Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

The White Tiger was incredibly fast, stopping only once at a relay station to rest.

In little more than a day, the view ahead suddenly opened up to a wide river that stretched across the land.

The river’s waters were a turbid yellow, surging relentlessly. Even in the depths of autumn, there wasn’t a hint of ice on its surface.

On the riverbank, a sprawling complex of buildings built by the water stretched for miles. It was a jumble of pavilions and towers with grey bricks and black tiles, and among them, banners could be seen faintly fluttering in the wind.

At the very front stood a tall stone archway, upon which were inscribed two large words in powerful, vigorous script: "Tiejiang Gang."

This was the headquarters of the Tiejiang Gang.

The White Tiger slowed its pace, heading toward the complex along a road paved with flagstones.

Fang Han’s gaze passed through the carriage window, looking into the distance.

At almost the same time, a massive black figure came speeding along the riverbank from another direction.

It was a black panther.

It was just a shade smaller than the White Tiger, its coat as black as ink without a single speck of another color, gleaming with a cold luster in the afternoon sun.

Its speed was incredible, like a black bolt of lightning. Its paws made no sound as they touched the ground, and its running form was fluid and graceful.

The panther also carried a carriage on its back, inside of which sat three people.

The man in the lead had a face as handsome as carved jade, but his features held a world-weariness and depth that belied his age. It was none other than the Pavilion Master of the Netherworld Pavilion, Ling Wuyuan.

Two others sat beside him. One was handsome but had a sinister air about him—the Netherworld Pavilion’s True Inheritor, Meng Xian.

The other, who had a saber at his waist and a face that could just barely be called handsome, was Duan Wuya—the man who had once been severely wounded by Fang Han.

The black panther stopped a few dozen feet from the White Tiger.

The two First-Grade Demons looked at each other, then simultaneously lowered their bodies and let out low whimpers, each taking a few steps back.

Then, the people from both parties leaped down from their respective carriages.

"Pavilion Master Ling, I trust you’ve been well."

Chen Tianyuan said, offering Ling Wuyuan a slight salute.

"Sect Master Chen, it has been a while."

Ling Wuyuan returned the salute, a faint smile on his face, as if they were old friends and not rivals who had been scheming against each other for decades.

As Fang Han listened to their polite exchange, his gaze swept over the members of the Netherworld Pavilion.

After You Xin’s death, Meng Xian and Duan Wuya were arguably the two most outstanding members of the Netherworld Pavilion.

Coincidentally, both held a grudge against Fang Han.

The auras of both men had grown more profound, a clear sign that their Cultivation had improved significantly in recent times.

When he saw Fang Han’s gaze fall upon him, Meng Xian’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. He quickly lowered his eyes and turned his face away.

The moment his eyes met Fang Han’s, Duan Wuya also looked away, turning his attention to the distant complex by the river.

They didn’t dare to provoke him.

Both knew that with Fang Han’s current strength, firmly ranked first on the Celestial Pride List, they were no longer his match.

Fang Han withdrew his gaze and turned it to Ling Wuyuan.

The Pavilion Master of the Netherworld Pavilion was speaking quietly with Chen Tianyuan, his expression composed, showing no trace of hostility.

As if sensing his gaze, Ling Wuyuan turned his head slightly, and his deep eyes fell upon Fang Han.

An indescribable pressure washed over him like a tidal wave.

It felt like an invisible mountain pressing down on his heart, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

’A Breaking Through Martial Artist!’

A chill went down Fang Han’s spine, and he quickly averted his gaze.

A Breaking Through Martial Artist.

Ling Wuyuan was definitely a Breaking Through Martial Artist. With Fang Han’s current strength, only someone at that level could exert such immense pressure on him.

’I just don’t know how many stages he’s broken through, but it surely can’t be just one.’

The faint smile on Ling Wuyuan’s lips deepened slightly. He withdrew his gaze and turned back to Chen Tianyuan.

"Sect Master Chen, is this the disciple from your esteemed sect who ranks first on the Celestial Pride List?"

