Secret Martial Arts Techniques: Butcher Ding's Method of Dismembering Animals

Wang Xian didn’t know much about Ye Miyue’s family.

She had never mentioned it.

If someone doesn’t bring it up, it naturally means they don’t want others to know.

So, Wang Xian had no intention of prying into Ye Miyue’s family situation.

But even without asking, he could guess it probably wasn’t good.

A gambling father, a seriously ill mother, disabled siblings, a broken home… at least one of these had to apply.

"Little Xian, the New Year is just around the corner. Don’t forget to visit your parents’ graves before then."

"Your teacher told me you have a day off tomorrow—go then."

Back home, Wang Xian received a message from Third Uncle.

He silently calculated the days and replied with a simple "Okay."

By the time he got home, it was already evening. Wang Xian turned on his computer and searched:

"Heavenly Blade Club."

In his past life, he hadn’t been too familiar with this club.

He had only crossed blades with some of its martial artists.

Beyond that, he knew little.

After all, most of his post-graduation years had been spent on the alien battlefields.

After browsing the online information, Wang Xian’s eyes gleamed.

"The Heavenly Blade Club does indeed possess martial secret techniques related to blade arts."

Martial secret techniques were an indispensable part of the modern martial system.

In simple terms, a secret technique was a kind of passive ability.

Once mastered, it could produce significant effects.

These techniques were often the result of collective research and refinement over time, eventually forming various combat methods.

For example, the Heavenly Blade Club had several blade-related secret techniques.

The most classic and revered one was called:

[Pao Ding’s Beast Dissection]

As the name suggested, this technique originated from an ancient martial artist named Pao Ding.

Through butchering various alien beasts with his blade, he developed this technique, enabling him to effortlessly dismantle creatures with unparalleled precision.

The effect of this technique was straightforward and brutal.

Once learned and after slaughtering a certain number of beasts, the wielder’s blade would deal significantly increased damage to such creatures.

Moreover, martial secret techniques had no tiers—only varying degrees of proficiency.

Talent didn’t matter.

For this technique, the only way to improve was to spend time slaughtering beasts.

Kill one, and your skill would grow.

Slaughter enough, and the technique would reach its peak, marking complete mastery.

In the modern martial world, secret techniques were coveted by every fighter.

The promise of guaranteed returns for effort made some techniques even harder to obtain than many martial arts.

But they were also harder to master.

After all, time was often the most precious resource.

And hunting alien beasts came with its own dangers.

"If I could get my hands on this technique…"

"It would greatly benefit my blade training…"

This was a passive ability—a tangible boost.

And it was also the easiest secret technique to acquire from the Heavenly Blade Club.

Contributing to the club or signing a contract with them would grant access to it.

But for a student? The chances were slim.

To sign a contract, one had to at least be a professional martial artist.

"Still… it’s not entirely impossible."

The next day.

Wang Xian arrived at the martial arts hall.

Before even stepping inside, he heard Third Uncle’s booming voice:

"I’m not exaggerating—my nephew here was featured in Rongcheng’s news as a young hero! Even Grandmaster Bai Hongtian, a seventh-realm expert, sees potential in him! So, choosing my dojo is the right move!"

"Absolutely no regrets, trust me!"

"The martial exams? With his current potential, even if he awakens the worst talent, he’ll breeze into a 985 university. The top five institutions in the country? Piece of cake! You’re all invited to his celebration banquet!"

"Old Wang’s at it again, using your name to hype things up," Wang Yan at the entrance shook his head helplessly. "Let’s go, we’re heading to the cemetery…"

Wang Xian nodded.

As his guardian, Third Uncle was naturally informed about school matters.

Things like receiving commendations from the Security Bureau—the school would notify the family.

Though Wang Xian didn’t live with Third Uncle, they still had meals together regularly, and the school would contact him first if anything happened.

For the martial arts hall, this was good publicity.

Third Uncle was only a second-realm martial artist, so running a dojo in Rongcheng wasn’t easy.

