Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

’He’s so damn stubborn!’

Qian Li’s frustration grew as his prolonged assault failed to break through.

’I’m a dignified Eighth Grade Martial Artist, and I can’t even take down a Mid-Ninth Grade Martial Artist. If Steward Qian finds out, I’ll probably never be given an important task again.’

A vicious glint flashed in his eyes. The Red Sun Internal Qi in his body churned wildly as a brilliant red glow erupted from his fists, faintly emitting the sound of roiling heatwaves.

"Crimson Sun Burst!"

With a low roar, he stopped holding back and unleashed his ultimate killing move.

His right fist, carrying an astonishing heatwave, barreled toward Fang Han’s chest like a miniature sun.

The speed, power, and concentration of Inner Qi in this punch far surpassed anything before it. The air itself seemed to twist and let off a scorched smell in its wake.

’Danger!’

A lethal sense of crisis washed over Fang Han, his skin stinging from the searing heat.

His pupils contracted. Pushing the Startled Swan Step to its absolute limit, he tapped his toes to the ground. His body drifted back and to the side like a leaf caught in a gale, evading the peak of his opponent’s ferocious attack.

With a flick of his wrist, the Cyan Blade Sword carved a profound arc through the air. The tip of the blade trembled, letting out a piercing shriek.

"Sky Splitting Gold-Breaking!"

The full essence of his Minor Achievement Realm Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship was poured into this single strike.

The strike was fast, precise, and ruthless, carrying with it a Wind Momentum that felt capable of tearing anything apart!

A pale cyan aura of qi condensed on the blade, making it seem as if it had transformed into an intangible yet incomparably sharp Wind Blade.

He dodged Qian Li’s fist and thrust toward his abdomen.

’Not good!’

Qian Li never imagined his opponent could mount a counterattack while under such a furious assault.

He hastily changed his move, attempting to block the incoming sword with his Inner Qi-clad fist.

But it was too late.

SHLICK—!

Before he could block it, the sword had already pierced his abdomen.

Qian Li had coated his body with Inner Qi for protection, but without any dedicated defensive Martial Techniques, his Inner Qi defense was pitifully inadequate in a fight of this caliber.

It was easily pierced, leaving a grisly, deep wound in his abdomen.

"ARGH!"

Qian Li let out a heart-wrenching scream. Blood gushed from his abdomen like a fountain, and the power in his fist dissipated instantly.

’An opportunity!’

Fang Han’s eyes shone with a terrifying light. He forced his Inner Qi to surge, ignoring the throbbing pain in his meridians.

He used the Startled Swan Step again, his figure darting forward like a phantom to instantly close the distance.

Wounded and in disarray, Qian Li saw the flash of the sword once more. He hurriedly infused his left arm with Inner Qi, using a blocking move from his Fist Technique to deflect the incoming blade.

At the same time, he retreated hastily, trying to create some distance.

But would Fang Han give him a chance to catch his breath?

The Cyan Blade Sword shadowed his every move. Fang Han switched Sword Techniques, executing Returning Wind and Shadow. The sword’s path became ethereal and unpredictable, winding around Qian Li’s blocking arm to strike a vital point in his chest.

A dull thud echoed as the blade sank into flesh.

Qian Li’s retreating figure froze. His eyes bulged, his face a mask of disbelief, horror, and indignation.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only a gurgle of bloody foam escaped his throat.

THUD—

Fang Han withdrew the Cyan Blade Sword, spattering a trail of blood. Qian Li’s body crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Fang Han stood with his sword in hand, his chest heaving violently. His face was as pale as paper, his forehead beaded with cold sweat.

The successive bursts of power had drained most of his Inner Qi, and sharp pains shot through his meridians.

Forcing himself to ignore the discomfort, he charged toward the Martial Artists fighting Xiao Chen, Chen Ying, Shi Yong, and Zhao Li.

"Boss Qian is dead!"

"How is that possible?!"

Seeing this, the other assailants were terrified. Their morale shattered instantly. With their leader dead, what reason did they have to keep fighting?

"Retreat! Fall back!"

After someone’s shout, the remaining assailants all made a feint before turning to flee into the dense forest.

"Trying to run? You’re not going anywhere!"

Xiao Chen roared as the light from his sword intensified, tying up one of the fleeing men.

Chen Ying, Shi Yong, and Zhao Li also redoubled their efforts, trying to stop their opponents from escaping.

Fang Han forced another surge of Inner Qi. Wielding his Cyan Blade Sword, he was like a tiger among sheep. In a flash of sword light, two of the slower men fell dead.

However, the night and the dense forest provided the perfect cover. In the end, five of them managed to melt into the darkness and disappear.

The five of them, including Fang Han, were not in good shape either and didn’t give chase.

The bonfire crackled on, its light illuminating the chaotic scene and the corpses strewn across the ground. A thick, coppery smell of blood hung in the air.

The five survivors drew close, standing back-to-back as they scanned the surrounding darkness. Only after confirming there were no more ambushers did they finally breathe a small sigh of relief.

Each of them was injured, their breathing ragged. Their faces were a mixture of exhaustion, lingering fear, and the thrill of victory.

"Fang Han, are you okay?"

Xiao Chen asked with concern, his eyes fixed on the numerous scorch marks and bloodstains on Fang Han’s body.

