Inside the slightly dim dorm room.
Creak.
Andrew Han lay on his bed, turned over, eyes closed, indulging in a brief, temporary nap.
Yet his mind kept turning, thoughts swirling ceaselessly.
Because his foundation far surpassed the norm, the blood‑condensing process of the Martial Artist Realm brought about changes almost unimaginable.
Ordinarily, completing the blood‑condensing process marked the peak of the Martial Artist Realm: blood within the body would take on the qualities of lead and mercury, faintly shimmering with a mysterious luster—a true breaking of human limits.
This ‘lead and mercury’ state was the extraordinary form of blood.
Even after advancing to the Martial General Realm, it remained so—unless one underwent the tempering of the Martial Lord Realm, perhaps then the blood could evolve further, attaining the ‘gold and silver’ state.
But—
Above ‘lead and mercury’ lay ‘gold and silver.’
At present, Andrew Han happened to be caught between the two; his blood carried a metallic sheen. Its strength, density, and quality all surpassed the ‘lead and mercury’ stage.
"So…"
"Is this transformation ultimately good or bad? And at its root, is the cause my foundation, or the tempering of Presented Liquid Internal Power?"
Andrew Han kept his eyes closed, pondering silently.
Even among Peerless Martial Artists, none possessed such a profound foundation; no practitioner could possibly wield Presented Liquid Internal Power at the Martial Artist Realm.
After all, Presented Liquid Internal Power was exclusive to the Martial General Realm.
"Never mind."
"Enhanced blood quality is always a good thing."
As this thought settled, Andrew’s chaotic mind gradually quieted. Listening to the sound of basketballs thumping outside the window and students’ voices drifting in, drowsiness overtook him.
His pajamas were soft and comforting, like the tide rolling in.
His breathing was steady, his mind completely at ease.
After a while, Andrew lay on his soft pillow, as if he could smell the rich aroma of kelp and pork rib soup. Gradually, he drifted into sleep.
For him, sleep was a daily ritual.
As a Martial Artist, he didn’t truly need sleep—he could remain energetic for more than half a week. But sleep was not just for resting the body; it also nurtured the spirit and sorted out his thoughts.
He slept deeply.
He slept in perfect comfort.
The phone beside his pillow lit up two or three times—his little sister Lucy was sending video call requests on WeChat.
Unfortunately, the phone was on silent, and only the screen glowed.
The faint glow from the screen illuminated Andrew’s quiet profile, making him frown slightly—he seemed to sense something.
A little while later.
Lucy cancelled the video request and pouted.
At that moment, she was sitting barefoot on the sofa, wearing a soft pink tank top, her cheeks flushed red.
"It’s so hot."
Lucy rubbed her cheeks.
Ever since her brother went off to university, she’d felt even more bored—thankfully, Miles Ning was there to teach her about virtue and character.
On the sofa beside her.
Miles Ning’s wrinkled old face softened into a gentle, genuine smile as he quietly gazed at Lucy’s dark, glossy hair.
"For a girl, hairstyle is very important!"
"Hairstyle determines taste, and can even affect psychology! After all, even little kids have their own sense of beauty—so Lucy should think about her hairstyle too… even if she’s only four and a half."
He furrowed his brow thoughtfully, eyes half-closed.