Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

「Several days later, at dawn.」

Fang Han pushed open the wooden door of Room C-7 and took a deep breath of the fresh, dew-kissed morning air.

After several days of consolidation and adaptation, his realm at the Early Stage of Eighth Grade had completely stabilized. His surging Inner Qi and strength were now under his perfect control, circulating harmoniously.

His gaze was serene, and his steps were steady as he walked out of his room, heading toward the White Jade Plaza at the center of the Sub-Branch.

Along the way, he passed disciples who were up early for Cultivation or heading to the dining hall.

Upon seeing Fang Han, most of them still subconsciously averted their gazes. Some turned slightly away, while others quickened their pace. The silent sense of alienation had not diminished with the passage of time.

However, when some disciples noticed that Fang Han was heading not toward the dining hall or his usual Cultivation Forest, but toward the plaza, a low murmur of discussion became irrepressible.

"That direction... is he going to the Martial Arts Stele?"

"Didn’t he just test himself a little over half a month ago? Could his strength have improved again?"

"No way, right? The top three are all bona fide Eighth Grade Martial Artists. Their strength is in a whole other league. A gap like that isn’t easy to close."

"I’m not so sure. His rank has improved every time he’s tested himself. Why would he go if he wasn’t confident?"

All sorts of speculations—some doubtful, some dismissive, some holding a faint, imperceptible trace of anticipation—spread like ripples through the Sub-Branch in the early morning.

Fang Han seemed oblivious to the discussions behind him as he walked straight to the open plaza.

The morning sun was just rising, its golden rays casting a glow that made the towering Martial Arts Stele appear even more immaculately white and sacred.

His gaze swept across the stele’s surface.

The three names—Yun Qianyue, Li Feng, and Huang Ling’er—still sat firmly in the top three spots, radiating a conspicuous light.

His eyes lingered for a moment on the third name, "Huang Ling’er."

He then walked to a spot about ten feet from the stele and stood still, closing his eyes slightly to regulate his breathing.

A few breaths later, his eyes snapped open, a sharp light contained within them. All hesitation was gone.

SHIIING—!

The Cyan Blade Sword flew from its sheath, its body shimmering with the pale gold of the morning light.

The powerful Inner Qi of an Early Stage of Eighth Grade cultivator erupted instantly, surging from his acupoints and pouring into the blade.

The Wind Momentum he had comprehended from his Mastery Level Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship was pushed to its absolute limit.

VMMMM!

The sword hummed crisply. The air in the plaza began to spin rapidly around him, letting out a low whistle.

The air around the blade’s edge distorted intensely, causing fallen leaves within a radius of several dozen feet to rise and dance in a spiral, as if caught in a wind that wasn’t there.

"Eighth Grade! Those are the Inner Qi fluctuations of an Eighth Grade Martial Artist!"

Not far away, a disciple practicing his Fist Technique cried out in shock, his movements freezing in place.

"He... he broke through to the Eighth Grade?!"

The gasp was like a stone tossed into a calm lake, instantly shattering the tranquility of the plaza.

Every gaze, whether previously focused on Fang Han or not, now snapped toward him, filled with incredulous shock.

Under the watch of countless stunned eyes, Fang Han slashed his sword!

The strike was so fast it surpassed the visual tracking limits of most disciples. They could only see an afterimage—a fusion of cyan Inner Qi and the pale gold of dawn—ripping through the air.

Where the sword light passed, the air seemed to be torn open, leaving a subtle vacuum in its wake and emitting a low, heart-stopping hiss.

BOOM!!!

A deafening explosion erupted, far more violent than his last test.

The entire Martial Arts Stele burst into brilliant light, so dazzling that many disciples instinctively squinted.

On the stele’s surface, ripples spread violently. Fang Han’s name, ranked fourth, began to flicker.

Four... Three!

His rank surpassed Huang Ling’er’s, settling at number three!

A deathly silence descended upon the entire plaza.

Everyone’s eyes were wide, staring intently at the dazzling number "Three," as if trying to see straight through the stele.

Just over half a month ago, Fang Han had leaped from ninth place to fourth in a single bound.

Now, a little more than half a month later, his rank had risen again. He had audaciously surpassed Huang Ling’er, who had long been an Eighth Grade Martial Artist, to take the third spot!

What kind of terrifying speed of improvement was this?!

After a brief, dead silence, an uproar like a tsunami swept through the crowd!

"Third! He’s third!"

"Eighth Grade! He definitely broke through to the Eighth Grade!"

"He went from the Early Stage of Ninth Grade to the Early Stage of Eighth Grade in just over half a year since joining the sect. Are we really from the same batch of disciples as him?"

Exclamations of awe, sharp intakes of breath, and murmurs of helplessness mingled together.

The crowd’s gazes toward Fang Han were filled with extremely complex emotions.

There was awe for a genius and bitterness over their own mediocrity, but more than anything, there was an indescribable sense of pity.

With such Talent, his future should have been limitless, attracting countless people eager to befriend him.

But unfortunately... he had offended True Inheritor Chu Feng, who was currently at the peak of his prestige and listed on the Celestial Pride List.

Under the massive shadow cast by True Inheritor Chu Feng, people couldn’t help but worry about his future and feel pessimistic.

Fang Han slowly sheathed his sword, not responding to the complicated gazes from the plaza.

’Third place!’

He looked up at his third-place ranking on the stele. Just as he had expected, he had surpassed Huang Ling’er.

Huang Ling’er had only recently entered the Eighth Grade and her foundation was still shallow. With his Mastery Level Wind-Splitting Swordsmanship, he had an advantage in terms of Attack Power.

