After days of rigorous training, it was time for Chen Zong to showcase his skills.
"Your hammer strike was a bit too forceful," Elder Lie observed.
"This one should be a touch slower."
In the Forging Hall, Chen Zong swung his hammer while Elder Lie stood nearby, occasionally offering guidance.
Although Chen Zong had refused to become his disciple, causing Elder Lie to storm off in anger, Chen Zong returned to the Forging Hall the next day as if nothing had happened. Elder Lie, in turn, acted as if their dispute had never occurred, his attitude towards Chen Zong noticeably warmer than before. He frequently approached Chen Zong to offer pointers.
Naturally, Chen Zong welcomed this instruction, and his forging skills improved rapidly.
True Martial Era, 395th year, 9th month, 6th day.
It had been just over twenty days since Chen Zong had become a martial artist.
Time to practice his swordplay!
Dividing Light Shadowing.
In an instant, two streaks of sword light pierced the air. Yet, closer inspection revealed two fainter, more blurred sword lights accompanying them.
I'm about to break through, Chen Zong thought to himself, resuming his training.
Repetition after repetition, until each swing produced four distinct sword lights.
Four lights from a single strike—this marked Chen Zong's attainment of the rudimentary level of the first layer of the Dividing Light Sword Technique: Dividing Light Shadowing.
It took Chen Zong just over twenty days to progress from first encountering the Dividing Light Sword Technique to achieving minor mastery of its first level. This was roughly the same pace he'd achieved when cultivating the True Sword Eight Forms, further solidifying his belief in the latter's extraordinary nature.
"Perhaps I should spend more time honing the True Sword Eight Forms to the Subtlety Realm," Chen Zong mused inwardly, a flicker of ambition in his eyes. "Who knows, if I reach that level, the mysterious sword tip might reward me with an even greater sword technique."
After practicing the True Sword Eight Forms thirty times, he returned to his quarters. Following a brief rest, he resumed cultivating the first level of the Fierce Tiger Art.
Over the past twenty-odd days, his Qi Blood had increased significantly, but he still had a considerable distance to go before reaching the fifth level of the Qi Blood Realm, where his Qi Blood would be fully replenished. Without external aids like Beast Blood Pills, Chen Zong estimated it would take at least a year of dedicated effort alone to reach this milestone.
If even he, who had tempered his Blood Qi seven times, faced such a challenge, those who had only tempered it three times would likely require many years—or even decades—to advance to the fifth level of the Qi Blood Realm without external assistance.
Moreover, as one ages, their Qi Blood naturally declines. Only by breaking through to the seventh level of the Qi Blood Realm and forming the Qi Blood Minor Circulatory Heaven could this decay be slowed.
"Soon, I'll receive my first month's reward for working in the Forging Hall. I wonder how many Contribution Points it will be?"
The reward for apprentices in the Forging Hall was directly tied to Elder Lie's evaluation. Given the elder's evident favor toward him, Chen Zong was confident his assessment would be favorable.
On September 10th of the 395th year of the True Martial Era, Chen Zong marked his one-year anniversary of entering the Clan Hall.
In the afternoon, inside the forging chamber, Chen Zong wielded his iron hammer, shaping a Common Iron Ingot.
With each swing, he lifted the hammer high and let it fall lightly on the rough iron, immediately followed by a heavy, forceful blow.
Through weeks of relentless practice, guided by Elder Lie's occasional pointers, Chen Zong had mastered the four key principles of forging—lightness, heaviness, speed, and slowness—to the point of effortless transition.
If forging were a martial art, Chen Zong had already reached the Great Perfection stage.
In remarkably little time, he had transformed the rough iron into a Common Iron Ingot without needing to reheat it in the furnace.
The ingot measured ten centimeters in length, width, and height. Its surface was smooth and flawless, its texture fine and dense—clear indicators of superior quality. An ordinary iron sword forged from such material would boast enhanced hardness, resilience, and sharpness.
Chen Zong calculated that this was the forty-fourth Common Iron Ingot he had personally forged since arriving at the Forging Hall—enough to smelt and cast forty-four ordinary iron swords or sabers.
"Just one ingot today," he decided.
After a quick cleanup and bidding farewell to Chen Wuhou and Chen Qi, Chen Zong left the Forging Hall.
"Safe journey, Clan Brother," Chen Wuhou said with a cheerful wave. He had initially dismissed Chen Zong, but now held him in high regard, harboring a hint of unspoken envy.
Chen Qi felt a mix of envy and awkwardness, remembering his earlier disparaging remarks.
If all went according to plan, today should be the day new disciples entered the Clan Hall's Outer Hall, and Chen Yiming was expected to arrive as well.
"Chen Zhigang? What are you doing here?"
Before spotting Chen Yiming, Chen Zong encountered an unexpected figure.
"Hmph, if you can come, why shouldn't I?" Chen Zhigang stiffened upon seeing Chen Zong, his face hardening with suspicion. He then let out a disdainful snort.
After staring at Chen Zhigang for a few seconds, Chen Zong suddenly smiled and walked away without another word.
