Chapter 251: One Against Six

"Practicing martial arts!"

The master, dressed in a long white gown, stood with his back to the kneeling Liu Fu and Xu Chengyi.

"What is the most important thing?"

"Ruthlessness," Liu Fu answered.

The master shook his head.

"Perseverance," Xu Chengyi replied. He remembered the master giving this answer to his other apprentices.

Unexpectedly, the master shook his head again.

He turned to face the two of them:

"It's talent!"

"A person's lifespan is limited. Relying solely on ruthlessness is just showing off; injuring your body will only shorten the years you can spend practicing martial arts."

"Similarly, if your talent is mediocre, blind perseverance will sustain you for fifty or sixty years at most. Someone with outstanding aptitude can achieve in twenty years what takes you sixty, leaving him forty years to completely surpass you!"

"Then is there any way to compensate?"

Liu Fu asked.

He had already sparred with his junior martial brother and knew his own aptitude was more than just a notch inferior.

But the master's words dealt him a heavy blow:

"No."

"Unless someone with greater talent slacks off, giving you a chance to catch up through sheer effort, there is no other way if he works just as hard as you."

That was bad.

Liu Fu's heart sank.

His talent was insufficient. What was he supposed to do?

"Similarly, when sparring with someone of comparable cultivation, what is the most difficult situation to handle?"

The master posed another question.

"When the opponent's body is so much stronger than yours that technique cannot bridge the gap!"

Liu Fu answered again.

The master shook his head.

"When the opponent cheats and launches a sneak attack while you are unprepared!"

Xu Chengyi offered.

The master shook his head again.

"It is fighting multiple opponents alone!"

"Setting cultivation aside, every human body has an upper limit. If the opponent is so physically superior that technique cannot compensate, it means your own training is insufficient; agreeing to a one-on-one duel in that state is courting death!"

"As for underhanded tactics, those are a given in combat. If you fail to guard against them, you have no one to blame but yourself."

"But when multiple people besiege you against your will, you cannot escape and are forced to engage. A person has only two hands. Fending off enemies from the front and back guarantees you will eventually slip up. This situation is the most perilous!"

Liu Fu froze:

"Then what should one do when outnumbered?"

"There is no way."

The master shook his head. "Just like the previous problem, it is unsolvable. Therefore, you must firmly remember this when acting in the outside world: always assess whether there is a risk of being besieged."

That concluded the lesson.

Liu Fu, barely over ten years old, felt a heavy blow.

First was the insurmountable gap in talent.

Everyone said Martial Cultivators were the strongest of all who practiced martial arts. With insufficient aptitude, wasn't he doomed to never become one?

Second was the unbridgeable gap in numbers.

Rumors claimed Martial Cultivators could fight a thousand enemies alone. If he couldn't devise a solution to being outnumbered, wouldn't that push him even further from the martial path?

So, after returning, aside from his daily practice, he racked his brains day and night—even while eating and sleeping—trying to find answers to these two problems.

Logically speaking, having learned poetry at three and mastered the scriptures by eight, he shouldn't have been stupid. Yet his mind was not very flexible, and ordinary people often considered his actions foolish.

Three days later, though he still couldn't think of a perfect solution, he surprisingly managed to devise two clumsy methods.

His aptitude was insufficient. Although a person's lifespan had a limit, he could sleep two hours less than others every day, finish his meals half a quarter-hour faster, and practice his muscle exertion while walking. Wouldn't that give him more time?

As for fighting a thousand enemies alone, he tracked down a group of street thugs and deliberately flaunted his wealth.

After being beaten to a pulp, he had an epiphany.

Even if there were a thousand people opposing him, the number of enemies who could actually land a hit on him at any given time would generally not exceed six.

He didn't need to fight a thousand at once; he only needed to ensure he had the stamina to fight six.

Simplifying the goal made things much easier.

A person had two hands. If he could divide his focus and break two attacks simultaneously, that accounted for two people.

If he held a staff, its two ends made three people.

Two staffs meant four people.

But he wasn't accustomed to staffs; he preferred the saber. Thus, he could handle two at most. Even adding a leg into the mix only brought it to three.

Then he would simply put his back against a wall. That way, he could hold off three people.

"What kind of Martial Cultivator needs to stay pressed against a wall all the time?"

He shook his head, deciding to practice fighting three opponents first before thinking of another way.

That was until the day he saw the phrase "only speed is unbreakable" in an ancient text.

He suddenly understood.

If he struck with extreme speed, fighting three could become fighting six. Besides, if his dodging speed was fast enough, he could even evade hidden weapons!

