Chapter 143: Divine Art, Like the Crane Arrives

After delivering meals several times, Chu Tianshu noticed he hadn’t seen the principal.

He carried a thermos and searched around, finding the principal in the quiet room filled with canvases.

“What’s the principal doing?”

“The killing intent on these canvases has been drained by you. If left hanging in the snow and wind, the fabric may warp and the figures distort.”

Feng Jianhua sighed lightly, muttering as he rolled up each painting.

Chu Tianshu observed closely and noticed that although Feng Jianhua’s skin no longer flaked dry as before, his lips were still cracked.

“Principal, I brought some hot water—have another sip.”

Feng Jianhua saw the thermos, let out a burp, and immediately straightened up, gently stroking from his collarbone down to his stomach.

“No, I just drank a lot of water right after returning—I’ve drunk so much my body can’t process it anymore.”

Feng Jianhua said, “Though my internal energy helps convert water, the dehydration caused by cultivation far exceeds my ability to replenish it.”

“Even when water reaches my throat, I still feel thirsty—I can only wait and slowly recover over these next few months.”

Chu Tianshu pondered: “Your internal energy is quite strong—pure and refined. Isn’t your internal cultivation scripture the best one in the Golden Knife Martial School? Could I learn it?”

“I can trade you another scripture.”

Feng Jianhua shook his head: “I run a martial school. Several students who studied ‘Hate Heaven Art’ didn’t offer anything of real value in exchange.”

“But knowing the art was incomplete, with flaws ahead, they still chose to learn it early in life—so I let them.”

“If you train this art, you’ll soon hit its flaw. Even if you switch to another path while still young, won’t that just be wasting your time?”

The old principal said, “I can recommend you to the Special Capture Bureau for a superior scripture. Given your performance, if you forfeit your reward, you can exchange it for a good internal cultivation method.”

Chu Tianshu paused, then asked: “How good? Will it definitely be higher rank than Hate Heaven Art?”

“This…”

Feng Jianhua said, “Even with flaws, Hate Heaven Art remains among the top-tier of modern methods. Among all internal arts collected by the Special Capture Bureau, its energy quality is the best. But you have Yellow Sprout True Qi—training other internal arts will yield even higher quality than normal.”

Chu Tianshu immediately said: “What if I train Hate Heaven Art with Yellow Sprout True Qi?”

Feng Jianhua laughed: “You’ve really taken a liking to this art, haven’t you?”

Chu Tianshu said, “I’m just curious. Young people like me have boundless curiosity—if I can’t see it, I won’t sleep well at night!”

This was true.

Either way, whether I see it or not, I’ll be fighting in my dreams.

“Sigh!”

Feng Jianhua sighed helplessly: “Fine, I’ll let you see it.”

He carried the bundled canvases upstairs; Chu Tianshu followed behind.

After placing the canvases on the second floor, they climbed to the third.

Feng Jianhua made no effort to hide it—he opened the door, reached into the wardrobe, and pulled out the scripture.

Chu Tianshu took the scripture and flipped through it carefully, but his mind was elsewhere.

The token’s screen reappeared; he directed his will, scrolled the list, and locked onto one demonic material.

[River Drifter: In the swift current of the Dajiang, a person is swept under, drowned in silt, rotting yet uncorrupted, their resentment thick, all seven orifices sealed.

One day, the corpse rises from the water, coinciding with a full moon—then bones scatter, the soul ascends, riding moonlight and water to drift.

Trait: Causes excessive water in the body, sealing mouth and nose, swelling the body until death.

Causes the possessed to develop layered water networks beneath the skin, enabling power redirection and release; under moonlight, they go mad, laughing endlessly, leaving wet footprints wherever they go.]

This demon belongs to the Water Ghost category.

If I select this demon’s trait to refine materials and simulate Principal Feng’s art,

Could I eliminate the side effects and fully unleash its potential?

Theoretically possible—but no guarantee.

Chu Tianshu searched further.

In the southeast, where water is abundant, the proportion of ghosts turned demons from drowning is not insignificant.

