A Voyage

Wang Ming immediately switched to practicing the Innate Skill and set off for Peach Blossom Island—this was the easiest time to get onto the island.

Huang Yaoshi had left the island to search for Huang Rong, leaving only a bunch of deaf-mutes behind. It was fairly safe.

Under the lure of a hefty reward, a boatman brought Wang Ming near Peach Blossom Island but flatly refused to dock, claiming that anyone who landed would never return.

With no other choice, Wang Ming paid the boatman the agreed sum, activated the One Reed Crossing River Lightness Skill, and headed toward the island—though it drained his inner energy heavily.

Once on the island, the true qi from his lower dantian's Innate Skill was indeed exhausted. He found a hidden spot to recover.

After a short period of meditation, his inner energy was mostly restored, and he followed the path through Peach Blossom Island.

Staring at the massive peach tree formation before him, Wang Ming had no interest in testing it. He leaped into the air, using the treetops as footholds to fly straight toward the center.

Huang Yaoshi's formation wasn't very effective—pretty useless, really. Anyone with high martial skill could just fly over it from above. And if they weren't afraid of offending Huang Yaoshi, they could burn the whole thing down.

Wang Ming scouted the island. Zhou Botong was still alone in his cave; Guo Jing hadn't arrived yet.

Waiting dryly outside the cave for Guo Jing would have been idiotic, so Wang Ming snuck into Huang Yaoshi's study and spent his days reading to pass the time.

Maybe because Huang Yaoshi had been burned by Chen Xuanfeng before, Wang Ming couldn't find any martial arts manuals on the island. The books in the study were all miscellaneous knowledge, not secret techniques.

During this time, Wang Ming frantically used his enhanced memory to absorb this knowledge—it was actually more valuable than martial arts. He already knew plenty of martial arts, but places with this kind of knowledge were truly rare.

What Wang Ming cared about most were the medicine and mechanisms here—his biggest gaps. The only pity was that Huang Yaoshi's exclusive Secret Pill formula for the Nine Flower Jade Dew Pill wasn't there. That was a top-tier healing medicine.

After reading these books, Wang Ming even began to suspect Huang Yaoshi's origins. Huang Yaoshi knew astronomy above and geography below, the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, strange gates and hidden traps, music, chess, calligraphy, painting—even farming, irrigation, economics, and military strategy. There was nothing he didn't know or excel at.

It all resembled the Free and Unfettered Sect from Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils—basically a low-budget young Wu Yazi.

"Stop overthinking. Hurry up and read! If Huang Yaoshi comes back, I'm in trouble."

At this point, Wang Ming couldn't beat Eastern Heretic Huang Yaoshi. Getting caught red-handed would be awkward.

Wang Ming memorized the medical and mechanism texts by rote, skimmed a few other books, then dared not linger. He erased all traces of himself and found a spot where he could observe the docking area of Peach Blossom Island, cultivating while waiting.

A few days later, Huang Yaoshi returned with a reluctant Huang Rong.

Wang Ming couldn't help feeling relieved that he hadn't been too greedy. If he'd failed to curb his desire and kept reading in Huang Laoxie's study, he'd definitely have been caught.

A few more days passed, and that fool Guo Jing arrived on the island. He stumbled into Zhou Botong's cave by accident and disrupted Huang Laoxie's plan to pressure Zhou Botong.

Seeing the protagonist had arrived, Wang Ming took the risk to approach the cave entrance, holding his breath. He quietly eavesdropped as Zhou Botong, that old manual-giver, handed Guo Jing a cheat code.

After a few days of listening at the wall, Wang Ming finally obtained the complete Nine Yin Manual—the dream of every Martial World Person. The biggest surprise was the Twin-Handed Combat Technique. He tried it briefly and found he could use it. Zhou Botong was truly a martial genius, able to run two different martial arts simultaneously without them conflicting and killing him.

