Chapter 5

One moment, he was sitting on his own sofa—not expensive, but comfortable.

The next, he suddenly landed sitting in an unfamiliar field of wild grass.

Chu Tianshu looked up and saw towering trees thick with leaves, and a pale, misty sky.

This was the kind of sky only seen just before dawn.

But back at his home, it had only just turned night.

He had only ever heard of day-night discrepancies in films—now he experienced one firsthand.

“Where the hell have they dumped me? Is this still within the country?”

Chu Tianshu focused and opened his senses, carefully sensing—there was no obvious yin-evil aura around him.

Is this the great fortune promised by that pendant token?

Could it be, like in web novels, that it comes with its own blessed space, and he’s now inside the pendant’s interior realm?

Just as he thought of the token, a screen suddenly unfolded before his eyes.

A half-transparent screen, one foot square, hovered in midair, its background formed by the unknown beast-face pattern on the token.

The screen was filled with moving, reorganizing characters—initially unfamiliar script, then quickly shifting into the Hanzi he knew.

【Profoundly Mysterious, All-World Patrol】

These eight large characters sat at the very top of the screen; below them were smaller ones.

"The Youdu Commander has been revived. The new lord has been confirmed."

“This token’s power: Subjugate Evil as Righteous, Devour Malice to Forge Martial Art, Absorb All Phenomena, Evolve Technique from Essence!”

Chu Tianshu read through the entire text—much of it was half-classical, half-colloquial.

In plain terms, he had become the new Lord of the token; when the Lord slays a yin-spirit, the token automatically collects its traits as raw material.

Once a certain quantity is reached, based on the Lord’s current martial arts and the spirit’s traits, targeted evolution and optimization can be performed to forge a new martial art better suited to the Lord.

The lower half of the screen showed two progress bars.

One read “Raw Material,” the other “Fate.”

The Raw Material column showed a small stockpile, enough for one evolution.

The Fate column was completely empty.

“All-World?”

Chu Tianshu paused, re-examining his surroundings.

The wording made it clear—he hadn’t traveled abroad; he was far more likely in another world.

The key to the transmigration must be that empty Fate bar.

Perhaps due to his grandfather’s teachings, Chu Tianshu was the type who clung to home.

Or rather, he preferred to operate in familiar places, at least among people he knew—this circle of familiarity could grow gradually, bit by bit, but never leap too far too fast.

At twenty-something, he’d never even left his province; now he’d been dumped into a world so alien, the unfamiliarity was off the charts.

So his first thought was: This is such a hassle.

But the token’s displayed abilities surpassed even his expectations—joy and surprise swelled in his chest.

What followed was a complex mix of anticipation and unease.

“Transmigrating worlds, evolving martial arts— if this is real, can it finally cure my twenty-year nightmare of a disease?!”

Chu Tianshu stared at the Raw Material bar, reached out to touch it—his hand passed right through the screen.

The screen was not physical; once summoned, it followed his vision and was visible only to him.

To interact with it, no physical motion was needed—only focused attention.

Chu Tianshu took a deep breath, calmed himself, and concentrated. The Raw Material column glowed faintly, then expanded into a detailed description.

【Martial Art Raw Materials as follows.

《Qi Family Old Backstrike》: In leaps and dodges, long arms lash like iron whips; sleeves swing with sword techniques, steps are subtle and erratic.

Note: Suitable for those naturally bold from youth; it loosens shoulders and back, nourishes tendons and bones; at peak, arms grow three inches longer, delivering a swing with a thousand-jin force.】

【Yin-Spirit Raw Materials as follows.

Beauty-in-Skin: Dreamed of being the center of attention; underwent thirty cosmetic surgeries, cutting and scraping her face with needles and blades, died unnamed. Trait: Upon approaching, induces facial numbness, causing victims to mindlessly cut and scrape their own flesh, unaware of blood loss.

Nightroom Spirit-Writer: Envious of roommate, poisoned her drink by accident, died with eyes open, trapped in the room, spying on secrets, corrupting juniors. Trait: Whispering continuously for seven nights renders victim’s blood unnaturally cold.

Black-Mouth Scholar: Licked ink for ten thousand days, failed exams repeatedly, tamed like a dog, died in humiliation, belly full of sour stench, serving evil as a henchman. Trait: Sour ink in belly corrodes flesh and bone.

Note: Yin-spirit traits vary. Choose one, first refine the spirit, then proceed with evolution.】

“Only one martial art material? No 《Ghost Gate Witch-Physician Notes》?”

Chu Tianshu pondered—this token claimed to evolve martial arts, yet only listed actual martial techniques as raw material.

