Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

Time flew by, and half a month passed quietly in focused cultivation.

Fang Han poured the vast majority of his energy into improving his cultivation and the Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship.

Under the sixteen-fold Root Bone Talent Amplification, the light cyan Inner Qi within his Guanyuan Acupoint grew more abundant by the day, steadily advancing him toward the Late Stage of the Ninth Grade.

His greatest gain, however, was in the Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship.

Thanks to the terrifying effect of his sixteen-fold Swordsmanship Talent, even cultivating a technique as difficult as the Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship brought a constant stream of insights. His progress was tangible every day.

He soon touched the threshold of the Minor Achievement Realm and could break through to Minor Achievement at any moment.

One morning, in a secluded clearing of the Sub-Branch.

SWISH! SWISH!

Fang Han’s form weaved about, the Cyan Blade Sword in his hand a streak of cyan lightning.

At times it was like the Returning Wind and Shadow—treacherous and unpredictable. At others, it seemed ready to split the sky, letting out a sharp shriek.

A faint cyan qi-glow condensed at the tip of the blade, causing the air to distort slightly wherever its edge passed.

His mind was free of distractions, wholly immersed in practicing his swordsmanship.

Suddenly—

HUM!

The Cyan Blade Sword let out a clear, ringing hum as a swirling current of air suddenly formed around it, as if a gale were wrapping itself around the blade. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

With a flick of his wrist, Fang Han executed a Sky Splitting Gold-Breaking thrust, stabbing at an old tree beside him so thick it would take three people to encircle.

SHHIIICK!

The old tree was pierced through with ease.

A huge, clean hole appeared, running straight through the trunk. Sawdust flew everywhere, but the massive tree didn’t so much as tremble.

It was as if it had absorbed no force at all.

This occurred because the destructive power contained in the strike was so terrifying that the old tree’s sturdy trunk might as well have been tofu, offering not the slightest resistance.

’The Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship is at Minor Achievement!’

Fang Han withdrew his sword, a dazzling light erupting in his eyes.

Unlike the Low Grade Xunfeng Swordsmanship, which required the Perfection realm to even touch upon Wind Momentum, the Middle Grade Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship allowed him to do so at just the Minor Achievement Realm.

The gale coiling around the blade was proof that he had cultivated the Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship to Minor Achievement.

And it was just as he had predicted.

At the Minor Achievement Realm, the power of the Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship wasn’t merely comparable to the Xunfeng Swordsmanship at Perfection—it had already surpassed it, becoming his strongest swordsmanship technique to date.

His resolute decision to cultivate the notoriously difficult Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship had clearly been the right one.

’If I go test my ranking now, I should be able to climb a few more spots...’

The thought had barely formed before Fang Han dismissed it.

Based on what he’d gathered, everyone in the top ten had a cultivation of at least the Late Stage of Ninth Grade. Furthermore, their martial technique comprehension was at least at the Perfection realm for one Low Grade Sword Technique.

He had progressed in the months since joining the Qingxuan Sect, but so had the geniuses who occupied the top ten.

If he took the test now, he might improve his rank by a few spots, but he wouldn’t be able to break into the top ten to earn the bonus Contribution Points. There was little point in that.

He had already made a splash once; he didn’t need to keep showing off to attract the attention of the Sect’s higher-ups.

’I’d better lie low for now. Once I’m more confident about my cultivation breakthrough, I’ll charge into the top ten in one fell swoop!’

Just as Fang Han was about to continue practicing to solidify his mastery of the Minor Achievement Realm, he heard footsteps in the distance. Xiao Chen’s figure appeared at the edge of the woods.

"Fang Han, there you are!"

Xiao Chen strode over, his gaze sweeping over the sword in Fang Han’s hand and the aura around him that hadn’t quite settled. He asked, puzzled.

"Did you get stronger again?"

Fang Han sheathed his sword and smiled. "Just a small breakthrough. Did you need something?"

Xiao Chen nodded, his expression turning serious. "Three other disciples from our branch and I have accepted a mission that requires five people. We need to escort a batch of the Sect’s materials back from a mine three hundred li away."

"The pay is decent—fifty Contribution Points each. We’re still short one person, so I came to see if you’d be willing to join us."

Fang Han pondered for a moment.

’It’s been half a month since my last mission. It’s about time I took another one to earn some Contribution Points.’

’I have to take a mission anyway. There’s no reason not to do it with someone I know like Xiao Chen.’

"Alright. Give me a moment, I need to get ready."

Fang Han agreed with a nod.

"Great."

Xiao Chen nodded.

He had sought out Fang Han for two reasons. First, they were on friendly terms. Second, Fang Han was now ranked eighteenth on the Martial Arts Stele, his strength already on par with that of an average Late Ninth Grade Martial Artist.

With him on the mission, their safety would be much more assured.

"Right."

After returning to his room to change clothes and grab some silver taels, Fang Han left the Sub-Branch with Xiao Chen and headed for the Task Hall.

At the Task Hall, Fang Han met the other three disciples who had taken the same mission.

One was a tall, thin man with a cold expression, a long saber on his back, and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. His name was Chen Ying.

He merely gave Fang Han a slight nod by way of greeting, his expression holding its usual aloofness.

Another was a dark-skinned man with massive fists named Shi Yong. He grinned, revealing two rows of white teeth, and his voice boomed.

"Fang Han! Didn’t expect the last one to be you!"

His demeanor was quite frank and open.

The last was a woman named Zhao Li. She wore a sharp, cyan uniform, her posture was ramrod straight, and a pair of short swords hung at her waist. Her delicate features held a heroic air.

She looked at Fang Han with a mix of curiosity and appraisal, but still offered a polite smile in acknowledgment.

