Chapter 57: The Supreme Mastery of the True Art of Battle

“Golden Scale White Feather Robe!”

Xiaozhi cried out in delight. The moment it saw the treasure robe suspended within the grand hall, it could barely contain its excitement, proof that it had not led the way astray. Despite its confident demeanor along the journey, deep down it feared not finding the Golden Scale White Feather Robe. Fang Wang was ruthless and decisive—Xiaozhi was terrified of him and most often tried only to curry favor.

Fang Wang did not advance immediately. Instead, he summoned his sword-control technique, sending the Tianhong Sword, which had been stuck in the ground, soaring into the hall. It swiftly approached the Golden Scale White Feather Robe, the blade shimmering with white light as it gently touched the garment.

There was no reaction.

He had the Tianhong Sword circle around the Golden Scale White Feather Robe, flying five laps around it, then looping about the hall. He repeated this for the time it took an incense stick to burn, ensuring no traps were present before stepping forward, gripping the Heavenly Palace Halberd.

“You’re truly cautious, young master.”

Xiaozhi’s timely praise was met with indifference; Fang Wang had grown used to its flattery.

They came before the Golden Scale White Feather Robe. Fang Wang looked up; the robe floated midair, golden dragon energy swirling about it like living dragon souls. The finely crafted golden scales caught his eye immediately. The robe’s base was a pure white, but not simply so—subtle patterns were woven within, and the chest was adorned with images of majestic birds. Viewed from different angles, each bird shifted posture, a detail discernible only from up close.

“How should I take it?” Fang Wang asked softly, fixing his gaze on the robe.

Xiaozhi shook its head, “I don’t know—maybe you just take it directly?”

At its suggestion, Fang Wang raised the Heavenly Palace Halberd, using its tip to lift the Golden Scale White Feather Robe from its place. Instantly, the robe’s golden light faded; the swirling dragon essence vanished, plunging the entire hall into dimness.

Just like that, the Golden Scale White Feather Robe fell into Fang Wang’s hands. He immediately stowed it in his storage pouch, intending to find another place to refine its restrictions.

A powerful artifact always bore its own master-recognition seal—as if a password—which must be refined before the artifact’s true might could be wielded.

As Fang Wang turned to leave, he caught sight of faintly glowing script emerging on a wall. This had only become visible after the golden light had faded.

He stepped forward to examine it more closely.

Xiaozhi, lifting its snake head, found the hall steeped in silence.

After reading three lines, Fang Wang raised his brows, delighted. It appeared to be a secret art, following the structure of a cultivation technique.

He pulled Xiaozhi from his clothes and ordered, “Keep watch for me.”

Snapping to attention, Xiaozhi leapt onto his shoulder, eyes wary as it scanned the surroundings.

Line by line, the words entered Fang Wang’s eyes. Gradually, he seemed to behold a figure practicing—not inner energy, but various movement techniques, even weapon and artifact skills.

Fang Wang became utterly absorbed. Though only a few hundred words, it felt as if he were reading an epic saga.

Time slipped by.

When the shadow in his pupils finally ceased its movements, Fang Wang’s mind exploded with clarity, his vision blurring.

He opened his eyes again to find himself within the Heavenly Palace.

A wry smile crossed his lips; immersed in the secret art, he had become utterly selfless. This secret art was unfathomably profound—he sensed it would take him at least two centuries to master.

Drawing a deep breath, he stood still, reviewing the secret art he had just memorized. With the aid of the Heavenly Palace, his confusions gradually unraveled, understanding pouring into his heart.

Combat Mastery True Art!

This art was not internal cultivation, nor a body-forging method, but a discipline of battle. Perfected, it would forge the Heart of Combat, allowing its master to handle any weapon or artifact with divine proficiency, even forcibly wielding those not yet bound to his will. Moreover, it rendered him immune to illusions or mental attacks wrought by such artifacts.

Of course, the effectiveness of the Combat Mastery True Art depended on one’s own cultivation. If the gap between him and an opponent was too vast, it could not bridge the divide alone.

The Heart of Combat would allow its master to enter a state of total immersion in battle, the mind utterly free of distractions. Battle intent would govern all other emotions—facing even an invincible foe, he could forget fear, cast aside hesitation.

A domineering secret art!

Fang Wang grew all the more curious about the great sage who had left these behind.

Heavenly Gang Sacred Body Art, Combat Mastery True Art, Nine Dragons Divine Transformation—all surpassed the Daoist arts of the Grand Qi Immortal Realm.