The Ghost Gate Witch-Physician Notes contained many health and wellness formulas—why couldn’t those count as martial knowledge?

Unfortunately, he had no idea how the token judged whether a technique qualified as “martial art,” nor could he alter its criteria.

As for the yin-spirit materials, he recognized all three—they were cases he’d handled in the past two years.

Before that, he’d handled other cases, and his grandfather and predecessors had dealt with countless spirits—apparently, the token hadn’t been active enough then to collect anything.

The Beauty-in-Skin and Nightroom Spirit-Writer traits were both mediocre.

When Chu Tianshu had dealt with them, he’d judged them as weak.

Especially the Spirit-Writer.

Though the dorm residents had played the Spirit-Writer game and sometimes heard her mutterings, they all stayed up late.

So the time they actually slept—and thus heard her—was brief.

Add to that school holidays, and the Spirit-Writer never had a chance to whisper for seven full nights.

Only one unlucky soul, who briefly maintained a regular sleep schedule, endured five straight nights of whispers and fell ill.

After Chu Tianshu exorcised her, the patient recovered fully after just one week of medicine.

Among the three spirits, the Black-Mouth Scholar stood out by default.

But how could a trait like “sour ink in belly” be fused with Backstrike Fist?

Chu Tianshu couldn’t quite grasp it, but he thought it over.

Yin-spirit materials required a minimum quantity to trigger an evolution—but having more wouldn’t hurt; the result would be better.

Should he evolve now, or wait, gamble for a more useful spirit he could defeat…

Chu Tianshu decided within three seconds.

Evolve now!

Back home, he might have waited—but in this alien world, three seconds of hesitation was already deep deliberation.

Chu Tianshu first activated the “Yin-Spirit Refinement” option on the token.

The three spirit materials merged; total quantity barely changed, leaving only the Black-Mouth Scholar’s trait.

Then, combined with 《Qi Family Old Backstrike》, the evolution began.

【Evolution complete.

《Gluttonous Backstrike Fist》: Monkey devours fruit, raging ape devours meat, hands and feet strike together to tear wolves, long arms swing palms to shatter ox skulls.

Practicing this fist opens the dantian, massively develops the intestines and stomach, stretches tendons and strengthens the body; enables swallowing flesh and bone, strength increases daily; at peak, when limbs exert force, they become as hard as wood or stone, fingers and claws sharp and firm, capable of piercing through an ox’s belly.

Especially suitable for the physically weak—if one can endure the pain and itch of bones and flesh growing like steamed meat, practicing a hundred times daily, one may advance with fierce vigor.】

After reading the screen’s text, Chu Tianshu felt something new lodged in his mind.

A moment’s recollection brought forth entire scrolls of fist manuals and human figures—the very fist form just evolved.

Every detail was vivid, as if he’d read and practiced it thousands of times, memorized to perfection.

A powerful urge surged in Chu Tianshu—he immediately opened his stance on the grass and began practicing the fist form from memory.

Both spirit-mediums and martial artists, upon first opening their dantian, appear similar: senses sharpen, dynamic vision improves dramatically.

But in truth, their paths diverged from the very first opening.

Spirit-mediums’ opening radiates energy outward—their perception is like an extreme sharpening of a sixth sense; they receive a conclusion, then their five senses break it down into forms ordinary people can understand.

Martial artists’ opening focuses inward on the body’s potential—eyes, ears, nose, and other organs are enhanced, making external perception clearer and finer, and the final synthesis far surpasses normal limits.

A person’s first opening leaves a lasting imprint; whichever direction it leans, instinct will reinforce it thereafter—no matter how hard one tries to change, instinct is unyielding.

Some liken trying to master both paths to making a born blind man understand a born deaf one.

The actual difficulty may not be that extreme.

But Chu Tianshu, a spirit-medium who opened his dantian at age five, had never once felt what a martial artist experiences during opening, despite years of rigorous fist training.

Now this 《Gluttonous Backstrike Fist》—crafted for the Lord, yet explicitly suitable for the physically weak—made him desperate to try.

“Huh!”

Chu Tianshu adjusted his stance, planted his left foot, swept his right foot in a half-circle, sole barely lifting from the ground; tall wild grass bent and broke beneath him.

His motion was slow—but the instant his right foot touched down, his entire body accelerated.

First, a wide, sweeping strike—both arms slashed forward, body lunging ahead; palms reached waist level, right hand arriving first; as left hand reached, right arm had already turned to gather force, then thrust forward in a punch.

