The camaraderie between the Extinction Prodigy and Sanqi's liver and guts requires no language to be expressed.

The Master’s expression dissolved into one bordering on obsession. A chill shot up Qin Fen’s spine under that gaze. This Master had always maintained an air of gentle refinement. Who knew that upon diving into the subject of his research, the entire man’s demeanor could shift to something quite manic?

Marrow-Swapping Nirvana into Great Innate? Fen could only laugh or cry. Ever since reaching the Meteor-level Innate True Qi, the path of the Martial Dao had always seemed to exist slightly outside the norm. Others achieved Blood-Renewal and rebirth upon becoming Nine-Star Martial Artists; he, however, only completed his Blood-Renewal upon reaching the Ten-Star Martial Artist stage, lagging an entire star level behind orthodox practitioners.

Marrow-Swapping Nirvana into Great Innate—a stage others could only hope to touch upon at the peak of the Fourteenth Level.

This time, thankfully, he hadn't lagged behind like he did with the True Innate realm, yet he was still contacting it several star levels ahead of others.

“Be it the Meteor-level Innate realm, True Innate, or Great Innate, every transition is critically important,” the Master inhaled deeply. “Kid, your current state presents the greatest opportunity, but it doesn't guarantee success. So, don't celebrate too early.”

Qin Fen cooperated, nodding his head and voicing the doubt that burned brightest in his mind: “Master, if I truly succeed in Marrow-Swapping Nirvana, will my body’s meridians be completely restored?”

“No,” the Master shook his head. “Marrow-Swapping Nirvana is one thing; meridian restoration is another. They are entirely separate matters.”

Qin Fen didn't press the point, instead hearing the Master continue excitedly, “If you can successfully undergo Marrow-Swapping Nirvana, it proves your control has taken a massive leap forward. The ability to manage the vibration of your True Qi will also greatly improve, making it sufficient for performing incredibly weak yet high-frequency vibrations. For meridian treatment, perhaps one or two months would be all it takes for a full recovery.”

One or two months? Qin Fen mused briefly. This rate of healing was indeed fast; being struck by White Tiger Halley made a two-month recovery window quite fortunate, especially if he could also achieve Marrow-Swapping Nirvana.

“Of course, there is a faster way.” The Master raised a hand and pointed toward the ceiling. The scene of Qin Fen being gravely injured in the alley, nearly dying, materialized in the projection above.

The bizarre healing sequence played out rapidly. The Master’s voice began to speak softly at that moment.

“Kid, do you still remember this scene? If you wish it, an event just like this can happen again. It can be accomplished very easily. However, if you choose that path, you will miss the opportunity for Marrow-Swapping Nirvana, and…”

“And if I did that, perhaps my Martial Dao Heart would shatter,” Qin Fen said, looking up at the scene from the past, his voice level. “Perhaps I would never again have the chance to glimpse the highest pinnacle of the Martial Dao.”

“Precisely,” the Master curved his lips with pride. “One who dares not even attempt the challenge will naturally be abandoned by the Martial Dao.”

Qin Fen shrugged, spreading his hands, his smile exceedingly calm. “Although I still cannot fully grasp my own Martial Dao, the shortcut you just offered—one that requires no effort—is clearly contrary to my path. I choose self-reliance. If Marrow-Swapping Nirvana is truly successful, it will lay an excellent foundation for me. Even if Halley is a Divine Beast, I still owe him a repayment for that strike he delivered.”

“Excellent. Actually, the benefits of Marrow-Swapping Nirvana are not limited to that,” the Master said, his eyes crinkling with a smile. “The so-called Blood-Renewal and rebirth of the True Innate realm is, in essence, a preliminary phase of Marrow-Swapping Nirvana. It maintains the state of the qi and blood constantly in a state of Innate Blood, but this depends on your ability to grasp it.”

Qin Fen nodded slowly. As someone who had completed Blood-Renewal before, he naturally knew the Master spoke the absolute truth.

“Bone marrow is the sole method for manufacturing blood,” the Master said, pointing a finger at the marrow displayed on the giant screen. “When the bone marrow undergoes Nirvana and enters the Great Innate realm, the blood it produces will automatically surpass the True Innate state, without the martial artist needing to manually convert it.”

The massive projection in the sky shifted rapidly. The Master concluded his remarks: “Therefore, when you complete Marrow-Swapping Nirvana, your Blood-Renewal and rebirth will simultaneously be complete.”

