Martial Dao: I Can Enhance My Talents

Excluding the servant disciples, the most likely candidates for Chu Feng’s spy were the other disciples from his own Sub-Branch.

Fang Han began to pay attention to the disciples who frequently and "coincidentally" appeared near his cultivation clearing and his residence.

Most disciples were either focused on themselves or kept a respectful distance from him, showing nothing unusual.

But one person caught his attention—Chen Ying.

Ever since his falling out with Chu Feng, Chen Ying had actively distanced himself.

Logically, their relationship was already broken, so Chen Ying should have been avoiding him at all costs.

However, he discovered that Chen Ying was appearing in his line of sight with an unusually high frequency.

Sometimes they would "run into each other" on the way to his clearing in the woods. Other times, Chen Ying would be eating alone in a corner of the dining hall, his gaze occasionally flicking in Fang Han’s direction.

What aroused his suspicion further was one evening when he was returning from his Cultivation. He saw Chen Ying furtively leaving the Sub-Branch and quietly followed.

He eventually discovered that the person Chen Ying was sneakily meeting was none other than Song Xiang.

It was no secret in the Sect that Song Xiang was Chu Feng’s confidant.

What was Chen Ying meeting with Song Xiang for in private? The answer was self-evident.

Suspicion bloomed in his heart, but he didn’t want to spook his target. Instead, he continued to observe even more covertly.

He deliberately changed his routes and times for going to his Cultivation spot several times. He even ended his Cultivation early one afternoon and returned to his residence.

But even after he changed his routine, Chen Ying’s figure would still "coincidentally" appear nearby.

Although Chen Ying pretended to be just passing by or running an errand, the strange look on his face didn’t escape Fang Han’s sharp eyes.

After several days of secret observation and verification, Fang Han was almost certain that Chen Ying was the spy Chu Feng had placed by his side.

Having confirmed his target, Fang Han decided he would tolerate it no longer.

At noon, the dining hall was bustling with people. It was the peak time for disciples to eat, and the noise was deafening.

After getting his food, Fang Han’s gaze swept across the dining hall and quickly locked onto Chen Ying, who was sitting alone at a table in the corner.

Carrying his tray, he walked over with steady steps and sat down directly in the empty seat opposite Chen Ying.

Chen Ying was eating with his head down. When he sensed someone sit down, he looked up and saw it was Fang Han.

His expression changed in an instant, a flash of panic in his eyes. He subconsciously reached to pick up his tray and leave.

"Chen Ying, what’s the rush?"

Fang Han’s voice was calm, yet it carried an undeniable force that reached Chen Ying’s ears clearly, also drawing the attention of disciples at several nearby tables.

Chen Ying’s body stiffened. He forced himself to calm down and squeezed out a rigid smile.

"F-Fang Han, what do you mean by this? There are so many seats, why do you have to sit with me?"

"There are indeed many seats."

Fang Han picked up his chopsticks, plucked a piece of Demon Beast Meat, and his tone remained flat.

"But I have a few things I’d like to ask you, in front of everyone."

The surroundings gradually fell quiet as many gazes turned in their direction.

Feeling the stares from all around, Chen Ying broke into a light sweat on his forehead. His voice trembled almost imperceptibly.

"Fang Han, there doesn’t seem to be anything for us to talk about, does there? If this is about some past misunderstanding, I’ll apologize to you right here. Please don’t keep pestering me."

"A misunderstanding?"

Fang Han put down his chopsticks and looked up at Chen Ying, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

"I wish it were a misunderstanding. Chen Ying, let me ask you: why have you been repeatedly spying on my movements and reporting them to Song Xiang?"

GASP—

His words immediately caused a low uproar among the surrounding disciples.

Spying on a fellow sect member and reporting to others was an extremely dishonorable act anywhere, especially within a Sect that emphasized camaraderie among its disciples.

Chen Ying’s face instantly turned deathly pale. He shot to his feet and retorted in a shrill voice.

"Fang Han, don’t you dare make baseless accusations! When did I ever spy on you? And when did I report anything to Song Xiang? Don’t just slander people!"

"Slander?"

Fang Han slowly rose to his feet, meeting Chen Ying’s gaze. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the din of the dining hall.

"Yesterday, at a quarter to six in the evening, where were you coming from?"

Chen Ying’s pupils contracted, and his eyes darted around.

"I... I was, of course, just returning from my Cultivation outside!"

"Cultivation?"

A cold smirk played on Fang Han’s lips.

"But I saw you with my own eyes, leaving Song Xiang’s residence. And there are few in the entire Qingxuan Sect who don’t know that Song Xiang works for Chu Feng."

"You’ve never had any dealings with him, yet you’re frequently meeting in private. What for? Don’t tell me you were discussing the Martial Dao?"

"You... You’re lying! You saw wrong!"

Chen Ying was completely flustered, his words becoming incoherent.

"Saw wrong?"

Fang Han pressed his advantage.

"Then what about the day before yesterday at noon? I ended my Cultivation early and returned to my residence. Why did you just so happen to be near my home?"

"And three days ago, in the morning, I changed my route to cultivate in the Sub-Branch’s bamboo forest. Why did you ’coincidentally’ show up in a forest that few people ever visit?"

With each fact Fang Han stated, Chen Ying’s face grew a shade paler, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

The gazes of the surrounding disciples gradually shifted from initial surprise and curiosity to contempt, disgust, and a hint of disdain.

As one of the Seven Sects, the disciples of the Qingxuan Sect had their pride.

