Enhancement and Research

Within the quiet, spacious courtyard, the pale blue flagstones had been swept spotless, and the air carried wisps of fragrant blossoms and green grass.

Meng Zhao's wide sleeves drifted gently, his long hair neatly combed. He reclined on a rattan chair in the courtyard's eastern corner.

A cup of fragrant tea, still steaming, sat at hand. He looked utterly at ease, as though savoring life.

Yet his mind was wholly immersed in the Sky-Illuminating Mirror within his sea of consciousness.

He operated the information interface displayed by the Sky-Illuminating Mirror, raising the Thirteen Arhat Hand Forms from beginner level to minor mastery.

On the interface, the energy points, originally at 5,400, suddenly changed to 4,900.

At the same time, a surging torrent of information flooded out from the Sky-Illuminating Mirror and poured into his spiritual sea of consciousness.

It felt as if someone had pried open a crack in Meng Zhao's head and crammed countless things inside.

The intense stimulation made Meng Zhao let out a muffled groan. His expression twisted in extreme pain, his features contorted.

Yet in the span of an instant, the swelling pain that seemed ready to split his skull gradually faded.

In its place came a heavy weariness, as though he had gone days without sleep or rest.

His mind had also gained insights into fist training that he had clearly never experienced, yet which felt utterly familiar, engraved deep into his soul.

Subjectively speaking, this crude method of imparting experience was extremely unfriendly, placing at least a tremendous burden on the mind.

Unexpectedly, however, the results were remarkable.

Meng Zhao's half-closed eyes abruptly flew open. A faint violet glimmer flashed through his bloodshot eyes, vanishing in an instant, unnoticed even by him.

Then, like a ferocious tiger awakening, he sprang into the courtyard and began practicing the Thirteen Arhat Hand Forms.

Monk Presenting Sutras, Drunken Reclining Chain, Young Monk Offering Treasure...

His movements were forceful and powerful, his fist techniques unleashed with abandon. Though the moves were simple, they formed nimble, ever-changing combinations in his hands.

After being infused with inner force, his arms gradually became afterimages.

As they swept through the air, they stirred fierce winds that scattered in every direction. The crackling sound of air splitting rang out without end, like beans popping in a pan.

Powerful. Terrifying. Every punch and kick could put a man to death.

Forget a flesh-and-blood body—even stone seemed as though it would be shattered by a single punch.

This was not merely because Meng Zhao had reached minor mastery in this fist art, becoming extremely familiar with every move and stance.

His techniques for exerting force throughout his body had improved greatly, and his strikes lashed out like whips and hammers.

More importantly, his fists and feet were imbued with the abundant inner force of the Arhat Young Monk Skill—fierce, forceful, and explosive—giving them such terrifying power.

Soon, Meng Zhao finished three sets of the fist art. He drew long breaths and exhaled shortly, slowly calming his surging inner force.

At the same time, he stood with his feet slightly apart and his hands hanging naturally at his sides, sinking into thought.

These Thirteen Arhat Hand Forms were the most rudimentary fist art of Great Compassion Temple. Their power was ordinary, and their variations few.

At the beginner level, one could only perform them completely and smoothly, tempering the physique. Using them against enemies offered no real advantage.

But now, with the Sky-Illuminating Mirror's aid, Meng Zhao's cultivation and comprehension of this fist art had soared in a straight line.

In that brief instant, he had not only reached minor mastery—he was even close to major mastery.

Even these simple moves had developed entirely different variations.

In return, he had paid only five hundred energy points. The gains were so immense that they somewhat exceeded his expectations.

In terms of combat strength, Meng Zhao could probably defeat more than ten of his former selves now.

If those monks who also practiced the Thirteen Arhat Hand Forms learned of this, they would probably die of envy.

"The moves connect smoothly, without the slightest sense of discord, as though these were results I had cultivated solidly on my own.

"Perhaps my body needs a period of adjustment, but that will only take a very short time. It cannot even be called troublesome.

"If there are any negative effects, it is probably that this overly crude imparting of fist-art comprehension places a huge burden on the mind."

Meng Zhao stretched out his long, fair fingers and gently massaged his forehead, which still felt swollen, silently summarizing to himself.

"Raising the Luohan Fist from beginner level to minor mastery only took five hundred energy points.

"Then what about raising the Arhat Young Monk Skill to minor mastery?"

