The crack of splintering wood echoed through the spacious room of the secluded courtyard.
Again.
Fang Tianba, leader of the Fierce Flame Gang, slammed his palm down on a third piece of furniture, his face a grim mask of fury. A terrifying energy rolled off him in waves, so intense that the very air seemed to shimmer. His entire hand glowed fiery red, as if forged in a divine hearth, and the temperature in the room spiked. To stand before him was to feel your hair begin to smolder on your head.
"Tell me again," Fang Tianba's voice was a low growl. "He really did that?"
"It's true, Gang Leader. I swear it," Hall Master Qian stammered, trembling. "Jiang Dao… he's out of control. He saw your Golden Order and didn't even kneel."
Beside him, the Right Protector's eyes narrowed as he stared at the headless corpse on the floor. He'd never imagined it would come to this. He had figured, at worst, Jiang Dao would manage a bloody, hard-won victory over the Left Protector. He never expected a complete and utter slaughter. The Left Protector had been powerless, a lamb to the slaughter.
Worse, Jiang Dao had shown zero respect for the Gang Leader, ignoring the Golden Order to execute Guo Linyu on the spot. The message was clear: Fang Tianba no longer held any sway over him.
"Gang Leader," the Right Protector said softly, "you've let a tiger grow too strong."
CRACK!
Another chair exploded into kindling, the fragments bursting into flame as they hit the floor. Jiang Dao's rebellion was no longer a secret; it was a declaration of war.
"Why the long face, Gang Leader Fang?" a detached voice drawled from the side. "He's just one man. A mortal. We can eliminate him for you, easily."
A young man in pristine white robes sat serenely, sipping his tea. He was flanked by a monk and a Taoist, both of them smiling placidly. They were… unusual. The monk's head was a bizarre, elongated oval, nearly twice the length of a normal man's. The Taoist, sporting a goatee and missing an ear, held a white horsetail whisk and smiled a razor-thin smile. These were the three rogue exorcists Fang Tianba had recently brought into his fold.
Fang Tianba took a slow, calming breath. "Are you three certain you can handle him? Jiang Dao killed my Left Protector, a man I personally witnessed slay a [Strong-Level] evil spirit."
"A 'Strong-level' spirit?" the Taoist chuckled, stroking his goatee. "That's nothing but the lowest rung of the ladder. We three could handle that with our eyes closed. No matter how much this Jiang Dao trains, he's still bound by the limits of a martial artist. And against us, that's a death sentence."
"Amitabha," the monk chimed in, his smile unwavering. "I agree."
Fang Tianba gave a slight nod. "Good. Then I can rest easy." His eyes turned to chips of ice. Let Jiang Dao try to explain himself tomorrow. It wouldn't matter. For the crime of rebellion, he would be cut down where he stood, a lesson to all who would challenge the Gang Leader's authority.
And that manual, the Innate Sacred Arts, would be his.
Beyond that, the Left Protector's vast fortune now belonged to the Fierce Flame Gang. No one would be allowed to touch a single coin.
Meanwhile, at the Left Protector's mansion, chaos reigned. Servants and maids scattered in terror. After reviving Qin Qingqing, Jiang Dao had grabbed a servant, learned the location of the master bedroom and study, and began his work.
"Wait here," he told the still-shaken Qin Qingqing, setting her down on a chair. "You're safe now." His body had shrunk back to its normal proportions, leaving him looking merely tall and powerfully built.
With brutal efficiency, he tore the bedroom apart. Tables, chairs, beds, and decorative stands were tossed aside like toys. Qin Qingqing watched in horrified silence, the terrifying image of his monstrous form still burned into her memory.
Suddenly, Jiang Dao paused. As his hand closed around a heavy vase stand, he felt a subtle resistance from behind it—the tell-tale sign of a hidden mechanism.
CRACK!
With a surge of strength, he ripped the entire stand from the wall and hurled it across the room. A wide grin spread across his face. There it was: a hidden compartment, sealed with a sheet of black, refined iron. He tapped it—a dull clang. Then, with a grunt, he hooked his fingers under the edge and tore the metal plate away as if it were parchment.
Inside sat a purple sandalwood box, emitting a strange, cloying fragrance.
Jiang Dao's nostrils flared. Poison.
"Hold your breath!" he yelled to Qin Qingqing, who immediately scrambled out of the room. He felt the internal energy of his Health-Nourishing Art surge through him, purging the toxin he'd inhaled.
"That damn Guo Linyu," he muttered, his eyes cold. "Trying to get one last shot in from beyond the grave." Anyone else would be dead.
He crushed the wooden box in his hand, revealing two secret manuals nestled within.
[Viper Dragon Heart Law]
[Hundred-Mile Dragon Movement Technique]
"An internal power source, just as I thought," Jiang Dao's eyes lit up. He remembered the potent energy behind Guo Linyu's palm strike and had assumed he was secretly practicing the gang's own ultimate art. But this was something different, something he'd kept for himself.
And the second manual was a footwork technique. The description promised that at its peak, the user could move like a dragon, covering a hundred miles without a trace of fatigue. This was exactly what he needed. His raw power was immense, but his speed was a critical weakness. This would fix that.
"Still," he mused, "what I really need are more external arts to strengthen my body. Only then can I handle more internal energy." Just then, he remembered the manuals promised by the Golden Feather Pavilion, and the smile returned to his face.
After securing the manuals, he continued his search. He found the treasury, and his eyes widened. It was overflowing with silver notes and jewels, enough to fill several carts. This wasn't just loot; it was a statement.