They might keep their distance from Fang Han due to Chu Feng’s influence and his rank on the Celestial Pride List, but deep down, they found this kind of behavior—betraying a fellow disciple and acting as a monitor just to curry favor with the powerful—to be utterly despicable.

He was disgracing all the disciples of the Sub-Branch!

"To think a disciple of the Qingxuan Sect would resort to such underhanded tricks. It’s despicable!"

"No wonder I always see him loitering around Fang Han. So he became a spy for Chu Feng’s True Inheritance!"

"Is he willing to throw away all his dignity just to curry favor with Chu Feng’s True Inheritance?"

The low murmurs of discussion stabbed into Chen Ying’s ears like needles.

He felt countless gazes burning his back like branding irons. His face flushed with shame, and he wished he could find a crack in the ground to crawl into.

He opened his mouth, wanting to defend himself, but under Fang Han’s all-seeing gaze and the contemptuous stares of those around him, the words caught in his throat.

In the end, too ashamed to remain any longer, he pushed through the crowd of onlookers and rushed out of the dining hall with his head down, like a beaten dog.

Fang Han didn’t stop him, merely watching with a cold gaze as Chen Ying made his pathetic escape.

He knew that after this incident, as long as Chen Ying had any sense of shame left, he would never dare to monitor him again.

As for whether Chu Feng would send someone else, that was a matter for another time. For now, at least, things around him were peaceful.

The disturbance in the dining hall quickly subsided, but the news of Fang Han publicly exposing Chen Ying spread through the Sub-Branch as if it had grown wings.

Most people were contemptuous of Chen Ying’s actions.

Chen Ying’s reputation within the Sub-Branch was ruined; the news even spread to the other Sub-Branches.

...

「Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, the beginning of the month arrived.」

Early in the morning, the atmosphere in the main hall of the Inheritance Hall was solemn.

The disciples went up one by one to receive their monthly benefits and ranking rewards from Steward Wu Hao.

When the name "First Place, Fang Han" was called, a moment of silence fell over the hall.

All eyes focused on Fang Han as he slowly stood up.

Fifty-seventh on the overall ranking!

This rank completely set Fang Han apart from the ordinary Sub-Branch disciples, meaning he had truly entered the upper echelons of the Qingxuan Sect’s younger generation.

What amazed them most was that in just one month, Fang Han’s rank had jumped by a full 30 places.

’3,050 Contribution Points...’

Fang Han’s expression was calm as he took the Identity Jade Token back from Steward Wu Hao with both hands.

With a slight pulse of Inner Qi, he glanced at the token and saw the number had changed to—3050!

Last month, he only had 70 Contribution Points left on his Jade Token.

This month, the basic benefits and reward for ranking first in the Sub-Branch was 330 points.

In other words, the reward for ranking fifty-seventh on the overall list was a staggering 2,650 points!

’2,650 Contribution Points!’

Even though Fang Han had a steady temperament and had anticipated a generous reward, his heart still couldn’t help but skip a beat when he saw the number.

2,650 Contribution Points was almost equivalent to the total reward a normal disciple would get for completing twenty to thirty difficult missions.

The fact that it was enough to exchange for two Top Grade Cultivation Techniques was a testament to how precious Contribution Points were.

And this was just the fixed monthly reward the Sect gave him for his improved ranking.

This was how a Major Sect like the Qingxuan Sect tilted its resources in favor of talented disciples, and they were anything but stingy.

Because of this, the talented disciples within the Sect rarely spent time on time-consuming and laborious Sect missions.

In comparison, the return in Contribution Points from spending their time and energy on Cultivation to improve and solidify their rank on the overall list was far greater than what could be earned from toiling away on missions.

The Sect’s tradition of "assigning missions to the top 100 disciples" existed largely to prevent these geniuses from just cultivating behind closed doors and lacking real combat experience.

Therefore, missions were regularly arranged to hone their practical combat skills and experience in handling matters.

Below the stage, the eyes of countless disciples were filled with envy and shock.

Although they didn’t know exactly how many Contribution Points Fang Han had received, they could imagine it was an enormous amount that they might not be able to earn even after several months of missions.

And that was just Fang Han’s fixed monthly income.

This was the vast chasm between a genius and an ordinary disciple.

After the lectures from the Elders and Stewards concluded, Fang Han left the Inheritance Hall.

With a fortune on him, his next destination was clear—the Weapon Hall.

His Cyan Blade Sword could no longer handle his power. Exchanging it for a longsword that could perfectly channel his current strength was an urgent matter.

He passed through several halls and pavilions, arriving at the Weapon Hall, which was located on the side of the mountain.

Before he even stepped inside, a mixed scent of metal, charcoal, and leather washed over him.

The Weapon Hall covered a vast area. Its interior was built from thick bluestone, giving it a simple, sturdy appearance.

The hall was brightly lit. Moonstones were embedded in the walls, casting a cold, shimmering light on all sorts of weapons.

Sabers, spears, swords, halberds, axes, battle-axes, hooks, forks... The eighteen classical types of weapons were all sorted and displayed on massive racks, a dazzling array that overwhelmed the eyes.

Below each weapon hung a small wooden plaque detailing its name, Grade, characteristics, and the Contribution Points required for exchange.

The moment Fang Han stepped inside, a disciple in the Weapon Hall’s uniform approached him. He looked capable and sharp, with keen eyes, and appeared to be in his late twenties.

"Are you here to choose a weapon, Junior Brother? What type do you need? I can give you some recommendations."

The Weapon Hall disciple was polite. His gaze swept over the Cyan Blade Sword at Fang Han’s waist, and he already had a good idea of what Fang Han needed.