## Chapter 3: The Furnace of Slaughter, A Demon Born in Mortal Flesh
The vanguard camp of the Black Winds Bandits, once a sanctuary of drunken revelry and sadistic anticipation, was instantly transformed into a terrifying abbatoir.
Lu Chen did not simply run into the remaining ten bandits; he crashed into them like a force of nature. His eighty-year-old body, supercharged by the sudden elevation to the Early Stage of Flesh Refinement and guided by the absolute, flawless neural pathways of a hundred percent Perfected *Tiger Subduing Fist*, moved with a biomechanical efficiency that was monstrous to behold.
Every step he took was calculated to the millimeter. Every breath he drew through the *Breath Nurturing Technique* fueled the furnace of his Dantian, pumping oxygen-rich, fortified blood into his corded muscles.
To the bandits, he was a white-haired blur of absolute violence.
"Kill him! Hack him to pieces!" screamed the weasel-faced bandit, retreating frantically behind two larger men armed with heavy logging axes.
The two axemen, fueled by a mixture of panic and raw adrenaline, roared and swung their heavy blades in wide, sweeping arcs aimed at Lu Chen's torso. It was a crude, uncoordinated pincer maneuver, relying entirely on the weight of the iron to crush whatever was caught between them.
Lu Chen didn't halt his advance. He didn't even flinch.
*Tiger Prowls the High Grass.* His body suddenly dropped, his knees bending at an impossible angle as he slid entirely under the horizontal arcs of the heavy axes. The rusted iron blades whistled violently through the empty space where his head had been a fraction of a second prior, the two axemen nearly striking each other in their uncontrolled momentum.
Before they could recover their balance, Lu Chen was already rising from his low crouch, springing upward like a coiled steel spring.
His fists shot out in unison. *Black Tiger Steals the Heart.* It was the most fundamental strike of the martial art, a direct, linear punch to the center of mass. But executed with Perfected Mastery, it was an armor-piercing shell. Lu Chen's knuckles, hardened by the system's absolute refinement, slammed into the solar plexuses of both axemen simultaneously.
*CRACK-THUD.*
The terrifying sound of shattering sternums echoed in the small valley. The force of the dual punches bypassed their meager leather armor entirely, transferring lethal kinetic energy directly into their chest cavities. The impacts pulverized their hearts and collapsed their lungs in a single, catastrophic instant.
The two massive men froze, their eyes bulging from their skulls as a horrific spray of blackish-red blood erupted from their mouths. They fell backward simultaneously, their axes tumbling from limp fingers, dead before their bodies hit the dirt.
**[Target Scanned: Ordinary Mortal (Bandit).]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
**[Target Scanned: Ordinary Mortal (Bandit).]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
Lu Chen barely registered the chimes. He was already moving.
A spearman lunged at his exposed flank, the rusted iron tip aiming for his kidneys. Lu Chen didn't turn his head. His perfected spatial awareness, honed by the simulated decades of combat experience grafted into his brain, alerted him to the exact trajectory of the weapon.
He simply twisted his torso, his grey tunic fluttering as the spear tip grazed the fabric. As the wooden shaft slid past him, Lu Chen reached out with his left hand, his fingers clamping down on the wood with the crushing grip of an iron vise.
The spearman gasped, trying to yank the weapon back, but it felt as though the old man was anchored to the core of the earth.
With a brutal yank, Lu Chen pulled the spearman off-balance, dragging the terrified man directly into his striking range. His right hand snapped up, the edge of his palm striking the side of the bandit's neck with the surgical precision of an executioner's blade.
*Hungry Tiger Tears the Throat.* The strike collapsed the bandit's windpipe instantly. The man dropped the spear, clutching his ruined throat as he fell to his knees, drowning in a desperate, gurgling struggle for air. He would be dead in a matter of seconds.
**[Target Scanned: Ordinary Mortal (Bandit).]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
Panic, raw and unfiltered, finally shattered the remaining bandits' resolve. Seven men were left. Six of them had just witnessed a frail old farmer butcher half their squad in the span of ten heartbeats, using nothing but his bare, blood-drenched hands.
"He's a demon!" one of them shrieked, dropping his sword and turning to flee toward the dark treeline. "A mountain demon in human skin!"
"Run! The Vanguard is broken!"
