Chapter 41: Martial Art, No Matter How High

"No wonder the Blood Cage Fighting Arena has so much power..."

"I must seek revenge; these two hundred thousand can buy me detailed intel on my enemy—no saving here! Besides, I might as well take a private lesson..."

Fang Xing closed his eyes and slowly pondered.

Money wasn’t an issue—it was only three hundred thousand in total.

He’d previously sold gold on the black market, even drawing Lance’s attention, so he still had this much.

Why three hundred thousand?

Naturally, because he planned to buy only one lesson!

"The data on Extreme Emotion Sword is online anyway; besides, I only need to experience its realm once to get started... after that, I can just grind it myself using my attribute panel!"

"Strictly speaking, it’s free-riding!"

"Learning another sword art will mainly serve as a disguise... and besides, dual-wielding sword and blade looks damn cool."

Night.

Wearing a mask, Fang Xing returned to the Blood Cage Fighting Arena.

Since being attacked last time, he’d found the arena’s shuttle bus the safest option.

"Welcome!"

Zhang Jiarui wore a small suit, a bright red bow pinned at her collar, hands folded gently over her abdomen as she bowed slightly.

"Hello. I’m here to make a transaction..."

Fang Xing spoke in a low voice.

"Understood. Please follow me."

Zhang Jiarui led Fang Xing to an office. When opened, the interior was surprisingly spacious, yet contained only a single solitary desk.

"The money has already been transferred to the arena’s account."

Fang Xing said firmly.

"Mm. Here’s the intel." Zhang Jiarui tapped the air a few times, sending the data directly to Fang Xing’s black market communicator.

At the top, clearly displayed, was a highly three-dimensional personal image.

"Lance Nott, 37, bio-enhanced from Three Leaf City, graduated from Three Leaf City High, later enlisted, awakened his ability on the battlefield... retired at 34..."

"Jade Jade Realm martial artist; awakened ability suspected to be 'Communication with Small Animals'—can only control small creatures; even large dogs cannot be subdued... frequent haunts: Three Leaf City Black Market, Blood Dance Bar..."

Fang Xing glanced over it—the intel was extremely detailed.

This was excellent; knowing these meant knowing a man’s weaknesses!

Even now, he had confidence he could set traps targeting these details and kill Lance.

Of course, such an approach carried risk, so Fang Xing would wait until he was fully prepared before acting.

"Thank you."

He sincerely thanked Zhang Jiarui—this level of intel wasn’t something ordinary organizations could obtain.

"After all, you’re my client... so, private coach?"

Zhang Jiarui smiled and asked again.

"Yes, I’ll pay for one lesson first."

Fang Xing nodded, watching Zhang Jiarui leave.

Not long after, the office door opened again, and a female martial artist entered.

She was tall and muscular, her skin dark, unremarkable at first glance—but upon closer sensing, an extreme danger lurked beneath, like a female leopard crouched in the grass, ready to pounce.

"I’m Ping. Call me Coach Ping... You want to learn 'Extreme Emotion Sword'? How much do you know about this A-rank martial art?"

Coach Ping asked.

Fang Xing described his understanding.

After listening, Coach Ping frowned: "All public knowledge. I see... you have zero foundation. I recommend ten lessons to solidify basics first, then advanced training—roughly fifty lessons total to reach entry level..."

Fang Xing’s face darkened instantly: "Uh... I haven’t decided to train in 'Extreme Emotion Sword' yet. I just want to buy one experimental lesson—could you briefly explain the entry essentials and demonstrate the sword’s realm?"

One lesson cost one hundred thousand; fifty lessons meant five million!

He was insane if he spent that much.

Buying one lesson this time was to grasp the essentials, then break through the barriers himself.

Most crucially, he needed to experience the realm of 'Extreme Emotion Sword' once.

"Fine... the essence of 'Extreme Emotion Sword' lies in extreme emotion, sincere intent, heart and intent as one, emotion and body as one... given your condition..."

Coach Ping looked at Fang Xing, a faint sneer flickering in her mind, then began speaking.

This A-rank martial art was vast and profound; without a master’s guidance, Fang Xing felt he wouldn’t even understand it properly.

Now, after the private lesson, he felt a sudden clarity—he couldn’t help but marvel at the value of every coin.

"Alright, finally, I’ll demonstrate the realm of 'Extreme Emotion Sword'..."

"Training in 'Extreme Emotion Sword' requires you to unearth your deepest, most enduring emotion... the stronger the emotion, the stronger the simulated realm."

Coach Ping swept her hand across her waist.

Roar!

In a flash of white light, a sword cry echoed like a dragon’s roar.

Coiled around her waist was a flexible sword.

The blade’s light shimmered, radiating intense emotional resonance.

Fang Xing grew dazed; unconsciously, a tear glistened at the corner of his eye: "The word 'emotion'... truly hard to fathom..."

Coach Ping had already sheathed her sword: "Lesson over. Next time, pay the full tuition upfront."

She was short on money, otherwise she wouldn’t have accepted this private request.

Revealing even a sliver of the realm was bait.

