Chapter Twenty: Chen Zhenhai's Astonishment

The task was finally complete. Although the weapons he had forged were somewhat odd in shape, at least he had succeeded. After all, the system hadn’t set any strict requirements for this mission—there was no demand to forge a sword of a particular grade.

The system reward had already been delivered: a longsword emanating a chilling gleam lay quietly within the system’s space.

Chen Bo took out the longsword, immediately feeling its weight in his hand—a blade three feet long now resting in his grip. He swung it toward the defective weapon he’d just made, and with no resistance at all, cut it cleanly in two.

The cut was so smooth that one could easily imagine its effect if it struck a person.

“Amazing—this is even more powerful than any alloy on Earth. It’s like slicing through tofu, with not the slightest resistance,” Chen Bo exclaimed, twirling the sword in delight.

“‘So Chill’ tipped the streamer 333 coins: The host is showing off again, but this sword does look pretty nice.”

“Meh, this sword is nothing compared to anime weapons—doesn’t look cool at all.”

“Ma Hua with a Vine tipped the streamer 99,999 coins: If you actually made a sword like in the anime, it would snap in no time, maybe even hurt yourself.”

“Exactly! Anime weapons only care about looking cool, with all those jagged edges and even blades on the hilt—pure self-torture! Is the rich guy above secretly the CEO of Tencent?”

“Worshipping the Big Penguin Boss—if only I had such a sword, it would be a divine weapon!”

“If a treasure-grade weapon is already this strong, what will the higher-level ones be like—supernatural?”

Chen Bo cleared his throat and said, “Why do you all keep saying I’m showing off? Really, I’m not showing off—I’m flaunting. What, don’t like it? Come travel here and fight me! Hahaha!”

“For some reason, I suddenly really want to punch the host. That expression is just asking for it.”

“Stephen Chow tipped the streamer 9,527 coins: I’m eating dirt this month, but the host’s laughter is even more infectious than our national voice actors.”

“I’m tipping 1,000 coins—why is there a limit for donations from the US?”

“I see two big spenders above! Quick, each pluck a leg hair—who wants it? Fifty thousand each!”

“Mu Li tipped the streamer 888 coins—forcing my way in.”

“Hunter Morgan tipped the streamer 999,999 coins—let’s be friends.”

“Holy—almost a hundred million yuan! Is this what it means to be a financial group? Impressive.”

Ignoring the increasingly off-topic stream of comments, Chen Bo glanced at the screen and then chose to disregard them. Now, even people from other countries were following him, and with high attention; anyone with sense knew what kind of impact Chen Bo could have on Earth now.

As for the gold coins they tipped, Chen Bo naturally accepted them all. His account balance had reached over a million—he’d joined the ranks of millionaires! If converted to yuan, he’d be a billionaire.

Just think, Chen Bo had once been a small-time streamer with less than five digits in his savings. Now, in less than half a month, he had become a billionaire.

He put away the longsword and returned to his room, only to find someone sitting in a wicker chair, calmly sipping tea.

“Father, what brings you here?” Chen Bo asked, puzzled.

Chen Zhenhai set down his teacup, a hint of worry between his brows. “Bo’er, sit down. I’m here to ask what your plans are. Don’t worry—even though the Ten Thousand Sword Sect dominates Tianyang Prefecture, the Chen family is no pushover. I will see to your safe departure from Tianyang.”

Chen Bo froze. He understood what his father meant, and a warmth filled his heart. He waved his hand and said, “Don’t worry, Father! I have good news—my meridians are healed, and I’ve reached the mid-stage of Skin Tempering!”

“Bo’er, you don’t need to lie to your father. Healing meridians isn’t so simple,” Chen Zhenhai replied with a bitter smile, clearly unconvinced.

It was understandable—restoring meridians was unheard of on the Barbarian Continent. Maybe his own horizons were limited, but he’d heard of meridian injuries being cured. Yet Chen Bo’s meridians had been completely shattered—how could that be healed?

It was like fixing a broken hand bone—possible. But if your hand was severed at the base and chopped into mincemeat, how would you fix it?

Chen Bo was helpless. He knew his father wouldn’t believe him, so he came up with a plan.

He suddenly punched toward his father. Chen Zhenhai instinctively grabbed his son’s wrist and pulled, but Chen Bo’s strength was too great—his fist struck the wall, punching a hole in it.

“Bo’er, what are you doing? How could you strike at me?”

“Father, don’t you see? My meridians are healed, and I’ve gained a year’s worth of primal energy—now I’m mid-stage Skin Tempering. If not, how could I break through a wooden wall?”

Chen Zhenhai grabbed his son’s hand, stunned. “Is… is this real? Am I dreaming?”

“Bo’er, what is going on? Is your father dreaming, or is this real?” He pinched himself, gasped at the pain, and muttered, “It hurts—so this isn’t a dream!”

Chen Bo slipped his hand into his sleeve and produced a Small Rejuvenation Pill. “Father, when I went to the north district last time, I stumbled upon a cave. Inside, I found several people who had just died!”

“They had many possessions, but I could only bring back a strange sword and a bottle of pills. The next day, when I returned, their bodies had vanished.”

“It was this pill that restored my meridians and directly pushed me to mid-stage Skin Tempering. And this sword—I’ll show it to you.”

Turning away, Chen Bo took the odd sword he had forged from the system’s space.

Chen Zhenhai took the pill and the sword, opened the bottle, and sniffed—his eyes widened in shock, and he hurriedly put the pill away.

He examined the sword. Its shape was bizarre, even ugly, and it was rather short. But it looked incredibly sharp—just a bit below his own family sword, and far superior to any ordinary refined steel weapon.

Chen Zhenhai didn’t really believe the holes in Chen Bo’s story, but he didn’t press further. He patted his son’s shoulder, speaking earnestly, “Bo’er, you must remember: the innocent may be guilty if they possess treasures. Hide the sword and the pill well—never let others know.”

Chen Bo nodded. He knew all too well that many would kill for treasure; it was best to quietly amass wealth.

Some readers said the cultivation ranks were too basic—Xiaobei reflects and admits it’s true. But the outline is set; changing it now would require a thorough rewrite.

From now on, ranks will be mentioned less specifically—just enough for clarity. Thank you for the advice, dear readers.