Five of the remaining grunts broke and ran, scrambling over the rocky uneven ground, completely abandoning their Commander. Only the weasel-faced bandit and one other hardened killer remained, paralyzed by a mixture of shock and the terrifying proximity to their massive boss, Iron-Skull.
"Cowards!" Commander Iron-Skull roared, his voice trembling with an explosive, towering rage that shook the loose gravel from the surrounding cliffs. "I'll skin you all alive!"
But Lu Chen was not going to let a single source of Attribute Points escape into the night. If even one of them survived to report back to the main army, Qingyuan Village would face the full wrath of the Black Winds.
Lu Chen snatched up the dropped spear from the suffocating bandit at his feet. He didn't know spear arts, but he didn't need to. He had the explosive strength of Flesh Refinement.
He drew his arm back, his muscles coiling tight, and hurled the spear like a javelin at the fleeing men.
The makeshift projectile tore through the air with a horrific *whoosh*, covering forty feet in the blink of an eye. It impaled the slowest of the fleeing bandits directly between the shoulder blades, the rusted tip bursting through his sternum and burying itself a foot deep into the trunk of a pine tree, pinning the man to the bark like an insect on a corkboard.
**[Target Scanned: Ordinary Mortal (Bandit).]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
Lu Chen didn't stop. He kicked a discarded logging axe up from the dirt, caught it by the haft, and hurled it with a terrifying rotational spin. The spinning blade caught another fleeing bandit in the back of the knees, severing both of his legs with a sickening crunch. The man collapsed, his screams piercing the night air, only to be silenced moments later as he bled out into the dirt.
**[Target Scanned: Ordinary Mortal (Bandit).]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
Lu Chen bounded forward, his Agility attribute allowing him to outpace the remaining three fleeing men with terrifying ease. He descended upon them like a wolf among sheep.
A punch to the back of a skull, caving it in. A sweeping kick that shattered a spine. A brutal elbow drop to the base of a neck.
*Crack. Snap. Crush.*
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
In less than a minute, the clearing was dead silent, save for the crackling of the bonfires and the heavy, rhythmic breathing of the two remaining combatants.
Lu Chen stood at the edge of the treeline, his grey tunic soaked entirely in dark, sticky blood. He slowly turned around, his sharp, predatory eyes locking onto the center of the camp.
Only two men were left alive: Commander Iron-Skull, and the weasel-faced bandit who was currently curled into a pathetic, whimpering ball behind the crates.
Lu Chen slowly walked back toward the firelight, stepping over the mangled corpses of his victims. He flexed his hands. The skin across his knuckles was split and bruised, bleeding sluggishly. He had the strength and the perfect technique, but his Constitution was only at a 10—the peak of a normal adult prime. Repeatedly smashing his bare fists into bone and hardened leather armor was beginning to take its toll on his own flesh.
"You..." Commander Iron-Skull growled, stepping forward, his massive executioner's broadsword resting effortlessly on his broad shoulder. His eyes, completely devoid of their previous arrogance, were locked onto Lu Chen with absolute, deadly seriousness. "You are no ordinary old man. To slaughter ordinary mortals like pigs... you are a Flesh Refinement martial artist. But your realm is low. Early stage at best. You rely entirely on a highly mastered external technique."
Iron-Skull was not a mindless brute; he had clawed his way up the ranks of the martial world through blood and observation. He had correctly deduced Lu Chen's exact state.
"And you," Lu Chen replied, his voice calm, dropping into the starting stance of the Tiger Subduing Fist. "Are nothing but a dead man holding a heavy piece of iron."
"Arrogant!" Iron-Skull bellowed.
Suddenly, a terrifying transformation overtook the massive Commander. He took a deep, gulping breath, his chest expanding to an unnatural degree. The thick veins corded along his neck and bald, tattooed scalp bulged out like thick, pulsing purple worms. His skin, previously a weather-beaten tan, suddenly darkened, taking on the dull, metallic sheen of old bronze.
*Mid-Stage Flesh Refinement.* And an external defensive martial art.
"I practice the *Bronze Skin Iron Bone Technique*!" Iron-Skull roared, the sound vibrating with internal force. "My muscles are as hard as cured leather! My bones are iron! A frail old ghost like you at the Early Stage cannot even scratch me!"
With a thunderous stomp that cracked the solid rock beneath his boots, Iron-Skull charged.
