The Qi Arts Master Chapter 16
Manae continued politely.
"It seems we should seek out another prince connected to our line and provide more support. Word is that the imperial forces clashing with the Red Turbans suffered a major defeat. Even if Kusrila ascends as the new emperor, he'll be too busy stabilizing the court. This is the perfect time to shake the imperial house to its foundations and install a puppet emperor to our liking."
"Fine. Handle the imperial matters yourself, Manae. Anything else?"
The Heavenly Demon's expression had turned profoundly bored ever since hearing of the Qi Arts heir's death.
"The righteous sects are showing signs of forming the Murim Alliance to check us. They've also noticed our deep ties to the court and are moving to aid the Red Turbans."
The Heavenly Demon responded indifferently to news of the Murim Alliance's formation as well.
"Deal with that yourself too, Manae."
He waved dismissively, irritation thick in the gesture. Manae bowed deeply, accepting the orders.
With all matters concluded, the Heavenly Demon rose and turned to Ji Hwiung.
"Hwiung, it's been ages. Shall we spar?"
Twenty years ago, during the clash between the Heavenly Demon Cult and the Qi Arts Clan, Ji Hwiung had been away on an external mission as the leader of the Black Wind Corps, the cult's premier strike force. By the time he returned after completing it, his master the Supreme Lord was dead, and his senior brother the Heavenly Demon was deep in recovery.
Recalling how the Heavenly Demon had ground his teeth in rage against the Qi Arts Clan back then, Ji Hwiung could roughly gauge his current mood.
"Let's do it. I've made some progress lately—it won't be easy for you."
"Heh heh. Slack off, and you might die."
The Heavenly Demon and Ji Hwiung chatted as they left the hall.
* * *
Tian Ailang glanced up at the faint moonlight barely filtering through overhead.
How much time has passed...?
He had been wandering endlessly through the cave, where only sporadic slivers of moonlight pierced the darkness, losing all track of days.
"Ugh!"
His toe slammed into a protruding rock, sending pain shooting through him. With his injuries, even such minor mishaps hurt fiercely—sensations utterly unlike the days when his inner power overflowed.
These feelings were so alien to him. Amid the unrelenting pain, Tian Ailang's thoughts drifted back to that fateful day.
When he regained consciousness after the battle with Draku, he was already plummeting from the waterfall. Amid the raging torrent, he'd exerted every ounce of strength to barely claw his way ashore.
Surveying his surroundings, he saw another waterfall towering even higher than the one he'd fallen from, plunging downward below. Dizziness washed over him. Then came the delayed agony of his wounds, amplifying the vertigo.
His inner power wouldn't stir. No—he couldn't feel it at all. Even channeling his breath brought no sign of recovery.
Stunned by this unprecedented crisis, Tian Ailang had briefly despaired. But he couldn't just collapse in resignation; forcing himself onward, he'd stumbled upon this cave hidden behind the falls. He'd entered to shelter his body, only to plunge deeper into its passages on impulse.
Originally, he'd planned to rest here and head into the forest beyond the waterfall. But there was no choice now. While admiring the stalactites, he'd unwittingly triggered something, and the entrance had collapsed.
Thus began his subterranean journey.
Using the thin moonlight as his guide, Tian Ailang had barely staved off starvation with the moss clinging to the cave walls. And so he'd pressed on, as always.
With stamina and any sense of time eroded away, after walking endlessly in a haze, murals suddenly caught his eye. Scattered on the floor were discarded bamboo slips.
Tian Ailang picked one up and read it first. Much was crumbled with age.
"What is this? Goguryeo warriors' path of attack... And then it's too faded to read."
He tried the others.
"Strike Bei...jing...? Attack? Hmm... The Black-Clothed Ancestors will aid... Ah, too hard to make out."
He turned to the murals. They depicted mounted archers firing arrows, city walls, and certain points circled above—like a map, though heavy corrosion made it unclear.
Still, the intriguing slips and murals offered a brief respite from his worries about his lost inner power.
But they were merely a momentary anesthetic. Under the faint encouragement of that slender moonlight, Tian Ailang resumed his endless trek, despair creeping in.
Injuries and exhaustion, a body that wouldn't heal. Having lived since youth brimming with inner power, this sense of loss was utterly foreign.
Even serious wounds had always mended after sleep or breath channeling; this situation was profoundly unfamiliar.
"Hoo... Come on, keep going!"
Yet he refused to give up easily. Dying after a fierce fight or battling the Demonic Cult was one thing—perishing from surrender would leave him too ashamed to face his grandfather. His pride wouldn't allow it either.
Shaking off negativity with resolve, Tian Ailang dragged his heavy legs forward step by step.
How much farther did he go? By now, eating moss felt routine, and he'd long lost all sense of time in the gloom.
