“Don’t be afraid. This is a fla born from life force; it won’t harm you. But I must warn you—once the Origin Wine enters your throat, your body will suffer greatly. If you wish to beco a warrior, you must endure.”
The elder called Pipe thought Adam was hesitating out of fear. What he didn’t say was that, for an ordinary panda, three barrels of wine were far from enough. He wanted to use this as a way to cut off Adam’s ambitions.
Adam stepped forward, dipped a claw into the wine, and placed it in his mouth. Then he commanded silently:
“Chip, analyze the liquid. Any harmful components?”
Adam’s personal chip had high-level clearance. Before this mission, he had downloaded a vast amount of offline data from the archives of various Holy Towers—just for situations like this.
The chip instantly returned results:
“Known materials: … Unknown materials: detected. An unidentified energy has catalyzed ferntation. Harmful substances are present, but neutralized. Sample classified as a potential-stimulation potion.”
Adam recalled when, back on Madeira Island, Ophelia had consud that vial of hormones—the highest-grade potential stimulant allowed at the apprentice stage. This wine must function in a similar way.
Seeing Adam hesitate, Pipe said reassuringly:
“If you don’t want to drink, then forget it. We can think of another wa—heavens, Little Bamboo Rice, slow down!”
Once Adam confird the wine was harmless, he clung to the barrel and began gulping it down. The alcohol was strong—likely due to its crude brewing thod. Unlike the llow spirits of the Mage World, this had only one taste: fire.
As the wine entered his body, it rapidly seeped into every cell, transforming into life energy and igniting cellular vitality. Instantly, Adam felt an overwhelming hunger and heat. Every cell clamored madly for food and energy; every pore scread to open and sweat.
The chip fed him constant updates:
“Activating bodily assistance. Energy digestion support initiated. External tabolism channels sealed. Origin Wine energy assimilating into cells. Progress: 10%... 50%...”
Gulp. Gulp.
Adam drained the towering barrel that was taller than he was, then tossed it aside. He fixed Pipe with a ravenous, burning gaze.
Pipe stared, dumbstruck. Subconsciously, he lit the second barrel, watching as Adam drank without hesitation—his face blank with shock.
He rembered vividly his own painful opening of the Origin. The agony had nearly driven him to suicide. Without his father’s aid, he’d never have endured. And yet this cub was drinking it as though it were nothing.
At that thought, his eyes fird.
“So, Little Bamboo Rice truly yearns to avenge Bamboo Leaf. What a rare quality! With this kind of will, he may ascend to the martial peak… perhaps even beco a Martial Saint! I must help him!”
Lighting the third barrel, he vanished in a blur of strange footwork.
Adam had no idea what kind of story Pipe was telling himself. By the ti he finished the second barrel, his cell transformation rate had already reached 100%. The chip reported massive cellular death followed by rapid regeneration. At the sa ti, a new kind of energy—different from magic—was erging from his reborn cells.
“Establishing sample analysis. Sample scarce. Completion ti incalculable.”
Adam felt no unbearable pain. His outward struggle was only for show, to avoid seeming too abnormal. Without pause, he finished the third barrel—but the Origin Wine’s effects seed capped. His life force did not grow stronger.
“Lacking guidance techniques. Lacking higher-grade potions. Growth of life force stagnating.”
Pipe returned with five more barrels, looking deeply moved by his own imagination. He opened each one, shoving them toward Adam:
“Drink! There’s more! Today, I’ll see you open the Origin!”
Including the earlier ones, Adam drank four barrels in total. But by the fourth, his life force ceased to grow. He raised a paw to stop Pipe and said:
“Elder Pipe, I think… I’ve already succeeded in opening the Origin.”
Pipe’s eyes blazed. He threw aside the barrel, pressed a palm against Adam’s back, and sent a stream of foreign energy into his body.
Adam suppressed his chip’s automatic counterattack protocols and allowed the elder’s life force to rge with his own.
“Hahahaha! It worked! The Origin has opened! Only four barrels—and so much of it, too! Little Bamboo Rice, do you know what this ans? You’re a genius!” Pipe laughed heartily. “One day, you’ll be stronger than your mother!”
Adam felt no pride. He asked directly:
“What about the Wine-Swallowing Inferno Art?”
Pipe produced a crystalline orb, shimring like a diamond, and handed it to Adam.
“This is your mother’s Martial Core. Consu it—the Wine-Swallowing Inferno Art lies within.”
The Martial Core was clearly an energy crystal. Strangely stable, it leaked not the slightest aura; even the chip could not scan it. Frowning, Adam popped it into his mouth.
The hard shell dissolved instantly. Violent energy surged through his body, moving along fixed pathways. Adam delegated the energy’s distribution entirely to the chip, focusing instead on the martial art that suddenly appeared in his mind.
The art itself wasn’t complex, but its thod of generating life force was unique. As it circulated, normal cells were gradually transford into energy-devouring cells. External energy entering the body was split: part was permanently stored in the cells, reinforcing them, while another part branched into streams of life force traveling along specific vascular routes. Eventually, they converged at a single point—the nucleus that governed all life force. According to the technique, this was the reason for Martial Core formation.
The Martial Core was a collective of energy-devouring cells.
This thod locked life force into the flesh itself, fusing even the soul into the body. Martialists would thus lack abilities like creating clones or elental avatars. Instead, their bodies would grow denser and stronger, until, at higher stages, they expanded in size. By the Martial Saint level, even a single flake of their skin would carry imnse power.
Barring the nature of the energy, it resembled the path of body-tempering mages.
The Wine-Swallowing Inferno Art was no profound manual. Adam comprehended it at a glance and imdiately began his first martial cultivation.
In an instant, within a kiloter’s radius, ambient life force rioted, rushing madly toward Adam, flooding into his body. His form contracted briefly, then began to expand visibly, swelling at a pace the naked eye could follow.
Pipe staggered back, staring at Adam as though beholding a priceless treasure.
“Resonance with Heaven and Earth’s life force! This is the talent of a Martial Saint! The Panda Clan will give birth to its first Martial Saint!”
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