Chapter 3: The Chick Eagle Takeoff Decree

The Immortal Sect is different from any known cultivation sect today—it is unique.

Inheriting from the previous civilization era, it places extreme importance on mortals, not viewing them merely as a swarm of ants whose sole purpose is to produce spiritual root cultivators.

The “Sixty-Eighth Set of the Chick Eagle Takeoff Decree” is a product of this philosophy, conceived on the very first day cultivators were discovered, over ten thousand years ago, and refined over generations by the Immortal Sect’s sages, including numerous Soul Transformation ancestors and countless Nascent Soul cultivators; it has now undergone sixty-eight iterations.

Even now, one of the core main threads in the Central Array Spirit computer continues to simulate the sixty-ninth generation of the “Chick Eagle Takeoff Decree.”

Should a breakthrough occur, even the current Soul Transformation ancestors might devote themselves to accelerating its development.

This is an unprecedented breakthrough in the cultivation world.

Those major and minor sects, sacred sites—perhaps they possess such capability, perhaps not—but they would never divert vast resources and high-level cultivators into such a project.

On every street, qi-refining cultivators abound, yet those in the Three Stages of Body Tempering are rare—either minors, the disabled, or lazy street loafers.

This % novel {first; release, > Please ! go : to : read!

The bus screeched to a halt with a hissing release of air like a fart; elementary students surged aboard, chattering loudly, then Jiang Ding and the others boarded, scanned the interior once, found no surprise, and took a stand by the window rail.

Shaped like an eight-sided Han sword, one meter thirty centimeters long, sharpened, forged from N2702 Anti-Cultivation Steel, inherently possessing a faint anti-cultivation effect, further enhanced slightly when infused with internal qi.

Behind the tank marched twelve students from Class 3, Grade 12, each shouldering an 89-type heavy machine gun weighing 125 kilograms, standing nearly in two straight lines, strictly aligned with the tank’s width—irrelevant to cultivators, but for these still mortal warriors, whose bodies were as fragile as paper, this was the only defense left after enemy cultivators breached their own cultivator lines on the battlefield.

Jiang Ding stopped beneath the No. 18 bus stop sign and waited in a less crowded corner for the bus.

Rather, the “Chick Eagle Takeoff Decree” is in fact a cultivation technique; even with the Rongcheng Array Spirit computer’s assistance, its difficulty is beyond imagination.

From his perspective, he could clearly see the meridians and muscles of the figure undergo dozens, even hundreds of complex changes in less than half a second, like countless springs of varying sizes within the body compressing, gathering forces to accumulate energy for the next explosive strike.

Shhh! Shhh! Shhh! Sharp piercing sounds.

The pale blue figure was like a spring wound to its limit; in an instant, it shifted from absolute stillness to blinding speed, using the sword tip as a brush to trace a perfect circle around itself.

Of course, even so, the primordial threshold remains one only a few can cross.

Hundreds of muscle lines transitioned from taut to release, following a certain rule, as graceful as a piano master performing, brimming with rhythmic beauty.

“Not bad,” Li Junhao said gravely. “In a few more months, you may break through Skin Tempering and enter Muscle Tempering.”

Thus, long ago, Blue Fluorescence Star fully lifted restrictions on civilian firearm ownership, requiring even junior high students to begin firearms training.

Several other vertebrae also received minor enhancements.

Fortunately, though Rongcheng hasn’t suffered a cultivator invasion in many years, online news of such events elsewhere occasionally surfaces, and people haven’t descended into complete panic.

Historically, every fleeting high-level cultivator with four spiritual roots was someone who obtained an extraordinary, heaven-defying opportunity—there was absolutely no possibility of replication.

The vast majority of mortal martial arts were created by mortals and low-level cultivators; with their limited abilities and insight, they could never achieve true cultivation continuity.

By six-thirty in the afternoon, there were already some people here.

“How’s the progress?” he asked without lifting his eyelids.

“Don’t panic! Exit orderly—the police are already handling it…” The driver, equally flustered, opened the doors and organized passengers to disembark from both front and rear exits.

Each student took it for granted, retrieving their backpacks in turn.

A medium tank rolled through the school gate, its 100mm cannon slightly elevated, faintly revealing bright rifling; a 12.7mm dual-purpose machine gun mounted behind angled forty-five degrees skyward, its armor smooth and thick, five pairs of tracks turning, forcing students along the way to scatter.

“Hurry!”

Ding ding ding…

Why is the meridian flow in the preparatory stance the most efficient?

“Disassemble! Maintain!” Hua Bing shouted.

“…Never use firearms for any purpose other than self-defense.”

Over thirty students began moving, the sound of clicks rising and falling.

“Sword Concealment Posture.”

“Step Sword Posture.”

