On this return trip to the Martial Proclamation Court, Lu Sheng moved with the ease of someone who had walked these halls a hundred times. After presenting his medallion, he ascended to the second floor without delay.
The bookshelf he sought stood where it always had, lined with the Crimson Whale Sect’s hard body skills: “Dusk Dantian Inflating Skill,” “Golden Veil Skill,” “Soul Smashing Fist,” “Jewel Pillar Skill.” Everything he remembered remained neatly in place.
‘Using herbal tonics and the Yin Qi from Yin-Yang Jade Crane Skill, these Strength Proficiency techniques should take no time at all to push to their limits. Yin Qi is needed for extrapolation, but cultivating these second-grade skills will be a breeze with Yin-Yang Jade Crane Skill as the foundation,’ Lu Sheng mused as he pulled out the Jewel Pillar Skill manual. He flipped it open, scanning its introductory lines.
“To move like a pillar, to strike like a dragon.”
That single phrase summed up the essence of Jewel Pillar Skill—a Strength Proficiency hard body technique built on the art of post-standing. It contained three levels, each defined by a specific stance. Fully cultivated, it granted a body as unshakable as a wooden stake—unyielding, stubborn, and remarkably difficult to topple. Any incoming strike would have its force diffused throughout the body, making it an ideal skill for softening the impact of heavy blows.
Deciding he had gathered enough contribution points, Lu Sheng took Dusk Dantian Inflating Skill from the shelf as well.
Armed with both manuals, he made his way to the third floor. Contrary to his expectations, the third floor carried only foundational martial arts. There were few in number, but each was widely known and respected—skills like Bear-Wrestling Arm. Still, all of them appeared to be simplified versions of the originals, adapted so that even common folk could practice them.
He climbed further to the fourth floor.
Here, the shelves held only inner force mantras and several life-force skills. Most entries were fierce, purely offensive inner force techniques—each reduced to nothing more than a terse name, a brief description, and a “price tag” showing the contribution points required to obtain them.
Lu Sheng studied the listed skills carefully. These were nothing like the market-grade inner force techniques such as Black Fury Skill. Each one here was of far higher quality, crafted to be naturally cultivated to the level of Intent Proficiency. Stacked beside every manual were thick bundles of explanatory notes—guidance left by generations of cultivators who had walked these paths before.
As before, he chose Blood Jade Skill, a technique famed for igniting Qi and blood into a roaring boil. Collecting the manuals he’d picked, he descended to the exchange counter.
“Senior, I’d like to exchange my contribution points for the manuals of these skills,” Lu Sheng said as he placed them on the table.
The elder behind the counter gave the three manuals a slow, sweeping glance—Blood Jade Skill, Dusk Dantian Inflating Skill, and Jewel Pillar Skill.
“Oh? External Head Lu,” he remarked. “With your current contribution points, you may exchange for either one mantra, or the two hard body skills.”
Lu Sheng stiffened in surprise.
“My contribution points aren’t enough?”
“Naturally not. Mantras are expensive because they include explanatory notes. Those notes allow you to train underlings and pass the skill onward. Hard body skills rely entirely on your own endurance and effort, and they differ in level—so their prices do too,” the elder replied calmly.
He was a man of profound seniority, having joined the sect even before Hong Mingzi. His past was cloaked in mystery, and so was the extent of his power. He treated External Heads like Lu Sheng not with deference, but with an impartial, almost companionable equality.
“So I can only choose one type? Hard body skill or inner force skill…” Lu Sheng paused, then said, “Inner force skill, then.”
For now, advancing his inner Qi mattered above all else. A new inner force skill—even one merely at the Intent Proficiency level—would be invaluable in helping him push Ultimate Crimson Nine-Furies Skill to its next height.
Especially since, even after upgrading the skill to the Eighth Level, only a handful of special effects had manifested. Lu Sheng suspected this was due to a lack of sufficient skills to cross-reference.
“Alright then. Inner force Blood Jade Skill includes both the skill manual and the experience notes… that will cost one significant service to the Sect,” the elder said as he leisurely recorded the transaction.
With that, the last of Lu Sheng’s contribution points were fully spent.
Holding the Blood Jade Skill manual, he left the Crimson Whale headquarters and returned to his quarters at the earliest moment to begin cultivation.
What puzzled him, however, was that this Intent Proficiency mantra—Blood Jade Skill—behaved exactly like Nine Lakes Steel Chains Skill before it. He had failed even to initiate it.
By all logic, Blood Jade Skill was supposed to be among the easiest to enter. With his current mastery of inner force circulation, producing a temporary Qi sense should have been effortless.
Yet in reality, he secluded himself in his room for two full days without sensing even the faintest trace of Qi.
Instead, a dull, bloated pressure slowly began to settle within his body.
That night, Lu Sheng stepped out into the courtyard and stood beneath the sky.
A thin crescent moon hung high above, dim and blurred as if seen through a veil of gauze. The heavens were utterly dark, devoid of starlight.
‘Condense Qi to form a star; dissolve Qi to form a pill. Every vessel has its limit. The body is a vessel as well—one capable of holding boundless inner Qi. Could it be… that my body has reached its limit, preventing the formation of anything new and causing this sense of “bloatedness”?’ he wondered silently.
Human meridians were like long, narrow water pipes—each with its own capacity. Inner Qi, being subtle and refined, could be stored in great quantity. But even water pipes, no matter how fine, had limits in the end.
Lu Sheng had long known that constantly upgrading his inner Qi with the Modifier would eventually lead to a bottleneck, yet he hadn’t expected it to arrive so quickly.
‘So this is another major hurdle all mortals must overcome to break through…’ he sighed deeply.
