Jade Armor Strongman

The man's left sleeve hung empty, and his skin was a dull, chalky gray like raw stone. He stood as rigid and imposing as a boulder. If any former resident of Baixi Village had been there, they might have caught a fleeting resemblance to Wu Siliu.

Wu Siliu glanced sideways at his empty sleeve, the hatred in his eyes burning with a venomous intensity.

Years ago, his band of brigands had slaughtered Zhou Changxi before fleeing north to occupy a mountain peak. As one of the primary chieftains under Ma Datou, Wu Siliu had lived a life of lawless luxury.

In those days, they regularly plundered passing merchants and raided vulnerable villages, reveling in their ill-gotten wealth. But just when they believed their lawless paradise would last forever, the provincial army launched a massive pacification campaign.

It was Zhu Zhen who had led those troops, scourging Floating Cloud Mountain three times over.

Their supposedly impregnable fortress and its myriad watchtowers were reduced to ash by Zhu Zhen's fires.

Ma Datou and the other chieftains were captured one by one and publicly beheaded. Wu Siliu had barely escaped with his life, losing his arm before tumbling down a sheer cliff.

His body had been shattered by the fall, leaving him a broken, dying cripple with only days to live.

Yet, beneath that very cliff, he stumbled upon the skeletal remains of a cultivator. Beside the bones lay a legendary manual detailing an immortal cultivation path known as the Jade Rock Spirit Origin Art, along with several strange, unlabelled pills.

As a mere mortal on the brink of death, he possessed no spiritual roots to cultivate the manual. To survive, he gambled everything and swallowed the pills.

He endured an agonizing, hellish torment that warped his flesh. He survived, but he was left in this grotesque, half-living state-neither man nor ghost.

Only after deciphering the Jade Rock Spirit Origin Art did he realize it was a formidable cultivation path. Cultivated to its peak, it rendered the physical body indestructible, turning bare fists into weapons capable of matching divine artifacts.

Those pills were auxiliary medicinal catalysts, refined from jade, volcanic ash, and various minerals. If a mortal consumed them recklessly, their body would rapidly petrify. Though they remained a mortal, they would transform into a Jade Armor Strongman of monstrous strength.

The price was absolute: they were locked into the form of a Jade Armor Strongman for the rest of their days, unable to advance their strength or alter their physical state ever again.

Had he taken the pill before losing his arm, the mystical properties might have regenerated the limb. Now, that path was permanently closed. His hatred for the Zhou family had hardened into something physical and absolute.

He had tested his strength; his fists could smash solid boulders, and his grip could snap ancient pines.

This newfound might fueled his supreme arrogance. Had he not learned of the terrifying nature of Qi Condensation experts from certain Rogue Cultivators-and known he was no match for them-he would have stormed Baixi Mountain long ago.

Even so, he had prowled the perimeter of Baixi Mountain for months, waiting for the day Zhou Ping would leave the mountain. He never expected his chance to come so swiftly.

"It was worth the months of lurking. Old dog, you are finally gone," Wu Siliu muttered, his eyes bloodshot and feral. "Today, I shall exterminate the entire Zhou clan!"

With a heavy step, he pressed up the mountain trail, leaving two deep, crushed indentations in the solid earth where he had stood.

Yet, the moment his foot crossed the boundary of the defensive formation, Zhou Ping-who was currently instructing Zhou Chengyuan in his cultivation-sensed the intrusion through his formation plate. He frowned, his brow furrowing. "What a bizarre aura."

Zhou Chengyuan looked up from his stance. "Grandpa, what's wrong?"

After months of living together, Zhou Qianling had shed her initial fear. She asked softly, "Great-uncle, has an outsider breached the mountain?"

Zhou Ping nodded. "Continue your practice. I shall return shortly."

He could feel that the intruder's presence was extraordinarily peculiar. It far exceeded that of a normal Spirit Awakening cultivator, yet it lacked the true weight of a Qi Condensation expert. Furthermore, it did not possess the vibrant, flowing vitality of a cultivator; instead, it felt like stagnant water or dead stone.

Zhou Ping withdrew his formation plate and infused it with a strand of Qi. Sensing that Zhou Xuanya was safe within the small crafting workshop on Jing Peak and Chen Fusheng was on Qing Peak tending to the White Marrow Grass, his mind eased slightly.

If either of them encountered this freakish intruder, they would stand no chance.

With a flick of his fingers, he activated the formation plate. Instantly, the thick mists within dozens of zhang of Wu Siliu began to churn and shift silently.