He didn't possess the fluid, flawless grace of Lu Chen's Perfected technique. He moved like an avalanche—unstoppable, overwhelming, and utterly destructive. He swung the massive executioner's broadsword in a horrific, diagonal cleave aimed directly at Lu Chen's shoulder, intended to split the old man in half from collarbone to hip.
The wind pressure alone generated by the massive blade tore at Lu Chen's clothes.
Lu Chen didn't attempt to block. Blocking a weapon of that mass with his bare arms would result in instantly shattered bones, regardless of his perfected technique.
He utilized his Agility, sidestepping with a burst of explosive speed. The massive broadsword slammed into the dirt where he had been standing a fraction of a second before, burying itself a foot deep into the earth and throwing up a shower of rocks and dust.
Using the momentary opening, Lu Chen closed the distance, stepping deep into Iron-Skull's guard.
*Fierce Tiger Strikes the Mountain!*
Lu Chen drove a devastating double-palm strike directly into the center of Iron-Skull's massive, bronze-tinged chest. The impact sounded like a heavy wooden mallet striking a solid temple bell.
*BONG!*
The force of Lu Chen's perfectly executed strike, carrying the full kinetic weight of his 12 Strength, transferred directly into the Commander.
Iron-Skull grunted, his massive frame shuddering, and he was forced to take a heavy, staggering step backward. But he did not fall. He did not cough up blood.
Lu Chen narrowed his eyes. The feedback from the strike sent a jarring, painful shockwave traveling up his own arms. It felt as though he had just punched a solid block of granite wrapped in a layer of tough rubber. His knuckles throbbed violently.
"Is that all, old man?!" Iron-Skull sneered, recovering his balance instantly. He violently yanked his broadsword out of the earth and swung it in a brutal, horizontal backhand.
Lu Chen leaned back, bending at the waist. The flat of the massive blade grazed the front of his tunic, slicing through the fabric and leaving a shallow, burning cut across his chest.
Lu Chen rolled backward, putting ten feet of distance between them. He touched his chest, his fingers coming away slick with his own blood. It wasn't a deep wound, but it was a glaring, flashing warning sign.
*His realm is higher than mine,* Lu Chen analyzed with cold, mechanical detachment. *His physical Constitution and Strength naturally outclass mine. My Perfected technique allows me to hit him with maximum efficiency, and dodge his clumsy attacks, but I lack the sheer armor-piercing damage output required to break through his Mid-Stage Flesh Refinement and his Bronze Skin art.* If the fight dragged on, Lu Chen's eighty-year-old stamina, despite the system's restoration, would eventually flag. A single mistake, a single glancing blow from that monstrous broadsword, would shatter his fragile frame.
Iron-Skull laughed, a cruel, booming sound. "You realize it now, don't you? Technique means nothing against absolute, overwhelming defense! I am going to grind your old bones to dust!"
He raised his sword high over his head, preparing for a devastating overhead chop.
Lu Chen didn't panic. He had something no other martial artist in the world possessed.
He had a System. And he had a treasury of points he had just harvested from thirteen dead men.
*System Interface,* Lu Chen commanded mentally. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the blue translucent screen materialized in his vision.
**=== STATUS ===**
**Name:** Lu Chen
**Age:** 80 / 81
**Realm:** Flesh Refinement (Early Stage)
**Constitution:** 10
**Strength:** 12
**Agility:** 8
**Free Attribute Points:** 11
He had earned exactly eleven points from the grunts and the scouts. It was time to close the gap.
"System. Allocate 2 points to Constitution. Allocate 4 points to Strength. Allocate 5 points to Agility."
**[Ding! 11 Free Attribute Points consumed.]**
**[Initializing Physical Overhaul...]**
Iron-Skull brought the massive sword down with a horrific roar, the blade carving through the air, aimed directly at Lu Chen's skull.
At that exact nanosecond, the upgrade hit Lu Chen.
It was not the slow, agonizing, bone-breaking purge of his initial awakening. Because his meridians were already open and governed by the Perfected Breath Nurturing Technique, the influx of raw, systemic power was absorbed instantaneously.
It felt as though a volcano had erupted within his veins.
His Constitution surged from 10 to 12. The shallow cut on his chest instantly stopped bleeding, the flesh knitting itself together at a visible rate. The bruising on his knuckles vanished. His bones, previously hardened, suddenly absorbed the systemic energy, drastically increasing in density, turning from mere wood to solid iron.
