probably lose sleep again after hearing this."
"He's been hoping for your death every day."
Chen Anshun snorted coldly, picked up the oil lamp from the ground, and walked out of the stables with Lin Wei, saying as they went:
"Just wait, now that my Virgin Boy Skill has succeeded, my strength is recovering."
"If that brat tries anything, let him come."
He was eager to return home, continue practicing stances, and increase his strength.
After chatting with Lin Wei for a bit, he bid farewell with clasped hands and went to the thatched hut beside the stables.
This had been his home for twenty years.
Inside was just a bed, a stove, a heated brick bed, a broken table, and daily utensils hanging on the walls.
Chen Anshun had no other thoughts, closing the door to practice stances.
He had practiced the Hongyang Stance Art for sixty-five years, but only today did he feel its extraordinary nature.
His feet seemed to connect with the earth, sending a continuous stream of warmth.
"Old I, feeling youthful again! Left holding a yellow, right—"
Chen Anshun was happily reciting poetry in his mind when suddenly his feet gave way, and he stumbled, feeling the stance art abruptly interrupted, his stomach growling loudly.
An unprecedented hunger hit him!
As if he hadn't eaten for three days!
And he'd only been practicing for a quarter of an hour!
"Huh? What's this?"
Chen Anshun was puzzled, pondering the effects of the Octogenarian Fate Mandate in his mind, and feeling this immense hunger, he suddenly understood.
The Fate Mandate could indeed accelerate strength growth, but as the martial hall saying goes, "refining essence into qi," strength growth requires a lot of food and medicine, not something that comes from nothing.
In other words, his martial training efficiency increased by three hundred and sixty-five times, and so did his appetite!
What he needed most now was to eat! Eat! Eat!