In her view, how could one experimental lesson possibly master an A-rank martial art?

In the end, he’d still have to start from scratch.

"Thank you, Coach!"

Fang Xing firmly memorized the feeling he’d just experienced—at least now he had direction.

As for buying dozens of lessons?

That was impossible. Not in this lifetime.

Though this wasn’t entirely free-riding, now that he had direction, with some cultivation-world tricks and his attribute panel, he might still break through!

Future lessons? No need to spend money on them.

Leaving the office, Fang Xing checked the time and headed straight for a fence shop and a weapons store.

"Rare chance to come here—sell the gold quickly, buy the 'Swift Dragon-class Laser Rifle,' then take the arena shuttle home—two birds with one stone!"

Gold was plentiful in Qinglin Market; Fang Xing had brought another batch.

Combined with his remaining stash, he could barely scrape together two million.

More importantly, no money laundering needed—he could buy the weapon directly and take it home, saving a fortune.

"Of course, the black market doesn’t want me taking a single coin home... but without laundering, spending feels amazing... oddly, like I’ve made a profit."

Happiness Home Community.

"Laser rifle..."

In his room, Fang Xing toyed with the weapon in his hand.

This 'Swift Dragon-class Laser Rifle' came from the black market; its body gleamed with a silvery metallic sheen, heavy and solid in his grip.

More importantly... it could kill people!

"The laser’s speed approaches light-speed; its destructive power can pierce nano-armor..."

Fang Xing practiced several standard aiming stances: "Perfect for revenge—Lance definitely can’t block it..."

"I’ve got nothing urgent over there—keep the rifle here for now; take it over after revenge..."

Though the weapons shop owner swore the gun had no hidden backdoors, Fang Xing didn’t believe him for a second.

No manufacturer’s backdoor? There might still be a black market one!

So if he took this weapon to the other world, he’d never bring it back.

Fang Xing planned to let it serve its purpose first—then dump it in the other world after revenge.

Then, even if he wasn’t completely safe in Qinglin Market, he wouldn’t be overly fearful.

At least, he could ambush and kill any Qi Condensation peak cultivator—except Foundation Establishment cultivators.

Could a Foundation Establishment cultivator withstand it?

Fang Xing didn’t know, and didn’t want to test it—by that level, his situation would be perilous.

Several days later.

Black Market.

Blood Dance Bar.

The 'Scavenger' Lance staggered out drunk, clutching a bottle of alcohol.

Since retiring from the interstellar battlefield, he needed strong liquor—or even psychoactive drugs—to soothe his soul.

Even those memories had become forbidden—he forced himself to forget, refused to remember.

He turned into an abandoned alley and, with effortless familiarity, pried open a sewer manhole cover and slipped inside.

The sewer was narrow, suffocating, dark… and reeked of filth.

For some reason, Lans felt deeply at ease in this environment.

“Squeak! Squeak!”

At that moment, two rats suddenly scurried over, emitting squeaks.

“Gurgle… gurgle…”

Lans lifted the bottle and took another deep swig, his steps unsteady, the gait of a man utterly drunk and addled.

“Puke…”

The next instant, he clapped a hand over his mouth as if about to vomit, gripping the wall beside him.

Suddenly!

Lans exploded forward with both legs, his body launching like a cheetah toward a spot in the darkness.

His hands curled into claws, tearing through the wind with terrifying killing intent—the “Crazy Eagle Form,” from the A-rank martial art, Crazy Eighteen Strikes!

“Hmph… if I were just a drunkard, I’d have been killed long ago in the black market!”

A flicker of triumph passed through Lans’s eyes; since the two rats had alerted him to a hidden assailant, he had deliberately feigned drunken vomiting to lower the attacker’s guard.

Now was the moment for a sudden strike!

Even as he leapt, his entire body was already sheathed in nanite armor, impenetrable and seamless.

The next instant, he saw the attacker hiding in the shadows.

Though the man wore a mask, his build and eyes stirred a sense of familiarity in Lans—he immediately locked onto the target: “That fat sheep who escaped that day dares come to assassinate me? Today, I’ll show you what a battle-hardened veteran who survived the battlefield truly is!”

The attacker was merely at the Muscle-Bone Realm—how could he possibly stand against Lans, who was at the Jade Essence Realm and wielding an A-rank martial art?

Lans could already picture the man’s corpse.

But mid-leap, he suddenly noticed the attacker’s right hand tucked inside his coat, concealing something, his eyes brimming with mockery.

In that instant, the battle-scarred Lans remembered something—his face twisted with shock: “You… don’t play by the rules…”

“Goodbye!”

Fang Xing pulled the trigger; a white laser streaked through the air.

The laser struck Lans instantly, melting through the nanite armor and reducing his head to nothingness.

Thud!

The headless corpse collapsed to the ground, sending nearby rats screeching and fleeing.

“No matter how skilled the martial artist, one shot brings him down!”

Fang Xing blew across the laser rifle’s muzzle, sighing with quiet satisfaction: “Revenge is served. Time to go…”