Fang Han’s solo battle against the Eighth Grade Martial Artist, and his ultimate victory, had been incredibly perilous.

Fang Han shook his head and caught his breath before speaking.

"Flesh wounds, it’s nothing. How is everyone else?"

Chen Ying wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I’m fine," he said in a low voice.

His gaze toward Fang Han now held a newfound respect. He was incredibly grateful that Xiao Chen had invited Fang Han on this mission; otherwise, their chances of survival would have been slim.

"That was exhilarating! Too bad those bastards got away!"

Shi Yong grinned, paying no mind to the gash on his arm.

Zhao Li silently inspected her Short Sword and her own wounds, her delicate features still showing a trace of fear.

The five of them quickly tended to their wounds before inspecting the battlefield.

A quick count revealed they had killed nine assailants, including their Eighth Grade leader. Five had escaped.

They found nothing on the nine bodies that could reveal their identities.

And likely due to the nature of their operation, they carried very few silver coins. The leader had the most, and even he only had a little over one hundred taels of silver.

"Their equipment is uniform and of high quality. These people... don’t seem like common mountain bandits," Chen Ying said with a frown.

"They’re more like well-trained private soldiers or... guards from some faction."

"The strength of bandits is usually all over the place. But these men, aside from their Eighth Grade leader, were all uniformly Ninth Grade Martial Artists. They definitely don’t seem like bandits..." Zhao Li added, also frowning.

"We can’t stay here long," Fang Han said calmly.

"The ones who escaped might bring back reinforcements. We need to leave at once and report what happened here to the Sect!"

Everyone nodded in agreement. They got the convoy moving and hastily departed from the blood-soaked mountain pass.

「Early the next morning.」

The Spirit Iron Mine, which had been silent throughout the night, slowly began to stir with sounds.

’At this hour... they should have succeeded by now, right?’

Inside his room, Qian Yong’s expression was a mixture of anxiety and anticipation.

’According to the plan, Qian Li and his men should have made their move in the first half of the night. They should have succeeded by now and sent word. But there’s been no news, which is giving me a bad feeling.’

’No, that’s impossible. Qian Li is an Eighth Grade Martial Artist, and he’s always been reliable. Besides, he had more than ten skilled men with him. What could possibly go wrong against five greenhorn kids?’

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He sat back down in his large armchair and took a sip of the long-cold tea on his desk.

Time crawled by as he waited, each minute feeling like an eternity.

Just as Qian Yong’s patience was wearing thin and he was considering whether he should go check on them himself, a series of hurried, frantic footsteps finally sounded from outside his stone house.

The footsteps were stumbling, punctuated by ragged, suppressed gasps.

’They’re here!’

Qian Yong’s spirits lifted. He shot to his feet, his face instantly breaking into its usual, seemingly permanent, enthusiastic smile as he strode toward the door.

However, when he pulled open the door and saw the scene outside, the smile on his face instantly froze, then shattered like ice.

Five men stood outside the door—the five who had escaped. But they were in terrible shape.

Raw terror lingered in their eyes, as if they had just crawled back from hell. When they saw Qian Yong, their lips trembled, but they couldn’t form a single coherent word.

Only their heavy, shuddering breaths pierced the morning quiet.

The thick stench of blood washed over him.

Qian Yong’s heart plummeted, and his face instantly turned livid.

His gaze, sharp as a blade, swept over the five men. His voice, squeezed from between his teeth, carried a tremor he himself didn’t even notice.

"What happened? Where is Qian Li? Where are the others?!"

"Steward, Boss Qian... he’s... he’s dead! The other brothers... they’re all dead, too!" one of the men, his face scarred, said in a hoarse voice.

"What?!"

Qian Yong looked as if he’d been struck by lightning. His corpulent body swayed, and he stumbled back half a step, bumping into the doorframe with a dull thud.

He simply couldn’t believe his ears!

Qian Li, an Early Stage of Eighth Grade Martial Artist, was his most trusted subordinate!

’He’s dead?’

’He led over a dozen Ninth Grade experts, and he couldn’t even handle five young disciples from the Qingxuan Sect? Instead, his entire force was nearly wiped out?’

How is this possible?!

"What exactly happened? Speak clearly!"

Qian Yong’s voice rose to a near-hysterical shriek. The fat on his face twitched from a mixture of extreme rage and horror. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

His normally squinted eyes were now wide and bloodshot. All his previous composure and cunning had vanished, leaving only a savage, disbelieving snarl.

Cowed by his presence, the survivors trembled.

The scarred man didn’t dare to hide anything and haltingly recounted the events of the ambush.

His tone was filled with utter terror, especially when he described how Fang Han had cut down three men with lightning speed before engaging Qian Li in a fierce battle, ultimately breaking through his ultimate move and killing him.

"That kid’s cultivation isn’t high, but his swordsmanship is terrifying... Even Boss Qian was no match for him!"

As Qian Yong listened to the man’s story, his face went from livid to deathly pale, then flushed a grotesque, purplish-red.

His chest heaved violently, as if a fire raged within him.

His carefully planned ambush, which he had believed to be foolproof, was meant to not only reclaim the "problematic goods" but also pin the blame on mountain bandits.

But he never expected it to end in such a disastrous defeat!

He had lost his most trusted subordinate and many skilled men, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The most critical issue was that once the "problematic goods" were delivered to the Sect, his entire scheme would be exposed!