I Can Tell from Your Extraordinary Bones That You Have Great Potential...

In the dim tent, Pan Long opened his eyes, exhausted and uneasy.

Training alone in the Void World—that loneliness sinking deep into my bones was harder to bear than I'd imagined!

He gulped down several breaths. Even the tent air, thick with sweat and cooking smoke, felt comforting now. The snores rising and falling around him put him strangely at ease.

No wonder Dad and Grandpa looked at me like I was an idiot when I asked, "Why not train in the Void World until you're invincible, then go out and roam the Martial World?" Now I get it!

If I could really endure training for eight or ten years in a world with nothing in it, that kind of resolve alone would probably make me invincible...

Remembering how simple he had thought it would be, he gave an embarrassed laugh.

Then he tiptoed out of the tent.

He was not sleepy at all. Rather than go to bed, he might as well practice and see how much that grueling training in the Void World had actually helped.

He found a reasonably open patch of ground in the camp, took his stance, and began working through the eighteen long and short forms of the Pan Lineage's Iron Palm.

It seemed no different from practicing in the Void World.

But the flickering firelight, the noisy voices, the patrols passing back and forth... Those once-ordinary things gave him an indescribable sense of security. His mind gradually settled, like a lake growing still until its surface was clear as a mirror, without the faintest ripple.

Before he knew it, he had forgotten himself entirely and was absorbed in the forms.

In the darkness, an expert passing by happened to glance his way and stopped short.

"Strange!" he murmured. "How can someone so young have such polished, seasoned technique?"

The moves of the Pan Lineage's Iron Palm were neither mysterious nor bizarre. Each was straightforward, almost always delivered in a straight line. But how should one apply force according to one's position relative to an opponent? How should one respond when an opponent used different moves? To answer such questions, every move had developed a host of subtle variations.

As some Martial World storytellers put it, "One move contains nine forms, and each form has seven or eight variations. Truly, the possibilities are endless..."

To that expert, of course, those variations were commonplace, with nothing especially ingenious about them. That was how external martial arts worked. Once someone reached a certain level, a glance at another person's techniques was often enough to grasp their workings. Afterward, they could imitate them closely, or even build on them and surpass their original creator.

The true secret of martial arts lay in how to train oneself and gain sufficient strength.

When the Pan Lineage elders taught the younger generation, they often stressed: "Fighting methods are fleeting, training methods are solid, cultivation methods are treasure." With deep enough cultivation, honing one's physical skills became much easier. And with sharp enough physical skills, specific fighting techniques were not necessarily so important.

Of course, when cultivation was equal, physical skill decided the contest; when physical skill was equal, it came down to technique. That went without saying.

What astonished the expert was the exquisite way Pan Long applied force in every move. It was as if an opponent stood before him exchanging blows. His hands and feet never paused as he shifted constantly between attack and defense, locked in a fierce "battle."

More astonishing still, if the expert imagined himself in that opponent's place, he could not gain the slightest advantage over the boy through technique alone. He would have to rely on his superior cultivation and overwhelm Pan Long with sheer power.

Technique this seasoned hardly seemed possible in a boy!

A little later, another expert passed by. Seeing the first man standing there watching, he approached out of curiosity.

One look left him stunned too.

"Excellent technique!" After watching a few moves, he praised him quietly. "At his age, I doubt I could have withstood even three punches and two kicks from him."

"Nor could I," the first expert agreed. "Back at Ghost Gate Mountain, the King of Nine Mountains took a special interest in him. I thought it was only because they'd arrived at the right moment. Now I see that the King of Nine Mountains truly has eyes sharp as torches. He'd already seen how extraordinary this boy was."

"Why don't we make his acquaintance before he becomes famous? If we establish a bond now, our descendants might benefit from it someday."

"Good idea! Let's speak to him tomorrow!"

Early the next morning, the two experts sought out Pan Long. "Crossing-Mountain Tiger" Wang Biao gave him a short blade so sharp it could sever a hair blown across its edge, while "Golden-Eyed Gull" Duan Kai gave him a bottle of Moon Dew, which could heal internal injuries and increase True Qi.

Pan Long was baffled. Why would they give him such generous gifts?

The blade was one thing. It was merely fine steel forged a hundred times, with perhaps an exceptionally worked edge. But the bottle of Moon Dew was no ordinary medicine. It was immensely useful to any martial artist below the Innate realm—and the expert who had given it to him had not reached the Innate realm himself.

