Late at night, the full moon hung high in the sky, its radiant glow bathing the earth in a silvery light that resembled fallen snow.
The small lake lay as still as a mirror, perfectly reflecting the moon's orb. It seemed to hold another world within its depths, its surface draped in an ethereal, pale moonlight.
Chen Zong lay by the lake's edge, hands clasped behind his head, basking in the lunar glow. He stared absently at the luminous moon, his mind in turmoil.
Having sacrificed so much yet gained so little, he couldn't help but feel resentful.
Martial cultivation required more than just relentless training. External support was essential; otherwise, one would simply deplete their own resources and collapse from exhaustion. Chen Zhigang, for instance, could feast daily on the flesh of ferocious beasts, strengthening his body and supplementing his cultivation with Vitality Pills. Rumor had it that the young elites of Wind Martial City's noble families received these pills every few days.
If Father's cultivation base were still intact, Chen Zong could easily enjoy daily meals of beast flesh and occasional Vitality Pills. But reality was harsh. The single Vitality Pill he received every three months had been his most eagerly awaited event—a hope shattered today.
Sometimes, Chen Zong felt utterly lost.
His Qi and Blood Deficiency was an innate condition, present from birth. Unless he could find a Precious Medicine capable of completely curing it, it would forever hold him back, making his dreams and goals seem impossibly distant.
But Precious Medicines were incredibly rare. Even his father, who had once reached the seventh level of the Qi Blood Realm, had never managed to acquire one.
As Chen Zong pondered this, he suddenly noticed that the moonlight seemed particularly bright tonight.
"Wait... something's falling." Straining his eyes to see clearly, he spotted a light brighter than the moon plummeting rapidly. "It looks like it's heading straight for me..."
"No!" The instant the light struck down like a sword, Chen Zong finally reacted. As he scrambled to dodge, the sword-like beam seemed to anticipate his move, accelerating a hundredfold and piercing his forehead as if tearing through space itself.
As if his skull had been shattered, a mountain torrent of agony erupted throughout his body, instantly plunging Chen Zong into unconsciousness.
"Where am I?" Chen Zong looked around in bewilderment, finding himself in a vast expanse of dark void. He lowered his head, but couldn't see his own body, yet he could still feel his presence—a bizarre sensation.
Thin streams of silver light drifted toward him from the distance, drawing him forward. After flying for an immeasurable time, he finally reached the source: a motionless sphere of silver radiance suspended at the heart of the void. The closer he got, the more awestruck he became.
The silver radiance appeared to be woven from countless Silver Azure Dragons, their forms intertwined in an intricate tapestry. Each dragon seemed to have emerged from nothingness, connecting heaven and earth, piercing through space and time, and embodying infinite mysteries.
At the center of this radiant construct floated a fragment shaped like a sword tip. Entirely silver-white, it emanated ancient and profound vibrations.
As Chen Zong's consciousness drifted into the luminous fabric of Silver Azure Dragons, the moment it touched the sword tip, something seemed to explode outward, sending shockwaves in all directions and plunging him into complete unconsciousness.
Suddenly, a brilliant light flickered between his eyebrows, its divine radiance surpassing even the moon's glow in otherworldly splendor.
Layers of light rippled outward, enveloping Chen Zong's entire body as if something were being relentlessly squeezed out from within him.
As the moon passed its zenith and began to descend westward, the luminous streams on Chen Zong's body retreated to his forehead, their radiance subsiding. His fingers twitched involuntarily, his eyelids fluttered open, and his gaze shifted from confusion to piercing sharpness. A putrid stench assaulted his nostrils, like that of a rat left to rot for days, causing him to retch violently.
"What's happening?" Chen Zong gasped, his hands and body coated in a thick, viscous sludge. His vision had become astonishingly keen, allowing him to clearly discern the black-red hue of the foul-smelling substance even under the bright moonlight.