The effect demonstrated was at least three times weaker than the figure’s force accumulation—even if the figure was entirely modeled from his own muscle, meridian, and bone data with identical base parameters.

“They say that cultivation geniuses improve their technique by 5–6% each session and enhance Bone Tempering by over ten percent—over time, how high have they ascended?”

Jiang Ding cultivates the “Sixty-Eighth Set of the Chick Eagle Takeoff Sword Art”! Unfortunately, the difficulty of a technique often matches its power. He began martial arts at age seven, and after nine years, he remains only at the Proficient stage—far from even Minor Mastery!

The blade slid soundlessly into its scabbard; Jiang Ding’s body trembled slightly as he struggled to calm his heavy breathing, slowly exhaling stale air, sweat pouring from every pore, soaking his clothes instantly, clinging to his skin.

Jiang Ding felt energized: “Ten more repetitions, and I’ll forge the first vertebra. Give me thirty more days—will I break through Qi Refining?”

Jiang Ding looked around; the once-busy road had halted, crowds of citizens noisily dispersing, doors opening where walls and lawns once stood, red air raid shelter signs glaringly visible.

Amid mechanical sounds, the blue figure moved: right foot stepped forward, knee slightly bent, left hand resting on the scabbard, right hand sliding from waist to grip the hilt.

Would even emptying all rounds from his Type 58 pistol fail to pierce her shield or scratch her?

The driver shouted explanations, fumbling in the cabinet for an AK-47.

“Charge Sword Posture.”

Jiang Ding followed the crowd, trailing behind a group of children as they disembarked.

He examined each component meticulously—checking for wear, verifying bullet integrity—unlike powerful Qi Refining cultivators, these were things that genuinely affected his survival.

This doesn’t mean students at Rongcheng No. 1 High, touted as the city’s top high school, are all slackers—the entire class has only three Qi Refining cultivators.

Jiang Ding quickly stepped aside.

According to online data, the most popular mortal martial arts are the “Nine Yang Divine Art” and the “Nine Yin Divine Art”—the former strengthens the body and nourishes essence and qi, the latter nourishes yin and enhances beauty, with equally potent true qi effects, sufficient to serve as the cornerstone art of any mortal sect, accessible only to core Dichuan .

Glancing around, others were also finishing.

Although Rongcheng No. 1 High is the city’s best high school, producing the most students admitted to university Daoist departments each year, its martial arts faculty is not the strongest, so it fails to attract top-tier martial geniuses, who mostly concentrate at No. 7 Middle School.

This material is also commonly used in bullet manufacturing; at supersonic speeds and spin, it can partially block cultivator spiritual sense interference, preventing deviation from the original trajectory due to minor spiritual sense disturbances.

Type 62 Training Tank! A thought surfaced in Jiang Ding’s mind.

Extending limbs, the body gradually expanded, matching Jiang Ding’s height, shoulder width, arm length—all identical, yet composed of pale blue light, every muscle, every bone, every tiny meridian clearly visible, annotated with tiny characters.

Three steps became one; he lifted the milky-white Nourishing Essence and Strengthening Bone Soup and drank it all at once—the temperature was still perfect, not cooled despite sitting so long.

But the tracks, cannon muzzle, and other vulnerable spots were another matter.

Including the preparatory stance, the “Chick Eagle Takeoff Sword Art” has only nine postures, emphasizing extreme speed and explosive power, merging cultivation and combat into one—a brilliant sword art exhausting all research into meridians, muscles, and bones; if mastered to Minor Mastery, paired with a sharp blade, killing ordinary Qi Refining warriors becomes effortless, a mere flick of the wrist.

Open the box.

With the Rongcheng Array Spirit computer’s assistance, he would be a genius among geniuses in any world limited to mortal martial arts transmission—dimensional suppression makes it no surprise he has reached the peak of Qi Refining.

Spiritual sense extended; the Type 58 pistol hovered in midair, automatically disassembling into over thirty components—barrel, recoil spring, slide, firing pin, magazine—the gun oil bottle opened automatically, applying lubricant.

Soon, a strong stench of sweat reached his nose.

“Four percent!”

A group of chattering elementary students provided the loudest noise and most energy; besides them were weary office workers, mostly Qi Refining cultivators, carrying gun cases on their backs—not Jiang Ding’s self-defense pistols, but assault rifles, shotguns, and other combat firearms.

“Just an illusion.”

Jiang Ding followed the figure’s sword dance—advancing with a sudden thrust, turning right to slash, circling a single point with rapid consecutive stabs; the blade hissed through the air as his figure filled the hundred-square-meter training room.

The truth was, if he cultivated any martial art other than the “Chick Eagle Takeoff Decree,” he might already have a chance at Primordial.

