In the Myriad Wonders Garden, the inner compound of the Fang Clan—the preeminent noble house in Longyuan Province of the Great Li Dynasty—the morning mist still clung thick to the air. A group of young clansmen had already begun their daily martial arts practice.
The Clan Lord of the Fangs also held the title of Governor of Longyuan Province. Their ancestor, a disciple of the Feather Ascension Sect—one of the Ten Great Immortal Sects a century ago—had followed the founding Emperor Wu of the Great Li Dynasty to pacify the realm and unify the land.
Longyuan Province, whose name literally means "a hidden dragon lurks in the abyss," was once the imperial capital of the previous dynasty. When the Great Li Dynasty was founded, the court initially planned to make it their capital as well. However, the region's overwhelming aquatic aura was deemed incompatible with the dynasty's fire-aligned destiny—for "Li" itself symbolizes fire—and the plan was ultimately abandoned. Instead, the capital was established in the southern city of Li Jing.
Yet the imperial court entrusted this former imperial capital to the Fang Clan's governance—a testament to the profound trust and immense favor bestowed upon them by the throne.
It was precisely this imperial patronage that rendered the Fang Clan so illustrious and powerful. Their mansion spanned a thousand mu, crisscrossed by countless courtyards and gardens so labyrinthine that any ordinary person would surely lose their way inside.
The significance of the clan's status was even reflected in the name of their inner garden: Myriad Wonders Garden, meaning it encompassed all things under heaven.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
Fists sliced through the air with a whistling roar, sending tremors rippling through the mist.
The young clansmen moved with the agility of fierce tigers stalking sheep, the ferocity of lions pouncing on wild oxen, the swiftness of eagles diving for hares, and the grace of cranes perched atop pine peaks. Every movement was a seamless coordination of waist and hips—sharp, agile, and ruthless.
Above all, their limbs and spine moved in perfect unison, bending and extending like five fully drawn bows. Their fists and kicks struck like arrows released from a string and landed like gusts of wind, revealing a rock-solid martial foundation.
Unbeknownst to them, however, a pair of eyes watched their every move from the shadows of the distant rockery—eyes that belonged to someone who had no right to be there, someone who was stealing their martial arts secrets.
The owner of those eyes was a boy of fifteen or sixteen, with delicate features and dressed in the gray robes and cap of a manservant.
"A month ago, I discovered a sewer that leads straight to the muck beneath this inner courtyard rockery. If it weren't for that, I'd never have been able to sneak in here to learn martial arts," he thought to himself. "If I get caught, it's a death sentence… but I, Fang Han, refuse to be a slave for the rest of my life!"
Fang Han watched the clansmen intently, committing every gesture, every stance, every nuance to memory.
Yes—he was stealing martial arts skills.
Fang Han was a lowly servant of the Fang Clan.
His father had also been a manservant to the Fangs, so from the moment Fang Han was born, his fate was sealed: he was destined to be a slave, bound to serve the clan for generations, his children and grandchildren to follow in his footsteps.
For a humble manservant to sneak into the inner compound and steal the clan's sacred martial arts secrets—this was an act of reckless audacity, a defiance punishable by death.
"He's here!"
Fang Han's eyes narrowed as he spotted a middle-aged man in a purple robe striding onto the training ground in the distance. Instantly, he froze, not daring to move a muscle.
The man in purple stood nine feet tall, his posture as straight and imposing as a sword or a spear, exuding the overwhelming presence of a towering mountain. Even from afar, the pressure he emanated was so intense that Fang Han felt as if he could barely breathe.
This was one of the Fang Clan's greatest martial masters—Fang Tong, the Giant Spirit Hand, whose fame echoed across the rivers and lakes of the realm. He had come personally to instruct the young clansmen in the advanced martial arts of their lineage.