His Strength rocketed from 12 to 16. The wiry muscles beneath his grey tunic didn't bulk out into grotesque proportions, but they condensed, twisting and hardening into cables of sheer, unadulterated bio-mechanical power.
His Agility exploded from 8 to 13. The heavy, dragging sensation of gravity vanished entirely. He felt as light as a feather caught in a hurricane.
And most importantly, the massive influx of physical stats pushed his body past a critical threshold.
**[Ding! Physical parameters exceeded. Realm Breakthrough!]**
**[Flesh Refinement (Early Stage) -> Flesh Refinement (Mid-Stage)!]**
A terrifying, invisible shockwave of heat and sheer physical pressure erupted from Lu Chen's body.
The heavy executioner's broadsword was mere inches from Lu Chen's forehead when the old man moved.
He didn't just dodge. To Iron-Skull's horrified eyes, the old man seemed to literally vanish from reality, leaving behind nothing but a blurry afterimage.
The massive sword slammed into the earth, burying itself up to the hilt, the force of the blow jarring Iron-Skull's own shoulders.
"What—!" Iron-Skull gasped, his eyes widening in pure shock.
"Too slow."
The voice came from directly beside his right ear.
Iron-Skull whipped his head around, only to see Lu Chen standing well inside his guard, his face a mask of absolute, icy detachment. The old man's aura had fundamentally changed. The frail, brittle energy of the Early Stage was gone, replaced by a suffocating, dense, and terrifying pressure that matched—no, exceeded—Iron-Skull's own.
*He broke through? Mid-battle?! Impossible!* The thought flashed frantically through the Commander's mind, but he had no time to voice it.
Lu Chen attacked.
With his Agility sitting at 13, his fists moved at speeds the human eye could barely track. He unleashed a terrifying, relentless barrage of the *Tiger Subduing Fist*.
*Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!*
Lu Chen drove four consecutive punches directly into Iron-Skull's bronze-tinged ribcage in the span of a single heartbeat.
This time, it didn't feel like punching rubber. With his Strength elevated to 16, and combined with the flawless, armor-piercing kinetic transfer of his Perfected technique, Lu Chen's fists acted like heavy siege ballista bolts.
The first punch cracked the *Bronze Skin* defense.
The second punch shattered the iron-like ribs beneath.
The third punch drove the splintered bone fragments deep into Iron-Skull's lungs.
The fourth punch pulverized his liver.
Iron-Skull let out a horrific, blood-curdling scream, an explosive geyser of blood and internal organ fragments erupting from his mouth. His massive, towering frame was physically lifted off its feet by the sheer force of the rapid-fire impacts.
He was thrown backward, crashing heavily into a stack of wooden supply crates, shattering them into kindling.
Lu Chen didn't relent. He possessed eighty years of repressed caution; he would not stop until the enemy was definitively, undeniably dead.
He blurred forward, leaping high into the air, ascending above the fallen Commander.
As gravity took hold, Lu Chen brought both of his elbows down in a devastating, synchronized drop, aiming directly for the center of Iron-Skull's chest.
*Tiger Subduing Fist Ultimate: Mount Tai Crushes the Egg!*
*KRA-KOOM!*
The impact was cataclysmic. Lu Chen's elbows smashed into Iron-Skull's sternum with the force of a falling meteor. The massive Commander's entire chest cavity instantly caved in, his spine snapping violently against the earth beneath him. The ground beneath the corpse actually spider-webbed with cracks from the transferred kinetic energy.
Iron-Skull's eyes rolled entirely white, his limbs twitching once, violently, before settling into the absolute stillness of death.
The Vanguard Commander of the Black Winds, a Mid-Stage Flesh Refinement expert who had terrorized the northern provinces for a decade, had been brutally, unequivocally beaten to death by an eighty-year-old farmer.
**[Target Scanned: Flesh Refinement Martial Artist (Mid-Stage).]**
**[Extraction Complete: +5 Free Attribute Points.]**
The chime rang in Lu Chen's mind, sweet and melodic. Five points for a boss. It was a massive haul.
Lu Chen slowly stood up from the shattered corpse. He let out a long, slow breath, governed by the Breath Nurturing Technique, calming his racing heart and soothing the burning muscles in his arms.
The camp was a slaughterhouse. Blood pooled in the dirt, mixing with the ash of the dying bonfires. Fourteen bodies lay scattered in grotesque poses, a silent testament to the horrific violence that had just transpired.
