"Last time, investing in Murong's Six-Rune Serenity Pill was comparable in value to a superior martial art."
"But this time, the reward is the Ancient Bronze Tome Seal."
"A permanent solution is better than a temporary fix, isn't it?"
Li Mo rubbed the small bronze seal in his palm thoughtfully.
He resumed his search on the fifth floor.
Superior martial arts were already scarce here, and hammer techniques were even rarer.
Yet, after half an hour, he actually found something.
"'Twelve Hammers to Quell the Storm.'"
Li Mo brushed off the thick layer of dust on the manual and read its name.
A superior martial art, specifically a short-handled hammer technique.
It contained twelve forms, and when mastered, a single strike could shake the earth and mountains.
Hmm...
If refined to perfection and with sufficient personal cultivation, could it rival a single punch from his master?
Li Mo glanced at the missing chunk of the Divine Edge Peak, lost in thought.
He flipped further through the manual.
Only to discover...
"This martial art is only two-thirds complete?"
The techniques abruptly ended at the eighth form.
Young Li fell into deep contemplation.
After a moment, he still took the manual and headed downstairs.
Mainly because he had no other choice.
He’d just have to take it back and figure things out later.
On the first floor, the same inner sect deacon was still there.
"Junior Brother Li, have you made your selection?"
"Yes. Please record it for me, Senior Brother."
Li Mo handed over the manual.
"Ah... huh?"
The deacon took the manual and raised his brush to log it, but paused when he saw the name:
"Junior Brother Li, this is a hammer technique."
He gave a pointed look at the sword hanging from Li Mo’s waist.
It was common knowledge in the sect that this true disciple had obtained Chi Xiao, a blade rivaling the Frostblade, from the Divine Edge Cave.
So, like many others, he assumed Li Mo—though perhaps not on par with Junior Sister Ying Bing—was at least the conventional kind of "sword prodigy."
After all, Ying Bing was terrifying. Swords would line up to pledge allegiance to her with a mere gesture, defying all logic.
Li Mo, who’d passed Chi Xiao’s trial through sheer swordsmanship, fit their idea of a genius far better.
And now, a sword prodigy had picked a hammer manual?
"I didn’t choose wrong."
"Other mountains' stones can polish jade. I already have sword techniques; studying other martial arts might help me gain insights by analogy."
Li Mo shook his head.
Other mountains' stones can polish jade?
This was polishing jade from another continent entirely...
"This manual is incomplete, but it still counts as one of your selections, Junior Brother Li. Are you sure?"
The deacon reminded him again.
"Yes, I’ve considered it carefully."
"Very well. Please return it within a month, and remember—no unauthorized sharing."
Seeing his resolve, the deacon said no more.
Meanwhile, at the Qingyuan Main Peak’s sword training grounds...
Ying Bing stepped across the threshold, her plain robes as cold and pristine as the blade in her arms.
The moment she entered, several gazes locked onto her like rare treasures.
"The Frostblade has found its master after 400 years—a perfect match indeed."
Qian Bufan marveled.
Xue Jing, dusty from travel but beaming, added:
"The last time an arcane weapon chose a master was fifty years ago. Now, two arcane blades—the Frostblade and Chi Xiao—have done so simultaneously. And such legendary swords, no less!"
"Remarkable. Truly remarkable."
"Come now, Han He, don’t sulk. Arcane weapons in the Divine Edge Cave are meant to be used. Besides, a treasured sword deserves a hero. They’ve found worthy masters."
Elder Han He had been silent since entering.
The others assumed his conflicted expression stemmed from reluctance to part with the weapons.
"You’ve all sung enough praises. This old man isn’t one for flattery, so I’ll spare the platitudes."
Han He shot Xue Jing a glare.
The "Divine Edge" in "Divine Edge Peak" had literally been carved away!
"Enough. Let us old folks witness for ourselves."
"Just what kind of talent could make arcane weapons vie for their allegiance."
Shangguan Wencang’s gentle voice broke in.
"Very well."
Ying Bing nodded.
A flash of sword light flooded the hall.
A wind from nowhere sent pear blossoms swirling down around the training grounds.
The onlookers instinctively narrowed their eyes.
Petals, stirred by the sword’s movements, began drifting—sometimes scattering, sometimes converging.
When dispersed, they were deceptively beautiful, hiding lethal intent.
When gathered, their chill grew oppressive, radiating dominance.
Crack—
Suddenly, every petal shattered into ice.
"She’s already grasped a sliver of sword intent."
"Indeed. Even the creator of the Flowing Petals sword style would pale in comparison."
"This old man barely recognizes the technique anymore. The sword art isn’t strong—she is."
The group exchanged glances, dazed as if waking from a dream.
Now they understood why the Frostblade had so eagerly submitted itself.
Intent.
This wasn’t something one could learn from a manual.
Even among Observing Divinity realm experts, few ever glimpsed its mysteries.
Yet here she was, at the Blood Qi realm, with insights surpassing most in higher realms.
Was this what true genius looked like?
The elders were at a loss for words.
Ying Bing sheathed her blade and stood silently.
"Little Bing, Li Mo’s swordsmanship—you guided him, didn’t you?"
Xue Jing asked slowly, still collecting himself.
"Yes."
