The moment the old Taoist priest, Changbai, was out the door, Jiang Dao's brow furrowed.
"Father, was that old fraud telling the truth? You don't think he's playing us, do you?"
"True or not, he's all we've got right now." Jiang Dalong's face was a grim mask. "Dao'er, I want you to stay put for the next few days. I'm going to see the magistrate again today. I don't care what it takes; I have to convince him to get you out of the city. We can't let the entire Jiang family be wiped out here."
Jiang Dao said nothing. The weight on his shoulders felt heavier than ever.
After a quick breakfast, Jiang Dao sought out Pang Lin again.
"Master Pang," he began, "do you know any other martial arts?"
"Other arts?" Pang Lin looked surprised. "Giving up on the staff already, Young Master?" Then, a flicker of understanding crossed his face. Of course. He was a rich kid who'd never known a day of real hardship. The training was brutal. Why would he stick with it after getting his first taste of pain?
Assuming Jiang Dao was just trying to get out of the hard work, Pang Lin chose his words carefully. "Well, the other styles I know are minor, really. Nothing compared to the Mad Demon Staff. That technique is my life's work, what I built my name on. Every single move is layered with meaning. Honestly, once you master it, the lesser arts aren't even worth your time."
"What about internal energy? Or cultivation methods?" Jiang Dao pressed.
"Internal energy?" Pang Lin looked at him, a strange expression on his face. "Where did you hear about things like that, Young Master? That's not something you can just pick up. I don't know a single martial artist who has that kind of training. The stories say you can only find it in the great sects, and even there, it's a priceless secret. Reserved for the masters and clan leaders. I once heard about a man who spent a fortune—hundreds of thousands in silver—and still came away empty-handed."
"I see," Jiang Dao said, unable to hide his disappointment. Still, it was a lead. At least he knew such a thing existed in this world.
"One more thing, Master Pang," Jiang Dao said suddenly. "Are there no rankings for martial artists in the world? No levels of mastery?"
"Oh, there are," Pang Lin confirmed. "But they don't mean much here in Hengzhou. There just aren't enough martial artists to bother. But in the heart of the Great Ye Dynasty, things are different. They divide mastery into realms. The three main ones are Body Refining, Blood Tempering, and Divine Power."
He leaned in, explaining, "Take me. I've been practicing the Mad Demon Staff for thirty-eight years, and I'm still just at the mid-stage of Body Refining. At my peak, I can muster about 400 pounds of force, which makes me one of the top fighters in this city. But the next realm, Blood Tempering? I doubt I'll ever reach it in this lifetime."
Jiang Dao was floored. Body Refining, Blood Tempering, Divine Power. Pang Lin, a man considered one of the city's best, was only in the middle of the very first realm.
So where does that put me? he wondered. He knew, without a doubt, he was already leagues beyond Pang Lin.
"Do you know any other techniques on par with the Mad Demon Staff?" he asked.
"Other techniques?" Pang Lin thought for a moment. "Here in the Jiang household, we have two other skilled men. Your father hired them a few years back. Both made a name for themselves out in the world, though their styles are a step below mine. There's Fang Biao, who uses the Blood Shadow Saber—a wicked style with forty-nine forms. And then there's Wang Xing. His specialty is the Eagle Claw Iron Shirt."
Blood Shadow Saber. Eagle Claw Iron Shirt.
Jiang Dao's eyes lit up. If he could learn both, the system could elevate them. He would be unstoppable.
"Thank you, Master Pang," he said, already heading for the door.
Leveraging his father's name, Jiang Dao had no trouble finding the two guards, Fang Biao and Wang Xing. Both were basically squad leaders within the Jiang family compound. After a bit of flattery from the young master, they both cheerfully agreed to teach him. How long could he possibly last? They figured. They'd just humor him. It was an easy way to stay in his good graces.
By the end of the day, both had demonstrated their complete styles.
Jiang Dao only had to see each of them once. Immediately, the two new martial arts appeared on his panel.
That evening, back in the solitude of his room, he funneled his points into them. Just like before, it took less than thirty seconds. The Blood Shadow Saber and the Eagle Claw Iron Shirt were instantly upgraded to a level of sixty years of practice.
His status panel refreshed.
Name: Jiang Dao
Strength: 1.5
Speed: 1.3
Spirit: 1.2
Martial Arts:
Mad Demon Staff (60-Year Mastery) [MAX]
Blood Shadow Saber (60-Year Mastery) [MAX]
Eagle Claw Iron Shirt (60-Year Mastery) [MAX]
In a flash, a torrent of information flooded his brain. His body morphed in response, the muscles shifting and hardening as if he had spent decades in grueling training. The Eagle Claw Iron Shirt had the most dramatic effect. His already toned physique became chiseled, and a tough, leathery membrane formed just under his skin. If someone tried to stab him now, the blade would meet massive resistance, like hitting solid rock.
Mastery, just like that, he thought, his heart pounding. This was insane. It was a level of skill most people couldn't achieve in a lifetime of work. In Hengzhou City, there was no longer any question: he was the undisputed master.
But as he stared at the panel, a thought nagged at him. Is sixty years the limit? Why can't I push it to a hundred?
Suddenly, his stomach growled—a deep, hollow ache. A wave of dizziness washed over him. Hungry. So hungry…
He stumbled to his feet. This had to be a sign of extreme energy depletion. He threw open the door.
"Biyu!" he called, telling her to bring dinner.
An hour later, Jiang Dao had turned into a ravenous beast. He demolished the entire spread on the table while his maid, Biyu, stared, her jaw slack with disbelief.
"Young Master, are… are you sure you're okay?" she stammered.
"Burp." Jiang Dao leaned back, satisfied. "I'm fine. You can clear this away."
He rose from the table and headed outside to walk it off. He felt incredible, better than he ever had. Power coursed through every inch of his body.
In the courtyard, his eyes fell on a marble table. On impulse, he reached out, his hand forming a claw. He struck like lightning and, with zero effort, tore a chunk of solid stone clean off. The dense marble, which should have been incredibly durable, crumbled in his grip like a cracker. He squeezed his fingers, and with a series of sickening crunches, it disintegrated into dust.
And this isn't enough to face an evil spirit? He wondered.
He had mastered three powerful martial arts, each honed to the equivalent of sixty years of practice. He could crush marble like it was tofu. How could he not be a match for some spirit?
And what about that old priest, Changbai? What was his real game? What was he capable of?
Jiang Dao decided it was time to find out. He couldn't let the old man continue to hold his family hostage. If the spirit didn't kill them, Changbai would bleed them dry with his endless demands. A cold spark of killing intent ignited in his heart. A guest who lords over his host has crossed a line.
Just then, a servant came running up to him, out of breath. "Young Master! The Master is back! He wants to see you right away."
"Alright," Jiang Dao said, dusting the last of the stone from his hands. "I'm coming."
He walked toward his father's quarters. As he got closer, he heard a loud crash, the sound of something shattering against a wall. It was followed by a roar of pure rage, punctuated by the sound of someone sobbing in pain.
Jiang Dao frowned and broke into a run.