Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

Low gasps of surprise rippled through the banquet.

"Late Stage of Third Grade... no, she must have reached the Late-Stage Third Grade Limit! She could break through to Second Grade at any moment!"

"So this is her true strength!"

"I wonder if Fang Han can win?"

Before the murmurs had died down, Fang Han moved.

He didn’t draw his sword, merely turning slightly to the side.

The ten silver-white claw strikes practically scraped past the hem of his robes. The fierce wind from the attack carved several shallow white gashes into the ground behind him.

Yang Yuan’s attack missed, but her follow-up was incredibly fast.

She retracted her left claw and swung her right one upward, aiming straight for Fang Han’s chin.

The attack was fast and vicious. Before the blades of her claw even arrived, the sharp wind it generated sent the hair on Fang Han’s forehead fluttering backward.

Fang Han still didn’t draw his sword.

He simply tilted his head back slightly, and the claw scraped past his chin, missing by a hair’s breadth.

A flicker of gravity crossed Yang Yuan’s eyes, but she didn’t pause.

She launched a continuous assault with both claws, their afterimages overlapping to form a seemingly impenetrable silver-white net that enveloped all of Fang Han’s vital points.

Each strike carried the terrifying power to shatter monuments and split boulders.

Still, Fang Han did not draw his sword.

He weaved through the gaps in the claw-strikes, relying only on subtle shifts in his Body Technique.

Sometimes he would turn sideways, sometimes tilt his head back, sometimes retreat half a step, and sometimes leap lightly into the air.

Every dodge was perfectly timed, as if he had already predicted the angle and destination of each of Yang Yuan’s attacks.

The reason he was so relaxed was that Yang Yuan’s strength lay in her Cultivation, which was at the Late-Stage Third Grade Limit.

In terms of Martial Technique, she was no stronger than Liu Bai or Luan Dao—in fact, she was slightly inferior.

And since he was already in the Early Stage of Second Grade, his Cultivation was higher than hers, so it was only natural that he appeared to handle her attacks with ease.

The hall fell silent.

Those who had been worried that Fang Han was no match for her had all shut their mouths.

And even those who had great faith in Fang Han hadn’t expected him to be so utterly at ease.

Yang Yuan’s attacks grew more frantic, the afterimages of her claws becoming denser.

But Fang Han remained completely unruffled.

"..."

Yang Yuan took a deep breath. Her Inner Qi circulated madly at an unprecedented speed, and the silver light on her claws flared brilliantly.

With this strike, she held nothing back.

She thrust both claws forward. Ten rays of claw light solidified, like ten invisible sharp blades slashing at Fang Han from different angles.

This single attack was enough to severely injure any Martial Artist at the Late Stage of Third Grade.

At last, Fang Han drew his sword.

CLANG—

The Cloud Splitting Sword left its sheath, its dark-cyan blade shimmering with a restrained light.

He didn’t use his full strength, only revealing a Cultivation at the Late Stage of Third Grade and his Sky-Splitting Sword Technique at the Minor Achievement Realm.

He slashed out once.

There were no fancy Transformations, just a single, simple strike.

But the moment he did, the ten solidified, silver-white claw strikes were torn apart as if they were made of paper.

The sword light continued onward, its momentum unbroken, heading straight for Yang Yuan.

Yang Yuan’s pupils shrank. She summoned all her strength to block with her claws held horizontally.

CLANG—!

The shriek of metal on metal exploded throughout the hall.

Yang Yuan felt an overwhelming, irresistible force travel up from her claws, her hands growing numb and unresponsive.

The pair of silver-white claws flew from her grasp, spinning through the air before embedding themselves in the ground several dozen feet away, their bodies still vibrating with a low hum.

She staggered backward, taking seven or eight steps before she could barely regain her balance.

She looked down at her hands. There were no wounds, but her entire arms were trembling uncontrollably.

She raised her head and looked at Fang Han.

Fang Han had already sheathed his sword and stood with his hands behind his back. His green robes were untouched, his aura as calm and steady as ever.

