But even the destiny gathering from all directions at Changfeng Man City and the Cyan Cloud Army on the battlefield could not overshadow the two brilliant auras at the center of it all.
They stood at the north and south, each apart.
One was as black as ink, the other a strange, blood-red hue.
"So that’s how it is... I am that blood-red aura!"
This scene made Su Mu’s pupils contract slightly. In this very mont, it resembled exactly what he’d seen the day his comprehension transford and broke through to Hidden-Dragon Level during his Divine Travel in Cyan Clouds.
Wang Xuantian was that inky black aura, while he himself was the other, the eerie blood-red light.
The only difference—then, the gap in strength was clear, with the black aura far overpowering the blood-red; now, that distance was gone.
But seeing this scene once more caused Su Mu’s heart to tremble, giving rise to a naless wariness—it had been years since he’d witnessed that vision.
The two auras he’d seen back then now et on the battlefield, not only to prove whose strength prevails, but to decide life and death.
Is this all so mysterious, wonderful fate, or rely the workings of destiny and inevitability?
This thought flashed by in an instant. Right now, Su Mu had no ti to ponder such abstruse matters; as strands of destiny poured into his crown, his mind grew ever sharper.
He also noticed the fate upon Wang Xuantian was steadily rising as well, tendrils of pitch-black destiny drifting from so of the rebel army around him.
This was the reason Wang Xuantian could continue burning his Qi Blood—his demon technique did not only devour others’ Qi Blood, but was further strengthened by the destiny of the rebel army.
And whether it was Purple Shirt’s final words before his death, or the fact that the Blind Swordsman and burly man would willingly die for Wang Xuantian, it all left Su Mu secretly surprised—perhaps Wang Xuantian was not the irredeemable villain he had imagined.
Wang Xuantian, who could inspire n to follow unto death, must possess sothing extraordinary.
Yet...
Today, Su Mu cannot lose—so Wang Xuantian must die!
Su Mu ca to this world, was sent to Cyan Cloud, and from the very beginning his cultivation in the Martial Dao was for the sake of growing strong, of seizing his own destiny. Yet along the way, he encountered many, so of whom beca dear to him.
The mont Zhou Mountain died, Su Mu beca aware of this truth.
When Little Doctor was taken away, Su Mu’s desire for strength grew even more violently—a force he desperately needed to bring back the ones he cherished, not only to fulfill the promise to the departed Pharmacist, but as his own belief!
Without strength, all is illusion, all is empty talk.
Su Mu’s Martial Dao is a road that fuses the strengths of a hundred schools, but it is also a road of protection—a way cented by conviction.
In this mont Su Mu grasped his true heart all the more; the martial spirit in his eyes grew firr still, as unshakeable as bedrock.
"To dare be distracted in a duel with —die!"
Wang Xuantian’s body was consud by demon fla at its utmost; the fla bared its fangs and claws, vaguely taking the shape of a massive pitch-black tiger, filled with savagery and madness. Both arms lashed out, his domineering fist montum crushing and compacting the air nearby. The Iron Essence Qi from his Gold Elent Divine Skill swelled, surging around him as he raised his fist and struck with unstoppable force.
"Montum... so this is Fist Montum?!"
Su Mu’s comprehension now soared to a terrifying 137 points—the Dragon-and-Phoenix level. Even cultivating Sixth-Grade Martial Arts, he advanced at breakneck speed, almost never eting a bottleneck.
And now, under the infusion of heightened comprehension, his already formidable insight truly reached its peak.
From the very start, Su Mu laid his foundation with Five Animals Qigong. The first Entry Level Martial Arts he learned was Tiger Subduing Fist. Since then he’d trained in many fist techniques, even creating his own Thunder Shock Fist by rging two styles, and as an assassin earned the title ’Unparalleled Boxing and Stick Skills’.
It could be said Su Mu’s strongest martial art was the fist—the root of all martial forms!
On this battlefield of tens of thousands locked in slaughter, and in this manic duel with Wang Xuantian, Su Mu suddenly attained understanding; a scorching radiance kindled in his eyes.
Montum, so mysterious—yet at the sa ti, so simple.
If one wishes to throw a punch, first you must clench your five fingers, and draw the hand back; just as, to slash with a blade, you must first raise it. A Martial Artist must thus prepare a form, a posture, for every attack.
And at that mont, a phrase from The Art of War in his previous life surfaced in Su Mu’s mind:
"The montum of one skilled in battle is like rolling a round stone down a thousand-foot mountain—that is montum."
It ans, a general adept at war makes use of human montum, like rolling a boulder down a sheer mountain—this is montum;
That is, if soone stands at a cliff and witnesses a rock tumbling from high above, they’ll instinctively dodge—the mountain’s montum compels awe and fear.
More bluntly, when a punch is thrown and your arm is fully extended, when a blade is swung to its limit, your opponent no longer fears the strike and will seize the chance to counterattack.
Likewise, when a rock has already fallen from the cliff, people need not fear what can no longer harm them—no matter how formidable it was once united with the mountain, once it’s expended, the montum is lost.
Thus, to comprehend Montum fundantally lies in avoiding the loss of this intimidation—how to turn every spent strike into a new wave of force.
Moreover, the Martial Artists of this world go further, infusing their Martial Dao Will into Montum, such as the domination Wang Xuantian now demonstrated—further amplifying the power of montum!
"So that’s it... this is Fist Montum!"
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Facing Wang Xuantian’s frenzied onslaught, Su Mu actually closed his eyes, withdrawing even his Crimson Fla Spear. In that mont, it was as though Wang Xuantian’s fist montum had vanished; Su Mu’s five fingers slowly stretched out, and as he clenched them, bone and flesh sung in unison with a low growl.
User Comments
0 comments from readers