Chapter 8: Heavy Machine Gun

After more than ten minutes, Jiang Ding’s arms began to tremble, aching fiercely; the thudding sound of machine guns hitting the ground echoed around him, only for him to pick them up again under the instructor’s sharp barks.

The hundred-kilogram weight that had seemed negligible at first now felt as heavy as a mountain.

Jiang Ding ignored the physical pain, focusing his mind on the dynamic visualization in his mind’s eye—each muscle turning like gears in orderly sequence, each mechanical formula flashing and vanishing.

Gradually, he entered a state of empty clarity.

The aching in his body vanished; he thought of nothing, only the silent, orderly rotation of the mechanical giant in his mind.

“Time’s up!”

Amid the chorus of heavy machine guns crashing to the ground, Jiang Ding opened his eyes, his body trembling.

Compared to endless problem-solving and studying, the repetitive firing of machine guns, and especially this real, hands-on combat, stirred the blood of the teenagers far more.

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Hold your breath, let the Golden Seal flow through your entire body, stabilize your frame, and use the Thousand Threads to adjust the weapon.

“I’ll go!”

“Now, Hidden Blade style!”

Ding! Ding ding!

Practicing these two martial arts was this repetitive, this dull.

Around eleven in the morning, during the fourth class, Zhang Ding came back from the Qi Refining students, carrying a steel long-axe over two meters tall.

“I’ll say it again: maintain a regular schedule, keep training,” Jiang Ding glanced at him. “Skin and muscle refinement are the foundation of martial arts—how hard can it be to break through? Keep at it, and you’ll reap rewards.”

Li Junhao held his breath; from his viewpoint, the silver light flashed by in an instant—he had no time to react.

“Damn, Jiang Ding’s got guts—he didn’t drop it for twenty minutes.”

With the sword hilt in hand, he felt an unexpected surge of security.

Yanzi-1’s eyes flickered, completed its self-check, flapped its wings, and soared into the sky; simultaneously, a series of images appeared in the panoramic helmet.

After the students relaxed for a while, Zhang Ding roared again.

“Reverse Spear!” “Has Sun Xiao mastered a new martial art? No wonder he dares to challenge!” Li Junhao exclaimed.

“This…”

After catching his breath, he aimed at a target constantly moving unpredictably at the speed of a Qi Refining third-layer cultivator using Wind Manipulation, squeezing the trigger repeatedly—the roar never ceased, shell casings flying. This was even harder; it took over fifty rounds before he finally shattered the target.

“Free activity.”

Zhang Ding waved his hand, his figure flickering as he flew toward the Qi Refining students using Wind Manipulation.

At the shout, Jiang Ding opened his eyes; the aching in his arms and knee joints eased, temporarily relieved.

“Lost again—damn, freak!” The surrounding students cursed under their breath but dared not approach, knowing they’d be instantly defeated if they did.

“Yes, Instructor!”

The Thousand Threads technique was currently only mastered to the level of “Ten Threads,” capable of dividing one force into ten.

Jiang Ding stepped forward and unhesitatingly chose a steel sword about a meter long.

Having been overpowered by a Bone Refining martial artist, the Third Squad leader Li Hu lost face and swung his great axe upward.

A tidal wave of muscle ache surged over him, nearly drowning him; it took a long while to recover, and he set down the heavy machine gun with slow, jerky motions.

A flash of silver light—Jiang Ding sheathed his sword and scanned the surroundings.

The blade flowed like water, racing along the spear shaft at high speed, swiftly nearing his fingers, its edge icy cold.

Another Inner Qi cultivator stepped forward; after a clatter of clashes, he was defeated.

Boom! Amid fire and smoke, the bullet shot out, traveling faster than 2000 meters per second, reaching the target in two and a half seconds.

Cultivators strive toward tank operation and control, inherently standing at the endpoint of martial artists.

“I lost,” Sun Xiao took a deep breath.

At this moment, he truly envied cultivators—they had specialized spells to control firearms, their spiritual sense and magic power granting them extraordinary precision, easily achieving a perfect forty points on light weapons.

“Ready stance.”

Sun Xiao’s face darkened; he stepped back quickly, then thrust forward suddenly—white light flashed, his speed more than doubled, and in an instant he lunged into Jiang Ding’s chest.

“Wind speed…”

Finally, on the sixth shot, he hit the target, blasting its head into fragments.

“Cold weapons—knives, spears, swords, halberds, staves—have little use on the battlefield, only occasionally useful in rare special circumstances,” Zhang Ding lifted the long-axe with one hand. “But the Immortal Sect’s enemies use them—and they’re mainstream: magical swords, magical shields, magical water beads—all equally terrifying in power.”

Zhang Ding glanced at Li Junhao and the others, frowning inwardly but saying nothing.

“Everyone else is the same—Inner Qi martial artists train like dogs, still can’t beat Bone Refining.”

“Next, freely choose sparring partners. Whoever lands a weapon strike on the torso wins.” Zhang Ding pulled back a camouflage cloth, revealing a pile of cold weapons.

He called the students over and formed a circle.

Other students adopted various stances—some held long spears loosely, others pounded the ground—all variations of Hidden Blade style.

Hidden Blade style—one of the Nine Sword Forms! It relaxes muscles, stores power, and conceals qi—far superior to mere massage or meridian unblocking.

Jiang Ding tapped the activation button in his helmet’s view.

Sun Xiao’s face changed—he had to release his grip, letting the spear fall; before he could react, a thread of sword light flashed, stopping precisely at his throat, halted by his bulletproof camouflage suit.

“Activate.”

!.

“I’ll go!”

“I really envy you.”

“Understood?” “Good!”

