Chapter 82: (2)

(PS: I finished today’s 7500 words between twelve and two-thirty, and have been revising the text ever since. My writing ability is limited, so this will have to do. Since I’ve accelerated the plot, much of the content is conveyed through dialogue. Next comes the protagonist’s personal adventure. I delivered eleven thousand words today, as promised.)

After Zhao Wenjun had arranged for relevant personnel to report their work.

Fang Shi continued: “Since you’ve reached First Tier.”

“Let me test your current strength.”

“Punch me the same way you did before—remember to use Double Impact.”

“Yes, Master.”

Zhao Wenjun replied respectfully, now confident in his own strength.

The elevation to First Tier, mastery of Double Impact—even if Fang Shi’s power far surpassed his—

He’d at least make him move a little.

Boom!

Fang Shi, facing Zhao Wenjun’s punch, remained expressionless.

Calm and composed, he extended his right hand, unleashing the same multi-layered force.

Veins bulged on his forearm, muscles knotted tightly, torrents of immense power surging forth.

He caught Zhao Wenjun’s strike effortlessly.

Firmly, stably—not a single step shifted, not a single inch of his posture trembled.

The reason was simple: Fang Shi’s multi-layered force was not Double Impact.

It was Triple Impact!

When Fang Shi entered First Tier at the Heavenly Sword Sect, he effortlessly mastered the full version of Double Impact.

And during his spare moments practicing swordplay, he began studying Triple Impact.

Triple Impact!

This was a technique Fang Shi had never mastered in his previous life.

Its difficulty far exceeded that of Double Impact.

Despite years of effort in his past life, he never learned it.

This included after his fifth surge, when Ancheng Settlement collapsed.

During a year-long, nonstop escape through life-or-death battles.

One could imagine how difficult this technique was.

The main challenge lay in launching three forces nearly simultaneously.

Only then could they coalesce into one, rather than dispersing as three separate forces.

Otherwise, even if one could execute intricate moves,

The power would be worlds apart.

Like a child throwing three punches cannot match a single punch from an adult.

Only when three forces erupt within nearly the same instant can they fuse into one.

Gaining a +7.5 strength bonus.

This terrifying striking technique—even if Lu Xiusi were still alive—Fang Shi could face him head-on.

Fang Shi relied on the Heavenly Sword Sect’s innate talent bonus.

And unlocked all cultivation projects to bring Triple Impact to the brink of mastery.

After today’s battle, Fang Shi summarized his experience during rest.

Finally, he fully comprehended this technique.

“【Multi-Impact (Triple Impact)】: This is a combat technique obtained from an unknown origin. When used, it consumes extra stamina and grants a +7.5 bonus to Strength attribute.”

“Master, you’re still so powerful.”

Zhao Wenjun stared at Fang Shi, unmoved, feeling a hint of regret—and also a sense of inevitability.

“Did you feel it? This is the advanced form of Double Impact—Triple Impact.”

Zhao Wenjun said: “I felt it, but Master, this is incredibly hard.”

“The force delivery feels unnatural—it easily causes muscle strain. I dare not practice it often.”

“Last time I trained, my muscles actually dissolved.”

“If not for the priest, I wouldn’t know how many days it would’ve taken to recover.”

Fang Shi said: “Of course it’s hard. I spent years of practice to master Triple Impact.”

“First, this technique demands high perception—I estimate twenty points is the bare minimum.”

“Your perception is only fifteen. You’re still far behind.”

“But don’t abandon practice in daily life.”

“When your perception reaches the threshold,”

“The time needed to learn it will shorten further.”

Zhao Wenjun nodded: “Understood, Master.”

“Your Double Impact is still imperfect. I’ll guide you deeper into its application.”

Just as Fang Shi was instructing Zhao Wenjun, a soldier’s voice rang from outside.

“Report!”

Zhao Wenjun was slightly annoyed—he cherished these rare moments of guidance from Fang Shi.

He resented being interrupted by his subordinates.

But Zhao Wenjun knew his men wouldn’t be so foolish.

He had already ordered them: unless it was urgent, all matters were to wait until after Fang Shi left.

For one to come now meant something major had happened.

Fang Shi said: “Go handle it.”

“Yes, Master. Come in!”

The soldier pushed the door open, bowing respectfully to both men.