Jiang Ding knew this was not simply holding a sword in hand.

Many, after graduating high school or most vocational students, abandon the “Chick Eagle Takeoff Decree” and switch to mortal martial arts, naturally progressing far faster.

“Arm Sword Posture.”

The surrounding air stilled.

“Class dismissed!”

“Harmonize Sword Posture.”

“Starting from the first row, orderly collect your backpacks.” She swiped her student card across the display beside the iron cabinet, and small doors opened one by one, revealing backpacks of various colors.

“This outdated tactic should’ve been phased out long ago—the army’s current squad composition has long shifted to tanks plus several or a dozen self-propelled artillery pieces, eliminating enemies beyond the mid-to-low-level cultivator’s spiritual sense range of dozens of kilometers.”

Jiang Ding thought silently.

“Formation! Formation!”

“Hurry to the air raid shelter…”

Though Blue Fluorescence Star is barren, it occasionally produces a heavenly treasure that drives outside cultivators mad—Anti-Cultivation Immortal Metal—causing them to risk life and death, especially elderly cultivators nearing the end of their lifespan.

“Qi Refining Great Completion? Qi Refining Perfect?”

Class monitor Hua Bing stood on the podium, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

By the time he reassembled it and secured the pistol in his waist holster, thirty-two seconds had passed. “Extend Sword Posture.”

The only drawback: the cultivation path is severed.

Whether school or company, monthly air raid drills are held; though chaotic, crowds remain orderly.

“Goodbye, monitor!”

After several minutes, the noise gradually faded; Jiang Ding opened his eyes.

Li Junhao remarked:

“Official notice: Cultivators have breached the boundary—forward passage prohibited.”

“Preparatory Stance.”

“Keep going.”

“First: Firearms must be safetied; never point the muzzle at a person—violators will be treated as drunk drivers;”

For over ten thousand years, Blue Fluorescence Star has intermittently interfaced with the cultivation world, with outside cultivators or warriors suddenly teleporting into it, causing major casualties to nearby residents.

Soon, Jiang Ding received his gray backpack and a black sheathed sword beside it; he fastened the sword at his waist, then took a box from his backpack.

“Fall? So what? It’s only ten meters high—can’t get hurt.”

Jiang Ding gripped the hilt, his posture identical to the blue figure’s, closed his eyes, and felt the tension building in his muscles and meridians.

Unaware, class ended; the pale blue figure slowly vanished, the bright training room lights turned off in sequence, and the training room door slowly opened.

“Dirty Sword Posture.”

Jiang Ding felt discouraged, but he grew calm, quietly reflecting on which of his movements were off—the rhythm and sequence of his muscles and meridians compared to the shadow figure.

Ding! Jiang Ding’s heart leapt; he quickly looked up at the shadow figure before him.

A dozen Type 62 tanks rumbled past, kicking up clouds of dust.

Jiang Ding did as instructed, but the circles he drew always had a slight discordance, a deviation, unable to fully release the stored power.

The “Eagle’s First Flight Sword Art” delves too deeply into the human body, placing immense strain on it; without the School’s Nian Yuan Zhuang Gu Soup, short-term practice is tolerable, but prolonged neglect of supplementation easily ruins the cultivator.

Jiang Ding silently pondered the pathways of meridians and muscles shown in the shadow figure during cultivation class, combining them with the foundational principles of cultivation taught in Chinese and math lessons.

“Sword Turn.”

Unfortunately, perhaps due to impatience, his movements were incomplete; this time, not even one percent progress was made, let alone four percent.

Along the way, most were classmates returning from the cultivation room—some slumped shoulders, steps unsteady, clearly pushed too hard.

10558, Type 58 self-defense pistol, manufactured by Lu Ban Arms Technology, six-round magazine, firing 7.62mm N2702 anti-magic steel rounds, effective range fifty meters, capable of piercing the internal qi defense of a Qi Refining mid-stage cultivator; two consecutive shots to the same point, or three consecutive hits, can break the defense of a Qi Refining peak cultivator.

Of course, its main purpose is self-defense—to buy time to escape. That’s why they were issued pistols.

Place your hand on the hilt.

Jiang Ding grabbed his backpack and leapt out the window.

Jiang Ding rinsed off for a few minutes, changed into a blue-and-white school uniform, and stepped out of the cultivation room.

“Hey, drivers, slow down! Formation’s falling apart!”

“Only Qi Refining mid-stage? Afraid your magic power won’t hold you up?” someone muttered enviously.

Jiang Ding’s mind instinctively surfaced the data of the pistol he’d carried since middle school.

A Primordial cultivator could easily attain middle-class status.

In the classroom, students gradually returned; Jiang Ding found his seat and closed his eyes to rest.

