Chapter Sixty-Seven: Soaring to the Sky
When Yang Fan awoke once more, the first thing he did was check his body. He pressed his hands to the ground, intending to rise, but the earth suddenly gave way. Two handprints appeared in the soil, sinking down by about a foot.
Damn it, he’d lost control again. This time, it was complete and utter loss of control. Staring at the marks he’d left, Yang Fan howled inwardly. Even at the peak of the Second Rank, he hadn't fully mastered his strength—the leap from mid-stage to the peak had come too quickly. He possessed the strength of two thousand catties, but at best could wield fifteen hundred. It was only after a few missions and a brawl with Chen Haoran that he was able to control most of it. Yet this breakthrough seemed even more extreme.
He’d lingered less than a month between the peak of the Second Rank and the Third. This feeling of his body moving beyond his control was truly unbearable. With effort, Yang Fan sat up and opened his system interface.
Host: Yang Fan
Level: Third Rank
Title: Student of the Modu Cultivation Academy
Funds: 6,200,230
Qi Sea: 6.6
Spirit: 18.4
Available Points: 6,117
Allocatable Points: Spirit+
Shop: Locked
Lottery Chances: 1
The spirit allocation was still there—so he hadn’t reached the limit yet? Yang Fan pondered this, then focused on sensing changes in his mind, or rather, his spirit.
After a long moment, his expression darkened.
“I knew it. What the hell is this? Every time my spirit increases it’s useless, no effect at all. The pain was all for nothing.”
Yang Fan was miserable. When his Qi Sea improved, he could directly feel his strength grow. Now, when he focused on his dantian, the tiny point of light had grown much larger—over twice the size when he first awakened it. But as for his spirit? Aside from a brief, pleasant coolness at the start, it was soon replaced by a bone-chilling cold that eventually knocked him out, and when he woke, nothing had changed.
No harm was done, which was a relief, but no benefit either. It was all suffering for nothing. Yang Fan scowled. Damn it, I refuse to believe spirit really has no use. Even if it’s pointless, I’ll max it out today. It’s just data, right? I’ll spam the stats until you break.
With a fierce look, Yang Fan began frantically clicking the plus sign.
Ten times—nothing.
Twenty—still nothing.
Fifty—hmm, a bit of pain.
Seventy—pain gone.
A hundred—plus sign disappeared.
Host: Yang Fan
Level: Third Rank
Title: Student of the Modu Cultivation Academy
Funds: 6,200,230
Qi Sea: 6.6
Spirit: 28.4
Available Points: 6,017
Allocatable Points: None
Shop: Locked
Lottery Chances: 1
Yang Fan, face still dark, had no temper left. No reaction at all. He sensed not the slightest change—even the pain had vanished after seventy clicks. He sighed, but stubbornly continued to examine his body.
...
Three days later.
Off the coast near Modu, on the seafloor.
A man stood rooted in the sand, heavy stones lashed to his body. His feet were planted firmly as the swirling currents battered him. Slowly, he untied the rope binding him to the stones.
A closer look revealed it was the very same Yang Fan, the one who’d lost control of his strength.
As soon as the rope was loose, Yang Fan wobbled, frowning, his feet alternately slipping in the silt and floating in the water. Sometimes he stood on the bottom, sometimes he drifted. Time slipped by, and at last he managed to steady himself.
Suddenly, a blaze of orange light flared about him. His feet seemed to take root, anchoring him to the seabed. Clenching his fists, he punched forward into the water. With each powerful strike, the water churned and surged, creating ever more violent currents.
After a volley of punches, he switched to palms, slicing forward as though his hands were blades.
Strength like stone, sinews like knives, knives sharp as autumn frost, slicing gold and cleaving jade—like a fierce tiger, a single strike shattering ninefold barriers!
The seabed, which had begun to calm, erupted once more. A stream of water shot forward like an arrow, piercing the ocean ahead and vanishing from view.
Wind like a cry, breath as still as water, a calm that envelops all things—swift as a dragon, cleaving through layer upon layer!
Again, Yang Fan’s palms cut forward, each wave of unseen force chasing the watery arrow ahead.
Bones like jade, unmoving as a mountain, body like diamond, strength shaking heaven and earth—like a giant ape, rending the sky and splitting ninefold barriers!
Another strike and the water before him exploded, solidifying in an instant before bursting outward in all directions.
Energy like frost, sweeping mountains and rivers, stabbing to the bone, swallowing the world—like a raging flood dragon, breaking clouds and moon to flatten ninefold barriers!
One more strike—where once dark currents flowed, the water stilled, then shuddered violently as energy burst forth, before returning to calm.
The Ninefold Battle of Madness. Cleaving through all nine layers.
...
After four strikes, the orange glow around Yang Fan dimmed, but he did not stop. His hands shifted, slicing rapidly through the water. Eight dark currents formed in succession, each following the last, one atop another.