Meng Zhao did not dwell on it. He had enough energy points now, and the Arhat Young Monk Skill was a precious martial art worth investing in. What was there to hesitate over?

He swiftly immersed his mind in his sea of consciousness and, through guidance, enhanced it once more.

This time, the change in energy points somewhat exceeded his expectations. The 4,900 points instantly became 3,900, while the torrent of information striking his mind brought pain and swelling several times worse than before.

Meng Zhao, who had been standing steadily, suddenly swayed. His body rocked back and forth as though he might collapse at any moment.

His complexion was ghastly. The blood vessels in the whites of his eyes protruded even more, as if they might burst at any time.

Two streaks of blood also ran from beneath Meng Zhao's nose, falling onto his pale red, rippled-pattern casual robes, where they remained strikingly conspicuous.

Yet alongside the intense physical and mental discomfort came vast amounts of cultivation experience concerning the Arhat Young Monk Skill.

Meng Zhao had no attention left to spare for such minor discomfort. Instead, he devoted all his focus to the enhancement of this martial art.

The Arhat Young Monk Skill was Great Compassion Temple's supreme Foundation Establishment inner cultivation method, and also a widely known supplementary cultivation art.

Besides cultivating pure inner force, it could also develop Pure Yang Child Qi.

This Pure Yang Child Qi was exceedingly rare and precious.

Not only could it strengthen the tendons and bones, improve one's aptitude, and ward off evil, it could also provide immense support for cultivating more powerful Internal Martial Arts in the future.

According to the general outline recorded in the scriptures, its realms were divided into four levels: Crude Concentration, Right Concentration, Renouncing Desire, and Complete Awakening.

Originally, Meng Zhao had only been at Crude Concentration. Only when practicing could he focus wholeheartedly, unaffected by the outside world.

He could barely control the abundant inner force bestowed through initiation, avoiding backlash, though he used it with extremely poor efficiency.

Now, however, he had successfully entered the level of Right Concentration. Whether walking, sitting, lying down, or standing, his mind remained as one, without stray thoughts arising.

Not only had his control and application of inner force improved, but his cultivation efficiency had also increased greatly.

Take the absorption and conversion of the body's essence, for example.

If Crude Concentration required one shichen, then Right Concentration would likely require only half a shichen, perhaps even less, while the inner force produced would be purer and stronger.

There might not seem to be much difference in the short term, but over time, with sufficient resources supplied, the gap would only grow wider and wider.

Meng Zhao wiped away the blood running from his nose, steadied his somewhat unsteady body, and exhausted every ounce of focus to calm his discomfort.

Only after his nose stopped bleeding and the swelling pain in his mind had dispersed did he look at the information displayed on the Sky-Illuminating Mirror.

Energy points: 3,900. The Arhat Young Monk Skill had changed from beginner level to minor mastery, and the plus sign after it had vanished without a trace.

Clearly, 3,900 energy points were insufficient to help him raise the Arhat Young Monk Skill from minor mastery to major mastery.

The plus sign after the Thirteen Arhat Hand Forms remained, however, meaning it could still be enhanced.

But Meng Zhao paid it no mind. He concentrated, calmed his breathing, and suddenly threw a punch into the empty space before him, carefully sensing the result.

It was an ordinary punch, yet thick, pure inner force erupted like a volcano, driving his fist forward.

The force pierced the air, releasing a shrill whistle.

In terms of sheer power, it was nearly fifty percent stronger than when he had practiced the Luohan Fist just now.

In such a short time, the dual enhancement of internal cultivation and combat techniques had brought earthshaking changes to Meng Zhao's martial arts.

If Meng Zhao had previously been a fat pig with inner force but no idea how to use it, strong yet harmless—

Then now he had become a robust tiger, fangs and claws bared, ready to choose a victim and devour him.

Still, the price of becoming stronger had already begun to reveal itself. The mental burden was too great; he could not endure repeated violent enhancements in succession.

It was like the relationship between water and its container. How could the boundless waters of rivers and seas be held by a mere earthen jar?

As he progressed from weakness to strength, he could not truly ascend to the heavens in a single step. He could only grow in stages, step by step.

Therefore, if he wanted to become stronger, making use of the Sky-Illuminating Mirror was indispensable—but using it wisely was even more important.

He could pursue power, but he could never lose his mind and become power's slave.

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