Seeing his bewilderment, the two experts exchanged smiles and told him what had happened the night before.

Only then did Pan Long learn that he had been in such fine form while practicing that he had caught both experts' eyes.

He paused, puzzled.

Last night's practice felt no different from usual. Why did they rate it so highly? Dad's opinion of my training at home has never been that good!

He did not suspect his father of deliberately putting him down. Pan Lei was not the sort of father who thought his son could do no wrong, but he did believe his own child was the best. Whenever Pan Long performed well, his father never held back his praise. There was no way he would deliberately say Pan Long's skills fell short.

Had his skills really improved all at once?

He thought that unlikely.

He had been alive for sixteen years and had never shown any sign of being a prodigy. A dramatic improvement in just ten-odd days did not seem right, however he looked at it.

Then... could it be thanks to that grueling practice in the Void World?

He chatted politely with the two experts and agreed to visit them at their homes after they retired to the countryside in five or six years. Only then did they leave, thoroughly satisfied.

As soon as they were gone, Han Feng said excitedly, "Brother Long, you really command respect! Both of them are stronger than my dad, but they treated you so courteously. They even sought you out now because they expect you to accomplish great things someday... It's just like something a storyteller would tell!"

Pan Long smiled. "If you work hard at your training, you'll accomplish something someday too. Why envy me?"

"That's different! You're my big brother!" Han Feng said with a grin. "When you earn respect, I get to share in it. Besides, I know my own talent. No matter how hard I train, the most I can hope for in this life is to be like my dad. But you're different, Brother Long. You're bound to become an Innate expert. Maybe you really will become the next leader of the Greenwood in the northwest, just like the King of Nine Mountains said..."

Pan Long choked. "Why do you think I want to be the leader of the Greenwood?"

"Because it'd be glorious!" Han Feng replied as if it were obvious.

Pan Long sighed, at a loss for a rebuttal.

Then he reconsidered. Han Feng did have a point. If Pan Long truly achieved great things someday, becoming a leader of the Greenwood would be only natural.

After all... he intended to tear down the Nine Provinces Grand Array and become the Great Xia dynasty's number-one traitor. If he accomplished that grand mission, the Greenwood heroes would probably make him their idol, even without him boasting about it.

...Would that not make him the leader of the Greenwood across all the Nine Provinces?

At that thought, he made his peace with it. Or rather, he had little choice.

After all, the kid did have a damn good point...

After that episode, Pan Long grew much more interested in training in the Void World. The following night, he tried entering it again.

This time, he managed only one round of forms before he fled.

That empty, silent world, that feeling of there being nothing in it but himself, was simply too terrifying!

I never imagined it could be this frightening!

It wasn't nearly this bad last night...

He rested for a while, then, unwilling to give up, went back in.

This time was worse. He could not even calm himself enough to practice.

There was clearly nothing in that world, yet he felt an oppressive weight, as though countless eyes full of malice were watching him. If his attention slipped for even a moment, vicious monsters would rush him from every direction and tear him apart, leaving not a single sizable piece behind.

He knew it was only an illusion, a fear born of prolonged isolation.

He had read articles online in his previous life that mentioned how long periods of solitude could fill people with intense fear. That was probably what had happened to him.

As far as he knew, there was no cure for it. Living among other people could only ease it.

Looks like the most reliable plan is still to gather enough spiritual energy to open the Illusory World, then train and gain experience there!

Pan Long sighed to himself and returned to reality.

Listening to the snores inside the tent, he slept soundly.

The caravan traveled at dawn and made camp at dusk, heading southeast. Nearly half a month later, as snow began falling across north-central Yong Province, they finally reached Lantian City.

The city marked the boundary between northern and central Yong Province and was famed for its fine jade. Many years ago, a cultivator sect called Lantian Mountain had stood here.

The immortals of Lantian Mountain had long since vanished, as had the treasured mountain said to be made entirely of top-grade white jade. But Lantian City remained, along with its jade mines and the old legends.

Full of energy again, Han Feng dragged Pan Long around to see the historic sites. This time, he had even brought a notebook to record his impressions. Once their travels through the Martial World were over, he said, he would write Han Feng's Travels and have it printed in Dingfeng Town.

This time, they had plenty of time to explore. From here on, they were free.

(End of chapter)