"Officialdom has nine ranks and eighteen grades—from the first-rank Chancellor to the ninth-rank county patrol officer! But our cultivation of the physical body is divided into Ten Stages! The First Stage: Nourishing Life. The Second: Training Strength. The Third: Mastering Techniques. The Fourth: Harmonizing Hardness and Softness. The Fifth: Divine Power. The Sixth: Refining Qi. The Seventh: Fortifying the Inner Body. The Eighth: Superhuman Valor. The Ninth: Spiritual Perception. The Tenth: Divine Transformation!"
The moment Fang Tong's voice rang out, every young clansman on the training ground halted their practice, standing rigidly at attention to listen to his lecture.
Fang Han, too, pricked up his ears, hanging on every word.
"If you cultivate your physical body to the Tenth Stage of Divine Transformation, not even five horses tearing you apart can kill you! Once, an ancestor of our Fang Clan was captured by enemy forces and sentenced to death by dismemberment by five horses. But with a single surge of his full power, he dragged all five horses to the ground and escaped unharmed! That is the power of a body cultivated to the Tenth Stage of Divine Transformation!"
Fang Tong's voice boomed like a giant bell, resonant and forceful, shaking Fang Han's eardrums until they throbbed as if on the verge of bursting.
"Not even five horses can tear him apart… How immense must that power be? Can the human body truly reach such heights?" Fang Han marveled silently, his heart pounding with shock.
"But do not fool yourselves into thinking that the Ten Stages of the physical body are the end of the path—they are merely the beginning! Unlike other clans, our Fang ancestors were personally taught by the immortals of the Feather Ascension Sect. Thus, we know that beyond the Physical Body Realm lies the Mystic Power Realm! Only by breaking free from the constraints of the mortal body and stepping into the Mystic Power Realm can you truly stand invincible under heaven, attain status equal to kings and marquises, and bring glory to our Fang Clan!"
"Physical Body Realm… Mystic Power Realm…"
As these words echoed in his ears, Fang Han felt as if a door he had never known existed had swung wide open before him. In all his mornings of sneaking here to watch and listen, he had never heard such words. The Ten Stages described by Fang Tong unfurled like a clear, step-by-step ladder before his eyes.
"What exactly is the Mystic Power Realm?" one of the young clansmen asked, breaking the silence.
"The so-called Mystic Power is the power to shatter the boundaries of the world as ordinary people know it!" Fang Tong replied, his eyes taking on a solemn, grave expression. "For example, no matter how strong you become through physical cultivation—strong enough to tear tigers and leopards apart, strong enough to lift a thousand-jin cauldron—can you grab your own hair and lift yourself off the ground?"
"Lift myself up by my own hair? That's impossible! It defies all logic!" another clansman exclaimed hastily.
"It is impossible," Fang Han murmured to himself. "No matter how great your strength, you can never lift yourself up by your own hair."
"To accomplish the impossible—that is what makes it Mystic Power! Otherwise, what meaning would the word hold?" the middle-aged man in purple thundered, his voice like a clap of thunder that jolted everyone to their senses.
"To shatter the limits of the ordinary world—that is Mystic Power! Lifting oneself by one's own hair is the dividing line that separates the Physical Body Realm from the Mystic Power Realm! But that is just the beginning. There are countless other mystic powers: breathing fire and water, walking on thin air, commanding thunder and lightning, slaying enemies with flying swords… All these are the abilities of those who have entered the Mystic Power Realm!"
"Uncle Tong, have you reached the Mystic Power Realm yourself?" the young clansmen clamored, their voices filled with eagerness and awe.
"The Mystic Power Realm is no trivial achievement. Only those with unparalleled talent and wisdom can ever hope to reach it," Fang Tong admitted. "As for me, I have only cultivated to the Eighth Stage of the Physical Body Realm—Superhuman Valor. But mark my words: if any one of you succeeds in stepping into the Mystic Power Realm, the position of Clan Lord will be yours! Not only that—the Great Li Imperial Court will shower you with the highest titles and fiefdoms just to win your allegiance!"
"Crossing from the Physical Body Realm to the Mystic Power Realm is harder than climbing to the heavens! If any of you can cultivate to the Fifth Stage—Divine Power—within three years, able to draw a thousand-jin bow and run as fast as a galloping horse, that alone will be a joyous occasion for our clan!" Fang Tong's voice grew stern again. "I have told you these legendary tales today to broaden your horizons and strengthen your resolve in your training! Let them remind you that beyond the hardships of today lies a future of boundless glory and endless wealth!"