But with a bit of fame, he could at least attract some members.

"Speaking of which, you’ve improved a lot…" Wang Yan grinned. "We’ve all been wondering if you awakened your talent early… Eldest Sister even came asking about it."

Wang Xian shook his head. Eldest Sister was Third Uncle’s eldest daughter, also a martial artist.

But she was studying at a top university in another city.

As they chatted, they soon arrived at the Warriors’ Cemetery in the outskirts of Rongcheng.

In Western Shu, it was tradition to visit the graves of deceased family members before the New Year, burning paper offerings.

"Dad, Mom… your son’s here to pay respects…"

"I hope the money I sent you last year was enough…"

"This year, I’ll burn more for you… I might not make it back for Qingming…"

Finding their tombstones, Wang Xian knelt down, sighing inwardly as he arranged the paper offerings in a circle, lit them, burned incense, and kowtowed.

His parents had been martial artists, once part of the same team as Third Uncle.

They died during an alien beast rampage, defending the city.

In that team…

Some died, some were crippled, some lingered half-alive…

Before their deaths, they entrusted their young son to Third Uncle’s care.

Wang Yan knelt beside him, joining in the rites.

After about two hours, Wang Xian steadied his somber mood, and the two left the cemetery.

But they didn’t head home.

Instead, they bought gifts and went to a convalescent home in Rongcheng’s old district.

The home housed disabled martial artists beyond recovery.

Several had been in the same team as his parents.

Every year before the New Year, or on certain holidays, Third Uncle would have him and Wang Yan visit them.

Sadly, most were bedridden, barely clinging to life, or lost to dementia from their afflictions.

It was tragic.

But it was also another reality of modern martial artists.

"Are you still donating to those patients this year?" Wang Yan suddenly asked. "You’re strong now, and money’s useful… Even if it’s just a few thousand…"

He didn’t press further.

"I’ll donate," Wang Xian paused, then nodded.

In his past life, during his first two years of high school, he had given up on martial arts, becoming a slacker in school.

But his character hadn’t deteriorated—otherwise, he wouldn’t have ended up on the alien battlefields later.

So, he had donated some of his parents’ savings, figuring that since he wouldn’t use it for martial training, it might as well help those in need.

And after years of visiting the convalescent home, he’d started donating to specific patients there.

"Previously, I received a commendation and was awarded a bonus of several thousand yuan..." Wang Xian said. "That money isn't much, but since it came as a reward, donating it to them seems fitting."

"You kid..." Wang Yan chuckled, rubbing his eyes. "You were born to be a martial artist!"

The two arrived at the nursing home's office and followed the procedure to donate the money.

"Young man, you come here every year to donate... always anonymously... never leaving a name..."

The director was an elderly woman in her eighties. As a martial artist, she was remarkably spry. "Even if the amount isn't large, it's the thought that counts. Leaving a name would at least let some of the patients' families express their gratitude."

"That won't be necessary," Wang Xian replied with a smile. "Their families probably aren't well-off either—there's no need for thanks."

"Ah... truthfully, it might not even be of much use anymore," the old woman sighed. "Some patients are already nearing the end... Treatment would cost a fortune. And even with money, there's no guarantee of a cure... the right medicine doesn't exist..."

Wang Xian and his second brother exchanged glances.

Neither spoke.

"What illness is it?"

"Beast Cancer."

The second brother sucked in a sharp breath.

Wang Xian frowned slightly.

With heavy hearts, the two left the nursing home.

About an hour after their departure,

a light, hurried figure also entered the care facility...

"Grandma..."

"Xiao Yue, you're here? Your father, I'm afraid..."

"Yes, I know..."

"Sigh... Martial artists—everyone only sees the glamorous side... But aside from the nation, who else cares about this little rehabilitation center for disabled martial artists?"

"Oh, that young man who donated the past two years came again this time... He truly has a good heart, never leaving a name..."

"......"

January 19th.

Wang Xian took Metro Line 9, passing four stops, and arrived at the Heavenly Blade Club.