Chapter 169: I've Mastered It
Within Zheng Shen’s network, Huang Zichou watched the students selecting their examination Techniques, smiling. "Choosing the right Technique is just as important as mastering it—this test is as much about self-awareness as it is about skill."
"A Technique too difficult to complete will result in zero points. Better to pick one slightly easier—more reliable, more achievable."
Another young genius chimed in: "This is part of the exam itself. It tests whether you truly understand your own talent, your limits, and your potential."
"Most of these students who’ve made it this far should be able to master a five-star difficulty Technique without trouble."
"Six-star? There’s already a chance of failure."
"Seven-star? That’s risky."
"Eight or nine-star? Almost certain to fail."
"Only Yun Jing and Ye Lingshao would dare attempt the ten-star peak Technique."
At that moment, Huang Zichou’s expression flickered with surprise. "Wait… three students actually chose the ten-star Technique? And one picked nine-star… another, eight-star?"
He chuckled. "This year’s candidates are full of bold arrogance."
…
Bai Zhenzhen stared at the Technique she’d selected—Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue—her heart tightening with tension.
The Foundation Establishment Exam consisted of three rounds. After the first comprehensive test, the next two rounds would be divided into four tracks: Dao Heart, Martial Energy, Physical Body, and Combat Skill. The top performer in each track would earn the Foundation Establishment Qualification Certificate.
"Yu’s taking the physical test. I’ll handle the martial arts."
"I just need one truly powerful sword art to close the gap."
Gazing at the 149 million-value, ten-star difficulty Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue, Bai Zhenzhen thought, If I miss this chance… I might never get another shot at mastering a technique like this.
After extensive research, she’d concluded this was not only the most suitable Technique for her—but also the strongest among all available.
"And in the martial arena, I’ll be facing off against Xian Du’s elite. They’ve likely all mastered the top-tier expert-level techniques."
"To defeat them, I must seize this free opportunity and master this art within two hours."
Still, despite her resolve, doubt lingered. She’d never studied anything this expensive. She had no idea what it truly meant to train at the ten-star level.
But there was no choice. As a poor girl, she had nothing to lose. To stand against the wealthy students, she could only go all-in—bet everything on one desperate gamble.
Meanwhile, Li Tongyun trembled uncontrollably, her hands shaking. She’d just chosen a nine-star difficulty Technique.
Must succeed. I must succeed.
She’d finished outside the top twenty in the first two rounds—especially in the second, the Feast Battle, where she’d spent hours retching, dropping all the way to thirty-something.
To finish in the top twenty overall, she’d calculated it down to the last possibility: she had to master this nine-star Technique.
On the other side, Zhang Yu had selected the eight-star difficulty, 155 million-value Chunqiu Wujin Chan.
Not the highest difficulty, but Zhang Yu knew it was among the strongest Techniques in today’s batch.
"Taijin Lianti Yaojue, Datianlong Shenli—both powerful, yes. But their next-tier upgrades require expensive alloys, dragon blood. Too costly."
"But Chunqiu Wujin Chan? No external materials needed. It grows stronger on its own."
Once he realized this, Zhang Yu knew he had no other choice.
As a poor man, he had little room to choose. And now, a free chance to train in Chunqiu Wujin Chan? A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
With ten minutes of Technique selection over, the exam officially began.
Each student received their chosen Technique’s materials and required cultivation items.
Zhang Yu’s was simple: a single physical scroll, bearing the words Chunqiu Wujin Chan in bold. This was his exam paper.
After scanning the entire text, Zhang Yu began following its instructions, focusing on cultivating the Eternal Martial Energy described within.
Only after successfully forming that inner energy could he begin the forty-nine physical cultivation movements—only then would he truly be initiated into this Body Cultivation Art.
As Zhang Yu began training Chunqiu Wujin Chan, the other students were already making rapid progress.
Yun Jing practiced Senluo Wanxiang Zhang, his star-like eyes revealing every internal structure—muscles, channels, the flow of Martial Energy—giving him perfect inner vision.
Even after memorizing the technique, he could see a translucent image of himself practicing, overlapping with his real form. Every movement was instantly analyzed, corrected, refined. He was improving in real time, flawlessly adapting with each breath.
This was one of the abilities of his Spirit Armor eyes—enabling inner sight, rapid imitation, and automatic error detection during cultivation.
