C7 Spicy Palm(1)

"What's the matter?"

Ruan Mei inquired upon hearing Wang Yan's exclamation.

"A fish selling for 880,000 yuan? That's ridiculously expensive."

"Is 880,000 really too much? Your car is worth over 80 million yuan!"

Ruan Mei smirked and teased, "Look at it this way: every time you leave the house, it's like you're cruising around in a hundred fish. Pretty flashy, huh?"

"Riding a fish, I get, but driving a fish? What kind of nonsense is that?"

Wang Yan grumbled to himself, then it hit him—he wasn't the poor soul from his past life anymore.

He was the sole heir to the Wang family. A mere 800,000 yuan couldn't even buy a tire for his car.

With that in mind, Wang Yan immediately rang up his father to state his intentions.

As expected, the conversation went south.

His frugal father, Wang Yuanwen, laid out his terms: get engaged to Ruan Mei this year and receive ten million on the spot. Marry by year's end, and he'd hand over 10% of the Wang family enterprise's shares.

And if a child came into the picture, he'd retire on the spot.

Wang Yan was resolute in his refusal.

His ambition was to be the world's strongest, not to be sidetracked by romance and family.

Wang Yuanwen was livid.

"Starting this month, your allowance is slashed to 500,000. Let's see how you manage!"

Wang Yuanwen's bellowing voice erupted from the phone, but Wang Yan remained unfazed, casually tossing the phone aside.

This was a low blow, even for my old man.

How to survive on half a million?

He had lived on a mere 50 yuan a month in his past life. A grown man wouldn't starve, would he?

His body was now in peak condition, far surpassing the average person, and he had Green, a pet with leader-like qualities.

Just a quick foray into the wilderness could net him thousands, if not tens of thousands.

"Brother, be honest with me, am I pretty?"

Ruan Mei slammed on the brakes, turned to Wang Yan, and asked each word with deliberate emphasis.

"Extremely pretty, like a celestial beauty!"

"Then why won't you marry me?"

"You know that's not what I'm after."

"I get it now. You're saying I have small breasts!"

"It's not about disliking small breasts; it's that you're flat-chested."

Wang Yan massaged his temples, eyeing the beautiful girl before him. The only prominence on her chest was a solitary point—otherwise, it might as well have been concave.

A man could endure hardship, but it wasn't fair to make the child suffer.

"You..." Ruan Mei's face flushed with anger, words failing her. Frustrated, she unleashed her fury on the car instead.

Boom! The engine erupted with a roar, the car launching forward like a rocket.

Straightaway, acceleration...

Drift, then more acceleration...

Faster and faster...

Ruan Mei drove as if she were Schumacher reincarnated, completing what should have been a fifteen-minute trip in less than five.

Bang! Wang Yan flung the car door open, nearly tumbling onto the pavement. The experience was terrifying; the girl drove like a lunatic. The sports car had been handled as if it were an airplane—lacking only wings to take flight.

After regaining his composure on the curb for a solid three minutes, Wang Yan made a vow—never again would he let Ruan Mei drive. Never.

Back at home, Wang Yan shut the door behind him and navigated to the Empire's Book Repository website.

Centuries ago, the invasion of ferocious beasts had jolted the decaying Bright Dynasty awake. The emperor, no longer indulging in hobbies, and the officials, both eunuchs and civil servants, ceased their infighting for self-preservation.

Unlike dynastic changes or foreign invasions, ferocious beasts didn't negotiate with humans, nor did they accept human surrender. To them, every human—man or woman, young or old—was prey.

In the face of such a threat, the nation united as never before, gradually reversing their fortunes. Over time, this unity forged a society where power dictated authority, and the mighty determined the future.

The Flame Empire stood as Earth's uncontested sovereign.

The Imperial Library, a monument to the Empire's strength, was a collective creation of its most powerful. Periodically, new martial arts techniques were introduced, vetted, and then cataloged.

This repository was not just the Empire's pride but a resource shared by all.

The Imperial Library spanned three tiers: the first housed various martial arts; the second contained knowledge across numerous industries; and the third preserved an extensive collection of soul techniques.

Wang Yan's key granted him access only to the first level, where he could select a martial art that suited him best.

Upon entering the website, the first martial art to catch his eye was one named "Hot Palm."

"At the outset of practice, the fiery Qi feels like a gentle breeze upon the face, barely noticeable. At the initial stage, it's akin to lava erupting, bones shattering, and skin tearing. At the advanced stage, it's like causing mountains to crumble and the earth to split, annihilating all in one's path."

Despite the odd name "Hot Palm," the description was undeniably impressive.

Wang Yan scrolled through the comments section, which was filled with unanimous Star 5 ratings.

"Incredible 666, I've never encountered martial arts this amazing!"

"Before mastering this martial art, I was nothing but a weakling. Now, I can go toe-to-toe with a Level 3 ferocious beast. Enough said, it's a Star 5 from me."

"Ever since I practiced this martial art, no more back pain, no more leg pain, and even my chronic stomach issues have healed. It's even improved my marital life. Hot Palm is the ultimate martial art for men, bar none."

"Hey, I take issue with that, brother. What's this 'men only' talk? We women find it just as essential."

"It beautifies, rejuvenates, and strengthens. My skin is smoother, and my figure has improved. No time for chit-chat, I'm off to practice."

"I must admit, the creator of this martial art deserves the title of Grandmaster. At 120 years old, I'm clear-headed, my vision is sharp, and even my urinary issues have cleared up."

"..."

Wang Yan was dumbfounded.

"Can it really be that miraculous? It sounds like the hype of a snake oil salesman."

He muttered to himself and continued to browse through the higher-ranked martial arts.

There were bizarre ones like "Stinky Foot" and "Cupping Fist," as well as technologically themed ones like "Excavator Fist," "Impact Drill Fist," and "Four-Wheel Drive Body." Then there were the obviously powerful "Hydrogen Bomb Fist," "Atomic Leg," and "East Wind Express Fist."

The martial arts techniques were rated highly, with comments that were exceptionally positive.

Yet, Wang Yan couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Scrolling down the list, he came across traditional martial arts like the Five Elemental Fist, the Eight Trigrams Palm, and the Mystic Trace Steps. These had average scores and a mix of reviews, seeming far more typical than the others.

After a few minutes of deliberation, Wang Yan chose to trust his senior's judgment.

With so many glowing reviews, it couldn't possibly be that bad.

Once he entered the secret key, the detailed training method for Spicy Palm was delivered to his inbox.

Wang Yan read through the instructions meticulously, his complexion shifting from pale to flushed, then to purple, and finally to a livid shade of black before he erupted in a tirade of expletives.

This was outrageously deceptive! It was even more egregious than Qiao Birao's antics!

Sure, Qiao Birao might have been a sister turned into an aunt, but at least she remained a woman. This Spicy Palm, however, was like a dud firecracker masquerading as an atomic bomb.