He hastily stripped off his clothes and plunged into the lake, scrubbing himself vigorously. After at least a dozen washes, the black-red sludge finally vanished. To his astonishment, Chen Zong discovered that his skin had become fair and rosy, as soft and supple as a newborn's. The pallor and dryness from his Innate Blood Qi Deficiency, as well as the scars left by his excessive martial training, had completely disappeared.
His entire body felt weightless, as if he could leap into the air and take flight. His heart pulsed with vigor, his blood qi surged powerfully, and strength coursed through every fiber of his being. This unprecedented sensation overwhelmed him, and he burst into uncontrollable laughter, sending ripples across the moonlit lake.
After a sleepless night, Chen Zong was bursting with energy.
"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, his face beaming with excitement by the small lake. "Not only has the root cause of my Innate Blood Qi Deficiency been completely eliminated, but I feel completely revitalized. My Blood Qi is overflowing, and my cultivation base has even broken through to the second layer of the Qi Blood Realm!"
"I've heard that some ancient Precious Medicines have the power of Meridian Cleansing and Marrow Tempering. Could this be what I'm experiencing?"
"I'm stronger, faster, and my reflexes are sharper. Even my mind feels more agile. It's like I've undergone a complete transformation!"
As he spoke, Chen Zong assumed the Tiger Stance. His heart pounded, his Blood Qi surged, and overwhelming power coursed through his limbs and bones. In the space between his eyebrows, the tip of his sword trembled slightly as the Silver Azure Dragon danced, drawing Chen Zong into complete focus on his fist technique.
He threw a punch!
Tiger Rush Stance!
His fist seemed to pierce the air, creating a sharp gust of wind.
Tiger's Turn Stance!
Tiger's Leap Stance!
Tiger Fury Stance!
With his final punch, the wind howled.
"Hahaha! The power of the second layer of the Qi Blood Realm truly surpasses the first!" Chen Zong stood tall, his laughter echoing through the air.
The first major realm of martial cultivation was the Qi Blood Realm, divided into nine layers.
The first three layers—focused on strengthening the body and fortifying Blood Qi—formed the foundation, earning practitioners the title of Martial Apprentice.
At the first layer of the Qi Blood Realm, a single arm could lift between 50 and 100 pounds.
At the second layer, that strength doubled to between 200 and 300 pounds.
At the third layer, it doubled again to between 400 and 500 pounds.
This was the standard. Some individuals with naturally greater strength could surpass it, like Chen Zhigang, a peak third-layer Qi Blood Realm cultivator who possessed six hundred pounds of strength in a single arm.
Previously, Chen Zong's one-arm strength had been less than a hundred pounds. Now, it exceeded two hundred but remained below three hundred—a truly astonishing leap. His cultivation breakthrough had not only enhanced his strength but also his speed, dramatically increasing the power of his fist techniques.
"Again!" Chen Zong muttered, assuming the Tiger Stance once more.
In the past, his Innate Blood Qi Deficiency had left him feeling weak and exhausted after just three or four repetitions. Now, after five rounds, he still had ample energy.
He continued practicing, each repetition flowing smoother than the last. His mind, now remarkably clear, grasped deeper insights into the Tiger Force Fist Technique, mastering subtle details he had previously overlooked. By the tenth repetition, his body moved like a tiger leaping from the underbrush. With a thunderous roar, his fist struck downward with the fury of a wild cat pouncing on its prey. A powerful gust of wind whistled around his fist, echoing the distant roar of a tiger.
"Tiger's Howl! The Tiger Force Fist Technique has reached the initial stage of Greater Mastery!" Chen Zong exclaimed in astonishment. Just yesterday, he had been fretting over when he would achieve this milestone. Now, barely a day later, he had done so. It was almost too rapid to believe.
"This must be related to last night's events," Chen Zong mused, excitement surging through him. Taking deep breaths to calm himself, he decided to strike while the iron was hot, continuing his training to push his progress even further.
After another ten repetitions, Chen Zong threw a punch. Each strike unleashed a fierce roar of wind, like a tiger roaring before him, the force astonishing.
"Peak Greater Mastery!" Chen Zong gasped. Despite having braced himself, he was still awestruck. His Innate Blood Qi surged within him, growing stronger with each breath, like a mighty river swelling and rapidly dispelling his fatigue.