He raised his voice, calling out to the clansmen: "Now, let us begin our practice! We will train in the Pine Crane Longevity Fist—a supreme body-refining technique passed down to our ancestors by the immortals of the Feather Ascension Sect! You must delve deep into its essence and comprehend its subtleties. I will explain every detail to you one by one! Remember this: only by pushing your physical body to its absolute limit can you ever hope to step into the Mystic Power Realm. For our ancestors have taught us that mystic power is a mysterious force born from the mind—we call it Magic Power, for it is said to be boundless and omnipotent! Only a body strong enough to allow the heart to pump a flood of blood and nutrients to the brain can give birth to Magic Power. Without a powerful physical vessel, all talk of mystic power is nothing but empty words!"
"Pine Crane Longevity Fist…"
Fang Han struggled to contain his excitement, his eyes fixed intently on the demonstration unfolding before him.
In less than half an hour, as he listened to Fang Tong's detailed explanations, all the fragmented martial arts knowledge he had stolen over the past month coalesced into a coherent whole. At last, he understood the fundamental principles of physical cultivation.
The cultivation of the physical body was a journey of ten distinct steps, ten progressive stages.
The First Stage, Nourishing Life, was about cultivating a strong foundation through a disciplined regimen of proper diet and rest to fill the body with abundant energy.
The Second Stage, Training Strength, involved using a thousand and one methods—running, weightlifting, jumping, hitting sandbags, kicking drills, squats, somersaults, walking on plum-blossom piles—to forge the muscles of the limbs and waist into dense, powerful masses, far surpassing the strength and agility of ordinary men.
The Third Stage, Mastering Techniques, focused on learning a wide array of martial forms to weave the strength of the limbs and waist into a single, harmonious whole, aligning the bones, regulating the breath, and unifying the body's movements.
The Fourth Stage, Harmonizing Hardness and Softness, was the art of merging the body's power into a seamless flow—from the waist and legs to the spine, shoulders, elbows, wrists, and palms—balancing the flow of qi and blood. To be as soft as silk when needed, as hard as steel when striking; to embody both rigidity and flexibility in perfect harmony. To move like the wind, to strike like an arrow; to be as agile as a civet cat, as nimble as a gibbon.
The Fifth Stage, Divine Power, was the next leap forward: after fully integrating hardness and softness, the body's constitution would undergo a transformation, granting the cultivator the strength of a thousand jin, the speed of a galloping horse. In battle, every part of the body would move like a well-drilled army—swift, decisive, and unstoppable. The very sinews and bones would resonate with a low, thunderous hum when power was unleashed.
To reach the Fifth Stage of Divine Power was to become a true force to be reckoned with—a person of status and renown.
As for the five higher stages that followed—Refining Qi, Fortifying the Inner Body, Superhuman Valor, Spiritual Perception, and Divine Transformation—Fang Tong did not elaborate further. But Fang Han was not discouraged. Thanks to a month of secret observation and careful reflection, he now grasped the basic principles of physical cultivation, and he knew he could begin his own training in earnest.
"With these steps and secrets in hand, if I train diligently in the shadows, one day I will astonish the world and break free from this life of slavery!" Fang Han thought, his heart burning with newfound hope. At long last, his month of risking death to steal these secrets had given him a chance to change his fate.
"Oh no! I almost forgot!" A sudden jolt of panic shot through him. "This morning, the Second Young Lady is going hunting—and she wants the Thousand-Mile Snow, the horse I take care of!"
No longer able to linger and listen, Fang Han quietly slipped out of the shadows of the rockery and crawled back into the sewer, making his way out of the inner compound undetected.
Fortunately for him, Fang Tong had not yet reached the Ninth Stage of Spiritual Perception—if he had, he would have been able to sense even the faintest gaze, and Fang Han would never have escaped his notice.