"Old man Zhou, Zhou Hong, and every single one of your miserable whelps-I will slaughter you all!"

Wu Siliu's expression grew increasingly manic as he visualized the Zhou clan kneeling before him in pools of blood, begging for mercy. His pace quickened.

But as time wore on, even a man ignorant of spiritual formations could tell something was amiss. Ming Peak was not particularly high, yet he had been climbing for what felt like an eternity without reaching the summit.

His expression darkened. Had the occupants noticed him? He quickly forced himself to calm down.

"Zhou Ping is gone. Who else on this mountain could possibly stand against me?"

Unbeknownst to him, Zhou Ping was already standing a short distance away, observing him intently through the veil of shifting mist.

'Who is this?'

No matter how much Zhou Ping searched his memory, he could find no trace of this individual.

Wu Siliu had been nothing more than an ordinary villager. Zhou Ping had never met him, and even Zhou Changhe's generation had only seen him a handful of times. After the bandit raid, the clan had only known him through crudely drawn bounties. Now that he had transformed into a Jade Armor Strongman, his features were warped beyond recognition.

Observing the intruder's unnatural composition, Zhou Ping casually flicked his sleeve. A massive gale of wind Qi erupted, slicing through the mist with a sharp howl!

Sensing the lethal gale tearing through the fog, Wu Siliu's pupils contracted. He instinctively raised his thick right arm to shield his face.

Clang!

The gale slammed into his arm with the screech of cold iron striking solid bedrock.

As the residual wind dissipated, the surrounding earth was left scarred with deep, jagged furrows.

Wu Siliu's clothes were shredded into tatters. He panted heavily, but his gray forearm bore only a shallow, bloodless scratch.

Zhou Ping's eyes narrowed in surprise. A strike of that caliber would have severely injured a Spirit Awakening cultivator, yet this freak was practically unhurt, and he wasn't even bleeding.

Zhou Ping shifted his position seamlessly through the mist, unleashing several more crescent gales from multiple angles to gauge the intruder's limits.

Before Wu Siliu could recover his breath, the air shrieked as multiple gales converged upon him. Panicking, he curled himself into a tight, defensive ball.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The razor-sharp gales struck in rapid succession. Wu Siliu's petrified flesh began to crack under the relentless pressure, spraying shards of gray stone chips into the air.

Realizing he could not simply endure the assault, Wu Siliu roared and broke into a desperate run, his heavy strides causing the hillside to tremble beneath him.

Yet, while his physical strength was monumental, his stone-like body was terribly slow. He could not outrun the formation's attacks.

Streams of wind Qi repeatedly battered his frame, causing him to stagger and sway like a fragile skiff caught in a violent tempest.

Seeing the intruder's heavy steps shaking the very bedrock, Zhou Ping grew even more circumspect.

He was not a body-tempering cultivator. This freak wielded hundreds of jin of raw physical force in every movement; taking a direct hit would be foolish.

Since the target lacked speed, the wisest course was to whittle him down from afar.

Wu Siliu's physical resilience was astonishing. It took eleven consecutive gales before the stone hide finally ruptured, spraying dark crimson blood. Broken and battered, his massive frame collapsed heavily onto the dirt.

Zhou Ping finally let out a slow breath. For a moment, he had truly thought the creature was indestructible.

Though grievously wounded, Wu Siliu remained conscious. Knowing he had walked into a death trap, he glared savagely at the empty mist, his tongue pressing against a poison capsule hidden behind his teeth.

"Come out! Your grandpa is here! Show yourselves, you little bastards!"

Zhou Changhe and several other clan members materialized from the mist, arriving at Zhou Ping's side. They stared at the mangled creature in bewilderment. "Uncle, does this monster share a blood-feud with our family?"

Zhou Ping shook his head. "I have never seen him before. I know not where he came from."

With a wave of his hand, Zhou Ping dispersed the surrounding fog. He looked down at Wu Siliu's severed legs. The outer layers of the stumps were entirely petrified like jade, while only the deepest core remained vulnerable flesh and bone.

Only then did he comprehend the secret behind the creature's absurd defenses.

Wu Siliu stared up at Zhou Ping's calm face, his heart plunging into absolute despair. Those damned Rogue Cultivators lied to me!

Zhou Changhe stepped forward, his voice cold and demanding. "Who are you? For what purpose have you trespassed upon the ancestral lands of the Zhou clan?"

Knowing his end was nigh, the question drove Wu Siliu into a final, maddened frenzy.

"I am your grandpa, Wu Siliu!"

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