In addition, he needed to train his eyesight. His eyes had to move with his hands. Not only did he need to predict his opponents' movements, but he also had to keep up with his own.

Of course, this was just the naive thinking of a child.

But once Liu Fu started practicing, he kept at it from age ten all the way to forty-one.

And now, he was nearly sixty.

Atop the head of the Corpse Buddha.

The colors of the world shifted.

Facing six Fourth Tier experts surging with monstrous weird energy who were simultaneously rushing in for the kill, Old Master Liu opened his slightly squinted eyes a fraction wider.

Dark golden runes flowed within them.

In that instant, the movements of the six Fourth Tier experts surrounding him seemed to slow down.

The next second, he tapped his toe against the ground. Ripples of weird energy flared outward as his body transformed into a rushing gale, sweeping past the corner of the mouth beneath a smoke dragon's fangs before blinking right in front of the nearest old farmer.

'A hoe in hand, raised high to strike the earth. Shoulders angled, hips stepping forward. First cleave the waist, then retract for a hidden arrow.'

He silently recited this in his mind and reached out his left hand.

Coated in black-gold, his hand chopped toward the old farmer's waist. Simultaneously, his right hand flickered with golden light as it reached toward the rows of crossbow bolts fired by the massive wooden puppet nearby. With a light pinch of his fingertips—as effortless as plucking stars or intercepting the moon—he snatched several bolts aimed directly at him right out of the air.

The moment his left hand struck the old farmer, he didn't follow up by shifting his palm into a grapple. Instead, he stomped heavily onto the coughing, blood-spitting farmer's abdomen. Riding the momentum, his body flipped backward, grazing past thousands of raining crossbow bolts.

Executing Curved Hook Suspending the Moon, he landed perfectly on the shoulder of the armor cultivator charging toward him.

'A man on the shoulder. Fishing a saber from the water, an arrow hidden in the sleeve.'

Every move and stance surfaced in the Old Man's mind as clearly as written text.

Bending at the waist, he assumed the saber-fishing stance. In that same instant, he flicked the bolts in his hand like sleeve arrows, aiming straight for the pitch-black eyes concealed beneath the helmet.

A faint pop rang out. Amidst the armor cultivator's miserable shrieks, the Old Man moved again.

This time, he did not move like the wind. Instead, he left behind a trail of afterimages that were instantly pierced apart by the black torrents fired by the twelve Dragon Throne figures in the sky.

His true body weaved past the smoke dragon, arriving right in front of the smoke cultivator.

He hurled his final bolt backward, then suddenly threw a punch forward.

'Fists obliterate the man in front; an arrow fells the ghost behind.'

Two wretched screams echoed simultaneously.

Three instantaneous punches slammed into the carbon cultivator's head.

And the bolt threaded through a gap in the white cloth, embedding itself into the shoulder of the textile cultivator behind him.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Under the force of these three punches, the carbon cultivator's head split completely open, sending fresh blood spraying everywhere.

On the fourth strike, the Old Man opened his right fist into a palm, sweeping it down the carbon cultivator's spine. His left hand delivered a light pat to the back of the man's head, flipping the carbon cultivator's body as effortlessly as a feather. He then kicked the man into the air, sending him crashing perfectly into the torrents unleashed by the twelve Dragon Throne figures.

"Swish, swish, swish—"

In a flash, the carbon cultivator was shot full of holes like a sieve. Bursts of bloody mist erupted, and his already heavily damaged head finally blew completely apart.

The Old Man dropped back onto the head of the Corpse Buddha. His long white gown had not been stained by a single drop of blood.

These several moves were executed in one smooth, unbroken sequence, all within the span of a single instant.

To the onlookers, it looked as though the Old Man had simply vanished for a second or two before reappearing. But when they looked up, the group that had just been fiercely closing in for the kill in the sky was now dead, wounded, or crippled. Instant chaos!

"Badass, Master Liu!"

Off to the side, Yan Jing did nothing but clap like a salted fish, but the Old Man spoke up:

"The first bout against an enemy is called 'probing the moves,' advisor."

"And the second bout?"

Yan Jing blanked for a moment.

"It is called 'testing the moves.'"

...

A chill ran through the hearts of the Fourth Tier experts opposite them!

They never imagined that in such a brief sliver of time, one of their own would already be dead.

This not only terrified them, but it also made them truly vicious!

Earthy-yellow Earth Qi rose from the trembling ground, surging toward the Old Man and Yan Jing.

The twelve Dragon Thrones formed a circle with the two of them at the center, stirring up raging undercurrents.

