Volume Two: The Anbei Consortium Chapter Twenty-Four: The Hierarchy of Martial Arts

Tie Jingshan’s brows furrowed as he, too, turned his gaze toward the man in the duckbill cap.

In this temporary team, he had gained a general understanding of everyone. The man with the duckbill cap came from a family of thieves; despite lacking for nothing, he had one rather unsavory habit—he stole something every day.

Judging by the situation, it was clear he’d been caught in the act.

Tie Jingshan knew well that the duckbill cap wearer had a peculiar stubbornness: ordinarily, he was quite normal, but when it came to theft, he’d never admit defeat until he hit a wall.

This was an opportunity—an opportunity to forge a deeper connection with the thieves’ guild.

“Friend, step aside!” Tie Jingshan spoke in a deep, resonant voice. Anyone able to restrain the duckbill cap wearer was clearly no ordinary person, and Tie Jingshan didn’t want the conflict to escalate.

Li Yu’s brows furrowed. “I said, give me back my things!”

Was this blatant favoritism? Why did everyone seem to think he was easy to push around?

In truth, it wasn’t the fault of these people. On Blue Star, those who practiced martial arts—unless they had achieved a truly transcendent level—could easily sense each other’s vitality and energy.

If Li Yu were in another world, the fluctuations of his spiritual power would be impossible to conceal, but here, on Blue Star, possibly a world in the twilight of its magic, his spiritual energy was locked within him. To martial artists, he appeared utterly ordinary.

So when trouble arose, it was natural for martial artists to look down on him.

“Friend, you’d best move now. I don’t want things to get unpleasant,” Tie Jingshan said impatiently. He could think of no other solution than to assert his strength; it was obvious even to his toes that the boy’s belongings were with the duckbill cap wearer.

He couldn’t possibly demand the duckbill cap prove his innocence.

“What, you want to make a move?” Li Yu shrugged.

Tie Jingshan barked, “Forgive me!” He swung his arm horizontally, aiming to strike Li Yu’s shoulder.

He struck suddenly, with hidden force, intending to instantly incapacitate Li Yu. Others were waiting outside; if this dragged on and they came in, he’d become a laughingstock.

It would call his abilities into question!

But in the next instant, his hand froze in midair, unable to move.

“It’s nothing. You haven’t reached the threshold of offense,” Li Yu shook his head.

He grasped Tie Jingshan’s hand and suddenly tightened his grip. “But do you know—I’m in a foul mood today!”

Bones cracked loudly; Tie Jingshan broke out in a cold sweat and dropped painfully to his knees.

“Ah—ah—ah—my hand!”

He knew his hand was ruined.

Li Yu was indifferent. If others respect me a foot, I’ll return a yard. That strike from Tie Jingshan—had it landed on an ordinary person, their arm would likely be rendered useless. Since he was so ruthless, Li Yu responded in kind.

Li Yu released his grip and turned his gaze on the duckbill cap. He beckoned with his hand. “My belongings.”

“Here…” The duckbill cap wearer swiftly handed over the wallet, retracting his hand the moment it touched Li Yu’s, fearful he’d suffer the same fate.

His gaze fell on Tie Jingshan, a strange expression in his eyes. Tie Jingshan practiced Iron Sand Palm, a skill that, like his own, focused on hand techniques. Now, with Tie Jingshan’s right hand crippled, his strength would be diminished by more than half.

Could it still be healed? If he’d been the one to anger Li Yu…

Better him than me.

The duckbill cap showed a look of lingering fear. Seeing Li Yu turn to leave, he quickly dragged Tie Jingshan away.

He wasn’t sure how to handle what came next. After all, Tie Jingshan had been injured on his behalf. If the hot-tempered elders of the Tie family blamed him as well… That would be a problem for another time.

The sooner Tie Jingshan’s hand was treated, the better. There was always a chance it could be restored.

…

“I’m back,” Li Yu announced as he returned to his room.

He had already put the earlier events out of his mind. Villains are best dealt with by other villains; Li Yu felt no remorse.

He pulled out a chair and sat down. The tea before him was still warm. Li Yu glanced at Chen Jingfu, then turned to Chen Chengde.

“Elder Chen, I’d like to ask—how are the levels defined?” Li Yu hesitated before speaking.

As his cultivation advanced, he encountered more and more unusual individuals. Each time he engaged them, he could sense clearly: this person was slightly stronger than Chen Jingfu, that one was somewhat weaker than Chen Chengde.

Although neither of the two knew about this, Li Yu felt it wasn’t right to use others as his measuring stick. Especially now that their relationship was fairly amicable—it would be even more inappropriate.

“…You don’t know how the divisions work?” Chen Chengde asked in surprise.

Li Yu shrugged. “No, I was only taught how to train.”

Chen Chengde suddenly felt like he might burst into tears. Did whoever taught Li Yu consider these stages so trivial as to never explain them?

He looked at Li Yu and quickly realized: given his current level and age, his skill and power far surpassed Chen Chengde’s own. Perhaps all his energy had been devoted solely to cultivation, and it was natural these common details were overlooked.

“So how do you usually judge strength?” Chen Chengde asked, curious.

“By whether someone is a few points weaker or stronger than you…ah,” Li Yu replied reflexively, then gasped, voice abruptly cut off.

Damn, he’d blurted out his thoughts!

And what was this reaction? Li Yu watched the old man’s face closely, expecting anger, but instead saw a hint of bitterness.

Beside them, Chen Jingfu laughed aloud. She never expected her grandfather to become a standard for measuring strength.

‘You’re just three points stronger than Chen Chengde. You’re not up to par—you’re three points weaker than Chen Chengde!’

The imagery was too vivid!

Her laughter broke the mood.

Both men coughed lightly. Chen Chengde began to explain.

“The hierarchy in martial arts isn’t complex: there are only three stages—Manifest Force, Hidden Force, and Steel Force. Manifest Force is the lowest; it’s all about muscle and bone strength. Nothing special—anyone who learns a basic stance can claim to possess Manifest Force.”

Li Yu nodded; this was easy to understand.

This stage was simply about raw strength. Two days of practicing basic punches would build up some power, and one could call it Manifest Force.

That was why Chen Chengde dismissed it. He sipped his tea and continued.

“Hidden Force is the second stage. At this point, one practices energy and intent. Reaching this stage requires systematic martial arts training, honing the muscles and bones, and integrating essence, energy, and spirit. Only then can one develop internal strength, generate punch intent, sword intent, and so forth.”

“Only those who reach this step can break through their physical limits—the moves of martial arts become truly destructive!”

Li Yu nodded thoughtfully. So this stage was about cultivating internal force. But for him, people at this level posed no threat whatsoever.

“Steel Force: those at this stage are called Grandmasters. Here, the martial artist’s intent and energy are highly concentrated, allowing them to strike through the air at a distance—up to nine meters. At this point, their force radiates outward, able to shred air currents and transform them into steel energy. Their power is unparalleled.”

As Chen Chengde spoke, a look of longing appeared in his eyes.

He had spent his life pursuing martial arts, yet the Grandmaster realm remained out of reach. Recently, he’d obtained a rare opportunity—an elixir that had pushed him a bit further, leaving him only one step away from Grandmaster. But that single step might remain forever unattainable.

China was a vast nation, yet only about a hundred people had reached this stage.

It was clear: the path to the summit was incredibly narrow.