Chapter 12: The Scientist’s Bottom Line

His mood had been rather good: he had just managed to squeeze five thousand yuan from his parents. But now, thanks to that bastard Ma Yiqun, Chen Meng's spirits were completely ruined. How could he ask for ten thousand? If he was going to ask for ten thousand, he could have at least given him a heads-up, and Chen Meng would have asked for ten thousand too! He felt as if he hadn’t just lost five thousand yuan, but a whole hundred million.

Arriving at the martial arts hall, Chen Meng saw Mo Xiaoyi, who was, as always, dressed in that familiar practice uniform, though she wasn’t training at the moment.

“Good morning, Senior.”

“Morning.” Mo Xiaoyi nodded, beckoning him to follow her into the back rooms of the martial arts hall.

It was Chen Meng’s first time in these quarters. He looked around carefully and realized it was styled like a traditional courtyard house. Mo Xiaoyi pushed open a room on the western side and walked straight in.

“My master used to live here,” she explained as she went, “but after he got older, he found the noise bothersome and moved out to the countryside. So the back rooms were given to a few students. Most of them are in college now and hardly ever come by. I’m the only one still staying here, and only on weekends—on Mondays I’m back at school. After all, it takes almost three hours by bus to get to Jiangzhou University from here.”

As she explained, she took out a black plastic box. “Junior, here is the Life No. 1 oral solution you wanted. It’s all in here.”

She opened the box, revealing twenty-eight slender glass vials, each a few centimeters long, about as thick as a finger, filled with a green liquid. Each looked to hold about ten milliliters.

At a thousand yuan per vial, that came to a hundred yuan per milliliter—already far more expensive than gold.

Chen Meng nodded, trusting Mo Xiaoyi without question. “Thank you, Senior. Oh, this is the piece of gold I inherited from my family.”

When Chen Meng produced the nugget, Mo Xiaoyi was speechless again. Did he have to keep calling it ‘inherited’? She silently mocked him, but took the gold, hefting it in her hand. “I trust you’ve weighed it already, so I won’t bother. As for its purity and how much it can sell for, wait for my news.”

“Alright.” Chen Meng replied, hoping for a high price.

After changing into his practice uniform, Chen Meng began training under Mo Xiaoyi’s guidance. In truth, she just demonstrated a few key movements, then left Chen Meng to practice on his own.

As noon approached, Chen Meng was growing tired when he saw an old man stride in through the door—about six feet tall, dressed in a white practice uniform, brimming with energy.

Chen Meng was a bit confused. Was this old man one of the other four students at the martial arts hall? His uniform matched Chen Meng’s exactly.

“Sir, are you also a student here?” Chen Meng asked, pausing in his practice. Mo Xiaoyi was out buying lunch—the meal was always from the snack shop next door.

The old man looked Chen Meng up and down. “Are you the new student here?” he asked.

Chen Meng nodded.

At that moment, Mo Xiaoyi returned carrying two meals. Spotting the old man, she blurted out, “Old fellow, you actually came back! You need to thank me this time—I found another sucker for you…”

Chen Meng quickly turned away. Was she talking about him? Surely not. He was right there—did she have to make it so awkward?

Mo Xiaoyi seemed to realize her slip and laughed. “Chen Meng, let me introduce you. This old man is our master, the head of Hong’s Ancient Martial Arts Hall. But he’s a bit eccentric—we usually just call him Old Fellow or Old Man. Everyone in the neighborhood calls him Uncle Seven.”

What a way to refer to a master, Chen Meng thought. This obviously wasn’t a traditional martial arts hall.

“No respect for your elders,” grumbled the old man. Then he looked at Chen Meng, straightening up. “My name is Hong Qi. Our family’s ancient martial arts were once renowned throughout the land. I see you have extraordinary talent and remarkable bones. For just thirty thousand yuan, I’ll teach you everything I’ve ever learned.”

The first half sounded decent, but the latter half—demanding thirty thousand yuan—left Chen Meng thunderstruck. How was this any different from a street hustler’s trick?

Even Mo Xiaoyi couldn’t bear it. “Master, how many students have you scared away with this act? If you keep this up, Chen Meng will be quitting too!”

Hong Qi waved her off, as if he’d just missed out on a big business deal. “Forget it. It’s almost noon anyway. Go next door and get me a meal.”

Mo Xiaoyi nodded and left, leaving Chen Meng to stew in silence.

A few minutes later, Mo Xiaoyi returned. The three of them gathered around an old square table—Hong Qi on the only stool, Mo Xiaoyi perched on a sandbag, and Chen Meng stacking two bricks for a seat.

Lunch was nothing special—just regular fast food, ten yuan a box. If it wasn’t enough, they could get more from next door.

As they ate, a tall middle-aged man appeared at the door, dressed all in black and nearly six foot three. The moment he entered, Chen Meng felt as if the room’s temperature dropped several degrees.

The man glanced at the old master, ignoring the others. “I’m leaving tomorrow. If you need anything, I can buy it now.”

“No need,” the old man replied, not even looking up from his shredded pork with green peppers. “Old Liu next door must have made a mistake—there’s actually meat in this dish.”

The man frowned but seemed used to the old master’s coldness.

Chen Meng guessed this must be the son Mo Xiaoyi mentioned last week. But hadn’t she said the old master was enjoying family bliss at home? There didn’t seem to be any bliss here—more like father and son on the verge of a falling out.

“I’ve finished the investigation. Now I need to take care of someone. After that, I’ll come say goodbye. Since you don’t want me around, I’ll leave as soon as I can.” With that, the man turned to leave.

“Better to keep a low profile, don’t get too arrogant—or you’ll die in the street someday,” the old man called after him. The man didn’t even respond, just walked out.

Watching him go, the old man muttered, “Who asks their parents what they want before buying it?”

Chen Meng had no words for that. Both father and son were equally unreliable.

After lunch, the old man finally decided to fulfill a bit of his duty as master and teach Chen Meng something.

“This small Lotus Step method is worth at least ten thousand, but I’m teaching it to you at a loss,” the old man said.

Chen Meng could only laugh silently. He didn’t believe a word of it—hadn’t the old man just claimed that thirty thousand would buy all his knowledge? Was a third of his life’s work just this one set of footwork?

But the technique was indeed impressive. After practicing for a while, Chen Meng found his evasion skills had improved significantly.

This old man really did have something up his sleeve.

By four o’clock, a sudden gust of wind outside the martial arts hall overturned the awnings of nearby vendors. The old man looked up, and so did Mo Xiaoyi and Chen Meng.

At the entrance, the tall man was back, carrying a massive machete in one hand and, in the other, a bloody human head. The head’s long hair suggested it was a woman. Her eyes were wide open, as if about to pop out—astonishingly, she was not dead.

She was definitely a Divine Physique lifeform.

“She was the one spreading it?” the old man murmured.

“Yes. And perhaps the cult was involved as well.”

“How could it be her?”

“She’s been researching Divine Physique blood for a long time and hit a bottleneck. But she shouldn’t have gone down this path. Bathing in the blood of her own kind to ascend to first-rank Divine Physique… how ridiculous! She wasn’t targeting outsiders, but the soldiers who died in battle.” The man’s tone grew solemn. “Even scientists should have a bottom line—some things shouldn’t be researched, some lines mustn’t be crossed.”

“It’s raining?” The man looked up at the sky, then nodded to the old man. “I’m leaving. I’ll visit again next time.”