“Report, Commander Zhao, Advisor Fang.”

“The Engineering Department has good news—the newly developed gunpowder is now usable.”

The soldier’s face beamed with joy, his grin nearly bursting free.

“What!” Zhao Wenjun exclaimed excitedly.

Why had humanity suffered such devastating losses in the apocalypse?

The most critical reason: all firearms and high-power weapons had become useless.

Humanity had been thrown back into the primitive age overnight.

If these powerful weapons were still functional, what difference would it make if you were First or Second Tier?

One shot would reduce flesh and blood to pulp.

This wasn’t the clumsy, round, solid cannonballs of the Age of Sail.

It was armor-piercing rounds traveling faster than sniper bullets.

Six times the speed of sound—few monsters could react in time.

Not to mention high-yield weapons like vacuum bombs and napalm.

Especially nuclear bombs—even weak Legendary beings would die if they absorbed the blast directly.

“How powerful is the gunpowder?”

“It’s equivalent to the first-generation flintlock musket.”

Zhao Wenjun’s face fell with disappointment—but he quickly steadied himself.

Still, it was enough. Even a flintlock could inflict effective damage on Firefeather Beings.

“Good! Good! Good! Who invented this?”

“Wang Jinghuan from the Engineering Department. He reportedly stole funding from the Logistics Department.”

Zhao Wenjun burst into laughter; the gloom lurking in his heart finally lifted a little.

Combined with Fang Shi’s revelations about apocalypse rules,

As long as they set up ambushes properly, once the alien beings arrived,

They’d never leave—come in droves, die in droves.

Especially since firearms were simple to use—any ordinary civilian, with minimal training, could wield them.

Thus, humanity’s average level would skyrocket.

After all, with experience penalties in place, high-tier cultivators gained little from killing Firefeather Beings.

And the gains shrank further with each kill, until they vanished entirely.

Without firearms, it was certain that massive waste would follow.

After all, the apocalypse was never safe; sometimes, letting others die was irresponsible to oneself and others.

Moreover, Zhao Wenjun and his group knew that within the apocalypse, achievement rewards existed.

This wasn’t from Fang Shi—it was leaked by someone within the Guonei Force who had received one.

If a Level One cultivator killed a Level Six Firefeather Being—or even Level Eight or Nine—

What rich rewards might they receive?

Beside him, Fang Shi felt a flicker of surprise—gunpowder this early?

He remembered clearly: in his previous life, gunpowder hadn’t been invented until just before the Third Surge.

It was just as powerful as a flintlock gun today.

As a result, during the later stage of the second impact, humanity slaughtered alien lifeforms en masse.

Their strength expanded unprecedentedly.

They easily weathered the third impact.

If not for the sheer power of second-rank lifeforms, flintlock guns would have been utterly inadequate.

Humanity’s third impact would have resulted in zero casualties.

It seemed his rebirth had caused all these changes.

Fang Shi no longer cared, ever since the second impact had turned everything unrecognizable.

The world’s trajectory had diverged from what it was before his rebirth.

He could no longer view this new world through old eyes.

If he got killed by habitual thinking later, there’d be no place to appeal.

“Wenjun, since your strength has grown so much, I should leave now.”

Zhao Wenjun exclaimed in surprise: “Master, you’re leaving again? Can’t you stay?”

“Last time you vanished for nearly a month—I was terrified.”

Fang Shi shook his head: “No, I must leave. My level has reached eight.”

“If I stay any longer, my experience gain efficiency will plummet.”

“I can’t tolerate that—I must leave.”

Zhao Wenjun clenched his teeth: “Master, can you tell me where you’re going this time?”

“Don’t make your disciple worry anymore. My family may already be gone.”

“You are now my closest kin.”

Fang Shi felt a flicker of emotion: “There’s nothing wrong with saying this.”

“The place I’m going is beyond the city.”

Zhao Wenjun gasped: “Beyond the city? That’s where alien lifeforms are everywhere.”

“I’ve sent people there before—it’s like two entirely different worlds.”

“The moment you cross the boundary, swarms of alien lifeforms surge forth.”

“More numerous than the firewing birds inside the city.”

“The lifeforms are bizarre and their attack patterns vary wildly—impossible to resist.”

“Professor Wang analyzed it: the wild alien lifeforms have settled on Blue Star, rebuilding an entire food chain—a new alien world.”

