Chapter 67: The Author Forgot to Name This Chapter

Chen Bo felt a surge of heat in his abdomen, and to his astonishment, a torrent of blazing energy rose from the once-parched dantian, coursing along the meridians and flowing into every fiber of his limbs, nourishing his body in return. It was as if he were standing beside a furnace in the height of summer; sweat poured from his body, and his muscles quivered and trembled, transformed in unimaginable ways.

He wasn't turning into a hulking, muscle-bound monster like Arnold Schwarzenegger, but the fibers of his muscles grew more vibrant and alive, his strength increasing in tandem. At times, his skin even gleamed with a metallic sheen—a sign of reaching the latter stages of the Skin Tempering Realm.

But it didn't end there. More energy surged into his muscles, propelling his cultivation from the mid-stage of Skin Tempering straight into the early stage of Muscle Refinement! Given a little more time to fully assimilate this energy, he would break through to the mid-stage of Muscle Refinement in a single leap.

Not only had his strength undergone a dramatic transformation, but to Chen Bo’s amazement, his injuries had also healed. His complexion was now rosy, no longer deathly pale as before.

He touched his abdomen; nothing seemed amiss any longer. Unwrapping the bandages, he wiped away the remnants of ointment with a damp towel. The scar that had once marred his flesh had vanished without a trace! Who would have thought the Nine Yang Sutra even came with a cosmetic benefit? Truly formidable.

Feeling the vast, surging power within him, Chen Bo couldn't help but throw a heavy punch at the ground. The flagstone floor caved inward, leaving a crater where his fist struck.

He brushed the dust from his knuckles—astonished to find not even a scratch, not even the skin was broken. What a defense! Though not as impervious as the legendary Iron Shirt technique, which could shrug off blades and spears, at the very least, he no longer had to worry about mosquito bites!

Chen Bo had come to loathe the mosquitoes of the Wild Continent; a single bite would raise a welt the size of a small steamed bun. He had considered making mosquito coils, but now it seemed unnecessary.

“Ladies and gentlemen, your host has finally broken through! And not just one stage—two! I’m now at the early Muscle Refinement stage. This power—damn, it’s amazing! What a rush!” Chen Bo threw back his head and laughed, clearly relishing the chance to boast.

“Host, is it really okay for you to show off like this? The elders always said, boast too much and you’ll get struck by lightning!”

“Wow, even when the host is showing off, he’s so handsome! I wish I could get his autograph. Too bad he’s not even on Earth. What a pity.”

“Ha! Girl upstairs, stop drooling. The host’s already got a flower planted in his cow pat.”

“It’s more than one flower! At least two have been planted in his dung heap. Why don’t you consider me instead? I may be average-looking, but my family owns a small supermarket, a restaurant, a country inn, and a tavern.”

“Money’s useless! If I learned the Nine Yang Sutra, haha, I’d be like a stallion, conquering countless beauties!”

“Keep dreaming! You think you’re Long Ao Tian or Zhao Ri Tian? You think you can just pick up the Nine Yang Sutra and master it? Martial arts require not just effort, but talent. Without talent, all the training in the world will only make you a little healthier, nothing more.”

“That’s true! But I have a question. How do you know so much? Tell me, are you another transmigrator?”

“It’s all in the novel!”

“Damn, what kind of novel is this?”

“A divine book called ‘The Otherworldly Livestream Room’! I hear it’s been running naked for over a month.”

Chen Bo shook his head, smiling wryly. He turned on global mute, opened the first page of the Nine Yang Sutra, and held it up to the camera.

“Come on, screenshot warriors! Hurry up or you’ll fall behind!” he called, flipping quickly to the next page.

He lingered on each page for three or four seconds, drawing cries of protest from those with slow reflexes, while those who had their cameras ready sipped tea leisurely, savoring the moment.

But for all their effort, Chen Bo inwardly scoffed at these foolish Earthlings.

They could have just waited on the forums; soon enough, some bored netizen would inevitably upload the screenshots for all to see.

After flipping through the entire Nine Yang Sutra, Chen Bo finally lifted the mute. A barrage of messages flooded in.

“Oh my god, I nearly suffocated during those few minutes of silence. Had to pop up for some fresh air.”

“Damn it, host, you flipped too fast—I couldn’t keep up at all!”

“Speak for yourself, butterfingers. I finished screenshotting ages ago. Flamingly triumphant, hahahaha!”

“What’s the point of all this? I’m off to hire a top humanities student to translate the Nine Yang Sutra for me. Illiterates like me can’t take it anymore!”

“I couldn’t understand a word! It’s all in classical Chinese—might as well be the entire Amazon jungle in text.”

“I always thought Xu Xian was the ultimate beast, but there’s always someone stronger. Upstairs, you’ve bedded so many animals and plants, even dirt, stones, and water aren’t safe!”

After making the Nine Yang Sutra public, Chen Bo found himself at a loss for what to do next. His sudden breakthrough to the early Muscle Refinement stage had left his cultivation somewhat unstable.

He sat cross-legged and began to silently recite the Nine Yang Sutra’s incantation. The energy of heaven and earth slowly gathered, flowing into his dantian, then back through his meridians into his muscles.

“Wow! The host is livestreaming cultivation! Honey, come quick and see God himself!”

“Holy shit, there’s smoke coming from the host’s head! Did he go astray and become possessed?”

“Idiot, haven’t you seen martial arts masters in movies with smoke rising from their heads when they train?”

“Feels just like a classic Hong Kong wuxia film! I bet the first person to make a martial arts movie transmigrated from the Wild Continent.”

“Feeling great—tipping the host 666 coins. Popping up for a bit before diving back under.”

“Bookworm tips 233 coins. Oh no, my pocket money’s almost gone, I won’t be able to tip the host for the next half month.”

“Stop pretending, rich guy upstairs—you’ve said that a dozen times this month. Doesn’t it get old?”

“What can I say? The wealthy are just capricious!”

“Big spender, let me cling to your thigh! Cling, cling, cling, cling, cling!”

“Zhou Xingxing tips 2333 coins. Farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience, farming experience. Mom says anyone who doesn’t spam word count for the author isn’t a good person.”

“Hey, which side are you on? You’re so off-topic, I can’t believe it!”

Four chapters! Little Bei delivers, as promised! That’s right, Little Bei has never even learned how to type the word ‘lie’ on a keyboard!