Crossbow bolts as thick as roof beams extended from the wooden puppet's head, thousands of strips of white cloth thrashed in unison, and an armored giant swung a massive fist!

At this moment, bizarre phenomena filled the sky above. Searing flames even bloomed in midair. The faint blue glow that the New Era Game Console had cast over everything was now quivering madly along with the ground beneath Bianliu County!

Faced with the lethal attacks closing in from all sides, the golden light around the Old Man flared brightly. Pillars of weird energy shot into the heavens, drawing the gloomy gray clouds in the sky back together.

Dark golden phantoms materialized behind him. Some held spears, others wielded swords, and some thrust out palms. Confronting the attacks pouring in from every direction, the Old Man's feet did not move an inch. His body shifted and swayed, throwing out a flurry of afterimages in the air. The dark golden phantoms mimicking his posture followed suit, launching a barrage of their own dark golden afterimages, completely blocking every single one of the densely packed strikes.

The onlookers could not see anything clearly. All they could make out were the rippling shockwaves born from the collisions. The Old Man stood alone like an entire hemispherical dark golden barrier, intercepting every attack aimed at the two of them.

Then smoke and dust billowed out, completely obscuring the scene in midair.

It was not until several seconds later, when everyone's attacks finally ceased, that a voice rang out faintly:

"The third bout is called 'the killing moves.'"

"Boom!"

A massive dark golden fist phantom blasted out, directly smashing the opposing armor cultivator's helmet to pieces.

"Slash!"

A dark golden palm print cleaved downward, splitting open the opposing textile cultivator's body along with the white cloth.

"Bang!"

A dark golden claw print snatched out, catching the old farmer in its palm and crushing him to a pulp.

"Rumble—"

The mechanism master steered the wooden puppet beneath him, sprinting madly into the distance. Its heavy steps drew bursts of thunder from the earth.

His entire body was trembling.

The man opposite them was a monster!

This was absolutely not the strength of a Fourth Tier, absolutely not!

That effortless demeanor—he was definitely at the Fifth Tier!

He had to run, fast!!!

"Swish—"

The sound of something tearing through the air rang in his ears. He looked back in shock and doubt, his eyes snapping wide open.

A bloody hole appeared between his eyebrows. He fell to the ground in despair, only to be crushed into powder by the wooden puppet's foot.

It was Yan Jing. He had fired a shot.

Atop the Corpse Buddha's head, the smoke and dust dispersed.

The Old Man turned around and looked toward Bai Qiu, who was smiling helplessly in a street corner. Opening his palm, a metal bullet dropped to the ground.

It was Bai Qiu. He had also fired a shot, using his second gun.

...

...

Above the Lake.

A cluster of golden tents remained as quiet as ever. They could only see the outcome of the battle, not the specific sights within the game.

Unless the Deputy Palace Lord voluntarily granted them access.

And the Deputy Palace Lord had indeed granted access to one particular golden tent.

"To step onto the path of martial cultivation while still at the Fourth Tier... this person is far from simple. Could he be the one you're looking for?"

Inside that golden tent, a white-haired Old Man watched the battle on the screen. His eyes, so aged they could barely open, were fixed intensely on the skirmish, playing the footage over and over again.

Finally, he moved his lips, his breath as weak as a silken thread:

"Yes, it is indeed a Fourth Tier Martial Body. Even if he fails to become a Martial Cultivator, he can at least become like me in the end."

"But... we need to observe a little longer. Let him participate in this year's martial gathering..."

One of the Fourth Tier abilities for a body cultivator was called the Combat Body.

It comprehensively enhanced all physical attributes.

Meanwhile, one of the Fourth Tier abilities for a Martial Cultivator was called the Martial Body.

Not only did it comprehensively enhance physical attributes, but it also allowed the user to execute the laws of martial dueling.

The user would pass through four stages: drawing the line, probing the moves, testing the moves, and the killing moves. With each completed stage, their physical attributes would climb another tier higher.

Upon reaching the 'testing the moves' stage, they could already fight above their tier.

But there was one thing the Old Man could not figure out.

Logically speaking, including himself, all three people he had seen cultivate a Martial Body had been surrounded by a golden hue. Yet this time, the aura surrounding this person was distinctly dark golden.

However...

As long as someone had manifested it, that was good enough. That was good enough.

In truth, he was far more agitated than he appeared. He was simply too old.

Three or four hundred years of time. Ever since the end of the Imperial Era, he had waited for far, far too long.

He simply had no strength left.

"It has finally appeared..."

The corners of his eyes grew wet.