Elder Yao was dead, and Li Zhuang's body had become a controlled puppet. Wen Buhuo clearly understood that this world was far more cruel than he had imagined. To survive, and to avenge Li Zhuang, he had to become stronger.
He secretly hid Li Zhuang's body in an abandoned woodshed deep in the herb garden, covered by weeds. Outwardly, he calmly told Zhang Xiaopang that Elder Yao had taken Li Zhuang out to collect herbs, and their return date was uncertain. Zhang Xiaopang knew that Elder Yao often traveled, so he didn't suspect anything, only instructing Wen Buhuo to take good care of the house.

For the next two months, Wen Buhuo entered a state of almost frantic cultivation.
He repeatedly studied the two cultivation techniques, "Wind Manipulation Technique" and "Fireball Technique," scrutinizing every word and diagram. In the early morning, when the first rays of sunlight penetrated the bamboo forest, Wen Buhuo was already active in the herb garden. He followed the mental techniques of the "Wind Manipulation Technique," diligently mobilizing the spiritual energy in his body to make himself lighter.

At first, he could only barely manage to run faster or lightly leap over low fences. But he didn't get discouraged, practicing day after day, running from one end of the herb garden to the other, jumping from the roof to the ground, and then from the ground back to the roof. His figure became faster and more agile in the herb garden, like a leaf in the wind, elusive and unpredictable.

After nightfall, he began to cultivate the "Fireball Technique." This technique required condensing the spiritual energy in his body into fireballs and launching them, demanding extremely high control over spiritual energy. Wen Buhuo sat cross-legged in the corner of the herb hut, his hands forming seals, veins bulging on his forehead. At first, he could only barely condense a spark, which quickly dissipated. But with the continuous nourishment of the medicinal pills, his spiritual energy became more abundant.

Gradually, he could condense a thumb-sized fireball, although not very powerful, it was enough to ignite a piece of paper. He repeated this over and over again, until his fingertips were burning with pain, until the spiritual energy in his body was completely exhausted. Besides cultivating his internal energy techniques, he didn't give up on swordsmanship either. Every few days, he would secretly meet Zhang Xiaopang in the back mountains and ask him for guidance on sword techniques. Zhang Xiaopang found Wen Buhuo's progress incredibly rapid; some moves that would take him months to master, Wen Buhuo would grasp after only a few demonstrations, and his attacks were fierce and deadly.

"Buhuo, you've been..." Zhang Xiaopang looked at Wen Buhuo's increasingly profound eyes, hesitating to speak.
"I just... don't want to be bullied anymore," Wen Buhuo didn't explain further, but instead swung his short sword even more fiercely.
Two months later, although Wen Buhuo's figure was still slender, his temperament had undergone a dramatic transformation. His eyes held a maturity and decisiveness uncharacteristic of his age, and spiritual energy flowed around him, giving him a sharp and formidable aura in every movement.

He had already mastered the "Wind Control Technique" to a considerable degree; his movements were like a ghost, making it difficult for ordinary cultivators to track him. His "Fireball Technique" was also perfected; with a flick of his fingers, several fist-sized fireballs would shoot out, their power not to be underestimated. And his swordsmanship, under Zhang Xiaopang's guidance, had been completely transformed, carrying an unstoppable determination.

During this time, he also used his time to cultivate higher-level medicinal herbs and refine more potent pills, continuously improving his spiritual power and divine sense.
He was no longer that simple medicine boy; he was someone who, after struggling on the brink of life and death, had embarked on a different path.