Chapter Eighteen: Secret Arts, Heavenly Arts, Demonic Arts

Within the largest library in the Kingdom of Blossoms, there existed a place everyone avoided—a corner where Liu Tian silently turned the pages of ancient tomes. Since Liu Tian had swept his gaze over the would-be spies and caused several of the more spiritually feeble to collapse on the spot, no one dared lurk in the shadows to observe him anymore. It was no longer indifference that kept them away, but fear.

The Martial Path of Heavenly Slaughter, a manifestation of Heavenly Law’s lifelong cultivation, had begun to reveal its fangs as Liu Tian’s power grew—vicious, uncontainable fangs. Perhaps if Heavenly Law had not been born into this feeble world, or if the rules of this world were more lenient, or if more powerful beings capable of touching the laws had emerged, then perhaps Heavenly Law would not have been confined to this narrow space, like a little goldfish bound in its bowl. Perhaps it would have become a mighty wave, a monstrous shark, a god who devoured all and ruled the world.

A primal terror emanated from the man cloaked in icy aura, making everyone instinctively avoid him. Within ten meters of Liu Tian, no one dared to approach.

Yet exceptions always exist. At a moment when even Alice was entangled with friends and unable to escape, a man with whom Liu Tian had only recently grown acquainted approached, seemingly oblivious to the fresh rumors circulating through the academy. He drew near, unconcerned, and said, “You’re quite famous today.”

“Am I?” Liu Tian’s tone remained cold as he pondered how best to control himself, or whether to seek out more sources of power to break through as a martial artist.

“You really don’t care at all, do you?” Allen shrugged. “Doesn’t it bother you, not even a little, how they’re talking about you?”

“This is only the beginning,” Liu Tian replied indifferently. “Three men make a tiger; rumors grow wings. One day, they’ll say I’m a bloodless, heartless demon god, and it wouldn’t surprise me.”

“If they enjoy it, let them gossip in private. As long as they don’t prance around before my eyes, I won’t mind.” Liu Tian’s lips curled unconsciously. “Right now, my self-control is… lacking. If a clown insists on jumping around in front of me, I can’t guarantee I’ll restrain myself from cleaning up the mess.”

He was not joking.

Sensing this, Allen fell briefly silent, then changed the subject. “You know, most of those people spreading rumors are the offspring of nobles and the rich. With your infamous reputation, you’re bound to run into trouble eventually.”

“That would only prove my notoriety isn’t infamous enough.”

“If they’re truly afraid, truly terrified, their survival instincts will tell them what to do and what not to do.”

“That’s the answer to the question you asked me last time. Not bad, right? I’m pretty efficient.” As he spoke, Liu Tian tore a sheet from his notebook and handed it to Allen. “This time the price is less than before. Next time, bring a proper antique with you. Small business, no credit.”

“How do you change the subject so fast?” Allen protested.

Watching Liu Tian’s departing back, Allen blew on the paper, tucked it into his pocket, and left the library, equally unconcerned with the stares of those around him. What should he ask next time? That’s a real headache…

…

At home, there was no surprise visit from Bai Cinan today. Thus, even though Liu Tian’s martial path had evolved from the Broken Heart Path to the Severed Head Path, everything was calm as usual. After another round of being thoroughly beaten by his venerable master, Liu Tian sat and brewed tea, hoping to clear up some lingering questions.

Unlike before, when the master would finish a spar without breaking a sweat, now, with Liu Tian’s rapid improvement, the old man was starting to show signs of fatigue. Beads of sweat dotted his brow as he listened to Liu Tian recount his latest encounter, sipping tea to steady his heart.

“Yesterday, the man who called himself Mantis,” Liu Tian began, recounting everything that had happened after they parted ways. “He spoke of ‘evolution.’ I’m curious—Master, do you know what he meant by that?”

“Evolution… So they’ve succeeded.” Tian Dao spoke slowly. “It seems, Tian’er, you’ve come quite far. I’ve never properly explained the various paths of martial cultivation to you.”

“I thought you didn’t need to know, but since you’ve reached this stage, it’s time you learned.”

“Different paths?” Liu Tian was puzzled. “Isn’t it just Initiate, Martial Artist, and Fighter? Are there other ranks?”

“That’s the classification for our Secret Martial Arts. Beyond that, there’s the Ancient Martial, which has existed for thousands of years, and, in the last two decades, the Demon Martial, created by Blue Dream Corporation. Practitioners of Demon Martial call their progress ‘evolution.’”

“Secret Martial? Ancient Martial? Demon Martial?”