She nodded.
"I see."
"Even with some foundation, passing an arcane weapon’s trial at this stage would’ve been near impossible otherwise."
"But this also means Li Mo has decent potential in the sword path."
The elders nodded sagely.
Only Han He wore a complicated expression, sighing deeply.
"In the way of the sword, even if I pride myself on broad knowledge and historical study, I doubt I could find anyone in records who matched your talent."
Even Shangguan Wencang, the stern Qingyuan sect leader, couldn’t help but marvel.
"There is."
Ying Bing answered without hesitation.
"Oh?"
"Higher peaks exist beyond every mountain."
Her voice was soft.
The sword was her most comfortable weapon, but not her strongest suit.
Besides, the true monster of the sword path...
Her mind flashed again to that undisputed name.
"Little Bing, how many meridians have you opened now? Any changes in the icy energy within your bloodline?"
Xue Jing suddenly asked.
"Twelve."
"The icy energy... remains unchanged."
Twelve meridians?!
Xue Jing’s teacup slipped silently, soaking his pants.
The training grounds fell deathly silent.
Then Ying Bing added:
"Almost thirteen."
The elders, already petrified, nearly crumbled on the spot.
It wasn’t just her absurd progress.
Every cultivator knew the Blood Qi realm’s limit was twelve primary meridians.
And she’d just mentioned... a thirteenth?
Did that mean her ceiling in this realm was even more monstrous?
"Little Bing, how many meridians do you think you can ultimately unlock?"
"Twenty-four."
Her tone was flat.
Even braced for the impossible, the sound of collective gasps filled the hall.
Every so-called "prodigy" they’d known was utterly eclipsed.
At the same time.
Not far from the Autumn Water Pavilion, before a cascading waterfall.
"Hu..."
Li Mo ceased his cultivation.
Through his senses, the meridians strengthened by the Extreme Soldier's Body Tempering technique resembled coiled flood dragons, each embedded with seed-like nodes of vital energy, pulsating with immense power.
"This session allowed me to unblock two meridians in one go."
Li Mo exhaled a turbid breath.
He could feel that the exhaustion from forcibly wielding the Indomitable Meteor Hammer last time had completely healed.
In fact, it seemed like breaking through his limits had brought unexpected gains.
Coupled with the divine weapon's miraculous body-refining effects,
he had advanced two steps in a single leap.
"Don’t grow complacent."
"My progress in the Vital Energy Realm hasn’t even reached the halfway point yet."
After a brief moment of satisfaction, the young cultivator Li Mo steadied his resolve, guarding against arrogance.
Then, he retrieved the manual "Twelve Hammers to Calm the Storm" from his robes.
close your eyes and open them again, only to find yourself transmigrated into the role of a villainous male supporting character. Readers familiar with urban wish-fulfillment novels know that it is only through the relentless antics of the villainous male supporting character that the plot between the male and female leads can progress. As the villainous male supporting character, Long Aotian not only has to bully the female lead, harass the second female lead, and flirt with the third female lead, but he also has to go all out to antagonize the male lead. In the end, when his body is discovered, he is still clutching half a moldy fried dough stick in his hand. Fully aware of the plot, Long Aotian is determined to change his fate, starting with the female lead! In the beginning, the female lead lacks confidence: "Big brother, I hope I didn't scare you?" In the middle, the female lead treads carefully: "Brother Long, please don't hit me, okay?" Later on, the female lead becomes coquettishly clingy: "Aotian, it's time to pay the 'public grain' tonight." Long Aotian's legs go weak, and he feels like crying: "I taught you to be thick-skinned, not shameless!"
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)
e bizarre and supernatural had descended. The previous emperor was a thoroughgoing tyrant; no longer satisfied with human women, he had set his sights on a stunningly beautiful supernatural entity. He met his end in his bedchamber, drained of all his vital essence. As the legitimate eldest son and crown prince, Wang Hao was thus hastily enthroned, becoming the young emperor of the Great Zhou Dynasty. No sooner had he awakened the "Imperial Sign-In Intelligence System" than he was assassinated by a Son of Destiny—a classic villain's opening. The Great Zhou, ravaged by the former emperor's excesses, was in national decline. The great families within its borders harbored their own treacherous schemes, martial sects began to defy the imperial court's decrees, and border armies, their pay and provisions in arrears, grumbled incessantly against the central government. Fortunately, the central capital was still held secure by the half-million Imperial Guards and fifty thousand Imperial Forest Army who obeyed the court's orders, along with the royal family's hidden reserves of power, barely managing to suppress the realm. As the Great Zhou's finances worsened and supernatural activities grew ever more frequent, the court sat atop a volcano. Ambitious plotters everywhere dreamed of overthrowing the dynasty, and even some reclusive ancient powers emerged, attempting to sway the tides of the world. At the first grand court assembly, the civil and military officials nearly came to blows, fighting tooth and nail over the allocation of fifty million taels of silver from the summer tax revenues. The spectacle opened Wang Hao's eyes—the Great Zhou's bureaucracy was not only corrupt but also martially proficient, a cabinet of all-rounders. Some officials even had the audacity to suggest the emperor release funds from the imperial privy purse to address the emergency. Wang Hao suddenly felt weary. Let it all burn.