He found another: the Bitter Well Woman.

[Bitter Well Woman: In deep courtyards, three generations of women died in a well; the water is bitter and green, and the serpent of vengeance seeks retribution.

The resentment and corpse qi of three generations of kin, fused with the ancient well’s water vein, give birth to a demon shaped like a serpent, three feet long, with three heads.

Trait: Carries endless toxic water, fires toxic darts that pierce bamboo at three zhang.]

First, select a few weaker demons to meet the minimum refinement threshold.

Later, use the Bitter Well Woman’s trait as the core and test the simulation.

“Enough, stop standing by the door.”

Feng Jianhua waved him off: “Go downstairs, find a room and sit.”

Chu Tianshu walked down with the book.

At the stairwell on the second floor was a large hall.

It had sofas, chairs, fruit, a refrigerator, potted plants, and porcelain vats holding calligraphy and paintings.

In the corner stood a stone trough, apparently for washing brushes; the faucet was broken—or something—and dripped slowly into the trough.

The snow and wind came and went, making it hard to tell which day was colder.

But during those days when Chu Tianshu trained below, he hadn’t heard the dripping from upstairs.

Now it seemed the climate was indeed improving.

Chu Tianshu sat on any sofa and quietly read the scripture, the drip-drip-drip accompanying him.

Feng Jianhua peeked at him once, then went downstairs.

[Art Material:

Hate Heaven Art.

The twelve regular meridians are rivers and streams; the eight extraordinary meridians are mountain paths; countless fine vessels stretch endlessly—how better than to spread wings and sweep across the land!

Ordinary qi is like a small boat on the river; training this art makes internal energy surge with astonishing speed.

Like soaring freely over the river, cultivating the great roc’s power to rise nine heavens high.

But Kuafu chased the sun, drank dry the great marshes, and still died. The great roc flies skyward, never turning back—clouds and mist are unreliable; eventually, it suffers from thirst.]

Chu Tianshu flipped through the scripture several times, then summoned the token, viewing the art’s material description.

After flipping through the secret manual several times, Chu Tianshu summoned his token and viewed the description of the martial art’s materials.

He selected the Bitter Well Woman as the core, gathered a batch of weaker demons, and began the simulation.

Soon, the token displayed completion.

A flood of art content surged into Chu Tianshu’s mind; compared to the original text, the changes were minimal.

The revised and optimized portions amounted to less than one-twentieth.

But Chu Tianshu caught the key point.

“...When this art reaches its later stages, if fully activated, dehydration occurs within two kezhong.”

Chu Tianshu’s eyes gleamed.

Two kezhong! The token really can do this.

He no longer hesitated—he selected the River Drifter, refined a large quantity of materials.

“Heh, first time fighting such a lavish battle.”

[Refinement complete…

Simulation complete…

Chuitianshengong .

Countless fine vessels stretch endlessly—spread wings and soar, covering mountains and seas!

When the great roc rides wind and mist, it can ascend to the ninth heaven; even if fate denies freedom, it can still strike water for three thousand li.

Upon completion, true qi flows endlessly, with a soaring, boundless spirit. As long as true qi endures, willpower never fades—like a vast ocean, water cycles endlessly, the kun-peng transformation, rain and wind descending from heaven!]

Indeed, the water-depletion flaw was gone.

Chu Tianshu savored the art in his mind—first elated, then sensing something subtle.

When he fought Li Guangzong, he’d felt Li’s lack of combat sensitivity in certain areas.

Later encounters revealed others with greater combat wisdom; the flaw was less obvious.

But now, with this detailed internal art in his mind, he had to admit:

Internal arts seem inherently slower than pure body cultivation.

Because internal energy forcibly interferes with bodily functions.

For ordinary people, this interference optimizes all bodily functions.

But for Chu Tianshu, whose body is already strong and pure, this forced interference may reduce his sensitivity.

Even the seemingly beneficial “true qi endures, willpower never fades” effect of the Chuitianshengong would likely cost him subtle declines in reflexes.

Unconsciousness, sometimes, is the body’s protection.

