Chapter Fifty-Five: Torment

Page 1/3

Within the simulated battle scenario, Wang Li felt his scalp prickling at the sight of several hundred simulated figures.

“Master Sheng, do I really need to spar with all these people?”

Master Sheng replied, “Of course not. Just pick a few with more unusual abilities. Still, you ought to face the others, too.”

“Isn’t it enough just to pick a few?”

“You’re too green. That’s reason enough,” Master Sheng retorted, his words lately more blunt than ever, caring little for Wang Li’s feelings and stating his shortcomings outright.

Wang Li sighed helplessly; he had no rebuttal.

Because he truly was inexperienced—his only victory had been over Jiang Yue, who was even greener than himself.

He sifted through the hundreds of simulated figures and first settled on Zhou Qian, the man with a door-sized plank on his back.

Zhou Qian had once been stuck at the peak of the first tier of Foundation Establishment, eliminated in all four inner sect assessments, lingering in the outer sect for over seventy years, a laughingstock. Only after his door-plank saved hundreds of fellow disciples did he begin to stand out. During the campaign to clear out the Earthhowl horde, he performed brilliantly. After receiving the Chosen Ranking’s reward—a minor Breakthrough Pill—he broke through three minor realms in just three days, leaping to the fourth tier of Foundation Establishment. If not for his wariness of advancing too quickly and risking hidden dangers, he might already have reached the fifth or even sixth tier, making him the very image of someone who builds strength slowly and erupts all at once.

It’s worth noting that Zhou Qian’s repeated rejections from the inner sect were entirely his own doing. He refused the elders’ advice to switch to other cultivation methods, adamant about not abandoning his incomplete, mid-grade Yellow-rank water technique, the “Grand Art of Soaring Aerial Control.” The name sounded impressive, but the art itself was weak and, critically, incomplete. It had little offensive power. This fire-element prodigy was inexplicably obsessed with a crippled water technique—a choice that baffled all.

Wang Li had heard of Zhou Qian since childhood—mainly about his bizarre “flying boat.”

He’d always wondered why anyone would specialize in aerial control at the expense of almost all offensive abilities, leading to a cultivation speed slower than a snail’s.

Even now, Wang Li could not fathom Zhou Qian’s choice.

He picked Zhou Qian as his first opponent precisely to see what this “Grand Art of Soaring Aerial Control” truly was.

With a thought, Zhou Qian’s simulation appeared before him.

He set Zhou Qian’s actual cultivation level as the battle parameter, then launched his attack.

“Flameburst Sword—go!”

Page 2/3

He unleashed his ultimate move at once, the Flameburst Sword’s surging tongues of fire stabbing straight for Zhou Qian’s vital point.

Zhou Qian did not dodge. Instead, he uttered a single word—“Aerial!” Instantly, Wang Li felt his connection to the Flameburst Sword severed. Before he could even react in shock, a sharp pain struck his neck—and he was killed in a single instant… His head and body parted, his death abrupt and undignified…

“How could this happen? There’s only a two-tier difference between us, and I even have a top-tier Earth-grade flying sword—how was I killed instantly?”

Wang Li was deeply shaken.

He knew the simulated battle scenario was uncanny—capable of perfectly replicating a person’s full strength.

The power Zhou Qian displayed was absolutely genuine, meaning that, in a real life-and-death duel, Wang Li wouldn’t last a single exchange.

“Heh, boy, did you really think brute force could break all techniques?” Master Sheng chuckled. “Even the most elite wouldn’t dare claim they could crush everyone purely with raw strength and cultivation.”

“Sometimes, experience and wisdom determine victory, not just power. At least when the gap in cultivation isn’t vast, the side with more experience has a higher chance of winning.”

“Zhou Qian’s realm isn’t high, and he has no exceptional spiritual tools, but he’s delved into aerial control for decades and glimpsed part of its true essence. With his undistracted focus, keen perception, and rich combat experience, defeating a greenhorn like you is child’s play.”

Wang Li muttered, “Maybe you should go find someone more experienced, then.”

Master Sheng’s reasoning was sound, but Wang Li had his pride. Hearing such blunt criticism naturally stung.

“You’re a rookie and can’t take a little criticism?” Master Sheng snorted. “If I had a choice, I’d switch in a heartbeat. How about this—hurry up and reach the Nascent Soul stage, then defeat Zhou Qian or even Nan Qi’s soul and spirit. I’ll move on at once and spare myself the aggravation!”

“Don’t say that! I’m counting on you to keep me alive!” Wang Li relented immediately. “I’ll do as you say—I won’t leave seclusion till I beat every one of these simulated figures. Will that do?”

He wasn’t joking—Master Sheng was already part of his soul. Without his help to shroud his presence, Wang Li’s Innate Mixed-Element body might attract a heavenly tribulation that would erase him as a hidden threat. Moreover, for all his inexperience, he knew how vital it was to have a reliable guide in cultivation. There was no way he would ever give up such a trusty “old grandpa” companion.

Page 3/3

“That’s more like it. Take advantage of this time, before your bad feeling comes true, and increase your strength. No matter how capable I am, I can’t take a rookie like you soaring to the heavens.”

Having promised Master Sheng, Wang Li wasted no further time and reactivated the simulated battle scenario.

This time, he didn’t challenge Zhou Qian, but instead called up Nan Qi, as Master Sheng had mentioned, adjusting Nan Qi’s cultivation to match his own.

But before he could even attack, Nan Qi felled him with a single punch—instant defeat. His confidence, which had just started to build, was immediately shattered.

Master Sheng said, “Are you blind? Nan Qi’s strength isn’t in cultivation or spells, but in his physical body. Didn’t you notice his flying sword is really just a club?”

Prompted, Wang Li finally noticed what made Nan Qi different.

Looking closely, Nan Qi’s body, hidden beneath his robes, was remarkably robust; his fingers were thick-jointed, his exposed right wrist during attacks was bronze-hued—completely different from the pale skin on his face. His weapon resembled a longsword, but was astonishingly thick, more like an eight-faceted short cudgel.

Most cultivators paid little attention to their bodies’ physical form, perhaps tempering them during the Body Refinement stage, but few deliberately strengthened themselves further. Most relied on spiritual energy to reinforce muscles, bones, and blood, leaving no obvious outward signs—unless someone was naturally burly or followed the Body Cultivation path, few had such physiques.

An abnormally strong body and use of blunt weapons—these were all hallmarks of a body cultivator, unless one had Jiang Yue’s peculiar “aesthetic” tastes.

Wang Li eventually had to lower Nan Qi’s realm to the sixth stage of Qi Refinement before he could, by virtue of his deep reserves of spiritual power and offensive techniques, barely manage a victory. Throughout, Nan Qi demonstrated formidable resilience, and only then did Wang Li realize Nan Qi was a cunning dual cultivator of spells and the body.

If an opponent mistook him for the “spell master” that Master Sheng described and sought close combat, they’d surely lose terribly…

Wang Li went on to select the simulated figures of Hong Luanfeng, Ling Xiao, the Lin brothers, Luo Heng, and others, adjusting their realms to the second stage of Foundation Establishment. Each time, he was instantly defeated.

From these disciples of the Pure Yang Temple, it was clear that the sect’s dominance was no accident—every disciple had solid fundamentals, ruthless decisiveness, and remarkable fortitude.

By now, Wang Li had shed any faint sense of superiority, recognizing the value of using these opponents to hone his skills and temper his battle technique.

Yet the process itself was hard to describe in any other terms than—

Abuse.