Chapter 48 Isn't it only natural for the protagonist to master both magic and martial arts?

Perhaps eager to avoid any troublesome entanglements, upon realizing that Feng Xue truly had no intention of taking his change, the master of the hall thoughtfully threw in two herbal medical prescriptions said to be effective in fortifying the body and invigorating its foundation.

Feng Xue was naturally more than happy to accept this unexpected bonus. Considering they were worth no more than a dozen copper coins, he simply opened the basic introductory manual—grandly titled *The General Outline*—as he walked, reading while making his way home.

How should he put it...

It was defined by an unpretentious simplicity.

Martial cultivation was just as its name implied: practicing martial arts. Moreover, it seemed to follow an outer-to-inner path, entirely devoid of concepts like internal force, at first glance resembling little more than physical conditioning from military training.

Yet, when compared against the foundational cultivation methods of profound arts, distinct correlations emerged.

Profound cultivation emphasized three stages: fortifying, condensing, and nourishing. Bodily cultivation also revolved around these very same three words, differing only in the specific process.

If the human body were likened to a plot of land, the initial step for both profound and physical cultivators was "fortification" (strengthening the physical frame)—essentially improving the soil and rendering it fertile.

However, upon reaching the second step, "condensation" (gathering the harvest), a divergence appeared. If what profound cultivators sowed in the field was fodder that heavily depleted the soil's vitality (primordial energy), then what physical cultivators sowed was sustenance capable of filling the belly (vital blood).

When it finally came to the "nourishing" stage (enjoying the fruits of labor), the fodder grown by profound cultivators had to be fed to livestock (spirit and soul) first to yield greater returns, whereas physical cultivators directly consumed the grains they harvested.

In terms of yield, the livestock raised through profound cultivation surpassed grain in both nutritional value and intrinsic worth. Yet grain boasted the distinct advantages of massive volume, guaranteed satiety, and resilience against risks; not only could it sustain oneself, but portions of it could be periodically sold off to acquire even more arable land. Even in the face of unexpected hardships and poor harvests, one would not be reduced to total destitution.

Conversely, livestock possessed a far lower risk tolerance. Even with a higher market price, one had to wait until the animals reached maturity before trading them for grain and farmland. Should the slightest mishap occur along the way, the cycle would shatter completely—either starving to death before the livestock matured (perishing before the soul was fully formed and lifespan expired), or having to butcher the livestock prematurely for meat (ghost cultivation).

Herein also lay the reason why profound cultivation and physical cultivation could not be practiced simultaneously.

After all, the land that was the human body was limited in expanse.

To pursue dual cultivation meant facing the dilemma of how much land to allocate for grain and how much for fodder.

If too much land was devoted to fodder, there would not be enough grain for one's own sustenance, let alone for purchasing new fields. Conversely, if too much land was given to grain, there would not be enough fodder to properly nourish the livestock; the fodder might even sap nutrients away from the grain, leading to a diminished grain yield, ultimately rendering the returns inferior to those of a single specialized path.

Yet, amidst this logic, Feng Xue detected a glaring flaw—

Namely, that physical cultivation could seamlessly transition into profound cultivation.

In other words, an individual could entirely rely on physical cultivation first, cultivating a sufficient quantity of grain while simultaneously expanding their total land holdings. Only then could they pivot to growing fodder and raising livestock. In this manner, the stored grain would be ample enough to tide them over through the livestock-raising period, while the larger, more fertile tracts of land would ultimately yield even greater quantities of fodder.

Yet, no sooner had this notion surfaced than Feng Xue dismissed it himself.

Could the mighty experts of this world truly be blind to such an obvious piece of logic?

Indeed, perhaps the original cultivation path of this world had precisely been to practice martial arts first and subsequently transition to the profound sects!

As for why it had evolved into its current state?

Naturally, because the efficiency of physical cultivation was simply too low!