“Our Secret Martial Arts—the discipline we practice—consists of inner and outer cultivation. Inner strength relies on arduous training, supplemented by medicine. Outer strength balances both, and without the right medicines, you can’t even begin. Both approaches enhance and transform the body, ultimately nurturing the spirit and achieving unity of essence, energy, and spirit.”

“The ranks progress step by step: Initiate, then the Martial Artist who can channel power, then the Fighter, who achieves unity of body and spirit, with battle marks appearing on the skin.”

“At the pinnacle of Secret Martial stands the path I devoted my life to—the Martial Path of Heavenly Slaughter.”

“There’s no other reason for its supremacy but this: I was the world’s strongest for twenty years, and your senior brother Bai Cinan succeeded me as the next champion.”

“My master and senior brother are so powerful?” Liu Tian was surprised; he had never truly grasped the heights his master had reached. He had never doubted Tian Dao’s integrity, but to have two consecutive world champions from one discipline spoke volumes about the path’s value.

“It’s all in the past.” Tian Dao sipped his tea and continued, “Ancient Martial stems from Secret Martial, but its practitioners possess something more: a gift called psychokinesis.”

“No one knows its origin. Even those born with it can’t guarantee their children will inherit it. It’s as if it were granted by the heavens—hence, they call themselves the Gifted.”

“Their martial arts are based on psychokinesis, with Secret Martial as a supplement. Their ranks are hard for outsiders to discern, but my research shows the most powerful among them can affect everything within a hundred meters, controlling a hundred objects at once, with a burst strength of about a ton. Though unity of essence, energy, and spirit in Fighters can resist it, if they infiltrate the body, at least ten percent of that power remains effective.”

“In theory, even a newly awakened Gifted could easily kill a veteran Fighter if they catch them off guard. That’s why they look down on Secret Martial.”

“But you needn’t worry. The Martial Path of Heavenly Slaughter, unlike other Secret Martial arts, grants an aura upon reaching Fighter rank—a trait only the highest Secret Martial arts possess. Its greatest purpose is to prevent psychokinesis from penetrating the body.”

“As for Demon Martial, it arose a few decades ago, based on mysterious technology excavated from the Lost Empire. At first, it was merely a means of surpassing human limits through organ and limb transplants—not yet a true path.”

“A decade ago, Blue Dream’s second leader, Lan Meng, proposed the Gene Theory during the world war and initiated the Genetic Modification Project. Only then did Demon Martial become established.”

“Demon, as in deviation from the true path. To practice Demon Martial, one fuses genes to acquire traits from other creatures: eagle claws, eagle eyes, limb regeneration, immense strength, double-layered skin, and so on. With these traits, they then train in the appropriate Secret Martial arts.”

“Practitioners of Demon Martial call the acquisition of new traits ‘evolution.’ At the same stage, Demon Martial practitioners are noticeably stronger than those of Secret Martial. Some heavily modified individuals can rival Fighters even while still at the Martial Artist stage.”

Isn’t that just genetic engineering? The so-called “black technology” unearthed from the Lost Empire is truly… black. Who knows when they’ll announce a “New Humanity Project”?

Thanks to reading countless novels, Liu Tian understood instantly—Ancient Martial relies on divine gifts, Demon Martial on technology, while Secret Martial must rely on hard work and toil, and thus is forever outmatched by the other two. How can ordinary players compete with pay-to-win and cheat-code users?

What future is there for Secret Martial at this rate?

Thinking of those who could only struggle along the Secret Martial path, Liu Tian couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat.

Why must the pay-to-win and the hackers bully us ordinary practitioners? Oh, wait—I’m a hacker too. Never mind, then.

“Isn’t there any side effect to Demon Martial?” Liu Tian asked tentatively. “In novels, there’s always mention of things like genetic collapse.”

“Cinan once told me that Blue Dream Corporation’s research in this field is still shallow. As long as someone undergoes only one genetic modification, there are no particular side effects.”

“But if greed knows no bounds, if they insist on ‘evolving’ repeatedly, then loss of reason, genetic conflict, and other complications can occur. Otherwise, why call it Demon Martial?”

“Demon, as in deviation from the path, a dangerous shortcut.”

“So, if one undergoes only a single genetic modification, isn’t that a side-effect-free way to grow strong?” Liu Tian pressed.

“In theory, yes, but after experiencing the thrill of rapid advancement, how many can restrain their desires? It’s easy to grow accustomed to luxury, hard to return to simplicity.”

“Besides, Demon Martial arose as a desperate attempt by Secret Martial practitioners unwilling to be consigned to history, seeking to counter the ever-growing power of firearms. A single genetic modification can never grant the strength they seek.”

For reasons unknown, Tian Dao sighed and changed the subject. He stood and fetched something from a nearby drawer—a prism, a silver prism.