When faced with the powerful, combined attack of so many disciples, Xing Jue merely smiled faintly. He slowly lifted his right fist and casually thrust it towards them. A wave of potent Martial Qi surged from his fist, colliding with their attacks, and with a resounding boom, their combined efforts were easily neutralized.
In a flash, Xing Jue vanished. He reappeared in an instant before the disciple with the Eight-Character Eyebrows, who stood there, completely unguarded. Xing Jue's lips curved into a slight smile, and with a swift, elegant roundhouse kick, he caught the disciple squarely on the jaw.
A muffled crack echoed through the air as the disciple, spitting out a mouthful of blood, crashed into the wall behind him. From attack to victory, it had been but a blink of an eye. By the time the others realized what was happening, the disciple with the Eight-Character Eyebrows lay in a heap by the wall, his face covered in blood, staring up at Xing Jue in utter terror.
The other disciples stared, dumbfounded. Those who'd attacked Xing Jue moments earlier stood frozen, fear rooting them to the spot.
The disciple with the Eight-Character Eyebrows had severely underestimated his opponent. It never crossed his mind that Xing Jue could effortlessly repel a coordinated attack from so many, let alone counter-attack with such lightning speed. Though Xing Jue was indeed skilled, he was, after all, a rank lower than his opponent. This victory was more about the element of surprise.
"So," Xing Jue asked, turning his gaze upon the stunned disciples. "Anyone else want to try their luck?"
His words snapped them out of their stupor. They trembled, speechless, cursing under their breath."This guy...he's a wolf in sheep's clothing! He's supposed to be on the same level as us, but he fights like a high-rank Martial King!"
"Fine, " Xing Jue sighed, seeing their reluctance to fight. He addressed the bloodied disciple. "Apologize to this fellow, and you and your goons can scurry off."
"You…you're going too far! Do you even know who I am?" the disciple blustered, fear flashing in his eyes.
"My brother is Luo Cheng! He's ranked tenth on the Elite Ranking!" he roared, hoping to intimidate Xing Jue.
At the mention of Luo Cheng, the surrounding spectators gasped, murmuring anxiously amongst themselves.
The Elite Ranking. It was a prestigious list maintained by the Inner Division, a testament to the most powerful disciples. To earn a spot on that list, one had to be exceptional, a cut above the rest.
This ranking represented the top ten out of three thousand disciples! Their names alone were enough to inspire awe and terror in equal measure. No wonder the mention of Luo Cheng had unnerved the crowd.
"I don't care who your brother is!" Xing Jue retorted, his voice laced with anger. "If you don't apologize, you won't leave this place in one piece."
He'd heard of the Elite Ranking, of course. There were only six Martial Venerables in the entire Inner Division. He figured they must occupy the top six spots on that list. As for the remaining four…well, they couldn't be more than high-rank Martial Kings.
Martial Venerables, he still feared. High-Rank Martial Kings? Hardly. At his current level, he was confident he could hold his own against any one of them.
"Xing Jue, let it go," a voice interrupted. It was the disciple who'd been attacked earlier, looking utterly terrified. "I was at fault. I bumped into him and didn't apologize. It's my fault he lashed out."
He was grateful to Xing Jue for defending him, but now? After hearing about the brother? He couldn't afford to be on the bad side of someone like that, not as a new recruit!
Xing Jue studied the frightened disciple, anger flaring within him at his cowardice. He could stand up to that bully, but this young man couldn't—that much was painfully obvious.
"Fine," Xing Jue finally said, his voice laced with disgust. "I wash my hands of this. Come on, Brothers, let's go train."
With a dismissive flick of his sleeve, he turned and strode toward the Boundary Space, his fellow disciples trailing behind him.
"You… Xing Jue!" The disciple with the Eight-Character Eyebrows screeched, emboldened by their retreat. "This isn't over! You'll regret this!"
He faltered under Xing Jue's icy glare and, realizing his mistake, scrambled away.
As he watched the disciple with the Eight-Character Eyebrows scurry away, Xing Jue couldn't help but shake his head. He'd seen his kind before: all bark, no bite. Cowards who hid behind powerful connections. Disgusting.
