Back in the real world,
Jin's grandfather, Xing Tian, frowned, his sharp eyes fixed on the bird perched nearby.
What's wrong with this creature? he wondered. Why has it been sitting with its eyes closed for so long?
He reached out, intending to rouse Jin, but before he could, Jin's eyes snapped open.
Startled, Xing Tian took a step back. Jin blinked rapidly as consciousness returned and his thoughts aligned.
What… just happened?
The familiar, serene voice of the system echoed in his mind:
[System]: Host, we have returned to reality.
Jin gave a slow nod. "I see…"
Then his gaze shifted to Xing Tian, and the memories came flooding back.
The system simulation… That beating…
He winced inwardly. His grandfather hadn't held back at all. A glint of mischief sparked in his eyes.
Time for some payback.
"Inward command," he whispered mentally. "System, let's teach the old man a lesson."
Without further warning, the two launched into a sudden, fierce spar. Blades clashed, spiritual energy crackled in the air, and the ground beneath them trembled from the sheer force of their exchange. The sound of their clash echoed through the mountains, drawing the attention of birds and beasts alike.
Though experienced, the elder was soon overwhelmed. He was surprised, shocked, at how quickly Jin adapted, parried, and countered. It wasn't just his strength that had grown, but his instinct, his presence in battle.
When the dust settled, Xing Tian exhaled and brushed dirt from his robe with a sigh. "Fine," he muttered. "You've earned your hunting trip."
As Jin turned to leave, his grandfather's voice stopped him.
"By the way," Xing Tian asked, still catching his breath, "that defence technique you used—it's not from our clan. Was it a spell?"
He narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Did your mother teach you that?"
Jin shook his head calmly. "No. I created it myself."
The old man froze mid-step.
What? Impossible!
This brat created a technique like that? Even a trained Technique Master needs decades of refinement!
He mentally replayed the move—the precision, the layered energy, the fluid execution. It wasn't just strong. It was genius-level. Perhaps even a supreme-grade skill.
Taking a deep breath, he turned toward Jin.
"To create even a low-grade technique, a Technique Master requires a hundred years of experience," he said solemnly. "But to develop a supreme-level skill… that demands mastery spanning a hundred thousand years."
He stared at Jin with awe. "You're not just a cultivation genius—you're a born Technique Master."
Jin raised an eyebrow. "Technique Master, huh? Are there other professions like that?"
His grandfather nodded. "Of course. In the cultivation world, raw power isn't everything. There are several elite paths—each as vital as any warrior."
He held up one finger. Weapon Refiners. They forge spiritual weapons and legendary armaments—tools that can alter the course of wars."
Another finger. "Alchemists. Masters of pills and elixirs. Their brews can heal fatal wounds, extend lifespans, or help one ascend realms. A single pill from a high-tier alchemist can be worth more than a mountain of spirit stones."
He raised a third. "Array Masters. They create formations—barriers, traps, teleportation gates, cultivation fields. One grand array can protect a city or annihilate an army."
"And there are others. Beast Tamers. Soul Healers. Artefact Appraisers. Each path holds unique power."
He locked eyes with Jin. "But Technique Masters? They're the rarest. Because creating a technique isn't about strength—it's about vision, insight, and mastery. And you, Jin… you've already taken that first step."
[System Notification]: Congratulations, Host, for acquiring knowledge on cultivation professions.
Reward: None.
Jin's eye twitched. "Seriously? No reward?"
Back in the Arena…
The arena buzzed with energy as Jin stood face-to-face with Nyra Nangoum. Her reputation was legendary within the Central Dynasty—refined, deadly, and proud. Jin, on the other hand, had already shattered every expectation the audience had.
Nyra's aura surged, and she lunged, her technique crashing toward him like a tidal wave.
[System]: Would you like to activate the Infinite Void Technique?
Not yet, Jin replied.
The attack struck. Jin crossed his arms and braced himself. His stance absorbed the blow, but a portion slipped through, slashing across his side.
Blood sprayed. The crowd gasped as Jin staggered, crimson trickling from the corner of his mouth.
But then, his body shimmered. The wound closed instantly. His energy stabilised. He stood tall once more.
Nyra's eyes widened. What? That strike should've left a serious injury! How is he already healed?
Before she could recover, Jin moved.
"White Tiger Fist – Fast Form!"
His glowing fist shot forward, a blur of speed and precision, and landed square on Nyra's face.
She flew backwards, skidding across the arena floor.
A collective gasp rippled through the spectators.
"He just punched a girl in the face…"
"That's so shameless…"
"Disrespectful…"
Jin stood motionless, expression unreadable. Nyra rose, wiping the blood from her lip, fury burning in her eyes. Her pride wouldn't allow her to fall here.
Without a word, she charged again.
Blows were exchanged—sharp, brutal, relentless. They seemed evenly matched. The sheer intensity of their fight had the crowd holding their breath.
Then, Nyra drew a deep breath. Her aura flared, brighter and more focused than before.
"Butterfly Dance Sword Technique – Second Form: Butterfly Explosion!"
A swarm of ethereal butterflies surged toward Jin, their wings emitting a haunting hum. The technique was beautiful—almost poetic—but deadly.
Then—boom! One by one, they exploded in bursts of radiant energy.
Jin weaved between them with uncanny reflexes, dodging each detonation. Smoke filled the air. From within the cloud, a silhouette emerged.
"White Tiger Fist – Second Form!"
His glowing fist struck Nyra's face once more, sending her crashing into the arena floor again.
Silence fell.
Then—
"Did he just hit her in the face again?"
"She's the clan's pride…"
"No shame at all!"
Gasps. Murmurs. Fear. Awe.
Jin had done more than land two blows—he had shattered expectations.
The arena host raised a hand. "Victory goes to Jin!"
Yet Nyra pushed herself up, blood at her lips. Her sword dug into the ground as she steadied herself.
"I don't concede," she said through clenched teeth. "I still have one final move—one that can end this in a single strike."
Jin's gaze sharpened. "Then do it," he said coldly. "Show me the Third Form of your Butterfly Dance."
Nyra's hands clenched tightly around her sword. Her aura began to swell once more, pulsing with a deeper, more refined energy. The ground beneath her feet cracked from the pressure. Her body lowered slightly into a stance—elegant yet dangerous.
Wind stirred her hair as spiritual energy gathered like a storm around her. The air thickened. Spectators leaned forward in anticipation.
She was preparing her final move.
And this time, it wouldn't just be a duel. It would be a clash of fate.