It was as if that last strike had been nothing more than a casual flick of his wrist.

"I was fortunate."

Fang Han said calmly, cupping one fist in his other hand as a salute.

Yang Yuan opened her mouth to speak, but found she didn’t know what to say.

She had endured for so many years, all for the sake of this one battle.

’To think I don’t even have the right to make him fight seriously.’

She lowered her hands, her voice hoarse. "I’ve lost."

A brief silence fell over the hall.

Then, a flood of discussion erupted as if a dam had broken.

"One strike. Just one single strike."

"Fang Han wasn’t even serious..."

"Is this the power of the number one on the Celestial Pride List?"

Exclamations of amazement rose and fell among the younger generation. Some looked on with awe, others with complicated emotions.

The gazes of the older generation, however, were fixed on Fang Han, their expressions varied.

"This boy... he’s a true monster."

A white-haired old man spoke in a low voice, a hint of emotion in his tone.

"That Yang Yuan girl, with her Cultivation at the Late-Stage Third Grade Limit and her ferocious Claw Technique... In any other year, she’d have been a shoo-in for first place on the Celestial Pride List."

Another person chimed in, his voice tinged with a sigh.

"Unfortunately for her, she ran into Fang Han."

"Twenty years old, Late Stage of Third Grade, and his swordsmanship is divine... This boy’s future achievements are limitless."

Fang Han returned to his seat next to Chen Tianyuan.

Chen Tianyuan picked up his teacup and took a small sip. He said nothing, but a faint trace of a smile could be seen in his gentle eyes.

At the head seat, Yan Wuji set down his teacup.

His rugged, ancient face was unreadable, but his murky yet profound eyes fell upon Fang Han.

"As expected of the most talented disciple the Qingxuan Sect has seen in several hundred years."

His voice was old and flat as it echoed through the hall.

"You truly live up to your reputation."

Fang Han stood up and saluted Yan Wuji with a cupped fist. His voice was respectful, but not servile.

"Grandmaster Yan, you flatter me. I was merely lucky."

Yan Wuji gave a slight nod. Without another word, he picked up his teacup and lowered his gaze.

Fang Han sat back down, a sliver of vigilance rising in his heart.

He felt an instinctual wariness toward this Supreme Elder of the Tiejiang Gang.

His appearance had been too sudden. And although he had provided a seemingly reasonable explanation, Fang Han couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a secret hidden within this situation that he did not know.

The Grandmaster’s banquet concluded at dusk.

The setting sun stained the Tiejiang Gang’s riverside complex a deep, golden red. The river surged endlessly, its waves roaring faintly in the distance.

The next day, the representatives from the various powers began to take their leave one after another.

The monks of the Vajra Temple were the first to depart. Abbot Kudu pressed his palms together to bid farewell to Qi Zhen, his gray monk’s robes fluttering in the twilight. His party soon vanished at the far end of the official road outside the archway.

Hua Nishang of Baihua Valley left afterward with her disciples. Her carriage, adorned with fresh flowers, rumbled over the bluestone road, leaving a faint, lingering floral scent in its wake.

Lei Pojun from the Overlord Blade Sect mounted a black-maned demonic horse, gave Qi Zhen a cupped-fist salute, and galloped away.

Xie Changkong of the Lingyun Sword Sect gave a slight nod and departed gracefully with Liu Bai and the others.

Shen Tinglan of Tingyu Building was the last to leave. Her calm eyes swept across the Tiejiang Gang headquarters one last time before she retracted her gaze and boarded her carriage.

From the Qingxuan Sect and Netherworld Pavilion’s side, Chen Tianyuan and Ling Wuyuan rose at nearly the same time.

The two Sect Leaders looked at each other, exchanged cupped-fist salutes, and parted without another word.

The White Tiger lowered its massive frame. Once Chen Tianyuan, Fang Han, Luo Yuntian, and Yun Muyao had boarded the carriage on its back, it stood, dug its four paws into the ground, and shot off along the official road toward the Qingxuan Sect.