He extended his right arm, guiding his inner Qi into motion. At once, the skin along his arm swelled and tightened, the pressure so intense that his muscles and meridians throbbed with a sharp, distinct pain.
‘As expected—I’ve reached my limit. The inner force I’ve accumulated has pushed this body to its brink,’ Lu Sheng exhaled another quiet sigh.
‘If I want to break past this barrier, I’ll need to expand my meridians. To do that, I’ll need miracle elixirs, rare treasures… or I’ll have to cultivate a special body-tempering skill.’ His understanding of martial arts had grown far deeper since the early days. Much of his foundational knowledge had come from Hong Mingzi.
‘A body-tempering skill…’ Though he had learned a bit about them, he also knew that such meridian-forging arts were often little more than legend. Tales spoke of gods descending to teach mortals immortal methods, reshaping their very bodies.
He released a long breath and glanced around the pitch-black courtyard.
‘Another one…’
Szzz…
Lu Sheng remained still as he abruptly activated his inner Qi. Heat surged out of him in a roaring wave—shapeless, formless—like the blast of a furnace spreading through the air.
Within moments, the courtyard around him, several meters wide, grew hot enough to boil.
He raised his arm and struck out fiercely to the right.
BAM!
Though the courtyard was empty, the palm landed with a solid, wooden thud.
A jet-black shadow flickered into existence, struck from thin air. It let out a tortured shriek before combusting in a burst of fire, vanishing with a sharp whoosh.
Crimson flames clung to the creature’s form for only a few breaths before vanishing entirely.
What remained of the black shadow collapsed onto the ground, melting and shrinking until it resembled nothing more than a puddle of foul, murky water. Anyone passing by might have dismissed it as ordinary filth.
Lu Sheng searched the spot carefully, only to find nothing left behind.
‘No Yin Qi this time…’ He found it a small pity. Judging from the lack of residue, it likely wasn’t a ghost at all, but some kind of demon.
Ever since arranging for the Liu sisters to stay in the adjoining room, this was the second time he had been ambushed. This attacker was far stronger than the previous one, yet even so, a single palm strike had been enough to dispatch it. He hadn’t even used thirty percent of his strength.
The extrapolated Ultimate Crimson Nine-Furies Skill was proving astonishingly effective against supernatural entities.
‘Since I can’t advance my inner force right now, I’ll have to deal with the meridian capacity issue first,’ Lu Sheng reflected. ‘If I cultivate a large number of hard body skills, tempering and toughening my physique, perhaps my body’s very quality will change.’
He was ready to act immediately. But his contribution points had been fully consumed by the Blood Jade Skill. To acquire more techniques, he would have to make further contributions to the sect—that was the rule.
Early the next morning, he summoned Jade Lotus to inquire about recent events.
But instead of Jade Lotus, Ning San appeared.
“What? Jade Lotus has been gone for two days and still hasn’t returned?” Lu Sheng stared at him in surprise.
Ning San’s expression tightened with guilt. “This subordinate made inquiries as well. Lord Jade Lotus said he was going to investigate several missing-persons cases by Cypress Pine Lake, coordinating with the yamen constables for an overnight watch. After that, he seemed to discover something and went in pursuit… and hasn’t returned since.”
“Is there any way to get in touch with him?” Lu Sheng asked, brow furrowing.
“We can try sending a smoke signal, but there’s no guarantee he’ll see it,” Ning San replied.
“What about the constables who went with him?”
“One of the constables—a highly skilled martial arts practitioner—followed him during the chase. He hasn’t returned either,” Ning San answered without hesitation, having clearly done his homework.
Lu Sheng sat down on the bench, sinking into thought.
“Has anything strange happened recently? Around Mountain-Edge City?” he asked.
Ning San paused, thinking carefully. “Just that bizarre incident at Cypress Pine Lake. Aside from that, everything has been quiet—both inside the city and outside.”
“Everything’s alright? You’re certain?” Lu Sheng frowned. Even during peaceful stretches, a massive city like Mountain-Edge City would still see the occasional drowning, a missing servant or laborer, or the arrest of a wanted criminal.
For nothing at all to happen—that was far more unusual.
“I’m certain. These past few days, I’ve been assisting Lord Jade Lotus with the investigation. I’m familiar with the details,” Ning San replied.
“Why didn’t Jade Lotus inform me he was working on this case?” Lu Sheng’s tone tightened with displeasure. Something this odd should have been handled by him personally. Jade Lotus was only a deputy, after all.
Ning San grimaced. “Er… Lord Jade Lotus wanted to try resolving the matter himself first. If he couldn’t… he planned to request your help.”
“Tell me everything about this incident,” Lu Sheng said. He happened to be short on contribution points—settling this case might earn him enough to exchange for more hard body skills.
Under Lu Sheng’s instruction, Ning San began recounting the details of what was being called the night ghost incident at Cypress Pine Lake.
It began about half a month earlier, at the riverbank along Songpo Rift near Mountain-Edge City. A few fishermen had woken in the middle of the night to relieve themselves. By accident, they spotted a group of people carrying a sedan chair, strolling leisurely along the lakeside in the dead of night.
Because they couldn’t see clearly from afar, the fishermen’s curiosity got the better of them, and they drew closer to investigate. What followed was a string of disappearances—seven or eight people vanished one after another. Alarmed, the local village official launched an investigation, but nothing came of it. The case was then reported upward, and as the number of missing villagers continued to rise, the matter eventually reached the authorities of Mountain-Edge City.
“Normally, reports of missing persons only make it to Mountain-Edge City when the situation is truly serious. Minor cases are handled by the local officials. Only when things get completely out of hand do they escalate it to the higher-ups,” Ning San whispered.
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