He grabbed a terrified servant by the collar, his eyes burning with cold command. "Ride to the Flying Eagle Hall. Get my men. And let me be clear," he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "You even think about running, and I won't just hunt you down. I'll find your family, and I'll erase them from this world. Do you understand me?"
The servant, pale as a ghost, could only nod frantically before scrambling onto a horse and galloping away.
Soon, the thunder of hooves announced the arrival of Guo Dutian and the men of the Flying Eagle Hall. They entered the mansion and immediately bowed their heads in respect.
"Get up," Jiang Dao commanded. "The Left Protector is dead. His assets need to be… managed. Move everything to the Flying Eagle Hall. We'll hold it for safekeeping."
Guo Dutian and his men stared in disbelief. Their Hall Master had killed the Left Protector? This was open rebellion.
"Hall Master," Guo Dutian stammered, his scalp tingling, "if the Gang Leader finds out…"
"Don't worry," Jiang Dao said, his voice eerily calm. "The Gang Leader already knows everything."
Guo Dutian's eyes went wide. "Then… what did he say?"
"What he's thinking right now, I have no idea," Jiang Dao said evenly. "But if I were in his shoes, I'd pretend this whole day never happened. Now, get to work." He clapped Guo Dutian on the shoulder and walked away.
A chill ran down their spines. The message was chillingly clear: Stay out of my way, or you're next.
It was insane. It was brutal. But for Guo Dutian and his men, a dangerous spark of excitement ignited in their chests. If Jiang Dao toppled the Gang Leader, they, as his inner circle, would rise with him. They could be the new Hall Masters, the new power players.
Fueled by ambition, they descended on the treasury. For the rest of the afternoon, they hauled out chests of gold, silver, priceless antiques, and rare paintings. Eight massive carts were loaded to the brim, a king's ransom that paraded through the streets of Ganyuan City, leaving onlookers speechless. The Left Protector, a man whose wealth rivaled the city's richest, had been wiped from the board, and all his power now belonged to Jiang Dao.
Back at the Flying Eagle Hall, Jiang Dao had already taken care of Qin Qingqing. He then met with Xiong Chu, the former master of the Golden Feather Pavilion, who was waiting nervously in a side hall.
"Pavilion Master," Xiong Chu said, bowing low, "here are the external training manuals you requested, along with two internal heart laws. I hope they are to your liking."
"Two internal arts?" Jiang Dao's interest was piqued. He took the manuals. One was called [Flaming Fire Astral Qi], the other [Illusory Form Divine Art].
The first promised the user could generate an invisible, scorching aura—a personal domain of pure heat that would incinerate anything that got too close. It was the ultimate weapon for crowd control.
The second was a stealth art of unparalleled sophistication. It allowed the user to perfectly mimic the aura of any living thing—to become a sheep in a flock of sheep, a wolf among wolves. In darkness, the user could simply vanish, becoming one with the shadows. It was the signature technique of the Pavilion's deadliest assassins.
The catch? Both were legendarily difficult to master. Few in the Pavilion had ever managed even the basics.
But as Jiang Dao read the descriptions, he felt a surge of elation. These techniques weren't just powerful; they felt like they were forged for him.
He accepted them and then inspected the four external manuals: [Rock-Solid Art], [Nine Bulls Divine Art], [Vajra Strength], and [Savage Bear Body Refining Art].
"Excellent, Xiong Chu. I'm satisfied," Jiang Dao said. "You can go."
"Yes, of course. Please let me know if you require anything else," Xiong Chu said, bowing again before hastily departing.
Jiang Dao smirked. Xiong Chu was a classic bully, all swagger until someone stronger put him in his place. A good beating was the only language men like him understood.
Clutching the manuals, Jiang Dao returned to his private chambers and locked the door. It was time to put his theory to the test.
As night fell, Ganyuan City was abuzz with rumors and fear. A storm was gathering over the Fierce Flame Gang, with Hall Masters flocking to the main compound, demanding Jiang Dao's head.
But Jiang Dao heard none of it. In his room, his focus was absolute. One by one, the new arts appeared on his internal panel, each marked as [Modifiable]. He poured his will into them, pushing them forward.
Light flashed in his mind's eye. Ten years of practice. Twenty. Thirty. All the way to sixty years of mastery for all four external arts.
A tidal wave of information crashed into his consciousness—a chaotic storm of techniques, stances, and raw physical knowledge. He closed his eyes, and his mind became a crucible, melting down decades of martial wisdom, burning away the impurities, and forging something new.
His body responded instantly. His skin flushed a deep crimson as an incredible heat began to radiate from him. With a sudden pulse of energy, his clothes disintegrated into ash. Veins pulsed like rivers of lava beneath his skin.
Outside, the guards on patrol stopped, their eyes wide with terror. A suffocating heat was pouring out from their Hall Master's room, so intense it felt like standing before an open furnace. A fiery glow illuminated the windows from within.
"What… what is he doing?" one whispered.
"That aura… It's terrifying!"
To them, the room didn't contain a man, but a caged demon forged in fire. The oppressive presence lasted for what felt like an eternity before it finally began to recede, drawing back into itself.
Dawn broke over the city.
Inside the room, Jiang Dao opened his eyes. A faint golden light shimmered in their depths, ancient and predatory. His body looked unchanged, but his back was now a canvas for a new, incredible tattoo: the image of a one-foot-tall, indigo-colored man, radiating power.
The four hard arts from the panel were gone. He had fused them, along with his original technique, into a single, terrifying new form.
Vajra Human-Demon Physique [Unmodifiable]
Functions: Indestructible Body. Blazing Yang Energy. Explosive Strength. Unholy Speed.