The proficiency of the “Eagle’s First Flight Sword Art” increased by one point, rising to 33% proficiency—another small step toward minor mastery.

After practicing over a dozen times like this, he finally gained something.

His case was normal; upstairs, some directly used lightness arts and wind-riding spells to leap over ten meters, others hopped along treetops and vanished, while the wealthy flew through the sky with magic treasure flying swords, astonishingly graceful, drawing envious glances.

“That’s Gong Sun Ling from Class Two—also Qi Refining sixth layer. I heard she just got her flying magic artifact pilot license a few days ago.” Li Junhao climbed down from the window, envious.

“Mom, I’m scared…”

As for heavy machine guns, sniper rifles, or twin-mounted anti-aircraft guns, purchasing and collecting them is possible, but bringing them into public spaces is extremely difficult—personal firearm permits for such weapons are rarely issued.

His body leaned back; wind blew in from the window, bringing a faint chill.

A warmth sank from his throat into his stomach, then spread through his entire body, instantly easing the agony.

“Class Three’s field exercise is back.”

Boom~ Boom~~ As he reached the school gate, the powerful roar of engines echoed from afar, rising and falling.

Even if a Primordial cultivator forcibly switched to cultivation arts, risking nine deaths and one chance of survival, the best outcome would still be only Qi Refining first or second layer, with drastically reduced lifespan.

!.

The aura wasn’t an illusion—it was the brain sensing danger and issuing a warning in this form, urging the body to retreat from the threat.

Of the 639 muscles, 52 could not be perfectly charged—mainly the smooth muscles of the digestive system and bladder, and the cardiac muscle; even after completing the “Refined Flesh” stage, he still could not perfectly train these areas.

Inside was clearly a black pistol and a full magazine: the Type 58 self-defense pistol.

Jiang Ding felt pain everywhere, his stomach burning.

How could one possibly cultivate internal qi into the bone marrow? Jiang Ding’s talent, though bottom-tier on Blue Fluorescence Star.

The process of mundane martial cultivation forcibly destroys countless tiny meridians invisible to most martial artists, dragging an already abysmal talent below the floor line.

Of course, with her Qi Refining sixth layer power, the Type 58 self-defense pistol was merely symbolic, offering no real protection.

Thus, many cultivators disliked staying in the cockpit and preferred to control via spiritual sense.

Instantly,

The most popular was the “Little Yin-Yang Art” secret technique.

A student with slightly dark skin sat cross-legged atop the turret, meditating.

Normally, the driver should be in the cab; the front armor of the Type 62 tank could withstand attacks from late-stage Qi Refining cultivators without damage.

Jiang Ding’s fingers moved like shadows, disassembling the pistol into uneven parts, applying maintenance oil to each, then reassembling it.

“Extraterrestrial cultivator invasion?”

Poor him could only walk on the ground, backpack on back, step by step.

The carriage fell silent for a moment, then erupted.

Sudden air raid sirens and braking jolted Jiang Ding awake from his thoughts; he gripped his sword hilt tightly, scanning his surroundings.

Can we adjust it a little? Wuu~~ Hoo~~ Wuu~~ Squeak!

Without resting, he immediately practiced another set of sword techniques.

Though merely a silhouette of pale blue lines with no skin, a heavy aura now spread from it, standing firm like an ancient pine.

In casual chat, the two waved goodbye at the intersection.

“First, secure the firearm—begin!” Hua Bing started; everyone followed.

But he was still the bottom-tier martial talent of Blue Fluorescence Star!

“Today, continue practicing the Sixty-Eighth Set of Eagle’s First Flight Sword Art.” Jiang Ding said, taking a blue steel sword from the weapon rack.

A hair’s breadth off, and the result is miles apart.

Jiang Ding glanced at the sweet girl in the sky, his heart filled with equal envy.

“Second, on the bus, give way to the elderly and children…”

The Sixty-Eighth Set of Eagle’s First Flight Sword Art was a standardized textbook on Blue Fluorescence Star, covering sword, knife, fist, staff, and more—anything you wanted, you could find it there.

Though Rongcheng City remained peaceful, with no extraterrestrial cultivator invasions or killings for many years, preparation could not be neglected.

Jiang Ding shook his head: “It’s not that simple. Extraterrestrial cultivators increasingly favor concealment, earth-walking, or water-walking mobility spells. Our infantry spirit-wave radar can’t always locate or lock onto enemies.”

The first vertebra of the pale blue figure’s body flickered, its value rising from 62% to 66%.

The small figure on the screen moved.

“Missiles!”

Someone in the crowd cried out.

Jiang Ding looked up.

One, two, three… hundreds of white trails streaked across the sky, trailing fire, moving far beyond supersonic speed, leaving only afterimages on the retina before vanishing.

(End of Chapter)