Chapter 6: The Mind-Only Martial Path, Knowledge Is Poison

“As long as my will is strong enough, the entire world will make way for me.” Fang Can listened to Yang Lie’s words, unsure what to think.

Yang Lie nodded seriously. “That’s right. Talent isn’t just physical—it’s also unwavering will.”

“Legend says that the founding emperor of the Dayan Dynasty, as a youth, was deceived into believing the Iron Wire Fist was the Maha Solar Divine Fist.”

“Yet he still practiced swinging his fist ten thousand times daily. Fifty years later, his punches indeed carried the heat of the sun; one strike scorched the land within ten li into charcoal.”

“It was this Maha Solar Divine Fist alone that carved out the Dayan Dynasty’s countless miles of territory.”

“Conversely, if your mind is fractured, your spiritual weakness manifests in your body—your enemy’s mere gaze could shatter you into blood.”

“For instance, in the founding legend, the greatest enemy of the first Dayan monarch was the Chu Overlord, whose might dominated the land, slaughtering cities and wiping out villages, striking terror into all who heard his name.”

“Yet this mighty overlord was defeated seven times in a row by the Dayan Divine Sovereign’s Maha Solar Divine Fist, his own aura crushed beneath the Dayan monarch’s, and then…”

Yang Lie paused here, his expression turning strange. Fang Can couldn’t help but ask: “And then?”

“And then…” Yang Lie’s voice grew complex.

“The once-mighty overlord, after being defeated for the seventh time, went insane, awakened the feminine within his heart, and his reversed will transformed his body—male to female—then was taken into the Dayan Divine Sovereign’s harem.”

Fang Can: Huh… huh?! Wait—!

By the time Fang Can realized what he’d heard, it was too late; his expression shifted from eager interest to stunned disbelief.

Merely hearing this legend sent a chill down Fang Can’s spine; countless objections surged into his throat, begging to be shouted out.

Seeing Fang Can’s shock, Yang Lie finally spoke slowly:

“Thus, the most vital thing for a martial cultivator is unwavering will—stick to one path to the end.”

“If you waver midway, you’ll either lose your cultivation entirely and explode, or worse—give birth and be used by others at will.”

‘That’s truly terrifying.’ Fang Can nodded in agreement.

He hadn’t expected defeat in this world could lead to a harem defeat CG—though perhaps for some masochists, it was a reward.

“Thus, in cultivation, physical talent matters, but the steadfastness of will matters even more. The clearer your mind, the more it nourishes your body.”

Yang Lie said sternly: “To achieve mental clarity, you must cultivate an invincible mindset in every action—walking, sitting, lying, rising.”

“In every battle, strive to win. Eat only the finest, wear only the best. This subtly strengthens your conviction, which in turn nourishes your body.”

Watching Fang Can lower his head in thought, Yang Lie emphasized: “Do you understand?”

“I understand.” Fang Can nodded seriously.

“You mean, to achieve mental clarity, if anyone dares defy me, I wipe out their entire family—no exceptions, not even my own father. If I want something, I buy it; if I can’t afford it, I steal it; if I can’t steal it, I deceive or trick; if I can’t sneak it, I poison or assassinate. The goal is lawlessness.”

Hearing Fang Can’s monologue, Yang Lie felt a bead of sweat. After all, Fang Can hadn’t been wrong—if this path didn’t get him lynched by the entire world, becoming the number one martial artist was inevitable.

“You don’t need to go that extreme,” Yang Lie soothed. “Martial cultivation isn’t just about killing. You must also find your own Dao.”

“You can seek the Dao in every moment—through perseverance, brilliance, love, immortality, lust, laziness, greed… As long as you walk one path without ever giving up, your martial path will be smooth.”

Listening to Yang Lie’s explanation, Fang Can felt something was off—this idealist martial path sounded like nothing but madness.

Could anyone who obsessed over one thing their entire life be normal? And a highly destructive madman—how could this world not descend into chaos?

Ignoring Fang Can’s thoughts, Yang Lie continued: “Next, I’ll teach you to identify acupoints.”

He pointed to a distance. “Look there.”

Following Yang Lie’s finger, Fang Can saw a black iron statue, one point eight meters tall, its surface evenly marked with dozens of depressions, each connected by lines.

Yang Lie said: “See those indentations? Those are the body’s acupoints—eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight in total.”

“Eight times eight is sixty-four,” Fang Can said instinctively.

“You see? You’re already doubting me. That proves your martial will isn’t strong enough.”

Yang Lie said sternly: “Cultivation means replacing heaven’s logic with your own mind. If you cling to simple arithmetic, it proves your mind isn’t firm—you don’t believe in yourself.”

“No, Master Yang, you’re wrong. Eight times eight is sixty-four.”

Fang Can insisted firmly:

“If two sentences from you can sway me, then my will and spirit aren’t even as strong as yours—how could I ever match heaven?”

Fang Can’s reply stunned the instructor, then made him beam with delight.

“Good, good, good—you’re beginning to understand what martial Dao truly is. Perhaps your talent really is exceptional.”

“These eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight acupoints are all the body’s points. Memorize their locations and depths precisely.”

“Then, during practice, visualize internal energy flowing along these lines, firmly believing it moves through each acupoint.”

“When you truly feel energy flowing between the acupoints and completing one full cycle, you’ll have officially entered the first realm of martial cultivation: [Transcending the Mortal Body].”

“Remember: the most vital word in martial cultivation is [Mind].”

“The Dayan Emperor once said: with will, anyone can become a Martial God.”

Saying this, Yang Lie tossed Fang Can an ancient, simple booklet: “This is our Tiger Fury Sect’s introductory martial art: Thirty-Six Tiger Devouring Fists.”

“Practice the movements and visualize the internal energy flow. If you sense qi within a month, you’re gifted. If not, go sleep with the laborers.”

Fang Can took the booklet. The cover still bore eight unfamiliar square characters. He flipped through it—each page carried meridian diagrams; even an illiterate could learn.

Looking up, Fang Can asked: “Master Yang, where can I learn to read? I don’t know a single character—I won’t understand martial manuals otherwise.”

“You want to read?” Yang Lie paused, then said firmly: “I advise you not to.”

“Knowledge is poisonous. It corrupts your mind—the more you learn, the weaker your conviction becomes.”

He gave an example: “The seventh disciple of the Taixuan Sect’s abbot was a genius—he sensed qi in half a day, crossed Transcending the Mortal Body in months. But because he read too much… do you know what happened to him?”

“What happened?”

Yang Lie slowly uttered two words: “Went mad.”

(End of Chapter)