Cultivating Immortality in a World of Chaos

In Three Origins City, on the eighth day of the eighth month.

The Martial Union convened its assembly, gathering numerous dojo masters together.

“Hey, old brother Zhang!”

“Hear that Old Hu took another concubine recently? Still going strong as ever!”

“Aren’t you Old Master Ximen from Fierce Wind Dojo? Surprising to see you here!”

Fang Xi stood to the side, mingling with other disillusioned dojo masters, uninterested in engaging in superficial business flattery.

The larger dojos dominated the Martial Union, setting so-called rules that effectively raised barriers, making it difficult for newcomers like himself.

This restrictive environment significantly contributed to Intervale Dojo’s previous dismal business.

Mu Canglong was also among the crowd, his face beaming as he conversed animatedly with a female dojo master in her forties. He didn’t recognize Fang Xi at all.

After all, the current Fang Xi wore Fang Leng’s visage.

With the muscle and bone transformation capabilities of a fourth-step martial scholar, combined with minor cultivation techniques, even a Zongshi would struggle to discern his disguise.

Their gathering place was Tailwind Hall in Three Origins City.

Not only was this hall exquisitely ornate, but its architecture resembled the character ‘回’ (Hui), featuring private booths surrounding a massive central stage on all sides.

The stage could host performances, dances, or…martial contests!

After some modest pleasantries, the numerous dojo masters took their seats.

In a flash, an elderly man with white hair and beard, sporting a bright red flesh tumor on his forehead, leaped onto the arena floor. With fists cupped towards the crowd, he announced, “Ladies and gentlemen… today’s Martial Union gathering aims to select the ‘Eight Steeds’. Any willing apprentice under twenty years from participating dojos may register. Let the martial contests begin!”

Being named among the ‘Eight Steeds’ not only brought prestige but also represented significant support from the Martial Union for further development, enhancing one’s dojo reputation along the way. The benefits were numerous, making the competition fiercely intense.

Qing Mu, representing Intervale Dojo, had naturally registered early, eagerly awaiting his turn to step onto the arena floor.

“The first match: Yang Jian from Qingxuan Dojo versus Pan Miaomiao from Bao Ping Dojo!”

Fang Xi remained composed, seated firmly in his taishi chair. Sipping tea, he observed the opening bout unfold on the arena floor.

“Bao Ping Dojo actually sent a woman to compete?” A nearby white-haired dojo master couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Old Brother Zhao might not know, but Pan Miaomiao is already a martial apprentice with three transformations of blood and qi!” Another dojo master explained to Gym Leader Zhao, “She practices Bao Ping Dojo’s ‘Bao Ping Seal’, a profound and intricate martial art. It’s said to surpass ordinary third-rate techniques significantly, reaching near second-rate martial skill standards.”

As expected, within just three moves, Pan Miaomiao swiftly knocked Yang Jian off the arena, decisively winning the first match.

“Master, they fight so quickly!” Qing Sang remarked as she watched pair after pair ascend the arena stage, each round swiftly determining a winner.

“Indeed… In Qi and Blood martial arts, even a slight edge in skill can lead to overwhelming superiority in actual combat! After all, our focus is on defeating an opponent with a single move… If a match goes beyond thirty exchanges without a clear winner, it’s essentially just for show!”

Fang Xi set down his teacup, imparting wisdom to his student.

“Dojo Master Fang, your insight is spot-on,” Gym Leader Zhao responded, his eyes brightening despite himself. “May I inquire where your esteemed dojo trains its disciples?”

“I am humble Fang Leng, founder of Intervale Dojo.” Fang Xi smiled slightly.

“Intervale Dojo?” Gym Leader Zhao blushed, embarrassed that despite his extensive knowledge, he had never heard of this dojo name. He could only feign amusement to cover his ignorance.

At that moment, the elderly man with facial tumors shouted from above, “Next match… Qing Mu from Intervale Dojo versus Song Sifei from Great Peng Dojo!”

“Go ahead!” Fang Xi urged Qing Mu, who stood nearby, seemingly dazed.

“Oh!” With a vacant expression, Qing Mu acknowledged the command, walked to the arena edge, and climbed onto the platform…

“Uh, that…” Gym Leader Zhao looked at Qing Mu with pity. “Is this child truly clueless? The steps are right next to him…”

In reality, most young warriors, seeking to impress with their agility, would leap onto the arena using acrobatic techniques.

Seeing someone like Qing Mu simply walking up was indeed rare…

However, Qing Sang understood that beneath A-Dai’s clumsy exterior lay a focused determination. He genuinely didn’t care about others’ perceptions; when his master instructed him to step onto the stage, he did so without hesitation, and if told to fight, he would engage without question!

“Begin!”

Song Sifei, clad in blue attire revealing his muscular arms, flashed a hint of delight upon seeing Qing Mu enter the arena.

As soon as the referee announced the start, his arms moved swiftly, unleashing the Great Peng Iron Wing Fist towards Qing Mu!

To Song Sifei, encountering such an opponent who couldn’t even jump onto the arena platform felt incredibly fortunate for his first match!

“Agh!”

Before Song Sifei could react, a sharp pain struck his chest, sending him flying off the arena floor.

“How…did I lose?” Confusion spread across his face, unable to comprehend how he had been defeated by this apparent fool.

“Hmm?”

“True force?”

“A cultivator?”

Apart from the well-informed major dojos and higher-ups, the smaller dojos were left utterly stunned.

“Who is this young man? Already a cultivator at such an age!”

Mu Canglong, astonished, turned to Zhang Mingding beside him and said, “He’s your formidable adversary. If you encounter him, it’s best to concede!”

Canglong deeply understood the stark difference between a cultivator and a martial apprentice.