In his half-dreaming stupor, a distant light seeped in. Rubbing his bloodshot eyes at the unfamiliar glow, he confirmed it: not the intermittent rays from ceiling cracks, but light shining straight ahead.
Overcome with elation at finding the exit, tears welled up.
"Hahaha..."
Heart pounding, he emerged into what seemed a remote mountain crag. The exit was cleverly concealed by boulders on the slope, likely intentional.
But the moment he stepped out, his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the incline. Legs drained of strength, he made a novice mistake he hadn't in over a decade.
"Urgh!"
Scratched raw by tree branches, Tian Ailang groaned and sprawled flat. Yet despite the pain, laughter bubbled up.
"Hahaha! I'm alive!"
Lost in survival's joy, he laughed long before tension shattered, plunging him into deep sleep.
* * *
Now, Tian Ailang was locked in a desperate melee.
The enemy's stealthy, coordinated encirclement tightened around his life. He held his breath, wary of the wolf pack surrounding him.
Damn... I'm done for.
After rolling down the slope and passing out, he'd jolted awake to sudden killing intent. Now he was hemmed in by wolves.
Perhaps mistaking his bloodied form for easy prey, one wolf that had merely prowled lunged suddenly.
Tian Ailang desperately shifted his stance, but took a deep hit. Accustomed to movements powered by overflowing inner power, the gap in sensation now was stark.
Normally, he'd have repelled it effortlessly with a burst from his toes, widening the distance before striking its flank with a palm strike. But it failed utterly.
"Ugh!"
The claw rake across his chest burned fiercely. Luckily, he'd improvised a kick to shove it back, saving his throat.
Alarm bells rang. Tian Ailang eyed the wolves gravely.
That first probe to test his reaction had them circling even more meticulously now.
Then two advanced, lunging in tandem.
Tian Ailang whipped up an Ascending Dragon Kick into the frontal wolf's jaw.
Crack!
No inner power, but his honed body and trained force delivered a concussion. Yet the side wolf's fangs he couldn't fully block.
Blocking with his arm would've meant getting bitten, so he smashed his elbow into its snout. The angle missed slightly, allowing a graze to his ribs.
"Ngh."
Steadying his ragged breath amid pain, Tian Ailang reset his guard.
Irked by his fierce resistance, the wolves grew warier, probing cautiously for openings.
Tian Ailang clicked his tongue inwardly. If my inner power were intact, I'd have lobbed a Frenzy Pill into their midst or cleaved them with Water Flow Sword.
"Hoo..."
Reciting Immovable Mind, he faced reality squarely.
"Come on!"
His defiant roar, laced with resolve to live or die fighting, startled the wolves into a frenzied charge.
Tian Ailang deflected the first aside, shoved the next's jaw sideways, then leaped into the embrace of a pouncing one for a throw.
He reversed the thick-legged claw swinger's limb, then hurled the held wolf at one targeting his back.
"Hup!"
The heavy resistance felt solid, confirming solid impact. Tian Ailang was gradually adapting to martial arts without inner power.
His dynamic vision and techniques remained; the wolves' attacks began feeling lighter. It was even growing fun—like his first days training, when everything was novel.
"Hahaha!"
No more wolves scored on him. They merely bounced or tumbled at his whims.
Tian Ailang stood relaxed, easily slipping a furious red-eyed lunge and planting his palm on its flank.
Thung! Like a drum's crack, the wolf collapsed writhing.
"Yelp!!!"
Tian Ailang burst into great laughter at the sight.
Fa Jing (Explosive Force). The seamless flow of power from sole through leg, waist, back, arm, wrist, to palm—Fa Jing was an ultimate technique, the pinnacle of martial intent.
This supreme physical harmony was called the Natural State; Fa Jing demanded that plus keen dynamic vision to seize the instant, acute senses, and courage to invade the foe's space.
Mastered, it struck internals without external marks, devastating hard-to-train organs like viscera.
This Fa Jing had gained fame when an old Wudang master used it against outer power experts or armored generals. Its difficulty rivaled Man-Sword Unity for swordsmen.
Yet Tian Ailang's version, while rooted in perfect Natural State, stemmed from total inner power absence—hardly conventional.
"It works."
A joyful smile lit his face. It felt like recompense for those despairing hours over lost power and failed channeling.
The thrill of finding a way through adversity electrified him.
"Alright! Time to clean up."
His eyes flashed; the wolves, enraged, bared fangs fiercer.
* * *
In Luoyang of Henan Province, amid the city's opulent halls, people gathered in a hall soaring five stories high. Their caliber was so rare that crowds formed, eager for a glimpse—but warriors in faction garb kept them cordoned outside.
Inside, a large round table newly set for the meeting dominated, surrounded by seated figures.
Among them, a middle-aged man in white robes with a white fan rose to speak.
"I am Jegal Cheong, patriarch of the Jegal Clan."