His voice was calm, carrying a hint of praise.

"A remarkable talent indeed."

"You flatter him, Pavilion Master Ling."

Chen Tianyuan shook his head, his tone casual.

"The young still need to be tempered. He isn’t worthy of such praise."

He paused, his gaze shifting away from Fang Han as his voice took on a more casual tone.

"Those two disciples of yours look quite outstanding as well, Pavilion Master Ling."

"Them? They still have a long way to go."

Ling Wuyuan waved his hand dismissively and said no more.

Fang Han listened with downcast eyes to their back-and-forth pleasantries.

Chen Tianyuan’s attitude seemed casual, but his caution was masked beneath a calm exterior.

Ling Wuyuan’s earlier praise had been polite on the surface, but it was actually a test.

It was unnatural for a Sect Leader to take the initiative to praise another sect’s disciple.

Fang Han understood this, and so did Chen Tianyuan.

As they were speaking, a figure approached at a brisk pace from the direction of the Tiejiang Gang headquarters.

It was a dark-complexioned, middle-aged man with sharp, shrewd eyes. He wore a deep blue brocade robe, cinched at the waist with a wide leather belt from which hung a long saber.

His stride was steady, and in just a few steps, he crossed dozens of yards. When he drew near, he saluted Chen Tianyuan and Ling Wuyuan in turn, his voice booming.

"Sect Master Chen, Pavilion Master Ling, you have both come a long way. My apologies for not being here to welcome you. Please, forgive me!"

He paused, then turned to the side and gestured.

"Please, follow me. Your quarters have been prepared."

"We appreciate your trouble, Gang Leader Qi!"

Chen Tianyuan nodded slightly and followed, with Fang Han, Luo Yuntian, and Yun Muyao trailing behind him.

Ling Wuyuan also followed, with Meng Xian and Duan Wuya at his side.

One group after the other, they followed Qi Zhen into the Tiejiang Gang headquarters.

Qi Zhen, the Gang Leader of the Tiejiang Gang, housed the Qingxuan Sect and the Netherworld Pavilion in two separate, independent courtyards.

The courtyards weren’t large, but they were quite elegant. Clumps of green bamboo grew within, and in one corner was a small pond with several koi swimming inside.

Fang Han was assigned a room on the east side of the courtyard. Pushing open the window revealed a view of the surging Tiejiang River.

The water was a murky yellow, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore faintly carried to him, lending the scene an imposing air.

「Three days later.」

The Grandmaster’s Banquet was held as scheduled.

The banquet was held in an enormous hall deep within the Tiejiang Gang headquarters.

The hall was vast, easily accommodating several hundred people. Enormous works of calligraphy and paintings adorned the walls, and a long table in the center was laden with all manner of food and wine.

Dozens of low tables, draped in brocade and set with fruit and teacups, lined the sides of the hall.

When Fang Han entered the hall behind Chen Tianyuan, many guests had already arrived.

His gaze swept over the faces in the crowd; some were familiar, others were not.

His attention was particularly drawn to the Abbot of the Vajra Temple, the Valley Master of Baihua Valley, the Sect Leader of the Overlord Blade Sect, the Sect Leader of the Lingyun Sword Sect, the Tower Lord of Tingyu Building, and the heads of the other major powers in the county.

The guests’ gazes lingered on the Qingxuan Sect’s party for a moment before moving away as they resumed their quiet conversations.

From time to time, someone would glance toward the empty seat of honor at the front of the hall, their eyes filled with scrutiny and contemplation.

"A Grandmaster appearing in the Tiejiang Gang... do you think it’s true?"

"The Seven Sects have a firm monopoly on Grandmaster Techniques and never let them fall into outside hands. Where would the Tiejiang Gang even get one?"

"Hard to say. Maybe they secretly found an inheritance left by some senior Grandmaster."

"But how could a Grandmaster’s inheritance be so easy to come by?"

"That’s true..."

