Chương 56: 1.56 Earth Grade Martial Arts

"I hope Brother Xiao Fan is alright…" Fatty Li muttered under his breath. Ning glanced sideways at him. He had returned late after placing the bets, and his original seat had already been taken. In the end, Fatty Li had dragged him over and plopped him down beside him without ceremony. At the moment, Fatty Li looked genuinely anxious. His brows were tightly knit, eyes locked onto the arena, lips moving faintly as if he were praying under his breath. Then he pulled out a BLT. Ning blinked.

The sandwich was already in Fatty Li's mouth. Ning blinked again. A second BLT had appeared in Fatty Li's hand, freshly unwrapped, while the first one was… gone.

"…What?" Ning murmured. Before he could process it, the same thing happened again. And again. Fatty Li ate with terrifying efficiency. There was no wasted motion, just a smooth transition from hand to mouth to disappearance. At this point, Ning was fairly certain this qualified as a supernatural ability.

'If there were a novel about this world', Ning thought, ' Fatty Li would definitely be some kind of gag character.' After all, his movement speed clearly changed when food was involved.

"Brother Ning?" Fatty Li suddenly asked, pausing mid-bite.

"Is something wrong?" Ning coughed lightly.

"Nothing. I was just… wondering if you can really eat all that." Xin Fu had bought enough food to stock a stall for the day, and Fatty Li had bought them all.

"This much?" Fatty Li said proudly.

"It's nothing." He took another bite.

"When I'm worried," he continued between chews, "I eat to cope. So don't worry, I'll definitely finish it." Ning nodded slowly.

"I see." He watched as Fatty Li demonstrated exactly what he meant. While chewing, Fatty Li's face was filled with pure bliss. The moment he swallowed, his expression twisted back into concern.

"Brother Xiao Fan should be alright," he said quietly, gaze fixed on the arena. Another bite. Bliss returned. Ning observed in silence as Fatty Li cycled seamlessly between deep anxiety and absolute culinary enlightenment. Worry. Chew. Bliss. Swallow. Worry. Over and over again, with mechanical precision. At this point, Ning wasn't sure which was more impressive: Fatty Li's eating speed, or his ability to regulate his emotions through sandwiches.

As expected, anyone who could stick close to a protagonist was bound to be somewhat weird, like Sun Jing and Fatty Li. Of course, Ning never once considered the possibility that he might also be weird.... Inside the arena, the heavy hum of the formation barrier flared to life once more, sealing ten figures across the massive bluestone platform. For a brief, almost theatrical moment, nobody moved. Unlike the calculated efficiency of Ning's own earlier match, the contestants in this bracket were visibly sweating.

The psychological weight of being trapped on the same stage as Xiao Hong, a high-tier elite firmly seeded in the top four, was suffocating. Breaking the tense silence, Xiao Hong stepped toward the center of the ring. He kept his hands clasped casually behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the other eight disciples with unblinking contempt.

"I'll make this simple," Xiao Hong announced, his voice carrying effortlessly across the arena despite his lazy drawl.

"Anyone who gets between Xiao Fan and me, leave the ring now. Otherwise, don't complain when you're carried out on a stretcher." Classic, Ning thought from the spectator stands, resting his chin on his fist. Certified young master behavior. Arrogantly threatening a room full of people you're about to fight, truly the gold standard of recurring antagonist logic. The surrounding contestants exchanged tense, wide-eyed glances.

Even the slowest among them could tell they had just stumbled into a blood feud, and nobody wanted to be collateral damage. Xiao Fan didn't offer a spoken retort. He merely shifted his stance, his aura sharpening like a blade drawn halfway from its leather sheath. Today, the look in his eyes said everything: this miserable rivalry was ending. The brass chime rang. Chaos erupted instantly. Two terrified disciples immediately lunged at each other to secure a quick elimination, their swords clashing wildly.

Another scrambled backward, panic-stamping hand signs to raise a defensive barrier. Spiritual techniques and elemental sparks began flying in every direction. Xiao Hong didn't even give them a glance. He simply stepped forward and flicked his wrist. A condensed beam of piercing qi shot from his fingertip, tearing straight through the chaotic crossfire of the battlefield.

A charging disciple caught the beam head-on; his hastily erected qi shield shattered like cheap glass, and the raw impact sent him rocketing across the platform. He slammed into the shimmering formation barrier with a dull, heavy thud and slid down into a limp, unconscious heap.