The students each chose their own cold weapons—varied and diverse; especially Li Junhao, whose primary cold weapon was a pair of meteor hammers.

Bluetooth connected to the panoramic helmet.

“Thus, the Immortal Sect offers cold weapons as an elective—you don’t have to use them, but you must understand them; the Gaokao is worth forty points total.”

Zhang Ding made a diagonal motion with the long-axe: “The ‘Eagle’s First Flight Scripture’ is a technique that unifies movement and strike; many Immortal Sect martial arts derive from it, including my own ‘Long-Armed Ape Axe.’”

“Retreat!”

After selecting their weapons, the students did not immediately spar; all eyes turned toward Jiang Ding.

He dared not waste ammunition again—after each shot, he paused, carefully pondering, deeply sensing the heavy recoil of the machine gun, using the Golden Seal to dissipate it, observing wind speed, humidity, and adjusting the weapon bit by bit with the Thousand Threads.

“Bullshit—why don’t you go? You don’t even have Inner Qi…”

With the long sword in hand, Jiang Ding’s mind grew calm; he nodded.

“The Golden Seal hasn’t even deformed—he’s stronger than some Inner Qi students…”

Jiang Ding spoke loudly, his heart filled with joy.

“Is Sun Xiao challenging again? He’s lost how many times already?”

Jiang Ding showed a hint of surprise, sidestepped, and his sword scraped violently against the spear’s side—sparks flew; the Reverse Spear strike missed entirely.

Jiang Ding picked up the heavy machine gun on the ground and walked toward the firing position, casually opening the box beside his waist containing the Yanzi-1 drone.

Jiang Ding muttered to himself.

Boom! Second shot, third shot…

Compared to the drone Jiang Ding bought online, this one had higher precision, better image quality—even ants crawling on the ground were clearly visible; moreover, it could detect and mark hidden stationary targets.

Missed.

One after another, most students stepped forward—some lasted six or seven moves, others just one or two; battles ended in an instant.

Real Qi Refining third-layer cultivators were far more cunning than targets—they had spiritual sense, covering roughly thirty meters, and could use distance-viewing spells; even with bullets flying at multiple times the speed of sound, they could see them coming and dodge or hide in advance.

Jiang Ding frowned.

His footwork shifted again, evading the third thrust, then swiftly slipping inside the steel spear’s inner arc.

He knew these few had entered No. 1 High School; though their martial cultivation was poor, their academic scores must be decent—but he still disliked them.

Ding! Ding! Jiang Ding drew his sword—a precise circular arc flashed, perfectly blocking the spear’s side; his steps flowed like water, draining most of the force before delivering another strike, tapping the spear’s side and deflecting it.

He knew it was tied to the broken sword tip—it greatly enhanced his insight; this time, the fleeting flashes of inspiration he’d missed before were finally caught.

Over two hours later.

Shh! The steel spear in hand seemed to transform into a writhing serpent, striking three times in rapid succession, forming three star-points of light that shot toward Jiang Ding’s entire body.

The difference lay in whether one quickly entered the state—muscles relaxed and rested—or merely closed their eyes, posing, twitching their bodies uselessly, draining themselves internally.

A palm-sized swallow perched at the bottom of the box, its eyes gleaming like gemstones.

“Unbeatable…”

Zhang Ding praised generously: “Your Golden Seal must have broken through—remember this feeling; it will help you enter the Inner Qi realm.”

Inner Qi challenging Bone Refining—surrounding students weren’t surprised; they gathered closer.

Hum! Zhang Ding slashed diagonally—the air exploded into a gale that swept outward, making the students’ clothes flap violently; then he swept horizontally, severing the newly formed gale, leaving all eight directions still.

Extended Sword! Footwork Sword! “Damn! Again? Even though Sun Xiao’s speed and strength far exceed his, how does he dodge it?” Other sword-wielding students stared wide-eyed, dissatisfied.

Jiang Ding drew many astonished glances.

“Jiang Ding!” Sun Xiao, First Squad leader, held a two-meter steel spear, smiling faintly: “Wanna try?”

“Not worth it—better to train the ‘Eagle’s First Flight Scripture’ and advance to the next realm…” someone shook his head.

“One warning, two demerits, three strikes and you’re expelled!”

Soon, targets appeared four thousand five hundred meters away—human-sized, standing, crouching, or hiding behind trees.

After five moves, the long sword halted at his throat.

Li Junhao dragged the heavy machine gun behind him, weak and listless; holding the gun steady was difficult for him, his Hidden Blade practice insufficient, no rest gained—this class was torture for him.

Li Junhao’s face showed hesitation.

No matter the reason, no matter how justified you feel, you’ve suffered great injustice.

“Yes, Instructor!” Jiang Ding and the others shouted in unison.

Moreover, your academic score is very high, which greatly aids your cultivation of martial arts.

Jiang Ding sighed and continued training; around him, classmates fired continuously, kicking up clouds of dust.

Jiang Ding moved to the shooting position, dropped to his knees, set down the heavy machine gun, loaded the ammunition belt, pressed his left eye to the scope, and aimed at target one.

Jiang Ding stood firm, performed the motion of sheathing a longsword, and slowly closed his eyes.

“Next is live-fire shooting. I’ve set targets at four thousand five hundred meters. Each of you is allotted two hundred rounds.” Zhang Ding’s tone paused, then turned stern: “Under no circumstances may you point your weapon at your classmates!”

“Understood.”

He had reached the Minor Qi Refining realm, the highest among his classmates in that stage.

“I’m done!”

“You beast!”

In the end, no one would spar with Jiang Ding anymore; he alone chose an open patch of ground to practice swordplay.

Zhang Ding moved among the combatants, offering occasional guidance, correcting their striking and parrying techniques.

(End of Chapter)