"Reaching Peak Greater Mastery in the Tiger Force Fist Technique means I've trained over half the body's targeted areas, far surpassing Lesser Mastery and significantly enhancing the cultivation benefits," Chen Zong rejoiced. But his brow furrowed. "With only twenty-nine days until the Clan Martial Apprentice Battle, even if I perfect the Tiger Force Fist Technique, I won't reach the third layer of the Qi Blood Realm. It'll be nearly impossible to secure a top-three spot."
The Martial Apprentice Battle, held annually, offered the top three finishers the chance to train at the Chen Clan Hall in Wind Martial City, learn advanced Martial Arts, and gain access to greater resources. Every branch family disciple coveted this opportunity, viewing it as their chance to leap through the dragon gate. Yet only those under fifteen were eligible, and Chen Zong's fifteenth birthday was just three months away—his last chance.
To train at the Clan Hall, become a true martial artist, grow strong, and secure Precious Medicines to cure his father's illness and restore his cultivation base—this had been Chen Zong's lifelong ambition, the goal that fueled his every effort.
"If only I could find a Foundation Establishment Martial Art better than the Tiger Force Fist Technique, my cultivation speed would skyrocket," Chen Zong muttered to himself, knowing it was just wishful thinking. But as if the sword tip in his mind's eye had heard him, it trembled slightly. A silver Azure Dragon detached itself and soared into Chen Zong's consciousness.
Struck as if by lightning, Chen Zong shuddered violently and froze like a statue.
Half an hour later, his eyes fluttered open, snapping him awake. An uncontrollable grin spread across his face. Could it be that heaven, having witnessed my past hardships, is finally rewarding me? he wondered.
During that half hour, Chen Zong had acquired a Foundation Establishment Martial Art far superior to the Tiger Force Fist Technique—the True Sword Eight Forms.
"The True Sword Eight Forms emphasize the unity of sword and body," Chen Zong murmured dreamily, still somewhat dazed. "Upon mastery, it can temper sixty percent of the body; at minor mastery, seventy percent; at major mastery, eighty percent; and at perfection, a full hundred percent."
Just moments ago, he had been fretting over the slow progress of the Tiger Force Fist Technique. Now, a Foundation Establishment Martial Art vastly superior—and a rare weapon-based one at that—had fallen into his lap.
"Is this some kind of wish-granting miracle?" Chen Zong wondered aloud. "Then give me two Vitality Pills."
Silence. Had he asked for too much? Chen Zong revised his request to just one Vitality Pill, but still nothing happened. Reluctantly, he abandoned the idea and turned his attention to the True Sword Eight Forms.
To practice the True Sword Eight Forms, he first needed a sword.
"Family disciples who reach the first layer of the Qi Blood Realm can claim a free weapon from the armory. This is the perfect opportunity," Chen Zong mused, striding toward the family armory while continuing to ponder the sword forms.
The True Sword Eight Forms consisted of eight sword stances, each progressively more complex: Hidden Sword Stance, Drawing Sword Stance, Thrusting Sword Stance, Circling Sword Stance, Chopping Sword Stance, Chaotic Sword Stance, Swift Sword Stance, and Exploding Sword Stance.
There were five footwork techniques: Standing Stance, Crouching Stance, Leaping Stance, Twisting Stance, and Spiraling Stance.
And six bodywork techniques: Rushing Step, Sliding Step, Pointing Step, Shifting Step, Leaping Step, and Turning Step.
The eight stances could be executed individually or seamlessly linked together. Each stance required precise coordination with corresponding footwork and bodywork to unleash its full potential.
The cultivation method, along with the precise movements and variations of each stance, were vividly imprinted in Chen Zong's mind like a brand.
"Just mastering the basics requires perfect unity between sword, body, and footwork. That's incredibly challenging."
"But once I master it, the power will be considerable—perhaps even surpassing my partially mastered Tiger Force Fist Technique."
Suddenly, Chen Zong felt a surge of determination.