The hall buzzed with discussion. Some believed the rumors, others didn’t, and no one could reach a consensus.

Fang Han took a seat beside Chen Tianyuan, his eyes fixed on the front of the hall.

There, a tightly closed doorway was draped with brocade. Behind it, presumably, was the Tiejiang Gang’s legendary Grandmaster.

If the Tiejiang Gang had truly produced a Grandmaster, the balance of power in Qingyang County would be forever changed.

Just then—the closed doors at the front of the hall slowly swung open, and three figures emerged.

On the left was the Gang Leader of the Tiejiang Gang, Qi Zhen.

He had changed into a dark gold brocade robe with a matching silk sash tied at his waist, making him look even more vigorous than he had three days prior.

On the other side was a woman.

The woman was about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, with a lovely face. She wore a fitted, light-blue martial arts uniform, with a claw weapon hanging from each hip. She was Yang Yuan, the True Inheritor of the Tiejiang Gang, ranked twenty-fifth on the Celestial Pride List.

And between the two of them.

Stood an old man.

The old man was gaunt, dressed in a simple grey robe. His face was ancient and rugged, with wrinkles etched so deeply they looked as if they had been carved with a knife.

His salt-and-pepper hair was casually tied back with a Wooden Hairpin, and a few stray locks hanging over his forehead drifted in the light from the doorway behind him.

He walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his pace unhurried, just like any ordinary old man.

But the instant his gaze swept across the hall—

A terrifying aura erupted from him.

The aura was as deep as an abyss and as vast as the sea, carrying a pressure that made one’s very soul tremble.

It was like an invisible mountain, crushing down on them from the front of the hall.

For a moment, everything in the hall seemed to freeze.

The ripples on the surface of the wine stilled. The flickering of the candles slowed.

Even the motes of dust floating in the air were suppressed by the formless power, slowly drifting to the ground.

’Such a terrifying aura... this is without a doubt a Grandmaster Powerhouse!’

In that instant, Fang Han found it difficult to breathe.

His heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a giant, invisible hand, and every beat took all of his strength.

Before this presence, the Second-Grade Inner Qi in his body—as dense and heavy as mercury—felt like a tiny boat in a stormy sea, threatening to capsize at any moment.

His face grew pale, and fine beads of sweat broke out on his temples as he stared intently at the aged figure.

The mere release of his aura made everyone present feel as insignificant as an ant staring up at the heavens.

It was, without a doubt, a Grandmaster Powerhouse!

The hand Chen Tianyuan used to hold his teacup froze mid-air. His pupils contracted in his otherwise gentle eyes, and for the first time, a crack appeared in his usual composure.

The faint smile on Ling Wuyuan’s lips froze, replaced by a grimness he himself would be loath to acknowledge.

Abbot Kudu of the Vajra Temple pressed his palms together, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Valley Master Hua Nishang of Baihua Valley sat up a little straighter, a sharp glint flashing through her liquid eyes.

Veins bulged on the hand with which Sect Leader Lei Pojun of the Overlord Blade Sect gripped his wine bowl.

Sect Leader Xie Changkong of the Lingyun Sword Sect gently placed his wine cup on the table, producing a soft, crisp sound.

Tower Lord Shen Tinglan of Tingyu Building lowered his eyelids, his lashes trembling slightly.

As for those with weaker Cultivation, their reactions were even more pronounced.

Some turned deathly pale, others’ hands trembled as they held their cups, and a few subconsciously reached for the weapons at their waists, only to quietly let go.

The hall fell into a brief, deathly silence.

Fortunately, the aura receded as quickly as it had come, like an ebbing tide.

Only then did the guests recover from the terrifying pressure.

Qi Zhen’s gaze swept over the various expressions in the hall, and a faint smile touched his lips.

He turned slightly to the side and gestured, his voice not loud but carrying clearly to every ear.

"Esteemed guests, this is the Supreme Elder of my Tiejiang Gang—"

He paused, his voice filled with unconcealable pride.

"Grandmaster Yan Wuji."