This punch was not a direct thrust—it was a whip-like snap; the arm was like a heavy, water-soaked towel, the fist its end, twisting forward to strike the air.

Even with ordinary human strength, the punch whipped his sleeves, producing a faint whistle.

In an instant, he sank his hips, stepped back, spun, and swung his left arm into a claw, lashing backward.

Lunging, charging, then retreating slightly after each stride—by the time he’d advanced twenty or thirty paces, his feet had traced a large half-circle.

His hands, however, repeated only three motions—slash, snap, claw—with far greater frequency than his footwork.

Because every hand movement, every lunge and leap, was executed with full force—Chu Tianshu’s forehead soon glistened with sweat, yet his eyes shone brightly.

The more he practiced, the more he sensed—not just the manual’s text and diagrams, but also a “correct feeling.”

He vaguely knew in his mind what movements were truly standard, how to generate power to perfectly match the details in the fist manual.

Words are often pale; even the most brilliant fist master struggles to convey to his disciple the exact bodily sensation of when his own technique became precise.

Moreover, even the same words may be understood differently by each disciple.

The token’s transmitted knowledge of fist techniques flowed directly into Chu Tianshu’s mind, as if he had a master who could speak perfectly.

Thus, if any movement or power generation was off-standard, he immediately sensed it and corrected it.

His fists and feet swung in apparent repetition, yet each strike carried subtle adjustments.

This sensation of knowing he was approaching “correctness” was profoundly fulfilling.

As he practiced, he even forgot to pursue opening his meridians—his only thought was how to make his next punch perfectly standard.

Chop! Whip! Grasp! Chop! Whip! Grasp!

Sweat beads multiplied; his gaze grew purer.

As he chopped his palm downward again, Chu Tianshu’s hand suddenly produced a faint crack in midair.

Whether it was the sound of his palm striking air, his sleeve, or some other factor—

It didn’t matter anymore.

Deep within Chu Tianshu’s pupils, a needle-thin light naturally ignited.

The grass beneath his feet, some stubbornly resilient, slowly rose again.

The branches on either side swayed slightly in the morning breeze, shaking loose dewdrops from their tips.

Before him, faintly yellow leaves spiraled down through the air.

This level of perception resembled that of a spirit-sensitive’s opened meridians.

But when he had opened his meridians as a spirit-sensitive in the past, he had never felt so clearly the presence of his own flesh and bones—every muscle, every layer of skin, wrapping such vivid warmth.

Chu Tianshu exhaled hot breath, staring at the tip of his chopping palm, desperate to etch this first moment of entering a martial practitioner’s opened state into memory.

“Ha, hahaha! Excellent! It really can be trained out!!”

He couldn’t help laughing aloud, then forcibly clamped his mouth shut, eager to resume practice immediately.

Initial opening is usually a fleeting flash—he had entered the state while chopping that palm, but would soon exit it.

He must strike while the iron was hot; if he could enter the state two or three more times in this phase—even if each lasted only an instant—it would be enough.

Once he could stabilize and sustain opening on the martial path, his vital energy would grow stronger.

At that point, the nightmares’ influence on his mind and brain could be resisted; for the past two years, the blade hanging ever closer above Chu Tianshu’s head had finally been pushed back again.

He made no audible laugh, but the muscles of his cheeks tensed, his lips curved upward—the bright, joyful expression never faded.

Emotion could be excited, but fist techniques must align with breath; uncontrolled laughter or vocalizations would disrupt the rhythm—he must restrain himself.

Practice fists! Practice fists! Practice fists!

He didn’t know how long he had trained.

When he came to his senses, the sun had risen; the intense hunger in his stomach jolted him awake, and he stopped.

The surrounding grass was trampled into ruin; branches had been snapped by his swinging arms.

Birds flew from their nests in the morning light, hopping lightly on branches, chirping.

Chu Tianshu wiped sweat from his face, breathing hard, feeling utterly clear—but his stomach ached with hunger.

He looked at the small birds on the branches, then pulled a silver needle from his trouser pocket.

At this distance, he had full confidence he could strike one down as stored rations.

But after thinking, he held off for now.

If he could find signs of human habitation, he wouldn’t need to risk lighting a fire himself in the mountains or roasting sparrows raw.

After judging the terrain’s elevation, Chu Tianshu walked upward for a while, scanning around.

After a long while, in a patch of sparse trees, he reached a large rock and stopped.

Outside the mountain, the morning sun had just risen; in one direction below, vast fields stretched into dense clusters of houses.

Looking down from here, the orderly streets and dwellings were small but not shabby; people moved like ants—clearly a bustling town.

(End of Chapter)