Novaridge City, Zhang Family Mansion
A loud crack echoed through the grand hall as a heavy palm smashed into a wooden table, shattering it into splinters.
Grady Zhang, the patriarch of the Zhang family, stood with veins bulging on his forehead, his eyes ablaze with fury. His rage was palpable, a storm brewing in the air.
"That little bastard!" His voice rumbled like thunder. "He shattered all the meridians in Jude's body—crippling him for life! Damn it! Damn it all!"
Before him, Joshua Zhang knelt on the cold marble floor, his face streaked with tears. "Father, you must avenge Big Brother!" he cried, his voice trembling with grief and desperation.
But instead of comfort, a violent kick sent Joshua sprawling backward, his body sliding several feet across the hall. The impact left him gasping for breath, eyes wide in shock.
"You useless fool!" Grady roared, his beard quivering in rage. "If you hadn't been arrogant and reckless in the Martial Hall, causing trouble at every turn, how would Jude have suffered such a disaster?! This is all your fault!"
Joshua clutched his chest, his expression twisting in pain and shame. He dared not argue.
Jude Zhang had been the most promising genius of the Zhang family, the one they had placed all their hopes on. His talent had been nurtured with painstaking care, his future seemingly destined for greatness. But now?
Now, that hope had been snuffed out. Jude Zhang was crippled reduced to nothing more than a waste!
Grady's mind churned with fury and unease. He knew that his brothers within the family—rival factions long coveting his position—would use this as an opportunity to challenge his authority. This was not just about revenge; it was about survival.
His eyes darkened as murderous intent filled the air.
"Dustin Rhys… I will make you pay."
...
According to the Martial Hall's rules, any disciple who reached the seventh level of Body Refinement could enter the second floor of the Book Collection Pavilion to choose a third-rank martial art—whether it be an internal skill, body technique, or combat art.
For Dustin, this moment had come.
After his battle with Jude Zhang, his rapid progress had made him a topic of hushed conversations throughout the hall. Yet this time, when he walked toward the library, no one dared to stand in his way.
The elders had taken notice.
An aged voice rang out as he approached. "Oh? It's only been two months, and you've already reached the seventh level of Body Refinement?"
Dustin turned to face the speaker—Elder Jalen, one of the custodians of the Book Collection Pavilion. The old man studied him with interest, stroking his beard.
Even for exceptional talents, reaching the seventh level in such a short period was unheard of. Most geniuses needed a year or more to achieve what Dustin had accomplished in mere months.
"Yes, Elder," Dustin responded, his voice steady. He released his aura slightly, allowing the elder to sense his cultivation.
Elder Jalen narrowed his eyes before nodding in confirmation.
"Indeed, seventh level… Very well." He gestured toward the library. "You may enter the second floor and select one martial art. Choose wisely."
Dustin bowed respectfully before stepping inside.
Behind him, Elder Jalen watched his departing figure, a thoughtful glint in his eyes.
"Novaridge City has produced an interesting talent…" he murmured. "Where will his path lead?"
Stepping onto the second floor, Dustin immediately noticed the stark contrast from the first level.
Instead of hundreds of bookshelves filled with countless manuals, there were only three rows here—each dedicated to a specific category: internal skills, body techniques, and martial arts.
The selection was vastly smaller, with only a few dozen tomes.
"So few?" Dustin muttered to himself. But as he thought about it, it made sense. Third-rank martial arts were far more precious than those on the first floor.
His gaze swept over the titles:
1. Mountain-Shattering Fist
2. Sharp Sword Art
3. Gale Blade Technique
4. Lunar Flowing Sword
5. Heavenly Staff Technique
The sight of sword techniques immediately caught his attention.
Dustin had long dreamed of becoming a swordsman, of roaming the world with a blade in hand. From the age of ten, he had trained in the Martial Hall, but true sword arts were beyond his reach.
Third-rank sword techniques were rare and required either immense wealth or sufficient cultivation to obtain. Before the Life and Death Pearl changed his fate, he never dared to imagine he would one day qualify for such skills.
His fingers traced over the titles.
Wind Sword Technique – A relentless, aggressive style that overwhelmed opponents with sheer ferocity.
Dragon Swordsmanship – A fluid and elusive form, combining movement with deadly precision.
He hesitated. His heart yearned for swordsmanship, but his rational mind knew better.
If he could improve his inner strength now, he would have another opportunity to choose a martial art when he reached the eighth level.
Clenching his jaw, Dustin forced himself to let go of the sword techniques and turned toward the internal skills section.
There, one title stood out:
Pure Yang Skill
His eyes narrowed as he flipped it open.
This was a top-tier third-rank internal technique, vastly superior to his previous Tendon-Strengthening Art. However, its difficulty was notorious—over the past eight hundred years, only three people in the Martial Hall had successfully cultivated it.
But those three had all become legends.
"Once mastered, Pure Yang Skill is comparable to a fourth-rank internal technique, condensing and refining Inner Energy at an unparalleled rate."
Dustin's decision was made in an instant. This was the one.
"Pure Yang Skill?" Elder Jalen frowned. "Are you sure?"
"Yes." Dustin nodded without hesitation.
The elder sighed, shaking his head. "Boy, I've seen countless geniuses… but even among the most talented, only three have ever cultivated this skill. It is a harsh, merciless path—if you fail, you will waste years of effort."
Dustin met his gaze, unwavering. "If I am to cultivate, I will cultivate the best."
A flicker of surprise crossed Elder Jalen's face before he let out a low chuckle.
"Fine. Try, if you dare."
.....
Night fell as Dustin sat cross-legged on his bed, the Pure Yang Skill manual open before him.
Closing his eyes, he visualized his Life Vein Diagram, mapping every meridian and acupuncture point in his body with absolute clarity.
He took a deep breath.
"Pure Yang Skill."
The moment he began, a roaring heat surged through his veins, an energy both ferocious and unyielding. His meridians trembled under the pressure, but with the Life and Death Pearl's enhancements, he endured.
Half a column of incense later, he opened his eyes—his lips curving into a smirk.
"Only three have succeeded in eight hundred years? That's all?"
He laughed, his voice brimming with confidence.
His inner energy had already surpassed an ordinary ninth-level Body Refinement expert. And this was just the beginning.
With a sharp gaze, he rose to his feet.
It was time to head for Shinwu Mountain—to sharpen his blade against the wild.