The Empty Clarity Fist was decent too, but it didn't suit his personality.

Having gotten what he wanted, Wang Ming didn't want to linger any longer, lest something go wrong.

Wang Ming arrived at the beach on Peach Blossom Island, staring at the vast ocean. His mind went blank, and he felt like a flock of crows was flying over his head, cawing and mocking him for being an idiot.

He hadn't planned a way back. No boats passed by here. Even if he built a raft or stole a ship, he didn't know the sea routes!

Just as his mind was racing, a shout reached his ears.

He turned his head and saw Hong Qigong.

"Kid Wang, you got to Peach Blossom Island before me! With the two of us here, Jing'er's marriage is as good as settled."

Hong Qigong walked over and clapped Wang Ming on the shoulder.

Wang Ming was stunned for a moment before realizing he'd run into Hong Qigong, who had just arrived to help Guo Jing propose. Hong Qigong also mistakenly thought Wang Ming had just arrived.

Perfect. He'd go with Hong Qigong to help with the proposal, then legitimately ask Huang Laoxie to send someone to escort him off the island. Once he figured that out, he quickly replied.

"Yes, I came for Jing'er's marriage too. After all, I've been his teacher for so many years."

"We're both Jing'er's masters. Calling each other 'master' and 'chief' is too formal. From now on, I'll call you Brother Wang, and you call me Old Brother Hong."

"Then Old Brother Hong, I won't stand on ceremony."

"We martial artists aren't so particular. It's just a title. Don't overthink it. Come on, let's get to business."

Hong Qigong led the way, and Wang Ming followed toward the center. Huang Rong must have given Hong Qigong a map beforehand, or he couldn't have navigated the Peach Blossom Maze so smoothly.

As they emerged from the maze, the sound of a qin and a xiao drifted over from afar. It seemed Huang Laoxie had already crossed blows with Western Venom.

Hong Qigong, beside him, somehow produced a sheng from who knows where, put it to his lips, and blew with inner force. Instantly, three sounds tangled together in a fierce battle.

"Can't let people say I came here just for a sightseeing trip," Wang Ming muttered to himself.

He looked around, casually plucked a decent-looking leaf from a tree, put it to his lips, and blew.

Secretly channeling the Seven String Formless Sword technique, he used the leaf as a substitute for a qin and executed the move.

Now the scene was even more chaotic. Four sounds twisted together, utterly grating—pure noise pollution.

Before long, Hong Qigong reached the bamboo grove. Looking ahead, the one playing the xiao should be Huang Yaoshi, and the one plucking the iron zither should be Ouyang Feng.

That white-robed youth in a satin gown embroidered with gold thread, holding a folding fan, was probably Ouyang Ke.

Not the protagonist, and wearing a white robe? Showing off gets you killed fast, Wang Ming silently sneered.

And there were Guo Jing and Huang Rong off to one side.

The sonic battle raged fiercely, when suddenly the leaf in his hand shattered, unable to withstand the frantic output of internal energy.

Seeing the leaf in his hand had crumbled, he decided to step aside and watch the show—there were no leaves left for him to pluck here.

Just then, something flew toward Wang Ming, hurtling at him. He caught it—an iron zheng. This was the one Huang Rong had snatched from Ouyang Feng's attendant.

Huang Rong noticed the leaf in Wang Ming's hand had broken, so she grabbed the nearest musical instrument and tossed it over. She put a bit too much force into it—an ordinary person could have been killed. Seeing Wang Ming arrive, she didn't overthink it, assuming Hong Qigong had called him in, likely to help out. That's why she so eagerly threw... no, sent the iron zheng.

Given the situation, Wang Ming didn't stand on ceremony. He found a spot, set down the iron zheng, and began playing the complete version of the "Seven String Formless Sword."

