C6 The Silk Hand

At Lanta Academy, a duel was unfolding on the dueling stage.

Zhang Heng and the young Lin Ruohai faced each other in a tense standoff.

The scuffle drew a crowd of new and returning students who quickly gathered around the stage to watch.

Beneath the stage, Senior Brother Liang Peng watched Zhang Heng's opponent with a furrowed brow. Having been impressed with Zhang Heng's performance in the previous assessment, Liang Peng had come to guide him through the next phase of his cultivation journey, having learned that Zhang Heng had successfully condensed his Qi.

He hadn't expected to walk into a battle.

Though Liang Peng had faith in Zhang Heng's abilities, he held reservations about the outcome of this particular duel.

He knew that Lin Ruohai, who had secured second place in the regular examination, had mastered a formidable martial art.

Given the sheer power of such an art and the fact that Zhang Heng had only recently condensed his Qi Sea, the odds were not in his favor.

At that moment, from the opposite side of the stands, a stoic youth addressed Lin Ruohai on the stage, "Lin Ruohai, with your supreme martial art, it takes you three moves to claim victory? If I were up there, half a move would suffice."

Lin Ruohai's expression shifted subtly, yet he offered no rebuttal, seemingly cautious of the youth.

This youth was Wang Yixiao, the only one who had outperformed him in the regular examination.

To the onlookers, the difference in their rankings seemed negligible, but Lin Ruohai, who had personally clashed with Wang Yixiao, was acutely aware that the gap between them was far greater than anyone could imagine.

Zhang Heng glanced over, catching Wang Yixiao's gaze, which was as dismissive as if he were looking at an insignificant ant.

The crowd murmured at the sight of Wang Yixiao.

"Have you heard? They say Wang Yixiao has never smiled since the day he was born. Could that be true?"

"Well, I've certainly never seen him smile."

"There's a rumor that shortly after his birth, his family was slaughtered by demons. He survived by hiding in a dry well, his silence sparing him from the massacre. Later, he was discovered by an official under the Governor of Lanta, who took him in as his foster son and saved his life."

Amidst the buzz of the crowd, the duel on the dueling stage officially commenced. Zhang Heng launched a punch, aiming straight for Lin Ruohai's chest. To everyone's surprise, Lin Ruohai let out a sneer and coolly uttered, "Silk Hand!" He swiftly reached out with his right hand, catching Zhang Heng's wrist and gently pulling, causing a shift in momentum.

Zhang Heng could sense that his opponent's strength was less than half of his own, yet an eerie force from Lin Ruohai's hand threw his entire body off balance, sending him tumbling to the side. Meanwhile, Lin Ruohai's other hand, curved like a tiger's claw, lunged for Zhang Heng's face. In a desperate move, Zhang Heng twisted his waist and turned his head, narrowly escaping the claw. Still, he wasn't quick enough to avoid a set of five bloody scratches on the side of his neck.

With a haunting tone, Lin Ruohai pronounced "First move," and gestured for Zhang Heng to come at him again. Zhang Heng's core energy roared to life, fueling his right fist with a surge of power as he threw another full-force punch. The air tore with a sharp whistle as his fist cut through it.

The old adage says that brute force can overcome intricate skill, and Zhang Heng had hoped to overpower Lin Ruohai's finesse with sheer strength. Yet, Lin Ruohai countered with the same Silk Hand technique. With a swift extension of his right hand, he lightly guided Zhang Heng's wrist, once again throwing him off balance.

Finding himself at a disadvantage, Zhang Heng shrugged off the attack and seized the chance to break free. Down below, Senior Brother Liang's face contorted with displeasure as he watched Zhang Heng's clumsy retreat. Wang Yixiao, standing to the side, let out a disdainful snort.

Hearing Wang Yixiao's scoff, Zhang Heng was reminded of his earlier words: "He mentioned that Lin Ruohai had mastered a supreme skill. Could that strange force be the human supreme technique mentioned in the Demon Clan's intelligence?" he pondered. "No wonder my strength, though twice his, was still not enough to maintain balance after just one touch."

"This human supreme technique is no small feat; I must learn it thoroughly," Zhang Heng resolved. "But first, I need to win this duel."

After two tentative exchanges, Zhang Heng had devised a strategy. "His secret technique is peculiar, but I have my strengths as well."

With that thought, he abruptly swung his arm, unleashing a punch with all his might.

"You refuse to learn your lesson!"

