Chapter Four: Ninth Level Martial Artist

Although he felt quite frustrated, Liu Pan ultimately had no choice but to accept this reality.

Only now did Liu Pan understand why, despite the bone-chilling cold of this Abyss of Falling Frost, he felt not the slightest discomfort.

“So it’s the water attribute, then. Besides, the Extreme Cold Physique is far from a useless constitution—it’s actually pretty good.” Liu Pan mulled it over, then turned to Yan Dao, “Help me pick out a few cultivation methods suited to me. I need to raise my cultivation as quickly as possible. If I can’t enter the Baiyang Sect in a month, you might have to wait until next year to meet your future master.”

“You really know where someone with the Mad Flame bloodline is?” Yan asked in disbelief.

In truth, the reason Yan had so readily handed over his cultivation methods before wasn’t because Liu Pan promised to bring him to someone with the Mad Flame bloodline, but out of wariness toward Liu Pan.

Within the inner space of the Desolate Blade, the blade spirit was undoubtedly the ruler. However, when Liu Pan’s soul entered the space, Yan had been completely unaware of it. How could he not be shocked?

What unnerved Yan even more was that Liu Pan’s soul didn’t display the slightest discomfort in the searing heat of the blade’s internal world.

In this case, either Liu Pan possessed an extremely powerful fire or water spiritual body, or his soul was so strong that he could ignore the oppressive heat entirely.

Either possibility posed a fatal threat to Yan in his current state.

“Of course I do. Didn’t I already say so? Tell me all the martial arts and cultivation methods you know, and I’ll take you to the one with the Mad Flame bloodline,” Liu Pan replied, somewhat exasperated.

“I thought—”

“Enough with the chatter. Hurry and think about which method suits me best. If I can’t reach the Martial Disciple realm in a month and can’t enter the Baiyang Sect, you really will have to wait until next year.”

“You expect to reach the Martial Disciple realm in a month? Are you kidding me? Why didn’t you say so earlier? You’re only at the sixth stage of Martial Apprentice! How could you possibly advance that far in a month?!”

“Can’t you stop pretending? I know you have a way. Come on, don’t waste my time!”

“I honestly don’t—”

“Cut the nonsense! Get to it!”

One month later.

In the depths of the forest, the thunderous roar of water filled the air. Liu Pan sat cross-legged and bare-chested beneath a near ninety-foot waterfall. The force of the plunging water rendered his entire body a sickly pale, and he had been sitting there for nearly two hours.

After two hours of relentless pounding, Liu Pan was utterly exhausted, his entire body trembling uncontrollably. Yet he forced himself to persist.

Lowering his head slightly, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to sit up even straighter, quelling the tremors wracking his body.

For a whole month, Liu Pan had trained tirelessly under Yan’s guidance, sacrificing sleep and rest. Yet despite his immense effort, he still hadn’t broken through to the Martial Disciple realm; in fact, he remained a considerable distance from it.

Now, it was the day before the Baiyang Sect’s recruitment. All he could hope for was to break through to the ninth stage of Martial Apprentice.

As for the Martial Disciple realm—by the twenty-first day of cultivation, Liu Pan had already abandoned all hope.

Beneath the waterfall, the powerful torrents crashed into the deep pool below, filling the air with a constant rumble. Under this onslaught, Liu Pan’s suppressed trembling erupted anew.

Yet the more his body weakened, the stronger his will became, for he could sense that he was only a step away from reaching the ninth stage of Martial Apprentice.

In this world, the path of martial cultivation was divided into nine realms: Martial Apprentice, Martial Disciple, Martial Master, Martial King, Martial Emperor, Martial Lord, Martial Saint, and Martial God.

The Martial Apprentice realm was the initial stage, also known as the Body Tempering realm. Cultivators at this stage had only one goal: to temper their bodies.

There were two main ways to temper the body: internal and external.

Internal tempering involved channeling the elemental force from one’s dantian into every part of the body. As long as the cultivator had enough elemental force, they could continue tempering themselves, and this process was relatively gentle and not overly painful.

External tempering, on the other hand, used outside forces to strike and strengthen the body. This method was a true test of willpower, for only those who could endure the beating and persevere could succeed.

Internal tempering was a luxury Liu Pan couldn’t afford; it required vast quantities of medicinal pills to restore elemental force, and he simply didn’t have the money. Thus, he could only choose external tempering.

Under the waterfall, Liu Pan’s trembling intensified, but he clenched his jaw even tighter.

A trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, instantly washed away by the cascade, and his face grew even paler.