Thunderblade Technique.
Li Tian had told him to abandon the Thunderblade, but Yang Fan was reluctant. These days training at the seafloor, not only had he mastered the first four forms of the Ninefold Cleave, but he’d also improved Thunderblade from one move, three strikes, and two moves, six strikes, to eight strikes in a single instant—just a step away from the ninth strike and triple-kill in a single breath.
When finished, Yang Fan’s legs sank deeper into the sand. He pounded the surrounding water, creating a chain of turbulent currents that assaulted his body from all directions. Yet Yang Fan stood unmoving, like a nail driven firmly into the sea.
No matter which way the wind blew.
After half an hour, Yang Fan broke through the surface, gasping as he strode ashore. Seeing his footprints in the sand, he smiled.
He’d been right.
He’d spent these days cultivating at sea, from fifty meters down to over a hundred, the massive pressure steadily restoring his control over his strength. The path he’d chosen was correct.
After resting briefly, Yang Fan dove back into the water. Now, as a Third Rank warrior, his breath-holding ability had improved greatly—he could last about forty minutes underwater.
...
Eight days later, Yang Fan returned to the Modu Cultivation Academy. Walking through the campus, he wore a look of confidence. No surprise: in just eight days, not only had he mastered his current strength, but his Ninefold Cleave had reached the fourth form, Thunderblade had advanced to eight strikes in an instant, and even his horse stance was now stable in midair.
Just as he entered the academy, Li Tian’s voice rang in his ear.
“Boy, come find me.”
Yang Fan curled his lip. One day, I’ll be able to do the same. With hope for the future, he headed toward the Combat Arts Tower.
Li Tian still wore his white robe, exuding the aura of a Daoist immortal as he sat beneath the pagoda. Seeing Yang Fan approach, his usually impassive face showed a hint of satisfaction.
This boy—if nothing else, his cultivation speed was astonishing. But recalling the reason behind Yang Fan’s rapid progress, his expression darkened. It was nothing but pills. Pills bought with credits. Credits earned through missions. It should have been a virtuous cycle, but this guy always picked on the weak, never facing opponents of equal strength. Even when he did, it was by accident.
“Sigh, his temperament still falls short,” Li Tian muttered.
Yang Fan was already climbing the steps. Standing before Li Tian, he grinned.
Li Tian couldn’t help but smile—this kid’s grin made him look just like a groundhog.
“Third Rank already?”
“Didn’t you see it for yourself?”
One retort and Li Tian was almost speechless. Was this any way to speak to a teacher? He flared his aura, and Yang Fan instantly felt a crushing force descend from above. Before he could resist, he was pinned flat to the ground, arms and legs spread.
Yang Fan’s heart was full of woe. What the hell—just one phrase and I’m flattened? Is this supposed to be fun?
Li Tian ignored him, letting him stew for a while. At last, he asked, “How are your preparations?”
Yang Fan said nothing, still sprawled on the ground.
Li Tian’s eyes glimmered with amusement. The pressure increased, and Yang Fan’s face turned red.
Finally, he blurted, “Reporting to Teacher, I’m almost ready.”
“Oh? Almost? How much is left?”
Yang Fan’s mind was a mess, but suddenly, inspiration struck.
“All I’m missing is a suitable weapon.”
Li Tian froze. Was this a stick-up?
“Don’t you already have a long blade? An F-rank alloy weapon, no less.”
“It was destroyed in my last mission. Didn’t you see the report?”
Li Tian thought back—perhaps that had happened, though who could keep track of such things?
“What kind of weapon do you want?”
“Nothing fancy—just an A or B-rank alloy blade will do. Not too heavy—eighteen hundred to two thousand catties is just right.”
Li Tian’s face turned pitch black. “Not a high standard at all. Any particular style in mind?”
Yang Fan perked up. There was a chance! “No requirements—whatever you think best.”
No sooner had he finished than the pressure vanished from his body. Before he could celebrate, he was suddenly lifted into the air and flung skyward.
...
In a small wooded grove about a kilometer from the Combat Arts Tower, a couple was tangled in each other’s arms. Out of nowhere, something massive crashed down from the sky.
Boom!
A cloud of dust shot up from the grass. Under the couple’s horrified gaze, Yang Fan crawled out of the pit, brushed himself off, ignored them completely, and dashed away.
As he ran, Yang Fan cursed inwardly.
“What the hell was that? Just fling me away if you don’t want to give me anything. Are you even a teacher? Haven’t you heard the phrase ‘ask for the sky, settle for the ground’? For someone your age, you really lack refinement.”
Leaving the stunned couple behind, Yang Fan sped off like the wind. But after only a few steps, he halted abruptly, then trudged away in another direction, dejected.
Li Tian, that old fox, had sent another message—ordering him back.
Yang Fan walked on, gazing wordlessly at the sky.
Looks like the lesson isn’t over yet.