"Flies," Xiao Hong sneered, not pausing his stride. On the far side of the platform, Xiao Fan moved. He kept to the edges of the melee, slipping past stray elemental blasts and wild sword swings by fractions of an inch. His counterattacks were completely stripped of flashy movements, striking entirely from blind spots. A disciple tried to ambush Xiao Fan from behind, swinging a heavy iron saber.

Without turning around, Xiao Fan pivoted on his heel, caught the man's wrist mid-downswing to hijack his momentum, and drove a compact, brutal elbow straight into the guy's sternum. A sickening crack echoed out. The disciple crumpled instantly, clutching his chest. Still an absolute monster, Ning noted silently. Xiao Fan's spiritual root might be a tragic, bottom-tier joke on paper, but his hard-coded combat instincts were light-years ahead of his peers.

His grasp of pacing, weight distribution, and battlefield psychology was something most coddled sect disciples never mastered. Instead of grandstanding over his fallen opponent, Xiao Fan instantly melted back into the crowd, subtly baiting the remaining fighters into each other's paths. A heavy swing cracked a disciple's collarbone, and before the body even hit the bluestone, Xiao Fan's eyes were already darting toward the next open threat.

Meanwhile, Xiao Hong was growing visibly annoyed that people were still standing. A desperate disciple attempted a wide-area tracking technique, attempting to force the field back. Xiao Hong didn't even look. He jabbed a single finger forward, sending a razor-thin stream of qi that pierced the half-formed spell, causing it to detonate prematurely in the caster's face. The man screamed, clutching his fractured shoulder as he rolled out of bounds. The roster thinned out at a terrifying speed.

Between Xiao Hong's overwhelming, brute-force execution and Xiao Fan's lethal, surgical extractions, the other contestants were systematically dismantled. Ning almost felt bad for them. In the grand scheme of things, this entire bracket was just a narrative crucible designed to sharpen the protagonist's blade. The rest of these poor bastards, mostly standard third-stage Qi Condensation background characters, were literally just high-fructose fodder meant to make the final clash look spectacular.

Within minutes, only three people were left standing. The lone survivor, a pale-faced kid caught dead in the middle of the platform, looked back and forth between Xiao Hong and Xiao Fan. Sweat poured down his jaw. He was stuck entirely between a rock and a hard place, his legs trembling as he weighed the options of a desperate gamble versus immediate surrender. Xiao Hong didn't give him the luxury of a choice. Without fully turning around, he tossed a casual wave of compressed qi over his shoulder.

The blast caught the kid in the ribs, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him to the stone tiles. Silence fell over the ruined arena. Only two remained. Xiao Hong rolled his shoulders, finally locking his full, toxic attention onto Xiao Fan. His lips curled into a nasty, jagged grin.

"So, the trash managed to survive the clearing." Xiao Fan remained silent, merely dropping his center of gravity and adjusting his footing.

"You should honestly feel honored for surviving until you faced me," Xiao Hong mocked, lifting a hand as his qi began to churn violently.

"I'll make sure your retirement is permanent." And there it is, Ning sighed internally. The mandatory pre-boss-fight trash talk. It's like a universal law. Xiao Hong lunged. He closed the distance like a striking viper, his movements incredibly domineering. His fists came down like a torrential storm, heavy, oppressive, and packed with the raw power of his superior cultivation.

Every single collision rattled the stone platform, sending dull tremors through the bluestone and webbed fractures spreading beneath Xiao Fan's boots. Xiao Fan met the onslaught head-on. Crossing his forearms, his palms moved in tight, rolling arcs, parrying and redirecting the kinetic force wherever possible. He didn't try to match Xiao Hong's muscular power; instead, he slipped his head past the heavy haymakers and deflected the crushing blows at the absolute last microsecond.

Even so, the sheer disparity in cultivation was punishing. Every block left Xiao Fan's forearms visibly vibrating with numbness, his breathing growing ragged. Xiao Hong grinned savagely.

"Is that all your pathetic self amounts to?" He doubled his pace. A sweeping low kick forced Xiao Fan to leap backward, and a heavy, downward palm strike instantly followed, smashing directly into the space Xiao Fan had occupied a millisecond prior. The bluestone exploded into a crater of flying shrapnel. Twisting mid-air, Xiao Fan found his footing and countered with a lightning-fast, compact punch aimed squarely at Xiao Hong's exposed floating ribs.

Xiao Hong managed to snap an arm down to block it, but his brow furrowed as the impact forced him half a step back. The density behind that single punch was far heavier than a fifth-stage cultivator had any right to possess. They separated for a single heartbeat, then collided again. Xiao Hong's style was grand, theatrical, and backed by a mountain of raw energy. Xiao Fan's approach was an aggressive contrast: short, fast steps, tight defensive angles, and zero wasted motion.