When Yun Jing glanced sideways, his vision flickered with numbers.
"50 million… 45 million… 70 million…"
These were the prices of the Techniques others were mastering, projected by his Spirit Armor.
Through this comparison, he instantly gauged their relative strength.
Meanwhile, Ye Lingshao glanced at Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue, then sat still. He didn’t begin physical practice—instead, he closed his eyes and began mentally rehearsing.
For someone who could fully control his body and Martial Energy, mental rehearsal was enough. If the form was flawless in his mind, it was flawless in reality.
And mental practice was infinitely faster than physical movement.
So when Ye Lingshao trained, he usually scanned the scroll once, sat down, rehearsed in his mind, then stood up—and had already mastered it.
…
But Bai Zhenzhen’s path wasn’t so simple.
She gripped her training sword, moving with lightning speed, sparks dancing across her blade as she executed one Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue technique after another.
Yet this was an expert-level sword art—ranked among the pinnacle of Qi Refining Realm techniques, said to encompass every possible variation of swordplay during the Qi Cultivation stage.
Even though Qi Cultivation techniques were limited by raw strength, speed, and energy flow—Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue still contained over ten thousand individual movements.
As Bai Zhenzhen flipped through its thousand-page tome, practicing one technique after another, she grew increasingly uneasy.
"This won’t work."
"If I keep going like this, I’ll never master this in two hours."
She stopped, paused her cultivation, and returned to the scroll’s preface, deeply pondering.
"Practice a thousand times, the meaning reveals itself."
Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue was traditionally mastered by repeating each movement until the sword intent emerged—until every stroke could break through any external technique.
"But time is gone."
"Zheng Shen wouldn’t have placed this Technique here unless it was possible to master it in two hours."
As the minutes passed, Bai Zhenzhen calmed down, her mind sharpening on the Technique’s core.
Is there a hidden rule that connects all these movements? If I discover it… I could master it instantly?
Then she saw Ye Lingshao, eyes closed, motionless.
Though she didn’t know what he was doing, a spark of inspiration struck her.
"Two hours to practice ten thousand techniques? Impossible."
"Physical body can’t do it."
"But what if I do it in my mind?"
She closed her eyes and began mentally rehearsing each movement of Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue—but still, something felt off.
"No… imagining it isn’t the same as actually doing it. It doesn’t count."
"But does Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue really require perfect form?"
She recalled Zhang Yu’s breakthrough with the Tianwu Heart Scripture—how he’d practiced with messy, crooked movements, and it still worked.
A new idea formed.
Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue is a combat art. What if I imagine a real opponent?
Her mind immediately turned to Zhang Yu.
He was her most frequent sparring partner, the one she knew best. In her mind, she quickly reconstructed a battle scene between them.
Her memory of his real combat patterns was flawless.
Now, in her mind’s eye, Zhang Yu unleashed his full strength—his movements like shifting clouds, impenetrable, unbreakable. No matter how she slashed, her attacks met nothing but air.
"Yu, you’re impossible to hit."
In this mental sparring, Bai Zhenzhen began uncovering flaws in her own swordplay—flaws she’d never noticed before.
She’d always been the one searching for opponents’ weaknesses. Now, for the first time, she was discovering her own.
This is it.
"Yes… Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue is the ultimate evolution of sword movements. Why change forms? To break through defenses."
"Repeating thousands of techniques is rote memorization."
"But mastering them through real combat, through constant adaptation—that is the true path."
From that moment on, she alternated between studying the scroll and mentally sparring with her imagined Zhang Yu—each clash sharpening her form, each failure teaching her.
She felt herself transforming—becoming a bolt of lightning, tearing through the fog, her heart filling with a rising sword intent.
Meanwhile, others advanced rapidly.
Yu Xinghan emerged from a temporary medical chamber, his face grim, the third eye in his mind opening—driven by vengeance and despair, pushing his Technique training forward with ferocious speed.
Yun Jing’s movements grew faster, cleaner, more precise—approaching completion.
Ye Lingshao soared ahead of all, his mind a battlefield of hundreds of versions of himself, each practicing different sword forms—driving Wan Jian Wu Zhong Jue forward at lightning speed.
And just as Ye Lingshao began to believe he’d secured first place—
"Examiner, I’m done."
Ye Lingshao snapped his eyes open—only to see Zhang Yu raising his hand.
"I’ve mastered it."
(End of Chapter)
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