Suddenly, his body shuddered, and a look of relief flickered across his lips before the raging waters swept him into the deep pool.

After a long moment, Liu Pan’s head broke the surface. He struggled ashore, breathing heavily but with an unmistakable satisfaction at the ease he now felt throughout his body. At last, he had broken through to the ninth stage of Martial Apprentice.

With the assault of the water gone, Liu Pan’s skin quickly flushed a faint red, and tiny beads of blood oozed from his pores, but he paid them no mind.

He grabbed the Desolate Blade from the shore and, without hesitation, pressed it to his brow.

His mind sank into a broken space—still the same blazing lake of magma.

Looking at Yan, who sat cross-legged at the heart of the lake, Liu Pan’s voice was tinged with helplessness, “It’s just as you said. No matter how desperately I trained, it was impossible to reach the Martial Disciple realm in a month. Now the time’s up, and I’ve only just reached the ninth stage of Martial Apprentice—the greatest hurdle still lies ahead.”

“You broke through to the ninth stage?!” Yan ignored Liu Pan’s disheartened tone, shocked instead that he’d reached the ninth stage.

Over the past month, Yan had truly done his best to help Liu Pan train. But resources were scarce, and as a fire-attribute spiritual artifact, Yan knew little about water-based cultivation methods. He had scoured his memory for anything suitable and, after much searching, finally gave Liu Pan a wood-attribute technique called the Brahma Wood True Scripture.

Originally, Yan believed Liu Pan would, at best, reach the eighth stage in a month. Yet Liu Pan had surpassed expectations and reached the ninth stage—a truly astonishing feat.

After all, Liu Pan was cultivating a method completely at odds with his own spiritual root attribute! What did this breakthrough mean? Was Liu Pan simply more diligent? Clearly not. For the entire month, Liu Pan had followed Yan’s instructions to the letter. The only explanation for his breakthrough was that his cultivation aptitude was extraordinarily monstrous, surpassing even Yan’s estimation.

As for the standard Yan used to judge Liu Pan’s talent, only Yan himself knew.

It took Yan quite some time to recover from the shock of Liu Pan’s advancement.

Frowning, Yan felt a headache coming on. Liu Pan had said before that only by reaching the Martial Disciple realm could he become a disciple of the Baiyang Sect. But now Liu Pan was only at the ninth stage of Martial Apprentice—what could be done?

“As far as I know, sects that require the Martial Disciple realm to join as an outer disciple are at least four-star sects. But I recall we’re in the southern border of the Tianfeng Continent. How could such a tiny place have a four-star sect? What’s the story behind the Baiyang Sect?” Yan hesitated, puzzled.

“Four-star sect? You’re overestimating Baiyang Sect. It’s just a little two-star sect,” Liu Pan replied dismissively.

He really couldn’t bring himself to care much about Baiyang Sect. In the entire novel, it was merely one of the lesser sects he’d described.

As for why he wanted to join, one reason was to give the Desolate Blade to Liu Kuang, and another was that Baiyang Sect was the one he knew best in the southern border of the South County, making him feel more at ease.

“Two-star sect?!” Yan was incredulous. “How is that possible? For a mere two-star sect to require the Martial Disciple realm for its outer disciples—has the cultivation standard on Tianfeng Continent really advanced so much over the millennia?”

“Advanced my foot!” Liu Pan rolled his eyes at Yan’s astonishment. “For everyone else, becoming an outer disciple doesn’t require the Martial Disciple realm. But I’m already an adult! Sixteen is a watershed age for cultivators. Now that I’m sixteen, joining a martial sect isn’t so easy.”

“You’re sixteen?” Yan was surprised, sizing Liu Pan up in confusion.

“Yes, sixteen. I just came of age a bit over half a month ago,” Liu Pan replied.

Yan’s brow rose, his confusion deepening. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “Your bone age doesn’t look sixteen to me. Are you sure you have your birthday right?”

Getting his birthday wrong? Liu Pan was taken aback. He distinctly remembered his birthday was the thirteenth day after the Liu clan’s annual competition—it was always celebrated then.

Yet just as he was about to protest, he suddenly thought of the old servant who had raised him, and the parents he’d never met.

Could there really be something off here?

It was the old servant who had told him his birth date. As for the servant, nothing special came to mind.

His parents, though—he had never seen them. According to the old servant, they had died not long after his birth.

Dead? How could both parents die?

Liu Pan frowned, a sense of confusion washing over him.

Could there really be some secret in all this?

Did the old servant get the date wrong? Or—

Was he not actually of Liu blood, but adopted, and the birthday he was told wasn’t his real one?