He willingly surrendered three inches of ground just to steal back four. Ning's eyes narrowed from the stands. He was adapting to his opponent in real time. Xiao Fan's footwork was getting lighter. His breathing was actually slowing down. Where he had previously been awkwardly deflecting the heavy strikes, he was now cleanly redirecting the momentum with minimal effort.

"You little cockroach!" Xiao Hong roared, losing his temper as he unleashed a frantic flurry. This time, Xiao Fan ducked clean inside the wide arc of the swing. His elbow snapped forward, grazing Xiao Hong's jaw. It wasn't a knockout blow, but it connected perfectly. Xiao Hong stumbled back three steps, his face twisting in absolute humiliation as the audience gasped.

"I don't care what kind of forbidden medicine you swallowed to reach the fifth stage of Qi Condensation," Xiao Hong hissed, a dark, murderous red flushing his face.

"Today, you crawl. I'll show you the absolute disparity of the Xiao Clan's Earth-grade martial heritage, something a bastard outcast could never even look at!" With a guttural shout, he raised his hand, channeling his entire pool of qi into his index finger.

"Crushing Stone Finger!" The atmospheric pressure inside the barrier spiked violently as qi condensed into a blinding, dense point at his fingertip. The air visually warped around his hand, and deep fractures began splintering across the platform floor before the strike was even launched. Ning leaned over the wooden railing, his curiosity genuinely piqued. This was the first time he would witness the true might of an Earth-grade martial art.

From what he had read, the hierarchy of martial arts was clear, at least in theory. Mortal-grade techniques were the simplest, built around a single core move refined endlessly. At Great Accomplishment, that move might undergo a qualitative change, becoming a powerful finisher, but it would quickly fall behind as cultivation increased. Spirit-grade martial arts were a step above. They contained complete sets, openings, transitions, finishers, sometimes even movement or defense.

They emphasized flow and adaptability, but they still had a ceiling Then came Earth-grade martial arts. This was where things truly changed. Earth-grade techniques introduced intent. They could be practiced at Qi Condensation, yet they didn't become obsolete as cultivation rose. Instead, they deepened with cultivation. The same move, used by different cultivators, or even by the same cultivator at different stages, could display entirely different power.

At Great Accomplishment, an Earth-grade martial art allowed its user to grasp a rudimentary martial intent. This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. That was why such techniques were often clan inheritances. They could accompany a cultivator for an entire realm, sometimes even longer. As for Heaven-grade martial arts… Ning had only read vague descriptions.

Unlike Earth-grade techniques, which emphasized understanding and intent, Heaven-grade martial arts were said to grow directly alongside cultivation. Their frameworks were so vast they seemed almost alive. At Qi Condensation, they might appear unremarkable. At higher realms, the same technique could shake mountains. With all this in mind, Ning's curiosity burned. After all, he himself was still relying on mortal-grade martial arts. And now, he was about to witness the difference firsthand.

The compressed beam of golden qi erupted from Xiao Hong's finger, screaming across the ring with the force of a collapsing mountain. Xiao Fan didn't dodge. He didn't even blink, for that matter. Instead, he took a deliberate step forward. His stance locked and his breathing stopped entirely. The chaotic noise of the stadium seemed to vanish from the protagonist's perception. The qi inside his body imploded inward, tightly compressed into his right fist by sheer force of absolute will. He drew his arm back.

[Heaven-Shattering Fist] There was no blinding flash, nor any display of colorful aura. It was just a raw, perfectly concentrated straight punch, and heavens did that pack a punch. The two forces slammed into each other. For a terrifying split second, the entire arena went dead silent. Then, BOOM! A violent, deafening shockwave ripped outward, fracturing the reinforced bluestone platform into a spiderweb of ruins. A dense cloud of pulverized stone dust and debris launched into the sky, obscuring the stage.

Through the haze, Xiao Hong's hysterical voice ringed out: "How is this possible?! That's an Earth-grade technique! After I stripped you of your status, where could an outcast like you possibly find a functional Earth-grade manual?!" His voice cracked with sheer, unadulterated panic.

"It doesn't matter! You're still trash! Your cultivation base is hollow! Press down!" The phantom image of the giant golden finger trembled, its crushing weight forcing Xiao Fan's legs to buckle slightly. The physical toll of fighting a higher cultivation tier was finally showing. Xiao Fan's veins bulged along his neck like twisting worms, and blood began to ooze from the pores of his right arm as his muscles strained under the mountain-like pressure.

Xiao Fan gritted his bloody teeth, his eyes burning with a terrifying, unhinged focus.

