Chapter Forty-Two: An Unexpected Surprise Amidst Injury

This was the courtyard specially set aside for the head of the Feng family—a separate compound within the grand manor. The room Feng Jingzhe occupied had supposedly been seized by force, but in truth, it was never strictly within the bounds of family protocol.

Despite her outwardly dictatorial and domineering manner, Feng Xiaoman was, in fact, a woman deeply rooted in tradition and propriety. Though she had only arrived in the world a quarter of an hour before her younger brother, it was she who, after their father and elder brothers fell in battle and their mother succumbed to a brain illness, bore the weight of the entire Feng household upon her frail shoulders. Her word was law—her authority absolute. When she decreed that Feng Jingzhe was to be confined, the whole household complied without hesitation.

Feng Jingzhe listened at the door for a long time. Only after confirming that the coast was clear did he exhale in relief and begin to remove the plaster cast from his leg. His leg truly had been broken that night, and the pain was genuine. Yet within an hour or so, it had nearly healed; but for the quick application of the cast, it might have recovered altogether.

The ordeal had left him with a revelation: his body was undergoing a tremendous transformation. Previously slack muscles, battered and mended, now underwent a remarkable metamorphosis. If Li Changsheng were here to witness it, he would surely be stunned. That pale, frail, even sickly body now bore visible lines of muscle. While not the sort to make women swoon, it was no longer the listless frame it used to be.

Nor was this change merely superficial. Some strange energy coursed through him, catalyzing a fundamental transformation of his whole being.

After freeing himself from all these "restraints," Feng Jingzhe reached under the bed and drew out an ironwood stick—originally dismantled from the hoe in the greenhouse. It felt just right in his hand, and packed a punch when swung. He placed his left foot on the table, biting down on the towel he'd already prepared. Taking several deep breaths, he chose his angle and, gritting his teeth, struck his shin with a powerful blow.

A sharp crack—a stick as thick as a child's arm snapped in two, and his shin twisted into a gruesome shape.

"Mmph... ah..." The agony made him break out in a cold sweat, trembling uncontrollably. But after barely a dozen breaths, a pleasant tingling sensation spread from the injury, soothing his pain. His previously swollen and deformed calf began to heal before his eyes.

During this process, a peculiar energy emanated from the wound, spreading throughout his body and nourishing it. Bones, fascia, flesh, even his internal organs—all grew tougher and stronger under its influence.

Feng Jingzhe had calculated and tracked this process. With a single injury like the one just inflicted, his strength grew as much as ten or fifteen days of military training in his previous life.

Of course, there was the matter of energy conservation. The process left him ravenously hungry, and with a steady supply of food, his recovery would accelerate. This was precisely why he schemed for any excuse to venture outside.

Otherwise, with the life goals he had set for himself, sleeping at home or sleeping under a tree would be much the same.

Alas, one only appreciates the cost of daily bread when managing a household. Now, Feng Xiaoman was in charge, and meals were mostly vegetarian. Even if he stuffed himself to the point of bursting every meal, he could knock himself out with the stick only four or five times a day at most. Any more, and the wounds wouldn’t heal.

And as his body grew stronger, each subsequent injury required more time and energy to recover. All these factors combined severely limited the pace at which his strength could increase.

Originally, this wasn’t an urgent matter, but the sight of the broken ironwood stick on the floor only intensified his desire to sneak out. Besides, breaking his own leg over and over wasn’t sustainable. The experiments he was brewing in his mind could only be properly tested outside.

True, he could do so at home, either by inflicting further injuries on himself or provoking Feng Xiaoman—but then, the secret of his rapid healing would no longer be a secret.

It wasn’t about distrusting his family. Old habits from his past life simply prevailed. One must always keep a trump card in reserve.

Having decided to slip out, he continued to play the part of the dutiful son.

A towering stack of books dominated the table, most of them treatises penned by generations of military strategists. Among them were manuscripts from his own father, Feng Nantian, and his two elder brothers, who had recorded their experiences in leading troops. Feng Jingzhe had studied tactical and strategic theory extensively in his previous life, though all his knowledge pertained to modern warfare; adapting it to an era of cold steel was hardly straightforward.

He intended only to skim through the books to pass the time until nightfall, but as he read, he became engrossed. Cross-referencing his prior learning, he found himself gaining new insights.

It was only when twilight deepened and the door opened that Lady Jiang saw her son absorbed in a book, sitting in his wheelchair. For a moment, she wondered if he’d taken a blow to the head. Then came the usual motherly concern and filial affection—a rare and precious warmth for Feng Jingzhe, who had grown up an orphan.

Night descended once more, and beneath a certain locust tree, a familiar figure appeared. Now, scaling the courtyard wall—over ten feet high—required no assistance from the tree. Feng Jingzhe took a running start, and at three feet from the wall, he leapt, planting one foot against the wall, using the recoil to spring off the tree trunk, and then, with two quick kicks, landed lightly atop the wall. While his strength still fell short of his peak, it was leagues beyond what it had been half a month ago.

If he now encountered the thugs from the alley, he was confident he could escape unharmed.

Of course, he still couldn’t recall how he made it home that night. His last memory was collapsing from sedatives, and he had no idea what happened to the old man in the end.

For this period, all his sources of information had been cut off; even the honest Sun Fatty had been blacklisted by the Feng family after Li Changsheng betrayed him. He had no clue who rescued him or brought him home.

Asking Li Changsheng was out of the question—the man was unreliable. If any word of Feng Jingzhe’s alleyway ambush reached Feng Xiaoman’s ears, the consequences would be worse than a car crash.

Now, slipping out with practiced ease, he headed straight for “Heavenly Delicacies” for a good meal.

And as he vanished around the corner, his silhouette swallowed by the night, somewhere in a shadowy corner, an old man with white hair and beard slowly opened his eyes, watching Feng Jingzhe’s departing figure, his gaze layered with meaning…