But for some reason, humanity is utterly despised by these alien beings—step outside the city, and they attack violently.

Fang Shi said: “It’s because of the force of cosmic laws.”

“Cosmic laws? What’s that?”

“Simple—you don’t find it a bug that humans level up by killing?”

“Isn’t that granted by some great being?”

After the apocalypse, humanity had debated these questions.

Naturally, they reached no conclusion.

But most had reached a consensus: regardless of anything, they must make full use of the attribute panel.

Questions about purpose? Only those who survive have the right to consider them.

“The essence of the attribute panel is the force of cosmic laws—the evolution of cosmic laws.”

And cosmic laws are something only legendary powerhouses can access.

“The mindless alien lifeforms attack humans”

“because they covet the cosmic laws within humans, seeking to seize them and achieve their own evolution.”

“As for intelligent ones, like the Firefeather People, I don’t fully understand them.”

Fang Shi paused, then added: “Do you know what the white light that appeared across the sky after the second impact meant?”

“It meant day and night became synchronized—no more time zones—and also meant the weakening of cosmic laws.”

“No more will they attract the greed of monsters.”

Zhao Wenjun sharply caught the implication, his heart jolted: “Weakening of cosmic laws? Does that mean humans can no longer level up by killing?”

Fang Shi smiled faintly: “No, you can still level up by killing, but advancing beyond second rank requires conditions.”

“It’s no longer enough to just accumulate enough experience points.”

Zhao Wenjun exhaled in relief: “Good, good—as long as there’s a way.”

“I feared humans might lose the ability to level up—what then against stronger monsters?”

Fang Shi sneered: “How do you know cosmic laws won’t vanish entirely in the future?”

“Humans must quickly find their own path of evolution—don’t let yourselves be bound by cosmic laws.”

“As for me, I’ve found a way—but it came from a rare encounter, something I cannot teach you.”

Zhao Wenjun hurriedly asked: “Master, what ideas do you have?”

Fang Shi said: “You should think about breathing techniques.”

“Don’t assume my breathing technique is superior—future generations may surpass the past.”

“To enshrine past achievements as sacred dogma is to have no hope.”

“You must dare to innovate, to forge a new era.”

Zhao Wenjun nodded firmly—he would tell everyone these things once he stepped out.

Pool everyone’s strength and work together.

Fang Shi knew, however, that China would surely accomplish it.

The breathing technique he possessed wasn’t anything special.

Before his rebirth, Zhao Wenjun’s breathing technique was far superior to his.

“Master, I’ve thought of something. Without cosmic laws as a lure on humans,”

“could we relocate to the wilds to avoid Firefeather People’s pursuit?”

“Why fight them to the death? Why not a strategic withdrawal?”

“No!” Fang Shi shook his head decisively.

“Do you know? The greatest change in the first two impacts wasn’t humanity—or the alien lifeforms.”

“It was Blue Star itself—you can see it by observing the stars.”

“Blue Star’s volume has expanded many times over.”

“If you hide in the wilds when the third impact comes,”

“the violent changes in heaven and earth will kill the vast majority of people.”

“Only in humanity’s original gathering places, protected by cosmic laws, can you survive safely.”

“The number of alien lifeforms deployed changes with humanity’s population.”

“Even if you shrink your territory and flee to the countryside, monster numbers won’t decrease.”

“Instead, shrinking territory reduces your strategic space.”

“As for the wilds, I can only tell you: the farther from human habitation, the stronger the monsters.”

“Second-rank and third-rank monsters may even appear.”

Zhao Wenjun asked puzzled: “Then how do they survive the great upheaval of heaven and earth?”

Fang Shi looked surprised: “Why would they need to survive? Let them die.”

“The alien world is boundless, its lifeforms infinite.”

“No matter how many die, more will keep pouring in endlessly.”

Zhao Wenjun still worried: “Since the wilds are so dangerous, shouldn’t you reconsider your actions?”

Fang Shi declared firmly: “No danger, no leveling up. No danger, no strengthening.”

“There is no safe place in the apocalypse.”

Zhao Wenjun fell silent—the apocalypse truly was like this.

If everyone had Fang Shi’s strength, there wouldn’t be so many casualties.

“Then I wish you a safe journey, Master.”

“Hmm.”