At that thought, an idea suddenly sparked in Qin Feng’s mind. He recalled an absurd theory from so of the low-quality, heavily altered novels that circulated among the Empire’s lower classes—the idea that after a sudden surge in strength, a Martial Artist would be unable to control their newfound power and would need to spend a great deal of ti in a so-called "adaptation period."
To Qin Feng, this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.
The Human Empire’s path of Martial Dao cultivation was a grand, ticulously structured, and scientifically sound system forged through eons of war and bloodshed, then refined and optimized by countless ancient sages.
He, Qin Feng, had spent twelve whole years raising his life force index from 532 to 1730!
Over those twelve years, he had consud top-tier resources worth 4,600 Contribution Points and endured the inhuman agony of his body being torn apart and reassembled ti and ti again.
Every minute of every day, he had strictly and precisely followed the cultivation steps of the *Great Sun Acupoint Opening thod*. His every breath, his every heartbeat, was a struggle to both fight and fuse with that ferocious energy.
Every muscle, every bone, and every ridian in his body had been personally forged by him, bit by bit, with his own sweat, Will, and ti.
This power was an innate part of his very being!
So why would he need to adapt to it?
Unless...
Unless this power wasn’t gained through one’s own arduous training.
Instead, it was gained through so evil, sordid transaction—like sacrificing one’s soul to the four chaotic, malevolent beings in the depths of Subspace in exchange for their "blessing."
Only power forcibly infused by an outside force—power that doesn’t truly belong to you—would cause a Martial Artist to lose control. That kind of power requires a long ti to adapt to and integrate. It could even turn on its wielder, consuming them and reducing them to a pitiful, mindless husk.
No Martial Artist who follows the Empire’s orthodox Martial Dao, advancing step-by-step with a solid foundation, would ever find themselves "unable to control a surge in their own power."
They maintain absolute, perfect Control over every ounce of their strength, always!
’Perhaps this is a way to identify the Evil God’s Followers.’
"..."
Qin Feng muttered to himself.
Shaking off these stray thoughts, Qin Feng refocused his attention on the Imperial Arena interface.
He had achieved Perfection in the four First-level Boxing Skills.
Next, it was ti to begin practicing the Second-level Killing Technique that Master Yu Han had highlighted for him: *Cold Light*.
Second-level Killing Techniques were far more demanding than First-level ones, both in the complexity of their Spiritual Energy manipulation and the technical skill required.
There was no longer much point in locking his life force index at 30.
After a mont’s thought, Qin Feng decided to adjust the matchmaking rules in the Imperial Arena, raising the lock on his life force index to around 500.
Practicing a Second-level Killing Technique would be more efficient under greater pressure.
However, just as he was about to confirm the settings,
DING!
DING!
DING!
A series of urgent communication alerts from his friends in the Subspace suddenly rang out, one after another.
Slightly taken aback, Qin Feng opened the communications interface.
The familiar avatars of Shi Potian, Xiong Yanfu, Lei ng, and Tiemu were all flashing frantically on his friends list.
He tapped on Xiong Yanfu’s ssage. That guy was as talkative as ever.
"Holy shit! Brother Feng! You’re finally out of seclusion! When we saw you replied, all the guys went nuts!"
"We just wrapped up a team mission that took a year and a half. We’re dog-tired. We just got back from the mission planet and were about to go grab a feast!"
"No ti like the present, so how about right now? You free, Brother Feng? Let’s all get together!"
Shi Potian’s ssage popped up next, as concise as ever.
"Qin Feng, let’s et up."
The ssages from Lei ng and Tiemu followed close behind, their words filled with the joy of reunion after a long separation.
He smiled and replied, "Alright. The usual place?"
"Perfect!"
Xiong Yanfu replied instantly. "Food God District, Taotie Residence! We’ll head over now and save you a spot. Just co on over!"
"Alright, I’m on my way."
After ending the call, Qin Feng closed the Imperial Arena interface.
Reuniting with old friends was one of life’s great pleasures.
He didn’t delay for a second. He imdiately left the dormitory that had been his silent sanctuary for twelve years and headed straight for the academy’s public Teleportation Array.
...
It was the sa bustling district, filled with the lively energy of street life and gathering countless culinary treasures from across the Cosmos.
And it was the sa magnificent, ancient-style restaurant, bustling with patrons.
Taotie Residence.
When Qin Feng appeared at the entrance, the bustling noise—so familiar, yet so foreign—left him montarily dazed.
Twelve years had passed. It seed as if nothing had changed, and yet, as if everything was different.
He stepped inside and walked with practiced ease toward the private rooms on the second floor.
Just as he reached the staircase, a booming voice filled with delight called out from nearby.
"Brother Feng! Over here!"
Qin Feng followed the voice and saw several familiar figures waving excitedly from a large private room by a second-floor window.
Xiong Yanfu was his usual, effusively friendly self. The bald Lei ng was grinning like a Maitreya Buddha, and even the taciturn Tiemu wore a rare smile.
Seated quietly among them was an imposing figure, his presence as cold and sharp as an iceberg. But the mont he saw Qin Feng, a faint ripple disturbed the calm depths of his eyes.
It was Shi Potian.
After twelve years, his old friend’s aura had grown deeper and more contained, like a peerless Divine Weapon concealed within its sheath.
A genuine smile spread across Qin Feng’s face as he quickened his pace toward them.
However, just as he was about to enter the room, he hesitated for a fraction of a second.
He had spotted soone else sitting in the corner of the room.
Soone he never would have expected to see here.
The man was powerfully built, with a presence as solid as a mountain. His dark gold skin glead with a tallic sheen under the lights.
It was the half-blood Stone Man genius who had won the title of "Rookie King" in the most recent Newcor’s Cup.
Shi Dang.
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