The stars flickered across the sky.
The silver moon hung high.
The whole of Yulan City was unusually quiet.
The ceaselessly twinkling stars mirrored Feng Hao’s restless heart.
Two days had passed since the incident.
Tomorrow was the day the Feng family would elect a new head.
The whole affair seemed beyond changing now.
He had finished his training but couldn’t bring himself to go back to his room.
Instead, he walked out of the Feng estate and headed slowly out of the city.
Without realizing it, he found himself back on the small hill, back under the red-leafed tree.
He sat atop the tree, gazing at the stars, listening to the faint roars of demon beasts drifting from the mountains.
Slowly, he calmed down.
“Strength.
Without strength, you have nothing.
Not even dignity.”
The boy’s brow furrowed.
His fists clenched without his noticing.
“I will never let that happen again.”
These past two days, every time he closed his eyes, the scene from the Wan family’s hall replayed in his mind.
It felt like a knife was carving into his heart, making his whole body tremble.
“I will change this.”
His gaze hardened, becoming utterly resolute.
He had made up his mind.
He reached into his collar and pulled out a simple, ancient-looking ring hanging from a cord.
He thought about it for a moment, then snapped the cord and held the ring in his palm.
“Come out.”
He spoke to the ring.
“Hehe.”
A hoarse, aged laugh suddenly echoed from the ring.
Then a faint, shimmering glow emanated from it, coalescing into a translucent, towering figure—an old man.
Feng Hao watched calmly, as if he had expected this.
“Heh.
Made up your mind?”
The old man looked at him with a knowing smile.
“Yes.”
The boy nodded seriously.
“Once you choose, there’s no turning back.
Turning back means death.”
The old man’s smile faded.
He met Feng Hao’s eyes.
“Even if it means death, I will wash away this humiliation!”
The boy bit his lip.
His gaze didn’t waver.
“Good.”
After a long pause, the old man finally allowed a faint, satisfied smile.
“I told you long ago.
Someone with a Void Martial constitution must cultivate the Yan Art.
Otherwise, you will never become a martial artist.”
When Feng Hao was very young, this ring had fallen from the sky and struck him.
From within had emerged this old man, who called himself Burning Elder.
He had urged Feng Hao to practice a manual called the Yan Art.
The Yan Art could only be cultivated by someone with a Void Martial constitution.
Burning Elder himself practiced it.
On its own, that wouldn’t have been a problem.
But once he started the Yan Art, his Void Martial constitution would activate—and once activated, it could never be stopped.
The constitution would constantly devour his own martial essence.
If he didn’t advance, he would regress.
Severe regression meant crippling.
Worse meant death.
As a small child, the mention of death had terrified Feng Hao.
He had thrown the ring away.
But it always came back.
Eventually, he had simply strung it on a cord and hung it around his neck.
Over the years, he had nearly forgotten it existed.
Until now, when everything came to a head.
During all those years, Burning Elder had never forced him.
He had only said, “When you’re ready, call me.”
Now, pushed to the limit, Feng Hao had learned that there were things worse than death.
And this—this was the foundation of his challenge to Yun Ying.
“What do I need to do?”
Feng Hao let out a slow breath.
“Eager?”
Burning Elder’s tone was slightly mocking.
“You were too rash, boy.
Three years—how could you possibly beat her?
Barring accidents, that girl will reach the Martial Spirit level in three years.
That means you need to advance your Void Martial constitution to the fourth rank.”
“Fourth rank.”
The boy’s gaze remained ice-cold.
Burning Elder clicked his tongue.
“Let me tell you, boy.
Cultivating the Void Martial constitution isn’t faster than normal martial training.
On the contrary—it’s far more dangerous.
If I had a choice, no one would choose this broken thing.”
His mouth twisted in a bitter grimace.
“Do I have a choice?”
Feng Hao shot him a look.
“Heh.
Fair enough.
But don’t be too pessimistic.
Miracles are made, not granted.
If you can find enough martial crystals, your progress will skyrocket.
Three years might be enough.”
“Martial crystals?
The legendary martial crystals?”
Feng Hao was stunned speechless.
Martial crystals were born in strange and wondrous places, formed from heaven and earth.
Every time one appeared, it sparked a bloody struggle.
Great Martial Masters fell by the dozens.
In a small place like Yulan City, such treasures never appeared.
And Burning Elder spoke of “enough” martial crystals.
How many was that?
Feng Hao could only stare at him helplessly.
“I’m not finished.
Later on, martial crystals can only sustain you.
What you really need to find are anomalous crystals.
Those are the real treasures.”
Burning Elder looked almost dismissive, as if Feng Hao’s reaction was beneath him.
Martial crystals were only good for sustaining life?
What was there left to say?
Martial crystals were a martial artist’s second life.
Born of the world’s martial essence, they could rapidly increase a cultivator’s internal essence.
During breakthroughs, they were essential, greatly improving success rates.
As for anomalous crystals—this was the first Feng Hao had heard of them.
“Scared?”
Honestly?
Yes.
But the moment he thought of his vow, his gaze hardened once more.
“I want to cultivate the Yan Art.”
The boy’s voice was firm as steel.
Death was terrifying.
But dignity came first.
“No problem.
But first, you need to raise your physique.
If you activate your Void Martial constitution with a body this weak, you’ll explode on the spot.
What’s the point of cultivation then?”
Burning Elder agreed readily.
He scanned Feng Hao and frowned slightly.
“Your body-tempering method isn’t even Yellow-rank.
At this rate, it’ll take you three years just to reach the tenth-rank Martial Apprentice.
Try this.”
He tossed Feng Hao a yellowed scroll.
Feng Hao unrolled it.
The words at the top stunned him into silence.
“Tiger Movement Chapter.
Profound-rank technique.”