Qin Fen quietly watched the changing images in the sky. The slow movement of the bone marrow cells was everything he needed to internalize.

“Alright, I will help you once now, to facilitate your rapid awakening. The rest is up to you.”

Obsessive light flickered in the Master’s eyes. He raised his hand and struck Qin Fen’s chest with a palm—the speed was a fraction faster than White Tiger Halley’s on the beach. Darkness enveloped Qin Fen’s vision, and he was ejected from that bizarre dream-space. The searing, internal pain instantly stimulated every nerve ending with excruciating clarity.

Ah.

Qin Fen groaned, slowly opening his eyes. The pain in reality was a hundred times more intense than in the illusion; it was so agonizing it brought forth thoughts of suicide just to end it. He sucked in a mouthful of icy air through his split lips, hoping the cold might numb the pain.

“He’s awake.”

“What? He actually managed to come around on his own?”

“Could it be a final surge before death?”

Several top-tier medical experts stared at Qin Fen through complex monitoring instruments, utterly shocked. Based on previous data, it wouldn't have been surprising if the young man had died during his coma.

Yet, the only possibility was waking up. Calculations from the instruments showed the chance of this happening was one in 3,795,542.

Infinitesimally small, almost negligible chance of revival. Yet, this young man had awakened.

“This…”

The experts exchanged stunned glances. If Qin Fen had simply died in his coma, the situation would have been easier to handle—they could simply attribute it to insufficient willpower.

Now that Qin Fen was awake, the experts found themselves clueless about where to even begin treatment. They could only stand by, anxious like worried family members, completely unable to offer any real help.

Qin Fen slowly rotated his eyeballs, one of the only two things he could move in his entire body. He surveyed the complex medical environment around him.

“Don’t disturb me. I’ll treat myself.”

Qin Fen weakly forced a complete sentence from his throat. The nearby microphone relayed the voice to the experts in the adjacent room.

Self-treatment? The experts were stunned. This kid didn't even have the strength to speak; how could he treat himself?

Ignoring the dumbfounded experts behind the glass, Qin Fen slowly closed his eyes and began sensing the presence of his bone marrow, following the diagrams recorded in the dream space.

Thud.

The door to the experts’ room was kicked open. Xue Tian’s usual nonchalance was gone, replaced by a tightly knit brow of anxiety and irritation. His eyes, shining brightly like the North Star, fixed on the several experts in the room: “I say, experts, when you first arrived, you swaggered in with an entourage, noses pointed to the sky. How come you can’t even produce a treatment plan now?”

Xing Wuyi stood behind Xue Tian, tightly gripping his arm, desperate to stop the young man, who was clearly on the verge of a rage-fueled outburst, from acting irrationally.

This was a young man who, in a fit of fury, had dared to throw a blade directly at the Divine Beast Halley to challenge him. Heaven knew what this hot-headed youth might do next.

The experts exchanged wry smiles. If it weren't for the patient’s identity, they would have called security to drag the arrogant person out. Today, however, they were too embarrassed to call for help.

None of them forgot their initial demeanor—full of high spirits, believing themselves supreme in the medical world. Now, forget saving anyone; they couldn't even formulate the most basic treatment protocol.

“Well,” Elder Wang, the patriarch of the expert team, whose face was etched with fifty-plus years, showed a faint blush. “Young man, we have never encountered injuries this severe and bizarre. We still require a little more time. Besides, your friend just woke up.”

“What?”

Suddenly, over a dozen people rushed into the room. Yang Lie, Caesar, and the others burst in so fiercely they shoved Xue Tian deep into the room.

Under the intense gaze of more than a dozen young martial artists, Wang Xu simply turned on the recording he had been reviewing.

“Old Qin is treating himself?”

The young martial artists exchanged glances. Waking up at all was a miracle; now he was boasting about self-treatment. This Old Qin…

“I apologize, this is a specialized isolation ward. You cannot enter.”

Outside the door, a young female nurse stretched her arms across the passage, looking resolutely at a young man dressed in martial attire. “Why can I enter? Qin Fen, I’m here to issue a challenge. Don’t be a coward.”

The clear, provocative voice carried down the silent corridor, reaching every young martial artist inside the medical room.

Xue Tian’s eyebrows twitched. The gloom on his face instantly turned into a smile, yet this smile carried an icy coldness that made one shudder.