He began cultivating the Combat Mastery True Art. To enter the discipline, one first had to master every manner of weapon, and within the Heavenly Palace, he could conjure any weapon or artifact at will.

Yet he had underestimated the threshold for mastery.

It took him thirty full years to command every weapon described in the text, wielding each as if it were an extension of his own body.

Next came the artifacts. Fang Wang pressed on, training without eating, drinking, or sleeping. A day in the Heavenly Palace was equal to two mortal days—thankfully, the need to switch between countless artifacts kept things just barely fresh.

After a hundred years of continuous cultivation, he began to feel the monotony.

Later, he focused on the Heavenly Palace Halberd as his primary weapon, which helped suppress the frustration.

Yet the time required to master the Combat Mastery True Art far exceeded his expectations.

When he finally achieved perfection in the art, his mind was numb, his eyes lifeless. He glanced at the Illusory Great Bell within the Heavenly Palace—the years displayed: four hundred twenty-six.

The longest he had ever devoted to a single supreme art.

Four centuries of repression had left him with an inexpressible urge to destroy, a brooding violence within. Often, he questioned himself—why strive so hard, why pursue such ultimate mastery? As Zhou Xue had said, with his current abilities, steady cultivation might have brought him to the very pinnacle of the cultivation world regardless.

But whenever he recalled the mediocrity of his previous life and the dangers he had faced in this one, he forced himself to bear it, to persevere through the negativity and continue training.

He could only suppress it—the oppressive feelings never truly vanished.

A flash before his eyes, and he returned to reality.

The dim hall was now filled with glowing script. He took a deep breath, feeling as if a lifetime had passed.

From all around, torrents of spiritual energy surged toward him, flooding his body and causing his robes to billow, startling Xiaozhi into leaping aside.

Xiaozhi eyed him nervously, voice trembling, “Young master, are you alright?”

Fang Wang did not answer, instead closing his eyes in silence.

He was condensing the Heart of Combat!

The Heart of Combat was forged within, and once formed, it would transform his physique, bringing his body into perfect resonance with the Combat Mastery True Art.

Seeing his silence, Xiaozhi dared not disturb him.

For some reason, it sensed Fang Wang was angry, his presence radiating a violence that made it deeply uneasy.

The hall was stifled in utter silence, the air heavy and oppressive.

An hour passed.

At last, Fang Wang ceased absorbing spiritual energy. His heart had transformed into the Heart of Combat. Outwardly, nothing appeared changed, but when he opened his eyes, they blazed with an intensity of battle intent—arrogant, confident, unwavering, and resolute.

“Did you remember it?” he asked, his tone calm.

Xiaozhi was stunned, quickly replying, “The secret art on the wall? I remember it, but I can’t understand it!”

“Then let’s go.” Fang Wang turned, halberd in hand, and strode toward the main doors.

He had no intention of destroying the walls, choosing to leave the opportunity for others. Even if someone found it, how many could truly forge the Heart of Combat?

Xiaozhi hurried after him, leaping onto his shoulder, tilting its head to study his profile with caution.

It couldn’t shake the feeling that Fang Wang had changed, and a bold thought crept into its mind.

Had its master been possessed?

On their return, the occasional ghost tried to bar their way, but at the sight of Fang Wang, they all fled, not daring to attack.

Their path was unimpeded.

When Fang Wang emerged from the monastery gates and stood at the edge of the cliff halfway up the mountain, he spread his arms wide, embracing the sunlight.

Behind him, a corpse still hung from the temple doors, a chilling sight.

He exhaled a long breath. Only now did he feel truly alive.

“Master, will we seek out other inheritances?” Xiaozhi asked softly.

Fang Wang’s entire body tensed at the thought. He replied in a low voice, “No. This is enough. Let’s find a place to train!”

He dreaded being trapped for another four hundred years. That would be unbearable.

Besides, his current abilities were more than sufficient.

Though the Combat Mastery True Art was auxiliary in nature, it would multiply his strength many times over—this would be his new trump card.

“I know a place filled with spiritual energy, inhabited only by spirit beasts. Would you like to go, master?”

“Lead the way.”

At this, Xiaozhi immediately pointed with its snout in a direction. Fang Wang leapt, transforming into a streak of white light that shot across the sky.

White Rainbow Flight Technique!

He no longer needed a flying sword—he could fly unaided!

Thanks to the Combat Mastery True Art, his body was now like a living artifact.

Xiaozhi was nearly blown away by the sudden acceleration, frantically burrowing into Fang Wang’s robes, shivering within the folds.

“Master, you’re so fast…”