Inkstone Mountain's Move, the Art of Killing

A tiny beast bone, imprinted with bone runes, held a world within, a mustard seed containing vast space. It shimmered in the First Elder's hand as tens of thousands of pieces of copper ore, glittering with golden-purple light, were stored inside it.

Of course, several hundred weapons and pieces of armor went in as well. The First Elder held a gleaming bronze spear covered in cracks. The blood that had seeped into it had long since turned black; clearly, it had seen many years.

"This bronze spear was forged by our Qingyang a hundred years ago. Time spares no one. The man who forged it is long gone, yet after passing from hand to hand, the spear has returned to Qingyang."

As he spoke, the First Elder rubbed his large hand over the cloud-pattern inscription of the now-blurred words "Qingyang" on the bronze spear, sighing with emotion before finally handing it to Qingyang Huan.

Though this bronze spear, steeped in the breath of years, could not be called a divine weapon, it was extraordinarily heavy, weighing far more than the bronze spear Qingyang Huan currently held-a full thousand jin. It had been left behind by a Divine Treasure Realm warrior of the Inkstone Mountain Tribe.

"First Elder, what is it like outside?"

Suddenly, Qingyang Huan hesitated, then asked.

"Outside? Chaos. Utter chaos."

The First Elder patted Qingyang Huan's shoulder with his large hand, a trace of reminiscence on his face. "I have nothing more to teach you. Huan'er, remember this: disputes within the Human Race are our own affairs, even if we fight to the death. No matter when, other races must never be allowed to interfere."

Qingyang Huan nodded with only a hazy understanding. Most of what he knew about other races came from the words passed down by the tribe's elders as he grew up. He knew they were great enemies of the Human Race. Even when they had encountered the Wood Race back then, Stone Spear had shouted, ringing and forceful, that those of other races deserved death.

"First Elder, I won't be going back to the Qingyang Mountain Range with you."

Holding the bronze spear the First Elder had given him, Qingyang Huan spoke with solemn resolve in his eyes.

The First Elder, however, did not try to stop him. Looking at the determined, stubborn gaze of the youth before him, he paused slightly. He seemed to have words on the tip of his tongue, but in the end, he said little.

"Go on. It would be best not to leave Qingyang territory."

Qingyang Huan agreed, tightened his grip on the bronze spear, and charged into the wild forest. Soon afterward, the First Elder laughed heartily and leaped above the ancient forest, heading south like a great bird.

At the Inkstone Mountain Tribe, First Elder Yan Muya finally returned with several dozen severely injured tribesmen.

"Tribe Chief, Qingyang has gone too far!"

Yan Muya shouted in the tribal hall, anger still in his eyes. In particular, Qingyang Rong's advancement to the Spirit Seizing Realm, placing him firmly above Yan Muya, had sent rage surging into his heart.

Clad in purple robes, the chief of the Yanshan Clan sat in the seat of honor, his expression utterly unchanged. A faint purple radiance swirled around him, forming an illusory purple sun that hovered behind him, revealing that he was not as calm as his expression suggested.

"First Elder, there is no need for anger."

"But are we just going to let this go? Our Inkstone Mountain spent three grueling months mining that vein, and all of it went to that old bastard Qingyang Rong!"

"Are we to muster every tribal warrior and fight Qingyang until the fish dies and the net breaks?!" the Yanshan Clan chief shouted, shaking the hall.

"All these years, our struggles with Qingyang have never ceased. You and I should both understand that they have always remained within controllable bounds. Qingyang today is no longer what it was a few years ago. Qingyang Jue came to the tribe, fought me, and left."

"Tribe Chief, who won?" The First Elder's expression changed in alarm, and he blurted out the question.

"It seems the Qingyang Clan's fortune is flourishing." Seeing that the tribe chief remained silent, Yan Muya naturally understood and gave a bitter laugh. Not only had his longtime rival surpassed him, but now Qingyang's tribe chief had also come right to their doorstep and gained the upper hand.

"First Elder, Inkstone Mountain and Qingyang have been neighbors for two thousand years. We have risen and fallen more times than we can remember. A single ebb or swell amounts to little. Fortunes rise and fall like the tides; our Inkstone Mountain will not remain quiet forever. We need only reclaim our standing next time."

"You are quite right, Tribe Chief. That old bastard Qingyang Rong angered me too much."

"But if the Qingyang Clan thinks our Inkstone Mountain is easy to bully, they are sorely mistaken!" Purple light flashed in his eyes as he declared, "Word has come back to the tribe. There has indeed been something unusual about the Qingyang Clan lately, something different."

"What do you mean, Tribe Chief?" Yan Muya asked in response.

"First Elder, contact the Fire Dragon Tribe, the Golden Spear Clan, and the Wandering Cloud Tribe."

"Under what pretext?"

"Our five tribes guard this land together, and it has been several years since we last held an exchange. Let the younger generation prove their mettle. Qiong'er has just emerged from seclusion. So what if that brute Qingyang Jue has surpassed me? A tribe must ultimately carry on. Only an inheritance passed down unbroken from generation to generation is true victory."

"Qiong'er has broken through!" Delight immediately appeared in Yan Muya's eyes.

"Indeed!" At that moment, a smile also appeared on the Yanshan Clan chief's previously taut face.

"A seventeen-year-old at the Divine Treasure Realm! Hahaha! You old Qingyang bastard, so what if you have surpassed me? Our Inkstone Mountain's children will surely surpass your Qingyang!"

"While we're at it, take the other children of roughly the same age out to see the world. Fortune turns in cycles, and one generation passes the torch to the next. It is time for our Inkstone Mountain to flourish again!"

With a smile in his eyes, the Yanshan Clan chief paused before continuing, "Since that is the case, contact the other three tribes and have them go to Qingyang Mountain with us. We shall see what youths Qingyang has worth presenting. However strong they are now, it will all come to nothing if they have no successors."

"I'll make the preparations at once. Qingyang Rong, you old bastard, let's see whether you can still show that arrogance this time." Yan Muya gave the Yanshan Clan chief a slight gesture of acknowledgment, then headed out of the hall.

"Go. It is time for our Inkstone Mountain to make its name known. My son, Yan Xiong's own flesh and blood, should not be cooped up here. All of La Mountain is where he belongs!"

Meanwhile, Qingyang Huan had long since begun fighting in the ancient forest once more, honing his combat techniques and absorbing blood Qi to open his blood vessels.

By now, his full strength was approaching the fifteen-thousand mark, and he had opened eleven blood vessels.

In the blink of an eye, another month had passed since the matter of the ore vein. At Stone Spear's suggestion, he suppressed the blood Qi constantly erupting within him, waiting for rosy clouds to form within his blood.

Likewise, the repeated battles made him increasingly proficient in the Kui Ox Spear Technique, and his daily training brought him new insights into the spear technique.

"Why is it that, as I keep using this spear technique, it feels ever more profound, even though it consists of nothing more than simple sweeps and thrusts?"

In the ancient forest, Qingyang Huan held his bronze battle spear with a thoughtful look in his eyes. Under Stone Spear's guidance, he practiced the three seemingly simple spear forms every day, and they had actually given him a different understanding.

"Combat techniques are arts of killing. For killing, the purest and simplest are naturally the most practical!"

At that moment, the three spear forms surfaced in his mind, sweeping and thrusting over and over, and a voice rang out right afterward.