Chapter 35: Divine Drum, Cloud Thunder Sound

The movement was slight, as if merely flicking the wrist to send it forth.

Yet the effect was like an old bear rubbing against a tree—the trunk, as thick as a rice bowl, began to sway, leaves scattered, and even broken twigs fell down.

“You… you’ve cultivated dark force?!”

Sha Lifei stammered, eyes wide with disbelief.

In this world, the hallmark of peak bright force is the trembling of major tendons, bones and tendons resonating together—every move and strike can mobilize the entire body’s strength.

Ordinary people, unaware of how to generate force, lose at least half their power when striking; seasoned martial artists, by contrast, inflict far greater damage with the same force.

The human body has bones connected by tendons and fascia, like wooden mortise-and-tenon joints—seemingly simple, yet exquisitely stable; only those who have built their frame and learned to generate force can truly wield it.

With diligent training, most people can achieve this—it’s merely a matter of time.

But at the stage of dark force, the focus shifts from bones to fascia.

Fascia is like a dense net, connecting all bodily tissues.

Through breath-driven undulations and internal-external resonance, the tendons contract and vibrate with extreme speed, elevating force to a higher level.

This is the hallmark of dark force: qi and fascia undulate, wrapping tendons into a circle!

Once dark force is cultivated, even minimal movement can produce devastating power—some masters lightly tap an opponent, who later dies spitting blood.

The benefits aren’t limited to this alone.

Dark force is circuitous and multifaceted, allowing for far greater variation in technique. With the same destructive power, less force is needed, making movements seem effortless and extending combat endurance.

To cultivate dark force, besides innate talent, one must have a master personally test and listen to one’s force daily, carefully studying its subtleties, to succeed.

This little tiger had no teacher along the way—could his talent be monstrous?

Sha Lifei, stunned, then burst into elation, his mind racing as he whispered, “Before the arena, don’t let anyone know—let me place a bet first…”

Li Yan nodded slightly, “Place some for me too.”

Watching Sha Lifei’s excited old face, Li Yan remained calm.

This breakthrough into dark force was pure coincidence.

For years, he trained daily, without fail, through winter and summer.

But during those days after his grandfather’s death, he wandered in a daze, his spirit scattered—he had no time to train.

Without the Great Luo Body, even the newly formed spirit would have dissipated.

On the journey to Xianyang, he resumed training.

At first, perhaps out of impatience, he trained like a madman and injured his tendons and bones again.

But this time, it was different.

After cultivating the spirit, his bodily awareness grew sharper, and with the Great Luo Body guarding him, he needed no distraction—he could cultivate spirit and train simultaneously.

He had already reached peak bright force, but with his father dead and his grandfather too old to help him test and feed his force, he had been stuck at this level.

Cultivating spirit simultaneously helped him break through.

Of course, he had only just cultivated dark force—he couldn’t use it constantly, nor could he match seasoned dark force masters who made every move seem effortless, with endlessly shifting force.

But with the Great Luo Body’s aid, he could always trade injury for injury.

As long as he landed one hit, he could cripple his opponent!

……

This commotion immediately drew attention.

Wang Daoxuan saw it and visibly sighed in relief.

His cooperation with Li Yan wasn’t just because of the latter’s divine nose ability.

There was one thing he hadn’t lied about that day.

The day before Li Yan arrived, he woke in terror from a dream of ghosts clinging to him.

In dream divination, this is called a ghost dream—a bad omen. Oracle bone inscriptions from merchants even include: “On Dingwei, the king divined: many ghost dreams—will no calamity come?”

Divination methods are profoundly mysterious, especially regarding the more ethereal realm of fate—even master numerologists aren’t always accurate.

But Daoists are different: after cultivating spirit, their minds are usually calm; if signs arise, there must be a reason.

It’s like a martial artist sensing the autumn wind before the cicada does.

After waking, Wang Daoxuan felt uneasy and performed divination before his ancestral master’s statue—but every hexagram showed reversal of misfortune, a great auspicious sign.

Then, in the morning, he saw a magpie arrive carrying a flower.

This was image divination—a good omen.

But as he pondered, he cast several more hexagrams—and they all showed great misfortune.

Wang Daoxuan realized: perhaps a turning point had come, where fortune and misfortune were uncertain.

So that day, though he had planned to leave, he stayed home and waited.

When he saw Li Yan’s phoenix eyes and dragon gaze, he already had a plan; after testing him in conversation, he found the boy worthy of trust and taught him the method.

Indeed, events soon changed.

First came good fortune, then an encounter with bandits—exactly matching the omen of uncertain fortune and misfortune. Though he felt Li Yan’s decision to fight a life-or-death duel was sound, the boy was young, and Wang Daoxuan couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

Seeing Li Yan’s breakthrough, Wang Daoxuan finally relaxed.

Zhou Banmaster of the Spring Wind Troupe was also startled, gazing at Li Yan’s youthful face, hesitated, then gritted his teeth and turned back into the room.