Instantly, everyone present felt a wave of discomfort. Their internal energy slipped out of control, stirred into chaos by Wang Ming's zither notes. When the melody was slow, their attacks slowed too; when it quickened, their strikes followed suit. Wang Ming didn't use the techniques Huang Zhonggong had created—he simply shifted rapidly between slow and fast tempos.

This sent the true qi inside the fighters on the field into a frenzy, like a husky tearing through a house, churning their blood and energy, making them utterly miserable.

Huang Yaoshi's "Blue Sea Tide Song" was a Sonic Power Skill that induced hallucinations, stirred inner demons, and shattered one's mental focus.

Ouyang Feng's iron zheng, on the other hand, synced its notes with the listener's heartbeat. The faster he played, the faster their hearts beat, making it feel like their hearts might leap out of their chests.

Wang Ming's "Seven String Formless Sword" disrupted a person's internal energy, sending it rampaging through their body. In severe cases, it could lead straight to qi deviation, with internal force bursting through the dantian and killing them.

Hong Qigong didn't actually have a Sonic Power Skill, but his internal energy was so immense that he could force his sound to be grating and unpleasant.

Truth be told, as mystical as these Sonic Power Skills sounded, the four of them—Huang Yaoshi and the others—were barely affected, just a bit of churning blood and energy.

Sonic Power Skills were an awkward martial art. Great for bullying weaker foes or group attacks, where the damage was outstanding. But against opponents of equal or higher level, the damage was barely a scratch.

Of course, if you had a Demonic Zither like the Six-Fingered Zither Demon's, then forget I said anything.

Wang Ming had said before that the "Seven String Formless Sword" was a perfect match for Ren Woxing. That madman had used the "Star Absorbing Great Art" to become the number one in internal energy in the Xiaoao Jianghu world. If you compared sheer volume of internal force, even Dongfang Bubai, Feng Qingyang, and Zuo Lengchan combined might barely match him.

Ren Woxing's poor showing was only because he lacked a high-powered offensive technique—something like Duan Yu's "Six Meridian Divine Sword."

Just thinking about Ren Woxing made him want to laugh. When that man fought, he either used a two-finger-wide soft sword to duel in swordplay, or clashed palms to compare internal energy, and if that didn't work, he'd just start absorbing.

In the Xiaoao Jianghu world, martial arts had declined. Internal energy rarely left the body; it was mostly used to coat weapons or hands.

With Ren Woxing's immense internal energy and this "Seven String Formless Sword," he could mow down every martial arts master in that world like grass.

Don't think that's an exaggeration. The "Sunflower Manual" didn't actually boost internal energy much—it was a special technique that made you faster.

But Huang Rong and the other two couldn't hold out, even with cloth stuffed in their ears.

"Stop playing! Rong'er is getting hurt!" Guo Jing shouted.

Wang Ming looked over—sure enough, Huang Rong's face was flushed red, clearly struggling to hold on. Guo Jing, having drunk the Treasure Snake's blood, had decent internal energy, and with Zhou Botong's training methods, he could still endure. He glanced at Ouyang Ke, who was already spitting blood.

The four of them immediately stopped their duel. It wasn't easy to find evenly matched opponents, and they'd gotten too caught up in the fun, forgetting the younger generation was present. They hurried over to check on their juniors.

Ouyang Feng saw Ouyang Ke's injuries and felt a surge of anger, but Ouyang Ke's condition couldn't wait, and this wasn't the place to lose his temper. He held back, quickly channeling the rampaging true qi in his nephew's body.

Ouyang Ke's injuries were severe. If they'd delayed any longer, he would have suffered qi deviation, with true qi bursting through his dantian and meridians shattering—crippled or dead.

Of the three, Ouyang Ke was in the worst shape. Mainly because the martial arts he practiced weren't the calm, balanced Daoist internal techniques like Guo Jing's. On top of that, he'd been hit by a few needles from Huang Rong's sneak attack, and had a rib broken by the now-much-stronger Guo Jing. No wonder he'd ended up so pathetic.