Chapter 13: The Grandmaster's Secret

The small courtyard remained as cold and quiet as ever.

Returning to his own yard, Jiang Chen glanced at the two mice whose spirits had improved considerably, and at the peach tree, unchanged as always. Closing the courtyard gate tightly behind him, he settled onto the stone bench beneath the tree.

“Xuan Killing Finger.”

He brewed tea on a small stove, then began to carefully study this martial art. For most cultivators, martial arts were little more than trivial pursuits—Jiang Chen’s predecessor, Jiang Wang, thought the same. Apart from the Heart-Pushing Palm he developed himself, he never cultivated any other martial arts. Not because he lacked access or ability, but because he simply scorned them.

There was little fault in this; after all, a cultivator’s time and energy are finite. Rather than being distracted by martial arts, it was wiser to focus on cultivation, tempering the body. Once the Qi Refining stage was breached, all manner of problems would resolve themselves, for no matter how well one practiced martial arts, they could not withstand the spells of a Qi Refining cultivator.

But Jiang Chen cared not for such distinctions. In the apocalypse, being picky was hardly a virtue—anything useful, anything effective, was worth adopting. At present, martial arts still had considerable value in his eyes, at the very least as a conventional means to supplement his arsenal.

More importantly, he believed that mastering a martial art need not demand much time; the cost was within acceptable limits.

The fragrance of tea drifted gently. After replenishing the teapot, Jiang Chen set aside the manual.

In the next instant, he sprang up, fingers like swords, and began practicing in the courtyard.

If the Heart-Pushing Palm emphasized subtlety and softness, the Xuan Killing Finger focused on the refinement of power. Mastered to its utmost, it could condense most of a warrior’s strength into a single point—piercing with precision, overcoming the strong with the weak. Among first-rate martial arts, it was rather remarkable.

As time passed, Jiang Chen’s grasp of the Xuan Killing Finger grew ever more proficient. He could now truly wield it; by ordinary standards, he had reached the threshold of entry. Yet Jiang Chen was not content to stop there.

“The Xuan Killing Finger embodies lethality, carrying a sense of all-or-nothing resolve. Perhaps I can fuse my apocalyptic combat techniques into it.”

“Those battle-hardened methods may lack the systematic structure of martial arts, but they are forged from countless life-and-death struggles.”

The thought arose; without hesitation, Jiang Chen began his attempt.

At this stage, the Xuan Killing Finger, which he had just mastered, became chaotic, devoid of any pattern. Still, Jiang Chen did not mind; he continued practicing, nearly mad with obsession.

Thus, time slipped away quietly.

When the sun sank below the horizon, night and day exchanged places. In that moment, Jiang Chen was struck by inspiration, integrating the killing intent he had grasped into the Xuan Killing Finger.

“Kill!”

His mind erupted with killing intent—like a swordsman drawing his blade, Jiang Chen instinctively thrust a finger toward the trunk of the peach tree.

In that instant, a trace of spiritual energy stirred, merging with the killing intent, forming a crimson aura at Jiang Chen’s fingertip. It imbued his strike with an uncanny power, fundamentally transcending ordinary martial arts.

A silent hum—killing intent invisible, killing aura intangible. Before Jiang Chen’s finger truly fell, the peach tree seemed to suffer some unseen assault; its once-vigorous vitality began to ebb rapidly.

It was clear: as Jiang Chen’s Xuan Killing Finger descended, the corrosion of killing intent would utterly destroy the peach tree, leaving it devoid of any life.

Yet at that moment, a strange surge of vitality welled up from within the tree. Sensing this vast force, like a parched soul meeting fresh rain, the peach tree instinctively began to absorb it in desperation, striving to offset the damage of the killing intent—a redemption of life for itself.

As Jiang Chen’s fingertip finally touched the trunk, he shook free from his near-madness, returning to clarity.

“I never imagined that the killing intent I gained in the apocalypse could spark such resonance with the Xuan Killing Finger.”

“In this world, martial arts transcend first-rate to the Grandmaster realm—the level Ironman Tu has always pursued. Grandmasters focus on spiritual intent; perhaps the killing intent I’ve realized is a form of such spiritual power.”

The crimson faded from his eyes, leaving only a slight mark on the peach tree’s trunk—no real harm done. Jiang Chen withdrew his power, and thus the tree narrowly escaped disaster.

“I once thought plants were incapable of absorbing the power of blood energy, but it seems I simply hadn’t found the right method. This time, I stumbled upon it by accident.”

Various insights settled in his heart. Gazing at the motionless peach tree, Jiang Chen smiled.

Even ants cling to life, and so too does the peach tree. Under threat of death, it had successfully fused with the blood energy he’d previously infused. The amount was modest, but it was a promising beginning—a pleasant surprise.

Having observed the tree, Jiang Chen turned his gaze to the bamboo cage nearby. When he attained his new Xuan Killing Finger, his killing intent became manifest, affecting the two mice as well.

At this moment, one mouse seemed agitated, squeaking wildly and battering the cage in a frenzy, desperate to escape. The other buried its head in a corner, unmoving, feigning death. Only the wet patch beneath it betrayed its terror.

Jiang Chen raised an eyebrow at this scene, but he paid them little mind; he had more pressing matters.

He found brush and ink, lit a lamp, and under the moonlight, recorded all his insights.

After a while, having confirmed everything, Jiang Chen put down his pen.

“A Grandmaster possesses spiritual intent, able to draw upon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, thereby generating phenomena akin to spellcraft. Perhaps this is the greatest secret of Grandmaster-level martial arts.”

“This Xuan Killing Finger, now revised by me, is still incomplete—a mere prototype—but in some sense, it has already become a Grandmaster-level martial art, as it now incorporates the power of killing intent.”

Looking at his amended manual, Jiang Chen felt deeply satisfied.

This exploration granted him new understanding. The Grandmaster realm of martial arts was no longer mysterious to him; the key to opening that door was already in his grasp. With enough accumulation, he could naturally step into that realm, achieving what countless warriors dreamed of.

He had to admit, Ironman Tu’s judgment was excellent—he chose a martial art perfectly suited to himself, otherwise Jiang Chen’s progress would not have been so smooth.

“A Grandmaster’s spiritual intent can draw upon the spiritual energy of heaven and earth—which begs the question: can Grandmasters cultivate as well?”

His thoughts wandered, considering the possibility.

The first step of cultivation is to draw spiritual energy to temper the body. Ordinary cultivators rely on innate spiritual apertures to guide this process, while Grandmasters can forcibly harness it with spiritual intent. Though the approaches differ, the result is much the same.

After some thought, Jiang Chen shook his head. Whether Grandmasters can cultivate was of little consequence to him—he possessed spiritual apertures. If curiosity struck, he could experiment after achieving Grandmaster status; after all, that realm was not so distant for him.

And with that, he set his thoughts aside.