Lin Ruohai barked a cold reprimand, employing the Silk Hand technique once more. He reached out to grab Zhang Heng's right wrist, attempting to throw him off balance again.

Just then, with a swift motion.

Zhang Heng, disregarding the imminent loss of balance, clenched his left hand into a fist and launched an attack.

Lin Ruohai, with composure, extended his left hand to intercept Zhang Heng's left wrist, effectively immobilizing both of Zhang Heng's hands.

From the sidelines, Wang Yixiao spoke with detached certainty, "He's floundering aimlessly. Zhang Heng is completely disoriented."

"He's bound to lose within a single move."

Senior Brother Liang's expression was grave, clearly concurring with the sentiment.

But as Wang Yixiao's words hung in the air, a loud thud resounded.

Lin Ruohai felt an immense force surge into his abdomen, propelling him backward off the dueling stage.

His Qi Sea halted, and he tumbled across the ground several times before sitting up, bewildered.

He was at a loss to understand how he had been bested.

Zhang Heng slowly withdrew his right foot, musing internally, "Your technique is indeed formidable."

"However, your Qi Sea is not as robust as mine, and your speed increase is no match for mine."

"In the same fleeting moment, you can make at most two strikes, while I can deliver three."

"What does it matter if you've locked down my hands? What does it matter if you possess an impressive technique?"

"By the time I've kicked you away, you won't have the time to defend, let alone use your technique on me."

The audience below was astounded, unable to fathom how Lin Ruohai, who had seemed dominant moments before, was suddenly defeated.

Wang Yixiao, previously assured of victory, now sported a grimace.

He had not anticipated that, within a single move, it would be Lin Ruohai who fell, not Zhang Heng.

Despite the onlookers' bemused stares, he remained unfazed, casting a meaningful glance at Zhang Heng before turning on his heel and departing.

After Wang Yixiao departed, Liang Peng leapt onto the dueling stage with a look of deep significance. "Wang Yixiao seems to have his sights set on you. You'd better watch out. He's a true prodigy, and quite the madman to boot."

"He's taken down a first-grade Qi Refining brave who had mastered a supreme technique, even before forming his own Qi Sea."

"Even I might not be able to best him at the moment."

Zhang Heng squinted, not quite believing he could defeat Liang Peng just yet. But then a thought struck him, "I am a disciple of Lanta Academy."

"Do servant disciples really count? With his exceptional talent, for him to kill a servant disciple in the academy is no different than killing a dog."

Zhang Heng grasped Liang Peng's point, "And what if I'm no longer a servant disciple?"

Liang Peng looked at Zhang Heng, a smile playing on his round, plump face.

He always enjoyed conversing with the clever ones, who got to the heart of the matter quickly.

"There are five types of disciples at the academy: servant disciples, Outer Sect disciples, Inner Sect disciples, Elite disciples, and Personal Disciples."

"In half a month, the academy's new student trials will take place."

"If you can secure a spot in the top ten, you'll not only advance to Outer Sect disciple, but you'll also reap numerous rewards from the academy and catch the eye of our instructors. Wang Yixiao would certainly think twice before crossing you."

"Compete in the new student trials and aim for the top ten!" Zhang Heng made a mental note of this goal.

After offering Zhang Heng a wealth of cultivation advice, Liang Peng took his leave.

Back at his quarters, Zhang Heng couldn't wait to open the Hundred Treasure Sack.

He pulled out another tome, a jade book.

This volume was significantly thicker than the Qi Refining Technique, a full three fingers in thickness.

It contained the supreme arts of the human race.

Recalling the formidable and mysterious power Lin Ruohai demonstrated with his supreme arts earlier that day, Zhang Heng was eager to begin cultivating his own.

As he flipped open the jade book, Zhang Heng was taken aback.

Inside, there wasn't just one supreme art listed.

An impressive thirty-six low-tier yellow-rank supreme arts were meticulously detailed within.

There was an array of martial arts techniques involving fists, feet, and weapons.

Eighteen distinct supreme techniques existed for both hand-to-hand combat and weaponry, each weapon technique corresponding to a specific supreme art.

Zhang Heng immediately ruled out the supreme techniques for hand-to-hand combat.

"If Lin Ruohai had used a weapon technique today and came at me with a slash, I'd be left a one-legged hero with no chance of victory," he reasoned.

Zhang Heng was determined to avoid such an outcome at all costs.

Next, he dismissed the academy's most popular technique, the Spiritual Flying Sword.