“Qin Fen, if you don't come out now…”

Xue Tian twisted his neck, interlacing his fingers and rotating his wrists. His shoulder joints also circled continuously. He stepped out of the room, his eyes, bright as a polar star, fixed on the young man before him, who looked to be around twenty. He flicked his thumb towards his own nose: “What do you want with me?”

“You.” The young man blinked, looking at Xue Tian with surprise. “Are you Qin Fen?”

“Why?” Xue Tian walked toward the challenger with a cold smile. “Can I not be named Qin Fen?”

The young man subconsciously took half a step back, a knowing smile playing on his lips. “I’m not looking for you, so stop pretending to be Qin Fen in front of me.”

“Is that so?”

Xue Tian’s right knee suddenly jerked. The ten-meter distance between them vanished instantly. His raised right hand swung viciously into the face of the young man who hadn't finished speaking.

The female nurse beside them didn't even have time to close her eyes before she witnessed the gruesome scene. A crisp cracking sound echoed from the challenger’s jawline. His lower abdomen received a solid knee strike from Xue Tian, and he coughed up not foam, but bright red blood. His eyes, which had been relatively bright, were filled with astonishment.

The intelligence transmitted through the special channel hadn't said Qin Fen was severely injured and immobile? Who is this man? Is he sick? Why did he hit me? Even if he were Song Jia’s other suitor, he should be attacking Qin Fen now. Everyone should have a chance for fair competition while Qin Fen is injured.

“I may not be the one you are looking for? My apologies, but you have found your punching bag.”

As the challenger lapsed into unconsciousness, Xue Tian’s provocative voice echoed in his ears.

The challenger was unconscious. Soon, several doctors and nurses arrived to carry him away. This was a hospital, after all; the young martial artists didn't even bother calling an ambulance. Xue Tian sat heavily on a corridor bench, his face showing displeasure. He tapped his foot incessantly on the ground, muttering dismissively, “To come to a hospital ICU to issue a challenge—obviously knowing Old Qin is hurt. This unknown punk who popped up from nowhere really has no shame.”

Punk? Xing Wuyi, sitting next to Xue Tian, shook his head repeatedly. Anyone who knew of Qin Fen’s existence likely had some background influence. Reaching Six-Star Martial Artist status around twenty years old—that strength couldn't simply be dismissed as 'punk.'

The elevator doors not far down the corridor slowly opened. Du Peng’s peripheral vision swept over Xue Tian. A dull thud sounded from his ankles. He moved before anyone else, blocking the young man inside the elevator: “Are you here to challenge Qin Fen?”

“Huh? How did you know? Could it be…”

Xing Wuyi raised a hand to shield his eyes, but he couldn't block the sounds of a fierce brawl, the muffled cry of the one taking the beating, and the elevator slowly closing as it descended.

Du Peng took a tissue from his mouth, wiped the blood from his opponent, and casually tossed it into the nearby trash can. As if nothing had happened, he walked back toward the group of young martial artists with a slightly lighter step.

Silence returned to the corridor. Solomon suddenly stood up, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Who wants juice? I’m going to buy some.”

The crowd collectively shook their heads in confusion. Xing Wuyi watched the retreating figure of the usually taciturn young man with great curiosity. Why did this Solomon always leave behind a strange sensation?

Could it be…? Xing Wuyi gently rubbed his temples. Surely not?

Down in the lobby, Solomon stood before a young man whose body subtly exuded fighting spirit, holding an unopened can of apple juice. “Looking for Qin Fen? A challenge?”

Solomon’s words were brief, but the meaning was conveyed with crystal clarity.

“Huh? How did you know? Are you also…”

The next moment, those in the lobby witnessed what could be called decisive combat. In mere seconds, the young man standing before Solomon collapsed onto the floor, his face smeared with blood. The bones in his four limbs had been broken with heavy technique, rendering him unable to wake up and challenge anyone else for a considerable time.

After finishing the fight, Solomon turned and sat down in a resting area near the elevator. His eyes, however, never left the main entrance through which anyone entering the building had to pass.

Soon, doctors carried away the injured young martial artist for emergency treatment. Others busied themselves making a call to the police: “Hello, is this the police station? We have an incident here…”

Click.

The call was cut off by a hand. Yu Xiao, wearing a police uniform, looked sternly at the person calling the police. “I am the police. The incident just now was in the execution of official duties.”

Since the police were already present, the caller quickly nodded and hung up.

Wu Hui sat beside Solomon. This quiet young man from Europe, it turned out, was cold on the outside but warm-hearted within.