Chapter 43: The Changed Future!

Inside the Liyang Martial Arts Hall, Yuan Dang sighed in relief upon hearing the master’s scolding.

Playing along, he fixed Fang Can with a pitiful gaze, clearly pleading for Fang Can to stop paying him special attention and causing the master to reprimand him.

Fang Can lazily clicked his tongue, losing all interest in understanding the disciple’s reaction.

Watching the others patiently meditating, Fang Can sat listlessly on the high-backed chair, pressing his Mind Image upon them.

Since this wasn’t a life-or-death battle requiring wide-area output, and since Fang Can could regenerate by basking in sunlight, his energy consumption and expenditure remained relatively balanced.

Driven by boredom, Fang Can decided to use this time to practice the “Taming the Tiger and Subduing the Dragon Golden Body” technique.

According to the scripture’s description, this was a method that caused the skin to constantly vibrate, generating an invisible Gangqi on the surface.

At advanced levels, the skin trembled subtly at all times.

At that point, even blades and axes striking the body would be violently deflected by the skin’s extreme resilience— Kanchengshidengtianluzhiqianxueqileiwuzhedeshangdengfamen , usable without internal energy.

As for qi-blood martial artists, it was because the world’s cultivation system was called Wu Dao, yet due to the universal wish-granting mechanism, absolutely anything could exist.

Magnetic forces, flesh locks, divine domains, battle qi, magic, Daoist priests, Buddhist power, merit, poetry and painting—nearly every system existed.

Who knew what wishes people would make or what techniques would manifest?

But since only after ascending the Heavenly Path could a martial artist store and release energy within their body,

practitioners of late-stage professions like magicians, true-qi martial artists, poetry-school cultivators, and Daoists had weak combat power before shedding their mortal shells.

Most martial artists without absolute confidence in ascending the Heavenly Path chose either qi-blood Wu Dao or battle qi systems, steadily training their physical strength while seeking the possibility of a final leap.

Thus, before shedding the mortal shell, numerical monsters were more favored.

Mechanism monsters required late-game development; nine out of ten martial artists chose the numerical path, since few could be certain they’d develop to the late stage.

Leaning back slowly on the high-backed chair, Fang Can released his Mind Image while making his skin tremble continuously, learning the technique’s method to refine his epidermis.

As everyone knew, human skin couldn’t move freely.

But this was idealistic Wu Dao—if you were sincere enough and your realm high enough, you could alter not just human anatomy but even cosmic laws.

Secretly using his blood qi to activate his flesh, Fang Can actually made the skin on his fingers begin to vibrate minutely—though the frequency was extremely slow, about one or two times per second, with an amplitude of only one micrometer.

According to the scripture’s requirement, to pass, one’s skin must reach at least eighty-one vibrations per breath.

Feeling the rhythmic trembling of his skin, Fang Can’s thoughts drifted: if he pushed this to its extreme and achieved tens of thousands of vibrations per second, perhaps his body could become a humanoid high-frequency blade.

And why limit it to the skin? If he vibrated deep into the cells, causing all tens of trillions of cells to resonate at high frequency, wouldn’t that generate magnetic rotation?

But as this thought arose, seeing the time required for manifestation, Fang Can thought it might not be impossible.

He was also curious what effect would emerge if he merged the cell-vibration technique with the Great Sun Indestructible Demon Body.

Sitting cross-legged on the high-backed chair, Fang Can slowly practiced this technique.

After all, to modify anything, he first needed to fully understand the technique—and though he hadn’t taken any pills, thanks to his persistent triple talent from last night, his cultivation felt effortless.

In just one incense stick’s time, Fang Can extended the vibration to his limbs and arms, though the frequency remained one or two times per second.

But even now, if he trained hard for another month, he could make every part of his body—including his genitals, hair tips, eye membranes, and fingernails—enter the 81-vibrations-per-breath high-frequency mode.

‘Feels like I’m turning my body into a vibrator,’ Fang Can mentally grumbled. When he hit 81 vibrations per second, even Kato Takashi would bow down.

As time passed, after sustaining his Mind Image for half an hour, Fang Can deemed it sufficient and withdrew it—immediately, it was as if he’d poked a hornet’s nest.

“Please, Master Fang, give me just a little more—I want to keep experiencing it.”

“Master, release your Mind Image once more—I’ll do anything, please!”

“Master, your Mind Image is so pure—once more, just once more!”

…

Looking at the martial artists before him, now drained and desperate, Fang Can was speechless.

But these martial artists didn’t care about dignity—such an opportunity to experience a Mind Image from a generous cultivator like him was a once-in-a-lifetime boon for their Wu Dao.

They’d beg, kneel, or even eat shit if asked.

Even Ye Yonglie now clung to Fang Can’s arm, weeping as he spoke:

“I’ve lived fifty-six years, yet only crossed the Xuanguan’s sixth level. Every day I train six hours, barely preventing my blood qi from decaying.”

“But my body grows older—unless I awaken a Mind Image before sixty, I’ll never advance again in this life.”

“I’m mediocre in talent, trained hard for over thirty years, wasted decades—yet if anyone deserves a Mind Image through diligence, it’s me. I beg you, young friend, grant me this wish—if I awaken a Mind Image, I’ll die content.”

By the end, Ye Yonglie’s face was streaked with tears and snot, gripping Fang Can’s robe desperately—no longer a martial arts hall master, but a middle-aged man consumed by obsession.

‘Hmph, Master’s gone senile—crying like this is disgraceful.’

Beside him, Yuan Dang watched coldly, having long forgotten how much worse he himself had been in his past life.

If not for Fang Can’s “everyone gets a technique” decree, he wouldn’t even have the talent to cross the Heavenly Path.

‘Next should be Fang Can refusing to stay—then the new Tianji Tower ranking is announced, and Master, enraged, immediately reports Fang Can’s situation to the Tiger Demon Gate, prompting them to issue a wanted list early.’

‘Amid nationwide manhunts, Fang Can loses an arm, limps on one leg, goes blind in both eyes, nearly driven to despair—yet within nineteen days, he breaks through nine Xuanguan levels and ascends the Heavenly Path.’

‘Then, driven mad, he slaughters tens of millions, including the martial arts hall, leading to the fall of Dayan Kingdom…’

‘Only I and my senior sister and a few others escaped by chance while away—trained desperately for revenge, but watched him rise higher and higher until my senior sister was kidnapped.’

Thinking of this, Yuan Dang grew increasingly wary—this boy, Fang Can, was terrifying. He couldn’t confront him now; he must plot slowly.

After the earlier stimulation, without absolute certainty, he wouldn’t alter history—so he watched coldly as Fang Can prepared to reject his master.

‘Sorry, Master,’ Yuan Dang sighed inwardly, ‘Fang Can is too vile—I can’t care for you in your old age or bury you.’ But then he suddenly heard…

‘Uh, alright,’ Fang Can scratched his head and smiled. ‘I’ve got nothing else to do lately—I’ll stay a few days.’

At these words, Yuan Dang felt a thunderbolt strike his skull, frozen in place.

(End of Chapter)