While growing grain and selling a portion of it could indeed earn one more land (lifespan), the progression was excruciatingly sluggish. Even a grandmaster-realm martial arts expert merely gained an additional sixty years of natural lifespan, and by that advanced age, the unnourished spirit and soul of a martial cultivator would inevitably decay. Even with a broader expanse of land and a higher yield of fodder, raising qualified livestock remained a daunting challenge.

Perhaps in the ancient eras of this world, rare treasures of heaven and earth were scattered everywhere, allowing people to casually consume them and easily propel their martial arts to the grandmaster realm, thereby stepping directly into profound cultivation.

Later on, however, as those rare treasures dwindled and the progress of physical cultivation slowed, practitioners were forced to transition to profound cultivation ever earlier. Exactly how much earlier became a problem. As the returns gradually diminished to the point where skipping physical cultivation entirely and focusing solely on profound arts maximized efficiency, the two systems ultimately severed ties altogether.

Yet, what truly captured Feng Xue's attention was an entirely different matter—

His fodder (primordial energy) came completely free!

It neither consumed the soil's vitality (lifespan) nor vied with grain for nutrients (essence). Given this, wouldn't he be able to pursue physical cultivation and profound cultivation simultaneously?

He had originally only sought to broaden his technical reserves, never expecting to stumble upon a bug (ah, no—a game mechanic!) that only he could exploit. Feng Xue's mood instantly brightened, to the extent that he felt an urge to burst into song.

Yet this buoyant mood vanished without a trace the moment he returned home and caught sight of a soldier lingering by his doorway, who appeared to have been waiting for some time.

"Could that so-called Pier Dock Gang still be in cahoots with Lucheng's official authorities?"

One could hardly blame Feng Xue for instantly suspecting the Pier Dock Gang—an outfit he had crossed paths with only once. Having arrived in this world a mere nine days ago, they were virtually the only people with whom he held a grievance.

Reaching out to stroke the Liu Yunxi resting at his fingertips, he readied himself for a steamroller-style *iaijutsu* while simultaneously gripping a jade medallion in his pocket, prepared to unleash an attack via the Ghost-Driving Incantation at a moment's notice.

Yet, just as Feng Xue braced himself to kill and make his escape, the soldier spoke with utmost politeness:

"Are you Mr. Feng? The magistrate invites you to meet him."

"???" Feng Xue was deeply suspicious of the other's courtesy. While he could not entirely rule out the possibility of a polite overture masking hostility or an entrapment scheme, one should at least maintain a degree of vigilance. Acting like this—carrying a firearm yet showing not a shred of wariness...

Could it be that superiors failed to issue instructions? But if so, why dispatch a soldier? And a single one at that! Wouldn't sending a secretary, or simply dressing in plain clothes instead of military uniform, be far more effective in lowering his guard?

A flurry of thoughts raced through Feng Xue's mind. After a brief hesitation, he asked:

"I have never met the magistrate before. How does he know of me? And what does he want with me?"

The soldier was a seasoned veteran who instantly perceived that Feng Xue harbored suspicions, and promptly explained:

"It is like this: the magistrate did not summon you alone. In truth, all the martial experts in Lucheng have received an invitation. It is primarily because some bizarre incidents have occurred in the county recently, and he wishes to consult with everyone. The gathering is at Wangxian Tower."

"All of them?" Seeing that the soldier's words bore no trace of falsehood, Feng Xue remained somewhat guarded. Yet, if this truly were a trap, ambushes likely awaited him beyond just this single soldier. Even if he were to dispatch the man instantly, escaping Lucheng would prove exceedingly difficult, let alone the fact that the only train had departed at noon, making a locomotive-crash time-travel attempt entirely unrealistic...

"Lead the way, then."

Seeing Feng Xue accept, the soldier let out an inward sigh of relief. He smiled obsequiously, stepped forward a couple of paces, yet tactfully maintained a safe distance as he asked:

"Does Mr. Feng need to bring anything along?"

"There is no need." Feng Xue had long cultivated the habit of carrying all his worldly possessions on his person even before acquiring the Pot-Heaven Bag, and even more so after possessing it. The very purpose of this was to be able to flee at any time, from any place.