Fang Han had often seen these three around the Sub-Branch, but they had never spoken.

It seemed Chen Ying was calm and taciturn, Shi Yong was frank and bold, and Zhao Li was sharp and perceptive. Each had a distinct personality.

Fang Han exchanged greetings with the three of them, and they were now formally acquainted.

Afterward, the five of them registered at the steward’s desk and officially accepted the mission, titled "Cargo Escort."

The mission scroll stated that their destination was a Sect-owned property three hundred li to the northwest: the Spirit Iron Mine.

Their task was to escort a shipment of goods from there back to the Sect.

The five left the Sect and made for the Spirit Iron Mine.

A three-hundred-li journey was not considered far for Martial Artists who were at least at the Middle Stage of Ninth Grade.

The five traveled at a brisk pace, only stopping for brief rests before pressing on.

Several hours later, as the sun began to dip westward, a range of desolate mountains appeared on the horizon.

The mountainsides were a deep, dark cyan color, with sparse vegetation. A faint smell of metal and dust hung in the air.

Following the map, the five quickly found the Spirit Iron Mine nestled in a mountain hollow.

The mine was quite large. Many crude buildings were built against the mountain, and the enormous mine entrance, like the maw of a great beast, plunged into the dark depths of the mountainside.

The faint sound of hammering and chiseling drifted from within.

A middle-aged man who looked like a Qingxuan Sect steward, having already received word, was waiting at the mine’s entrance.

Upon seeing Fang Han’s group of five, he immediately hurried over to greet them, his face wreathed in smiles.

"Esteemed disciples, you’ve had a long journey. I am this mine’s steward. My surname is Qian, given name Yong."

This Steward Qian was about forty years old, slightly chubby, with a round face. His eyes, narrowed into slits, seemed particularly warm and enthusiastic.

He was exceedingly polite as he led the five inside, explaining the situation at the mine.

"You’re too kind, Steward Qian. We are here under orders to escort materials back to the Sect. Please make the arrangements,"

As the strongest of the five, Fang Han stepped forward without hesitation, cupping his fist in response.

"Of course, of course. The transport convoy won’t be ready until tomorrow. Please, rest here at the mine tonight. I’ve already had food and lodging prepared. I hope you’ll forgive the humble accommodations."

Qian Yong, smiling amiably, personally led the five to a row of relatively clean stone houses. He then ordered a servant to bring steaming hot food and even a few jugs of local, rustic wine. He was an exceptionally thorough host.

Throughout the meal, Qian Yong was a constant stream of chatter, one moment lamenting the hardships of mining, the next praising Fang Han’s group for being so young and promising. His enthusiasm was so great it seemed almost excessive.

Fang Han ate in silence, his eyes occasionally lifting to observe the man.

This Steward Qian was all smiles, but in those narrowed eyes, an almost imperceptible glint of shrewdness and calculation would occasionally flash.

This was definitely a man who hid a dagger behind his smile.

After the meal, the five were shown to adjacent stone houses to rest.

The lodgings were indeed crude, but they were clean and tidy. Exhausted from a full day of travel, everyone retired to their respective rooms to rest.

Fang Han sat cross-legged on the hard plank bed and circulated the Xunfeng Technique to recover the Inner Qi he had expended during the journey.

’I have to escort the cargo tomorrow. I need to be in peak condition.’

The night passed uneventfully.

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, the mine was already bustling with activity. After washing up, Fang Han and the others made their way to the designated meeting point.

Ten specially-made, two-horse carriages were already prepared. Secured to each carriage were several enormous crates, covered with thick tarps and affixed with the Sect’s official seals.

The crates looked incredibly heavy; even the draft horses pulling the carriages seemed to be straining.

Steward Qian Yong was already waiting off to the side. As soon as he saw the five disciples, he once again put on his effusively warm smile.

"Esteemed disciples, the goods have been loaded. We’ll be relying on you for this journey!"

he said, gesturing toward the convoy.

"The ore in these crates is Spirit Iron, mined over the past year. You must see it safely delivered to the Sect’s storehouse."

"Rest assured, Steward Qian. We will do our utmost."

Fang Han stepped forward to carefully inspect the seals on the ten carriages. After confirming that everything was in order, he cupped his fist toward Qian Yong.

’Spirit Iron,’ he thought. ’A metal specifically used to forge Grade-entering Weapons. My own Cyan Blade Sword was forged with a large amount of Spirit Iron.’

"Excellent!"

Qian Yong smiled and nodded repeatedly. He personally saw the convoy out of the main gate, standing there and watching as it slowly receded along the mountain road.

Once the convoy disappeared around a bend in the winding mountain path, the effusive smile on Qian Yong’s face vanished like a receding tide, replaced in an instant by an icy mask.

Not a trace of a smile remained in his narrowed eyes, only a sinister, ruthless glint.

He summoned a trusted subordinate he had secretly trained and ordered in a low voice,

"Take our best men, use the shortcut to get ahead of them, and set an ambush. I want that ’cargo’ brought back... Make sure it looks like a bandit raid!"

The subordinate was a man with a hard-bitten face. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes as he heard the order, and he replied in a low voice,

"Rest assured, Steward. It’ll be handled cleanly."

With that, his figure flickered and he vanished silently into the dense forest beside the mine to gather the men he had stationed nearby.

Qian Yong remained where he stood, gazing in the direction the convoy had disappeared. The corners of his mouth curved into an icy smirk as he muttered to himself,

"Don’t blame me. Blame your own bad luck for taking this mission."

A mountain breeze swept by, carrying the mine’s unique, dusty scent and scattering the aura of conspiracy and murder that now hung in the air.