Chapter 67: Fireball Technique

Han Li, who had been motionless for a while, suddenly raised his right hand, extending one finger straight up, leaving others baffled.

But soon, half an inch above his fingertip, a faint spatial ripple occurred—sparks materialized out of thin air. The moment they appeared, they emitted a sharp “sizzle,” twisting the space around them and instantly transforming into red fireballs the size of walnuts. Though small, these fireballs released an intense heat that quickly filled the entire room.

Han Li’s face remained covered by the book, lying still as if asleep; only the tiny fireball on his fingertip continuously emitted a steady “sizzle! sizzle!” of searing heat, making it stand out starkly against his utterly motionless finger.

Time passed minute by minute. The fireball retained its extraordinary vitality, showing no sign of fading. Finally, Han Li showed a different reaction—his fingertip trembled slightly at first, then, as time went on, his wrist, entire arm, and eventually his whole body began to shake.

Suddenly, Han Li sat bolt upright from the armchair, unaware that the book on his face had slipped to the floor.

He stared fixedly at the fireball on his fingertip, his face flushed crimson. Sweat beads glistened across his exposed skin—from forehead to neck—as if he had just finished a grueling physical exertion, his entire body steaming with heat.

After a moment, the fireball began to wobble amid Han Li’s violent trembling, its flames flickering wildly—growing larger, then shrinking, unable to maintain stability. Soon, it shrank further, reverting to sparks that vanished into the air.

The instant the fireball disappeared, Han Li collapsed back into the chair as if his spine had been pulled out, utterly exhausted, as if he had just performed a task draining every ounce of his strength.

“This Fireball Technique is truly hard to master! I’ve studied it for nearly half a year and still haven’t fully grasped its essence—only managed to extend its duration slightly.”

Originally, the last few pages of the Changchun Gong manual recorded several rudimentary spells—clearly beginner-level cultivation techniques—which Han Li seized upon as if finding a treasure, staying awake for several nights in a row, thrilled beyond measure.

It was no wonder he was so excited. Ever since witnessing Master Mo’s spells, Han Li had become deeply fascinated by these inexplicable, profoundly powerful arts.

But pitifully, Han Li now possessed only the peak sixth-layer spiritual power of Changchun Gong—yet he was like a beggar holding a golden bowl yet begging for food, utterly ignorant of any spellcasting technique, unaware even of the most basic principles of magic. Now, he had suddenly found several spell incantations perfectly suited for a novice like himself—how could he not be overjoyed?

The final pages recorded five incantations: “Fireball Technique,” “Spirit-Stabilizing Talisman,” “Wind-riding Decree,” “Object-Control Technique,” and “Heavenly Eye Technique.” To Han Li, every phrase of these incantations was archaic, obscure, and difficult to comprehend.

It was no surprise—these incantations were written in an archaic grammatical style and vocabulary. Though he had read many books, his knowledge in this area was extremely shallow; naturally, he could not grasp their meanings at once.

Helpless, Han Li once again summoned the relentless determination he had used when learning Changchun Gong, diving headfirst into piles of ancient texts, studying day and night to unravel the true meaning behind every phrase, dissecting each word and sentence dozens of times until he was certain he had understood them without any ambiguity.

Even though he had never learned any spell before, he knew well that if such immensely powerful forces went wrong, they were far more dangerous than qi deviation—likely to end his life instantly. For his own safety, Han Li was painstakingly cautious, refusing to take the slightest risk.

After three months of deep study, Han Li finally fully comprehended these incantations in theory, and thus began his actual spell practice.

This hands-on learning delivered a heavy blow to Han Li.

He had assumed that, with the same cleverness he used to master the “Blinking Sword Technique,” learning spells would not be difficult. But to his shock, he became astonishingly clumsy—though he understood the principles, he could not execute them correctly: his hand movements were wrong, his incantations mispronounced, or his spiritual power insufficient; he felt utterly dull and inept.

Han Li had no solution for this. If the problem were insufficient spiritual power, he could resolve it—just consume two more spirit herbs.

But this was clearly a problem of innate inability—he had to conclude, after all his hard work, that his talent for spellcasting was far worse than he had imagined.

After prolonged, grueling practice, Han Li finally achieved minor success with the “Fireball Technique” and “Heavenly Eye Technique,” but the other three spells remained completely beyond his reach—he could not even cross their threshold.

Disheartened, he focused all his attention solely on the spells he could now master—the “Fireball Technique” and “Heavenly Eye Technique”—placing great hope in them.

The power of the “Fireball Technique” did not disappoint Han Li—it far exceeded his expectations.

Though the fireball was small, the terrifying heat within it was nearly unstoppable, capable of igniting and destroying anything.

Even steel weapons, upon contact with the fireball, would instantly melt into molten iron at the point of impact.

After witnessing this inhuman power, Han Li even tested the fireball on water—and the entire surface erupted like oil, igniting instantly, showing no sign of being suppressed by water.

Only after fully understanding the power of the “Fireball Technique” did Han Li finally comprehend why Yu Zitong looked down on ordinary mortals with such arrogance.

Imagine—a cultivator who knew even a little magic could effortlessly slay so-called masters of the martial world with a minor spell like the “Fireball Technique.” What if a more powerful cultivator struck? He could sweep the entire martial world, invincible under heaven.

With such a vast disparity in strength, it was no wonder cultivators like Yu Zitong viewed ordinary people as mere ants.

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