"So what if your cultivation is higher?!" he roared hoarsely, his voice tearing through the dust cloud.

"So what if you stole my birthright?!" He planted his back heel, grinding it directly into the shattered stone.

"Every single drop of qi in my body, I bled for! Every step I took out of that mud, I carved with my own damn hands!" His internal energy experienced a sudden, violent qualitative leap. The phantom pressure around his fist stabilized, the fragmented energy of his technique seamlessly locking into place. Ning's eyes widened slightly from the stands. He was literally evolving mid-fight, further refining his techniques.

"I am not losing to someone like you." Xiao Fan screamed." Break!" His fist surged forward another inch. A series of loud, crystalline fractures spider-webbed across Xiao Hong's golden finger technique before the entire structure shattered like brittle glass. The violent energetic backlash slammed directly into Xiao Hong's extended hand, the sound of his finger bones snapping audible even to the back rows, followed immediately by the blunt force of Xiao Fan's fist impacting his chest.

Xiao Hong was launched backward like a ragdoll caught in an explosion.

Blood sprayed from his mouth in a crimson mist before his spine collided with the formation barrier. The magical wall rippled violently from the impact, and he slid down to the floor, completely unconscious before his face hit the gravel. Silence reclaimed the stadium as the dust slowly began to settle. Xiao Fan stood alone at the center of the cratered ring, his chest heaving violently, his blood-stained fist still extended into the empty air, knuckles trembling with adrenaline.

Meanwhile, Ning was watching all this like a wife who had just seen her husband run into a wall with an erection only to break his nose first. Extremely disappointing but not surprising. He had wanted to learn how Xiao Fan would overcome an Earth-grade technique through finesse or insight. Instead, Xiao Fan had simply crushed it with an even stronger attack, something Ning himself couldn't replicate. The outcome of the fight had never really been in doubt. All the elements had favored Xiao Fan.

The only true surprise was the martial art he had used.

"How did Xiao Fan defeat Xiao Hong?!" The crowd erupted again.

"What technique was that?!"

"That martial art is one of the five incomplete Earth-rank techniques! It's so fragmented that everyone who practiced it suffered qi deviation. How did Xiao Fan master it?!" Ning couldn't help but think that these people should apply for jobs at the Martial Pavilion. Then a strange thought crossed his mind.

'Wait… doesn't this mean I understood it too? I recognized the technique the moment it was used.' He quickly shook the thought away.

"Brother Xiao Fan really won!" Fatty Li, who had been glued to the arena, suddenly grabbed Ning in excitement and pulled him into a crushing hug.

"... Fatty Li, too strong!" Ning struggled. Even with his body training, it was hard to pry this guy off. Something was clearly wrong with this guy's physique.

"O-oh, sorry!" Fatty Li said sheepishly, finally letting go. Ning sighed, closed his eyes, and let the noise of the arena wash over him.

[Panel] Name: Ji Ning Spiritual Root: Mid-grade Spiritual Root Attributes: Five Elemental Attributes Talent: Extreme Space-Time Sensitivity Realm: 5th Stage of Qi Condensation (1599/1600), Marrow Refining (2/600) Cultivation Methods: Pure Qi Sutra (3rd Floor), Jade Skin and Ice Meridians (3rd Level) Martial Arts: Bone Forging Fist (Great Accomplishment: 12/400), Shadow Steps (Great Accomplishment: 390/400), Turtle Breathing (Great Accomplishment: 395/400), Pure Eyes (Starting: 5/300), Falling Leaf Spear Technique (Penetration), Spiral Arrow Spells: Small Cloud Rain Technique (Mastery), Soil Refining Technique (Great Accomplishment: 280/400), Scorching Purge (Great Accomplishment: 12/400), Golden Finger (Minor Accomplishment: 89/200), Hidden Ice Mist (Great Accomplishment: 7/400), Withering and Fluorishing Technique (Great Accomplishment: 39/400), Fireball(Minor Accomplishment: 4/200)]'The only way I can get close to the top three is by reaching the sixth stage.'

Ning thought. At his current level, getting hit by an earth-grade martial art meant game over. Over the past year, Ning had pushed his cultivation relentlessly, relying on flawless pills and a mid-grade Spirit Gathering Array to advance at an astonishing pace. Naturally, the resources consumed were enormous. Even with his multiple sources of income, he was barely able to sustain himself. But it was worth it. He was very close to the sixth stage. What held him back now was digestion.

