Chapter 94

Uncle Qin meant what he said—and he acted on it too.

He walked under the trellis, picked up the tool basket placed there, pulled out a hammer, then reached down and dug out a handful of nails from the very bottom.

Each nail was as long as a chopstick, with a head as thick as a thumb, mottled with rust.

These were coffin nails.

Gripping them in one hand, Uncle Qin gave a flick of the wrist. The rust fell away, revealing a deep black color, unevenly coated across the metal.

That wasn’t the natural color of the nail—it was the hue left behind by corpse aura after years of seepage.

Even without Walking the Shade, Li Zhuiyuan could almost see the black mist curling off each nail.

That meant these nails had just recently been pulled from the coffin of some dread, malevolent entity.

At that moment, Li Zhuiyuan realized his earlier warning had been unnecessary.

Because he had an inkling of what Uncle Qin was about to do—and Uncle Qin’s training methods were far more extreme, far more terrifying, than he had imagined.

Training to the point of death wasn’t the limit. Worse than that... was training until one wished for death.

No wonder Uncle Qin had gone out of his way to explain himself earlier. He’d been preemptively shutting Li Zhuiyuan’s mouth.

By all rights, Li Zhuiyuan should’ve gone back into the house by now—maybe read a book, or kept Ah Li company while she painted.

Anything would’ve been better than staying here.

Not because the scene was too brutal to watch—but because it risked tearing apart the bond between them.

Yet Li Zhuiyuan didn’t leave. He remained rooted where he stood.

Runsheng had just finished another set of drills. He spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground, wiped his nosebleed with the back of his hand, then turned and gave Li Zhuiyuan a smile.

When Uncle Qin approached, carrying the hammer and coffin nails, Runsheng’s smile froze for just a moment.

But quickly, he turned to Li Zhuiyuan and waved.

“Xiaoyuan, go inside. It’s filthy out here.”

Clearly, Uncle Qin had already discussed this method with Runsheng—and Runsheng had agreed.

He was doing Li Zhuiyuan a favor, eliminating any chance of resentment forming between them ahead of time.

Still, Li Zhuiyuan didn’t leave. He sat down on the steps.

Runsheng raised his hand again, intending to urge him one more time. But seeing that Li Zhuiyuan had already taken a seat, he said no more.

He straightened his back.

Uncle Qin pressed a coffin nail to Runsheng’s right shoulder, then brought the hammer down.

“Pa!”

The sound was soft but swift. The nail sank in instantly, leaving behind only a round nail head flush against the skin.

It looked like a dark circular sticker pasted to his shoulder.

Runsheng clenched his teeth, panting hard, eyes wide and glaring.

No wonder Uncle Qin had spent the morning hammering into the trellis—he’d been warming up.

Next, the other shoulder.

“Pa.”

The second coffin nail went in.

Runsheng’s body swayed, but he forced himself to stay upright. Veins bulged at his neck. His eyes seemed ready to burst.

But because Li Zhuiyuan was right in front of him, he somehow managed to squeeze out a smile. Ugly as it was, it was still a smile.

Li Zhuiyuan stood, turned, and walked into Ah Li’s room, then pulled the curtain closed.

Ah Li, who had been painting, turned to see the boy seated on a chair by the floor-to-ceiling window.

He had his head lowered, staring at his hands.

His hearing was sharp. Even with the window shut and the curtain drawn, every soft “pa” from outside still reached his ears.

Each time the sound came, his fingertips twitched involuntarily.

Ah Li didn’t disturb him. She turned back to her painting.

She knew the boy needed solitude right now—to digest what he had just witnessed.

That was a good sign. It meant he had emotions to process. Unfortunately, they weren’t pleasant ones.

Once Li Zhuiyuan was inside, Runsheng no longer had to hide anything. His face contorted in pain.

Uncle Qin’s movements remained brisk. Each strike of the hammer drove a nail in cleanly.

There was no time for Runsheng’s flesh to react to being pierced—only a deep, searing pain that lingered.

Bit by bit, Runsheng’s shoulders, arms, palms, thighs, and heels were hammered with a total of fifteen nails.

When the sixteenth nail went in, Uncle Qin gave him a light pat on the back.

“All done.”

That light pat sent Runsheng stumbling forward. He nearly collapsed to his knees, but Uncle Qin’s voice rang out again:

“Planning to kneel and admit defeat?”

Runsheng took a deep breath, summoning tremendous willpower to steady himself. He regained his balance.

Uncle Qin tossed the hammer casually back into the basket, where it landed without a sound.

“Our Qin Clan’s body-forging is about storing power within the flesh, turning the body into a cage, seeking the strength of a flood dragon, and sustaining it endlessly.

Remember—this breath of yours isn’t just something you summon when you fight. From this moment on, you keep it nurtured and alive at all times.”

“Got… got it.”

“Keep training.”

“Yes… Master.”

Next Chapter >>>