Netherworld Pavilion’s black panther departed at almost the same instant, heading in the direction of its own sect.

Fang Han leaned against the wall of the carriage, his gaze fixed on the view outside the small window.

"Senior Brother Fang."

Luo Yuntian, sitting beside him, spoke in a low voice.

"What do you make of this business with the Tiejiang Gang?"

Fang Han was silent for a moment before replying slowly,

"A single Grandmaster is enough to change the entire landscape of Qingyang County."

He didn’t elaborate.

Luo Yuntian nodded and didn’t press further.

Yun Muyao sat opposite them, her face covered by a white veil that left only her pair of cold, clear eyes visible.

She remained silent, simply watching the scenery flash by outside the window, her thoughts unknown.

Chen Tianyuan sat at the very front of the carriage with his eyes closed in meditation, his scholarly face betraying no emotion.

But Fang Han knew that what the Sect Leader was thinking right now was likely the same as what he was thinking—

The rise of the Tiejiang Gang had shattered the established balance of the Seven Sects. The future of Qingyang County had just become far more unpredictable.

「...」

Deep within the Tiejiang Gang headquarters, in a secret chamber.

Candlelight flickered on a bronze lamp stand, casting two shadows on the rough stone walls.

Yan Wuji sat in the stone chair at the head of the room, his gray robes glowing dimly in the firelight.

His rugged, ancient face was unreadable, but in the flickering candlelight, a faint glint of light seemed to flow within his murky yet profound eyes.

Qi Zhen stood beside him, his hands hanging at his sides in a posture of utmost respect.

"Supreme Elder."

Qi Zhen began, his voice hushed as if afraid of being overheard.

"After the Grandmaster’s banquet, the attitudes of the various powers have become mostly clear. The Vajra Temple, Baihua Valley, Overlord Blade Sect, Lingyun Sword Sect, and Tingyu Building—these five sects, while not making their positions explicit, have shown no hostility. They seem to be taking a wait-and-see approach."

He paused before continuing.

"As for Netherworld Pavilion, Ling Wuyuan is a deeply cunning man. Nothing shows on his face, but in my judgment, I doubt he’s content to see another Grandmaster emerge outside of the Seven Sects."

"And as for the Qingxuan Sect..."

Qi Zhen hesitated for a moment.

"Chen Tianyuan’s attitude is unclear. It’s still unknown what his next moves will be."

Yan Wuji picked up the teacup beside him, took a small sip, and set it down.

"There is no need to be overly concerned with the Qingxuan Sect."

His voice, old and flat, echoed softly in the secret chamber.

"Chen Tianyuan has always kept a low profile. As long as we don’t infringe upon the Qingxuan Sect’s interests, he won’t be the one to start trouble."

Qi Zhen nodded, then asked,

"Supreme Elder, now that our Grandmaster has been established, the Tiejiang Gang has earned the right to stand on equal footing with the Seven Sects. What should be our next step?"

Yan Wuji was silent for several breaths.

The candlelight danced across his ancient face, making the wrinkles there seem as if they were carved by a knife.

"Expand."

He slowly uttered a single word.

"Annex the surrounding powers and strengthen the Tiejiang Gang."

Qi Zhen was momentarily stunned, but then he nodded.

"I had the same thought, but—"

He hesitated, lowering his voice even further.

"Will the Seven Sects simply allow the Tiejiang Gang to annex the surrounding powers?"

"They wouldn’t dare."

Yan Wuji’s voice was still flat, yet it carried an unquestionable certainty.

"The Seven Sects are already vying for power amongst themselves, both openly and in secret. None of them would want to see another sect grow stronger by making an enemy of the Tiejiang Gang."

He lifted his eyes, and a cold glint flashed for an instant in his murky gaze.

"Besides, if a Grandmaster with no sect to hold him back was determined to make an enemy of a particular sect... the resulting losses are not something they would be willing to bear."

A chill went down Qi Zhen’s spine. He immediately cupped his fist and said,

"The Supreme Elder is wise."

He paused, then asked again,

"Then which power should be our first target?"