I Don't Know Martial Arts, but I Have Fists

Traveling through Dayan, Qin Ming became the lowest-level escort in the escort agency. The portable system has been damaged, the internal strength is insulated, and the understanding is mediocre. In this world where martial arts is respected and internal strength rules the roost, he seems to be a natural loser. Until he discovered that his only remaining "physical enhancement" module, which was scorned by warriors, could actually feed on the cheapest and most despised "turbidity". When the martial arts masters broke their heads for a "Qi Pill", he squatted behind the smelly stable, gobbling down cold lard cubes. When the children of the famous family pay attention to "eating Qi to maintain health" and eating Xia Xia and drinking dew, he is doing it for a penny and losing his smile. Martial artists say: It is greasy and has a thick taste, which stagnates Qi and blood and is a taboo in martial arts. But he felt that with every mouthful of disgusting grease he swallowed, his skin became firmer and his strength became thicker. "Rice", "freak", "self-destructive"... Ridicule and incomprehension go hand in hand. He innocently scratched his head and admitted his mistake, then turned around and stuffed more fat into his mouth. On this lonely road that no one understands, full of stench and greasiness, Qin Ming silently calculated: When mortal flesh and blood shakes the body's protective aura, when pure power overwhelms exquisite moves, What wonderful expressions must be on the faces of those high-ranking martial arts geniuses?