“They say Yellow Sprout True Qi strengthens the body when training internal arts—does this strength mean only increased power and defense, or does it enhance everything, like mine?”

Chu Tianshu compared the Shaolin Challenge and the Chuitianshengong , pondering long.

Hmm. Rather than immediately training the Chuitianshengong , better to fully experience the “Martial Stove God” realm first.

Understand every function of the body in this realm, imprint it deeply.

Later, when internal energy emerges, if any function weakens, I can use the Sword Soul of Three-Seven Divine Sword as an observer to compare.

Once you cultivate internal strength, if any part weakens, you can use the spirit of the Three-Seven Divine Sword as an observer’s perspective to compare and detect it.

At that time, you can figure out your own way to specifically strengthen those aspects of your refinement.

Martial arts are static, but the martial artist is alive—naturally, you must have the ability to manage yourself!

“Then, when should I bring up the method to make up for the flaw? With his decades of cultivation experience, I don’t need to explain it clearly—just say that because I have Yellow Sprout True Qi, I’ve had some insights…”

As long as the insight is correct, that’s enough for Feng Jianhua.

But if I mention it these next two days, it would be too absurd.

There are still ten days until the forced transit—let’s wait a few more days and see the right moment.

Ding ling ling!!

Chu Tianshu was lost in his thoughts when suddenly the red phone in the corner rang.

He stood up and called out: “Master, the phone!”

Feng Jianhua emerged from the teaching building where the wounded were, waving his hand: “Answer it first and see.”

Chu Tianshu picked up the receiver: “Hello, this is Master Feng—he’s on his way…”

“That voice—it’s little Chu, right?”

The voice on the other end said, “It’s Yuan Chongxiao. The principal’s phone must be broken, and he didn’t even think to get a backup.”

“There’s a situation I need to tell him about.”

“We found a room in Mo Shengyi’s villa, fully prepared for Yin Refinement of the Form.”

Chu Tianshu had heard of this technique.

Strictly speaking, Yin Refinement of the Form isn’t a single technique, but an entire lineage.

Like shamanic medicine, they share a common trait, yet internally are vast and profound, with both orthodox and heretical branches.

The peak popularity of Yin Refinement of the Form was during the Wei, Jin, and Southern and Northern Dynasties, when many who succeeded in practicing it transformed themselves into corpse-ghosts to extend their lives.

But later, fewer and fewer succeeded—even with identical steps and even better foundations, they often ended up killing themselves in the process.

As with many ancient techniques, few dared to seek death anymore, and even the sect’s ancestors sealed the methods away, causing them to be lost.

Still, the Ghost Market can directly source from grave robbers—so the origin of this technique goes without saying.

Mo Shengyi is nearly in his prime; he likely has no urgent need to extend his life.

He’s pursuing this for another trait of the corpse-ghost.

—All corpse-ghosts have an intense craving for blood, yearning to consume richer qi-blood.

“Just seeking thrills—but heading straight down the path of becoming something not human…”

Chu Tianshu shook his head and kept listening.

“We’ve already destroyed the room. Inside was an iron coffin still drawing in yin energy. I injured myself badly to ensure the Ghost Hawk couldn’t even become a ghost, and my companions were wounded too—we couldn’t destroy the coffin right away.”

Yuan Chongxiao said, “Luckily, someone helped us—he said he wanted to visit the Martial School.”

Chu Tianshu smiled: “Sure, I doubt the principal would refuse. Who is he?”

As he spoke, he heard wind outside the building and glanced out.

Oh, a red-crowned crane was flying through the air.

What the hell?

After a casual glance, Chu Tianshu’s eyes snapped back in shock.

It really was a red-crowned crane.

And it had landed on the windowsill, calmly preening its feathers, then lifted one claw and pushed open the window.

Its tiny crane eyes fixed directly on Chu Tianshu.

“The visitor is none other than this crane.”

Chu Tianshu blinked.

Birds understanding human intent isn’t strange—the Martial School even has a cat that does backflips and transforms.

But why can this crane speak human language?

(End of Chapter)