To break through, Ning had consumed one of his few remaining stalks of Dragon Qi Grass. The surge of energy had been immense, but it had also brought problems. His cultivation had increased too quickly, leaving his foundation slightly unstable and forming a minor bottleneck. Fortunately, Ning understood exactly what was happening. The solution was simple in theory: stabilize the energy within his body and allow it to fully integrate. Under normal circumstances, he would have entered seclusion for a week or two.

When he emerged, he would naturally be a sixth-stage Qi Condensation cultivator. But time was no longer a luxury he possessed. There were only a few ways to refine such excess energy quickly. One of them was battle. By fighting under pressure, just like Xiao Fan was doing now, he could force his cultivation to harmonize, pushing past the bottleneck in the midst of conflict. Ning narrowed his eyes.

"If that's the case," he muttered, "then I need to prepare for prolonged combat." Ning casually savored the next couple of matches, mainly to observe the strengths and weaknesses of his potential opponents. At the same time, he made sure to show his support for the people in his association. After all, connections always required constant maintenance even if it was just symbolic. It was only when his communication talisman lit up that he finally left the arena.

He had just turned into a quieter corridor when he spotted a familiar figure leaning against a stone pillar. Sun Jing. His robes were slightly disheveled, and there was a faint smear of dried blood on one sleeve, but his eyes were still bright.

"Congratulations on your win," Sun Jing said first, breaking the silence. Ning nodded.

"Yeah." After a pause, he added more carefully, "You fought well too." Sun Jing laughed.

"Maybe, but I still lost." He caught the worry flickering across Ning's face and immediately waved it off.

"Relax. I never expected to place very high in the first place. I know my own strength." Then his chest puffed out a little.

"Besides, unlike most people, I lost with style." Ning stared at him.

"…That's not a thing."

"It is if you don't cry about it," Sun Jing replied easily, waving a hand as if the matter were already settled.

"Plus, it wasn't all bad." Ning raised a brow.

"Oh?"

"At least my handsome face didn't get punched by Qiu Han," Sun Jing said proudly, clearly determined to focus on the positives.

"Qiu Han," Ning repeated. The top-ranked newcomer, the one most people believed had the highest chance of winning the entire tournament.

"Yeah. That guy's a beast," Sun Jing said seriously.

"No wasted movements at all. You know those people who look like they're barely trying, but somehow you're the one getting pushed around?" He clicked his tongue.

"That's him." His smile faded slightly, turning more serious, though his tone stayed light.

"Be careful if you run into him. He's strong." Ning nodded slowly.

"I'll keep that in mind." Sun Jing clapped him on the shoulder.

"Now, enough about me getting bullied. Your weapon's finally here."

"Oh?" Ning's interest was immediately piqued.

"Show me." Sun Jing tapped his spatial pouch and pulled out a long, cloth-wrapped object. With an entirely unnecessary flourish, he unwrapped it. A spear emerged. The shaft was a deep, dark color, almost black, with faint grain-lines that looked like flowing water trapped in wood. The spearhead was narrow and clean, its edges gleaming coldly, the kind of sharp that made your fingers itch just from looking at it. Even without channeling qi into it, Ning could feel its bite. Ning's expression tightened slightly.

"This is excellent."

"Right?" Sun Jing said, clearly pleased.

"The tip's forged with cold-iron sand, so it cuts through qi coatings better than normal steel. And just like you asked, we added a bit of profound ice during the forging." Ning took the spear, feeling its weight settle naturally into his palm. It felt… perfect. Sun Jing crossed his arms, eyes bright.

"Go on. Give it a name." Ning blinked.

"A name?"

"Of course," Sun Jing said seriously.

"You can't just stab people with an unnamed spear. That's disrespectful."

"That's… not how respect works," Ning said, speechless. Sun Jing ignored him.

"If you don't name it, it'll feel underappreciated. Then it'll start missing its targets on purpose." Ning paused, then sighed.

"You're making things up." At this point, he was sure that this guy was having a brain fart. As he thought, all the guys the protagonist associated with were weird in one way or another.

"Am I?" Sun Jing leaned closer and whispered dramatically, "Are you really willing to gamble your spirit stones on that?" Ning's lips twitched despite himself. He looked down at the spearhead again, thoughtful.

"…Alright," he said slowly.

"Then let's call it Friendship."

"Friendship?" Sun Jing blinked. Some say his thought process was hard to understand; these people have never met the guy beside him. He was even going to suggest a name if Ning hadn't picked one, something like Heavenly Saintly Dragon Piercer, which sounded domineering and awesome.

"Yes," Ning said with a smile.

"I call my bow Love. So this spear will be Friendship." Love and Friendship. Ning nodded to himself. Yes. Now he would fight with the power of love and friendship by his side.... Thanks for reading~