“He…is truly that strong?” Zhang Mingding, having won one match himself, seemed unconvinced.

“Not only strong, but his innate talent…probably only matches your Da-shixiong Fang Xi.” Mu Canglong sighed, wondering where his exceptionally gifted eldest disciple had gone now.

“Old Master Ximen, please observe!”

In Tailwind Hall’s largest private booth, an elderly man with robust hands and a commanding presence sat quietly, puffing on his golden pipe. His gaze was fixed on Qing Mu as he entered the arena.

Beside him, a middle-aged cultivator bowed respectfully and said, “That’s Qing Mu, just like Zhang Mingding, from a small dojo…”

“Hmph, Baiyun Dojo is one thing, but this Intervale Dojo dared to open without even seeking our endorsement! Clearly, they hold us in contempt!”

Another well-rounded cultivator stroked his neatly trimmed mustache with a smile. This was Ximen He, the proprietor of Fierce Wind Dojo and son of Old Master Ximen: “Just their luck, stumbling upon a prodigy. And some within the alliance want to groom him… Fear not, Father. I’ve rigged today’s draw beforehand, and arrangements have been made for the next match. That lad will be carried off the arena floor, guaranteed!”

“A-He!” Old Master Ximen suddenly glared sharply at his son.

During moments of contentment, he resembled a simple village farmer, but when enraged, he transformed into an intimidating wrathful deity, leaving Ximen He breathless with fear. “Father…”

“I’ve told you before, avoid such underhanded tricks; they tarnish our Ximen Clan’s reputation. Shutting down a mere small dojo is as simple as lifting a finger - there’s no need for such deceitful tactics.” Old Master Ximen shook his head and continued, “Moreover… you fail to understand the broader picture!”

“The broader picture?” Ximen He seemed taken aback.

“Yes… The Martial Union has become too chaotic and requires consolidation; this is the intention of those above us.” Old Master Ximen leisurely refilled his pipe with tobacco. “The Huang Family may have left, but there’s still the Qian Family… With their support secured, these minor issues below hardly matter. As for that Qing Mu fellow, he’ll soon be your own dog. Is it wise to kill one’s own dog outright? What a waste!”

“The Qian Family, one of the four great clans, supports us now?” Ximen He’s eyes lit up. “Then we truly have nothing to fear… Ha ha, Father, your foresight and strategy are unmatched!”

He couldn’t wait to witness the crestfallen faces of his opponents once everything unfolded.

“A-Dai, well done.”

As A-Dai stepped off the arena floor, he maintained his distant, absent-minded demeanor.

However, Gym Leader Zhao beside Fang Xi couldn’t contain his excitement. “Brother Fang… I have a granddaughter, just turned sixteen, blossoming beautifully. Would you consider arranging a marriage?”

Fang Xi laughed it off, skillfully evading the topic.

Qing Sang patted A-Dai’s shoulder. “Great job, Qing Mu… Here, have a meat bun to boost your energy for the next round!”

He produced a steaming paper-wrapped bundle of buns while speaking.

“Big brother…”

Qing Mu glanced at Qing Sang, took a big bite of the meat bun, and flashed a childlike grin.

“For the next match… Intervale Dojo’s Qing Mu versus Fierce Wind Dojo’s Ximen Zhong!” announced the elderly man with facial tumors from atop the arena.

“Another early turn, Brother Fang. Your disciple may be skilled, but luck hasn’t been on his side…” Gym Leader Zhao shook his head. “Ximen Zhong is the personal son of Ximen He, the leader of Fierce Wind Dojo, trained directly by him. He has already attained true force proficiency…”

“Go ahead!” Fang Xi said calmly to A-Dai.

A-Dai nodded and entered the arena. Across from him stood a young man clad in scarlet robes, his face filled with arrogance. “So you’re Qing Mu, huh? If I don’t knock you off this stage within twenty moves, I’ll take your surname!”

Below the arena,

“Master! Earlier, a black-clothed man approached me and instructed me to secretly mix this powder into A-Dai’s food!” Qing Sang, visibly conflicted, stepped closer to Fang Xi and handed him a yellow paper packet. “I couldn’t do it…”

Fang Xi nodded, accepting the package and quickly examining its contents. “Muscle-Burning Powder? Impressive… They intended for my disciple to die in the arena?”

“What? A-Dai, he?” Qing Sang recoiled as if struck by lightning, taking several steps backward.

“Don’t worry, A-Dai always trusted you; otherwise, why would he have eaten those buns?” Fang Xi chuckled heartily, his gaze fixed on the arena.

On the stage, figures moved swiftly, exchanging over a dozen moves within moments.

“Damn it, you’ve forced my hand.”

Cornered in the arena, Ximen Zhong’s face twisted with ferocity, his hands moving like the wind.

“Secret Technique: Fierce Mountain Palm!”

His palms instantly turned crimson, unleashing a flurry of strikes akin to ghostly apparitions, filling the air with scarlet palm shadows.

“Not good!”

Below the stage, Mu Canglong looked on with terror. “This is the lethal secret move from the Fierce Wind Dojo. Once unleashed, it invariably results in death or grave injury!”

Several elderly spectators closed their eyes, unable to bear witnessing the outcome.

In the next instant, A-Dai stood firmly, rooted to the spot, slowly releasing a single palm strike.

The strike was unremarkable, devoid of any intricate finesse, yet perfectly executed!

Slap!

A-Dai’s palm effortlessly evaded the barrage of shadowy attacks, striking directly against Ximen Zhong’s chest and sending him flying off the arena.

Ximen Zhong stood stunned, momentarily frozen.

Suddenly!

BANG!

A bloody hole erupted in his back, spilling out countless organs mixed with shattered bones, resembling an explosion!

Secret Technique: Primordial Limitless Strike!