He climbed onto a stool, pulled down an old wooden box from the top of the wardrobe, blew off its dust, trembled as he caressed it several times, then carried it out.

“Young Master Yan…”

Zhou Banmaster said, “Do you know the method to cultivate dark force?”

Li Yan nodded, “My father taught me.”

To wrap tendons into a circle with dark force, mere martial training won’t suffice—it can’t reach the fascia, let alone penetrate the five zang and six fu organs.

To advance, one must rely on other methods.

Tiger-Bear Thunder Sound, Fishing Toad Skill, Heng-Ha Qi, Crane Cry, Daoist Thunder Sound, Buddhist Lion’s Roar, Great Cloud Thunder Sound—all are such methods.

!.

Though each lineage’s traditions differ, the principle is the same across heaven and earth: using sound vibrations to stir the fascia, penetrating the bone marrow and internal organs.

Red Fist also has a secret method: Thread-Sound.

The boxing proverb says: “One breath in, one breath out, qi like a fine thread, threading through intestines and stomach, coursing through meridians”—perfect for Red Fist’s lightness as a feather, weight as a mountain, striking like crushing fire.

Just as he wondered why he asked this, Zhou Banmaster lifted the box, caressed it reluctantly, and said, “Young Master Yan, you can see—I’ve trained a few days in fists and feet, learning my family’s Pi-Gua.”

“My skill is mediocre, but my ancestors passed down something precious.”

“My ancestors came from Xianyang, studying Qin-Han war drums—not only the drum king of their time, but also famed throughout the martial world. Sadly, they later incurred enemies and were forced to flee to Huayin for refuge.”

“My ancestor received from a strange master the Great Cloud Thunder Sound, fused it with war drum techniques, and created this divine method—Divine Drum Cloud Thunder Sound—a supreme cultivation method. I now offer it to you.”

Li Yan was moved, “This… is too precious, Banmaster…”

Great Cloud Thunder Sound—he had heard his father mention it—it was a Buddhist secret transmission.

Buddhist texts say Great Cloud Thunder Sound is greater than ordinary thunder sound.

The very name proves its rarity—ordinary people rarely see it; Zhou Banmaster had hidden this, and now offered to give it away, leaving Li Yan stunned.

But halfway through his words, Zhou Banmaster waved him silent.

He shook his head, sighed, “My talent is average, and my unworthy son passed before me—this treasure is useless to me now. If I sold it to evil people, I’d betray my ancestors.”

“You could have left yesterday, but chose to fight a life-or-death duel—haven’t you shielded the Spring Wind Troupe from disaster? And with your talent, you won’t disgrace this method.”

With that, he handed the box forward.

Wang Daoxuan, seeing this, thought for a moment, then added, “Young Master Yan, take it. Zhou Banmaster, the agreed fee is waived.”

This ritual wasn’t cheap—given the Spring Wind Troupe’s current state, they’d have to sell everything and still go hungry afterward.

This way, both sides benefit.

Hearing this, Zhou Banmaster smiled, then called his apprentices to continue listening to Wang Daoxuan’s instructions on ritual taboos.

Li Yan sat aside and opened the wooden box.

Usually, such methods are recorded in thin booklets, sometimes passed only orally—but inside were three yellowed volumes.

One was the “Pi-Gua Fist Manual,” another the “Qin-Han Drum Melody,” and the last, the “Divine Drum Cloud Thunder Sound.”

Li Yan flipped through them casually and was startled.

This method wasn’t just about breathing—it required a specially made iron drum as well…

…………

After the rain, the autumn sky seemed even higher.

The setting sun’s glow painted the sky with fading crimson clouds, foretelling another clear day tomorrow.

The official road was muddy and treacherous; a dozen people struggled forward.

Besides Li Yan’s group, the Spring Wind Troupe brought another dozen—shadow puppeteers, musicians, singers, even a few apprentices.

Their families remained in Xianyang.

Soon, they saw the graveyard.

Among them was a man, slightly bloated and pale—Sha Lifei’s acquaintance, the band’s suona player, “Old Whiteface.”

He wiped sweat from his brow, gazing at the distant graveyard, eyes filled with worry: “Master Wang, they say the mountains still harbor the Western Pilgrim Beggar Sect—those people are hard to deal with. Will they ruin our work?”

“No worry.”

Wang Daoxuan shook his head, “The place we seek is where yin evils gather—unsuitable for habitation. This graveyard is vast, and we’ll perform the ritual at night—they won’t be disturbed.”

With that, he took out his Luo Pan, studied it for a moment, then pointed to a western hollow of the graveyard: “White Tiger clutching a corpse—great misfortune; Black Tortoise with head bowed—great fortune. Who’d have thought this graveyard holds such an odd formation? Climb up from here!”

Though none understood feng shui, everyone remembered Wang Daoxuan’s instructions; upon reaching the foot of the mountain, all fell silent, helped each other, and climbed the steep, muddy slope.

In the distance, the last sliver of sunset vanished—the night enveloped the earth…

(End of chapter)