As for Yun Qianyue and Li Feng, he hadn’t considered them. They were a year older than Huang Ling’er. Not only had their Cultivation reached the Middle Stage of Eighth Grade, but their comprehension of Martial Techniques was also extremely high.

When Li Feng joined the sect, he had already reached Perfection in a Low Grade Saber Technique. Yun Qianyue was even more impressive, having already achieved Mastery in a Middle Grade Sword Technique upon her entry.

Over half a year had passed. There was no way their comprehension of Martial Techniques had stagnated; they must have grown even stronger.

’Even in terms of Martial Technique comprehension alone, my Mastery in a Middle Grade Sword Technique probably gives me no advantage against them.’

He turned and left the plaza with steady steps, leaving the clamor and all the varied gazes behind him.

...

"What did you say? Fang Han broke through to the Eighth Grade, surpassed me, and his rank on the Martial Arts Stele rose to third?"

Huang Ling’er, who had just woken up, froze when she heard the news from a female disciple she was friendly with.

She whipped her head around, her bright, wide eyes filled with disbelief.

"Yes, it’s all over the plaza now..." the female disciple said, the shock still evident on her face.

The usual cheerful smile on Huang Ling’er’s pretty face vanished, replaced by astonishment and... a faint, imperceptible sense of loss.

She had been exceptionally talented since childhood and her family had high hopes for her. She joined the Qingxuan Sect a year younger than her peers, yet she managed to keep pace with Yun Qianyue and Li Feng, holding a stable third place. She naturally had her pride.

But now, she had been surpassed by a disciple whose initial Cultivation upon joining was far below her own...

’Have... I been slacking off?’

Huang Ling’er pursed her lips, a strong sense of urgency rising in her heart for the first time.

’Fang Han was able to come from behind not just because of his Talent. That single-minded diligence was probably the more crucial factor.’

’Have I been called a genius since I joined the sect and lost myself in the flattery, losing some of my edge and drive?’

A defiant spirit surged from the bottom of her heart. Her gaze became resolute again, and she turned and walked back into her room.

’I have to take back third place!’

「At almost the same time, in two other locations.」

Yun Qianyue, dressed in a purple robe, listened to a female disciple’s report. A slight flicker passed through her cold eyes.

She gazed in the direction of the Martial Arts Stele, fell silent for a moment, then slowly closed her eyes. The aura around her grew even more profound.

Meanwhile, in an open area covered in saber marks, Li Feng slowly sheathed his saber.

As he listened to a male disciple speak, his gaze grew as sharp as a blade. He unconsciously caressed the hilt of his saber, and a powerful battle intent began to quietly emanate from him.

Though the two of them hadn’t spoken, the same thought rose in their minds.

’Huang Ling’er has been surpassed. Fang Han’s next target will inevitably be the two of us.’

’We’ve been hailed as geniuses since childhood. How could we be willing to become stepping stones for someone else’s rise?’

The formless pressure transformed into motivation. Both of them, without consulting each other, threw themselves into even more arduous Cultivation.

...

「As noon approached, the sun grew hotter.」

Fang Han pushed open the wooden door of Room C-7 and stood in the shade of the eaves, squinting slightly to adjust to the light outside.

Nearly a month had passed since he returned from the mine-guarding mission.

In this past month, he had focused single-mindedly on improving his Step Technique and Cultivation, breaking through to Minor Achievement in his Middle Grade Stepping Technique and raising his Cultivation to the Early Stage of Eighth Grade.

The increase in strength was gratifying, but the "13,230 silver" displayed on his system panel, and the gap to the 100,000 taels needed to unlock his Level 5 Talent Amplification, constantly reminded him that he had to work hard to earn money.

"It’s time to take on a mission," Fang Han muttered to himself.

Resources wouldn’t appear out of thin air. It was time to accept another mission and accumulate wealth for that enormous goal.

He straightened his cyan Disciple’s Robe, strapped the Cyan Blade Sword to his waist, and walked out of the Sub-Branch with steady steps, heading toward the Task Hall on the mountainside.

The Task Hall was as bustling as ever, with disciples from various branches moving about. Some searched for missions alone, while others discussed in groups of three or five. The air was thick with the restless energy of people striving for resources.

Fang Han stepped into the main hall, his gaze habitually sweeping toward the familiar side hall.

In the past, that disciple with the surname Li would always be the first to greet him and enthusiastically recommend missions.

Today, however, that same disciple was standing near the entrance to the side hall, chatting and laughing with another disciple.

The corner of his eye clearly caught sight of Fang Han, but he abruptly looked away as if his attention had been captured by something trivial, and turned his body to the side.

The volume of his conversation with his companion even rose slightly, carrying a deliberate sense of distance.

Fang Han’s expression remained impassive, but his mind was crystal clear.

’Chu Feng’s ascension to the Celestial Pride List... his influence has already permeated this far.’

The small conveniences and warmth he had once enjoyed due to Wang Miao’s favor and his own Talent had now vanished in an instant under the shadow of this newly risen prodigy, Chu Feng.

He didn’t feel much anger, more a cold clarity. This was simply how the world worked—fickle and indifferent.

He didn’t walk over to invite a snub. Instead, he went straight to the main wall where numerous wooden mission plaques were hanging.

His gaze scanned across the wooden plaques, quickly filtering for a suitable mission.

Escort, gathering, assisting patrols... The Contribution Points were low, and most were time-consuming collaborative missions with many restrictions. They clearly weren’t high-quality tasks.

His eyes finally settled on one wooden plaque. The ink of the characters was dark and heavy, exuding a grim, murderous aura.