"P-Please..." a pathetic, whimpering voice broke the silence.
Lu Chen turned his head. The weasel-faced bandit, the sole survivor of the slaughter, was crawling backward across the dirt, his face pale as a sheet, a dark stain spreading across the front of his trousers. He had witnessed the entire, impossible battle. He had watched his invincible Commander beaten into a bloody paste.
"Please, Great Grandfather, Demon Lord, Immortal! Spare me! I'm just a runner! I never killed anyone in the village! I'll be your dog! I'll wash your feet! Please don't kill me!" The man was sobbing hysterically, pressing his forehead into the bloody mud.
Lu Chen walked over to him, his footsteps completely silent. He looked down at the pathetic creature.
"You didn't kill anyone in the village," Lu Chen said, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. "Because I didn't let you get there."
Lu Chen raised his foot and brought his heel down on the back of the weasel-faced bandit's neck. A sharp *snap*, and the whimpering ceased instantly.
**[Extraction Complete: +1 Free Attribute Point.]**
"Six points," Lu Chen murmured, opening his system interface to confirm.
**=== STATUS ===**
**Name:** Lu Chen
**Age:** 80 / 81
**Realm:** Flesh Refinement (Mid-Stage)
**Constitution:** 12
**Strength:** 16
**Agility:** 13
**Free Attribute Points:** 6
He dismissed the screen. The immediate threat to Qingyuan Village was eradicated. The vanguard was completely wiped out. The main army of the Black Winds would eventually realize their forward camp was missing, but that would take days, giving the village time to fortify or evacuate deep into the mountains.
But Lu Chen wasn't entirely finished here.
He walked back to the pulped corpse of Commander Iron-Skull. A man of his rank, operating independently from the main army, wouldn't just carry his wealth in his pockets. He would keep his most valuable possessions on his person.
Lu Chen crouched down and methodically searched the massive, blood-soaked body.
Inside a hidden, tightly bound leather pouch strapped to the inside of Iron-Skull's heavy iron chainmail, Lu Chen's fingers brushed against something solid. He pulled the pouch free and untied the thick cords.
Inside were two items.
The first was a heavy pouch of currency. Lu Chen opened it and caught the dull, reassuring gleam of silver taels—at least fifty of them, a fortune that could buy a dozen houses in Black Rock City. It was more money than Lu Chen had seen in his entire eighty years of life combined.
The second item was what made his heart truly race.
It was a small, thin book, bound in dark, cured animal hide. The pages were made of durable vellum, stained with sweat, dirt, and dried blood, clearly something Iron-Skull had carried with him for years and frequently referenced.
Lu Chen held it up to the dying light of the nearest bonfire.
Written on the cover in harsh, angular calligraphy were three characters.
*[Cloud Piercing Step]*
Lu Chen's eyes narrowed with intense satisfaction. It was a martial arts manual. A movement technique.
His Tiger Subduing Fist provided devastating, armor-piercing offense. His Mid-Stage Flesh Refinement provided him with explosive power and durability. But his footwork, while elevated by his Agility stat, was still rudimentary, relying entirely on raw physical bursts of speed rather than efficient, martial momentum.
A dedicated movement technique was exactly what he needed to truly elevate his lethality. If he had possessed this technique tonight, Iron-Skull wouldn't have even been able to graze his tunic.
Lu Chen carefully tucked the manual and the silver pouch into his sash, securing them tightly.
He took one final look around the devastated camp. He grabbed a few unbroken clay jugs of cheap wine, uncorked them, and began splashing the highly flammable alcohol over the tents, the supply crates, and the bodies of the bandits.
With a careless flick of a burning branch from the fire, the entire depression erupted into a massive, roaring inferno. The flames climbed high into the night sky, consuming the evidence of his slaughter, turning the horrific butchery into nothing more than a tragic, unexplained fire in the wilderness.
Lu Chen turned his back on the flames. The cold mountain wind hit his face, but the fire in his Dantian burned hotter than ever.
He began the descent back down the mountain, his silhouette disappearing into the dark pine forest. He moved with the fluid, silent grace of an apex predator returning to its den.
Dawn was still two hours away. He would be back in his bed before anyone in Qingyuan Village even woke up. To them, he would still be the frail, eighty-year-old Patriarch Lu Chen, waiting for the end of his days.
But the world of the Great Yan Dynasty was about to discover that a very different kind of monster had just been born in the mortal dust.