Chapter 58: When Human Strength Reaches Its Limit, Why Not Stop Being Human

Zuo Ruotong did not know that the smelly Daoist priest beside him was already plotting to steal his student away; he merely gazed at the white-robed youth before him, his eyes growing distant.

In that moment, he seemed to see again the emaciated child from seven years ago, nearly eaten by starving refugees, and his originally stern tone softened.

“Ah Xian, as the Grand Celestial Master said, your talent is extraordinary—calling it a once-in-a-century rarity is still an understatement. One day, you will surpass me and the elders of San Yi Sect, even becoming the pinnacle of this circle.”

“But… human strength has its limits. No matter how strong a person is, there is a ceiling—just like those gunpowder cannons from the West; if a hundred ordinary soldiers wield them, they can wipe out any existing sect of cultivators.”

“I even have a premonition: the era when cultivators tower above ordinary people is coming to an end—it is an unstoppable tide… I hope you understand this, and accept the insignificance of being merely human; only then can you walk farther in the future.”

“...Disciple humbly remembers Master’s teachings.”

After hearing Zuo Ruotong’s earnest advice, Wu Xian fell silent for a moment, then nodded in agreement—but inside, he felt deeply exasperated.

As a transmigrator, no one in this world understood better than Wu Xian the terror and power of future technology.

At least in this world, no single individual—not even the elusive ascended ones or suspected aliens—could stand against a fully armed army; not even Zhang Zhiwei in the future could.

“Nuclear bombs make everyone equal”—that saying isn’t a joke.

Yet Wu Xian was an exception.

This was because… he could cling to a thigh!

To be honest, factually speaking, with his mysterious space that could share power, Wu Xian would one day attain strength far beyond this world’s upper limit.

Forget other things—just by exchanging for an S-rank Superman bloodline from his reincarnation counterpart, the physical enhancements he could share would let Wu Xian crush the entire One-Person World.

At that point, resisting an armed army wouldn’t be hard—even taking a nuclear blast point-blank might not kill him.

Human strength truly has limits—but as long as you stop being human… no, as long as you transcend humanity, all problems vanish.

Of course, Wu Xian would never voice these thoughts; he couldn’t explain his uniqueness, and saying it would make people think he was insane—he’d let future facts prove it.

As for what fact to use… how about wiping out Nihon Island with a single slap?

Thinking this, Wu Xian suddenly lifted his head, looked at Zuo Ruotong’s complex expression, and smiled:

“Master, I understand your and the Celestial Master’s concerns—you fear that geniuses like me and Brother Zhang might advance too fast due to our talent, ignoring those around us and inviting trouble.”

“As the saying goes: judge yourself by sainthood, judge others by ordinary standards—that is the virtue a cultivator must uphold. Though I cannot yet achieve this, I will strive toward it in the future and never let Master down.”

“That… is very good.”

Upon hearing “judge yourself by sainthood, judge others by ordinary standards,” Zuo Ruotong’s furrowed brow instantly smoothed.

He knew that from now on, he might no longer need to worry about this disciple’s future.

“Brother Zuo, you truly have good fortune—such a gifted disciple! Even this Daoist envies you…”

Zhang Jingqing started calculating again—same old complaint: they’re all disciples, why is the gap so huge?

Looking at Zhang Zhiwei beside him, like a dumb lion, and the hidden rat somewhere on Long Hushan, Zhang Jingqing couldn’t help but stare blankly at the sky.

Life is hard, Celestial Master sighs.JPG

“Hah! Why so downcast, Celestial Master? Zhiwei is also a once-in-ten-thousand genius; given time, his achievements may not fall short of Ah Xian’s.”

Zuo Ruotong smiled in reassurance, but his tone carried unmistakable pride—he was clearly delighted by the Celestial Master’s praise.

“Master is right—Brother Zhang is already very strong, especially in Thunder Art; I barely managed to block his last strike.”

“As for his character, he’s just carefree. All you need to do, Celestial Master, is directly point out the key—he’ll instantly grasp it.”

Wu Xian chimed in, winking at the slightly embarrassed Zhang Zhiwei.

Honestly, from a god’s-eye view, Zhang Jingqing bore half the blame for Zhang Zhiwei’s problems.

When a disciple falters, just say it plainly—why play riddles? Why force the disciple to figure it out himself?

Others might need that, but Zhang Zhiwei didn’t.

This man was nearly perfect—except for his loose mouth, which needed the Celestial Master’s measure to restrain him. A little guidance would make him instantly clear.

In the manga, Zhang Jingqing eventually couldn’t find anyone to give Zhang Zhiwei a setback, so he had no choice but to spell it out directly.

Zhang Zhiwei immediately recognized his flaw and actively corrected it—far better than that rat hiding until death.

At that moment, Wu Xian suddenly remembered something and grinned at Zhang Jingqing:

“But Celestial Master, this time I let Brother Zhang taste failure—it was a small favor to you. So… shouldn’t you reward me a little?”

“Oh?!”

Zhang Jingqing was startled, studying Wu Xian again—he saw in him the potential for sheer audacity, and his admiration deepened.

So young, and already this thick-skinned? This wasn’t just limitless potential—it was a star-studded path!

“Ah Xian, don’t be impolite!”

Zuo Ruotong scolded at once: “The Celestial Master is a person of stature—you’re the junior. Helping a little is your duty; how can you demand rewards outright?”

His implication: the Celestial Master was a man of honor—he wouldn’t accept help from a junior without repaying it; even if you didn’t ask, he’d give it anyway.

Zhang Jingqing rolled his eyes, feeling he’d just rediscovered Zuo Ruotong—he never thought this big-browed, upright fellow had such a side: using his precious disciple to scam his old friend.

“Cough! Brother Zuo, you’re wrong—this time, I truly owe Wu’s nephew a favor; this is karmic debt, must be repaid…”

“Speak—what reward do you want, Wu’s nephew? As long as it’s not the Five Thunder Orthodoxy, any technique from Long Hushan—including the Golden Light Spell—I can personally grant you.”

The Five Thunder Orthodoxy was the supreme art of the Celestial Master’s sect—only direct disciples could receive it.

Other techniques were less strict—he could just discuss with Zuo Ruotong and make Wu Xian a registered disciple; outsiders wouldn’t say much.

“No need for techniques—I haven’t even reached the peak of Ni Sheng San Chong; how could I divert my focus?”

Wu Xian smiled, then said, to Zhang Jingqing’s surprise:

“I’m deeply interested in talisman arts. I hope the Celestial Master will kindly teach me for a few days—just the basics of talismans.”

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(End of Chapter)