"Siyan," he called out, turning to his trusted friend. "Inform the others: we emerge in one month. And tell them… no slacking off. I expect everyone to be training."
Siyan nodded, understanding flashing across his eyes, and relayed the message.
Only after his fellow disciples had all entered their respective Boundary Spaces did Xing Jue enter his own.
He went straight for the Power Symbol Curse. He could feel it. He was on the cusp of breaking through to mid-rank Martial King. He decided to achieve this before focusing on the Earth-Ranked Martial Skill. A stronger foundation meant better control, and that could only work in his favor.
Deep within the Boundary Space, surrounded by a swirling vortex of potent Martial Qi, Xing Jue sat, eyes closed, his hands forming intricate seals. The energy surged towards him, drawn to his core, absorbed into his being. Each breath he took, each pulse of his energy, drew him closer to his goal. He was a sponge, drinking in the power of the world around him, and it was exhilarating.
His body began to glow with an intense golden light. It grew in intensity until it resembled a radiant golden Buddha, suspended within the swirling energy of the Boundary Space.
Suddenly, a low hum reverberated through the space. The vortex of Martial Qi, now a blinding, golden cyclone, spun wildly, contracting and expanding around him. It whipped around him before surging inwards, a raging torrent pouring into his very core. In that moment, something within him shifted. His power surged and spiked, shattering the barriers that held him back.
Mid-rank Martial King!
He finally opened his eyes, a confident smile spreading across his face as he felt the raw power coursing through his veins.
It was time.
He moved to the training grounds.
Three figures stood before him: copper, silver, and gold—training dummies, crafted centuries ago by the masters. The copper dummy, he shattered with a single palm strike, his mastery of the Tearing Wind Palm evident. The silver dummy fell victim to his Blazing Dragon Blast, its form contorting under the intense heat before crumbling to dust.
But the golden dummy? That one stood firm, unyielding, impenetrable. Not a single scratch marred its gleaming surface.
"Looks like I won't get anywhere without Soul Cleaving Blade," Xing Jue muttered. Not even his most powerful move—Blazing Fury, a high-rank Mysterious Ranked Martial Skill—had left so much as a mark on it.
He closed his eyes, calling upon the ancient knowledge that had been imprinted upon his very soul. The intricacies of the Soul Cleaving Blade, the legendary Earth-Rank Martial Skill, unfurled in his mind.
It was a skill with two distinct stages: Condensing the Blade and Blade Qi.
Each stage placed an immense strain on one's Martial Qi reserves. Attempting the second stage before attaining the rank of Martial King would result in crippling backlash, and even then, it was a skill best used sparingly.
Xing Jue decided to focus on mastering the first stage, Condensing the Blade.
Right hand slightly open, fingers curled, he began to channel Martial Qi, following the intricate movements described within the ancient text. A faint black mist began to seep from his hand, the air around it crackling with a terrifying energy.
Its formation was agonizingly slow. An hour passed before the black mist began to take a solid form. As it coalesced, an aura of immense destructive power emanated from it, sending a cold shiver down Xing Jue's spine. He'd never felt anything like it.
But just as the blade began to take shape, his knees buckled. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, his vision swimming. The black blade, so close to materializing, dissolved, its power dissipating into nothingness.
He lay there for a moment, catching his breath, wiping the sweat from his brow. He'd underestimated the strain this skill would have on him, both physically and in terms of Martial Qi.
But he wasn't one to give up.
He rested, replenished his reserves, and tried again. And again. And again.
Sleep became a distant memory; food, a mere necessity. Every fiber of his being was devoted to mastering this skill.
It was a grueling process, excruciating and exhausting, each attempt draining him to the core, but he persevered, driven by the promise of unimaginable power.
A month and a half of relentless effort! And then, finally, he held it…the Soul Cleaving Blade.
It pulsed ominously in his hand, a weapon of pure, condensed darkness. Black mist writhed around it like living flames, crackling with latent power waiting to be unleashed.
It was perfect.