Given its emphasis on agility over brute strength, it didn't play to Zhang Heng's strengths.

He also disregarded the more obscure weapons, which were often more flashy than functional.

Ultimately, he was left with two options: the Peerless Blade and the Overlord Spear.

To Zhang Heng, both seemed to embody the domineering approach that suited him.

He ultimately chose the Overlord Spear.

"After all, a longer reach means greater power. No matter how skillfully you wield your blade, my spear thrust could leave you with a gaping wound before you even get close to me."

Having settled on his technique of choice,

Zhang Heng wasted no time. He grabbed the Wishful Blade and headed to a clearing in the populus euphratica forest behind the mountain.

He then opened the Yellow-Level Low-Grade Overlord Spear technique, laying the manual on a large stone before him.

At first glance, the pristine white jade booklet appeared blank.

It was only upon closer inspection that Zhang Heng noticed a nearly invisible arrow-shaped etching at its center.

As he delved deeper, a chilling sensation of dread washed over him.

It was as if an unstoppable spear was thrusting towards him, aiming to penetrate his forehead and skewer his entire skull.

"Is this the power of a mere Yellow-Level Low-Grade technique?" he exclaimed, stepping back in awe.

Touching the etching, a sharp pain shot through his hand, and he realized he had been cut. Zhang Heng whispered to himself, "This is no mere arrow etching; it's the imprint of a spear."

A human expert could encapsulate their understanding of an ultimate technique into a series of marks.

Each mark represented a distinct ultimate technique.

This was the origin of most ultimate techniques.

"First, I need to decipher this mark and advance my spear technique to the First Glimpse level," Zhang Heng mused.

Each ultimate technique was categorized into different levels based on the depth of mastery. From lowest to highest, they were: First Glimpse, Small Completion, Great Completion, Extraordinary, Legendary, Unblemished, and Supreme.

The First Glimpse was the initial level of an ultimate technique.

After some time, Zhang Heng fell into contemplation: "This spear mark indicates that to achieve the First Glimpse, I must grasp the most fundamental aspects of my ultimate technique."

"But what constitutes the most fundamental understanding?"

Perplexed, Zhang Heng channeled his Qi into the Wishful Blade in his hand, which instantly morphed into a long iron spear.

Zhang Heng stood up with his spear, emulating the movements of the spear mark, and thrust with full force at a nearby populus euphratica tree.

A piercing clang echoed.

The spear's tip met the tree's trunk.

It was as if he had struck stone or iron; the spear did not penetrate in the slightest, instead glancing off without leaving even a scratch.

Zhang Heng's brow furrowed as he turned his attention back to the spear mark.

Moments later, he launched another thrust.

Clang!

The spear once again grazed the tree.

Zhang Heng attuned himself to the spear mark once more.

Then he thrust his spear again.

...

Half an hour later.

Zhang Heng executed his hundredth thrust.

The dark iron spear, like a dragon, struck the gnarled trunk of the ancient populus euphratica.

This time, it made a solid "thud."

This time, the iron spear was not repelled; instead, a third of the spearhead buried itself into the tough trunk of the tree.

A smile of satisfaction spread across Zhang Heng's face.

"I think I'm beginning to understand," Zhang Heng whispered to himself.

While speaking, Zhang Heng's gaze returned to the Overlord Spear technique inscribed on the large rock.

He then thrust his spear again, like a green dragon surging from the depths.

Another thrust.

And another.

By the time Zhang Heng thrust his iron spear for the thousandth time, the night had deepened, and his body was soaked with sweat. Yet, he showed no signs of fatigue; he radiated an infectious energy and an air of indefinable confidence. His posture grew increasingly like that of a spear—erect and sharp.

On this occasion, his spear's tip met the trunk of a thousand-year-old populus euphratica. There was neither a metallic clang nor a wooden thud. Instead, a novel, sharp crackling sound tore through the silence. The ancient tree was not just pierced; it was cleaved in half by Zhang Heng's powerful thrust. The lush canopy, resembling a vast umbrella, crashed to the ground with a thunderous boom, kicking up a storm of dust and debris.

The disturbance even reached the inhabitants of a small wooden house atop the nearby hill. "What was that noise? Can't we have some peace in the middle of the night?" one of them grumbled. "Someone must be honing their skills in the woods below," another suggested. "It's Zhang Heng. I saw him with the Wishful Blade this afternoon, heading into the populus euphratica forest," a third voice added. "By that sound, it seems his martial arts have reached the First Glimpse."

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