Chen Zong suddenly remembered another rule of the Clan Hall: Branch Clan Martial Apprentices who lost in the Martial Apprentice Battle could still qualify for entry if they reached the fourth layer of the Qi Blood Realm and became martial artists within a year. Chen Zhigang likely fell into this category.
Chen Zong had only learned of this rule after becoming a martial artist himself.
"Chen Zhigang," Chen Zong said, "the Clan Hall is nothing like the clan." Whether he understood or not was his own problem.
"I'll surpass you and trample you underfoot!" Chen Zhigang retorted, clenching his fists, his face flushed with fury.
Shaking his head, Chen Zong dismissed him. With his current abilities, Chen Zhigang was insignificant in the Clan Hall. He would soon realize this. Even if Chen Zhigang managed to rise in power, so what? Chen Zong had defeated him twice and could do so a third time. The gap between them would only widen.
In the Outer Hall, Chen Zong found Chen Yiming.
"Brother Zong!" Chen Yiming exclaimed excitedly upon seeing him.
"Good job on becoming an Outer Hall disciple," Chen Zong encouraged. "Now focus on cultivating diligently, strive to temper your Blood Qi to its limit, and break through to become a martial artist."
"Don't worry, Brother Zong," Chen Yiming replied confidently. "I'll train tirelessly to catch up to you!" This was the typical optimism of newcomers to the Clan Hall.
Chen Yiming, a practitioner of fist techniques, had been assigned to the Fist Technique Group. Chen Zong, a swordsman, couldn't offer much direct guidance on his cultivation. As for the Tiger Force Fist Technique, they had already discussed it at length.
"How are my father, my aunt, and A'Lie?" Chen Zong asked urgently, one of the main reasons he had sought out Chen Yiming.
"Aunt Biqing is taking good care of them, and Uncle Zhengtang is doing well. They asked me to tell you, Brother Zong, to focus on your cultivation and not worry about them," Chen Yiming replied with a smile. "And A'Lie? He's already reached the first layer of the Qi Blood Realm. Can you guess how much he can lift with one arm?"
"Seven hundred pounds?" Chen Zong had initially considered six hundred pounds, but then remembered Yang Lie's innate superhuman strength. Perhaps his cultivation progress had amplified his power beyond the norm.
"Brother Zong, how did you guess?" Chen Yiming asked, his face falling as his planned boast deflated. He quickly regained his excitement. "Exactly seven hundred pounds! By the time A'Lie reaches the peak of the third layer of the Qi Blood Realm, his single-arm strength will definitely surpass a thousand pounds. He's even begun mastering the Heavy Fist technique—it's terrifying to think about!"
Chen Zong smiled, always enjoying his conversations with Chen Yiming. He was also pleased with Yang Lie's cultivation progress.
After chatting for a while longer and offering Chen Yiming further encouragement, Chen Zong told him to come find him if he needed anything. He promised to check in on him every few days before taking his leave.
Back in his quarters, Chen Zong began cultivating the Fierce Tiger Art, reveling in the surge of Qi Blood Power coursing through his veins. He felt every inch of his body brimming with raw strength, a sensation that utterly entranced him.
However, cultivating Qi Blood Power required careful moderation. Pushing beyond one's limits could damage the body, negating any benefits.
Retrieving the Little Sword Manual, Chen Zong flipped through its pages, meticulously deciphering each character.
The Little Sword Manual never grew tiresome, no matter how many times he read it. Instead, it seemed to deepen in meaning with each rereading, allowing Chen Zong's understanding of swords and sword techniques to grow ever more profound.
After reviewing it once more and returning it to its place, Chen Zong decided to take a stroll. As he opened the door, he saw someone raising a hand to knock.
"Do you need something?" Chen Zong asked.
"You must be Chen Zong. This invitation is for you." The man handed Chen Zong a large, crimson invitation with gilded lettering, his eyes filled with a mixture of bewilderment and envy.
"An invitation?" Chen Zong accepted the invitation, utterly puzzled.
The vibrant crimson backdrop featured three massive gilded characters and a golden dragon coiled as if poised to soar into the heavens.
"A Soaring Dragon Invitation?" Chen Zong's confusion deepened as he read the gilded characters. He couldn't resist opening it and immediately understood.
The Soaring Dragon Invitation had been sent by the Tang Clan, or more precisely, at Tang Junluo's request. It invited Chen Zong to attend the Soaring Dragon Assembly the Tang Clan was hosting in his honor at the Martial Proof Pavilion three days hence.
"Tang Junluo... a Soaring Dragon Assembly..." Chen Zong closed the invitation, deep in thought. "Could it be that Tang Junluo has successfully broken through his limits and tempered his Blood Qi eight times?"
Seven temperings of Blood Qi had long been the peak achievable in Wind Martial City. An eighth tempering would shatter all records, establishing a new, unprecedented standard. Such a feat would rightfully earn him the title of the city's greatest prodigy in history, making the Tang Clan's lavish assembly a fitting tribute.
Chen Zong could think of no other explanation.
"Three days from now?"
"Perfect. I've been in Wind Martial City for a year now, but aside from my daily comings and goings, I've never truly seen the city. I might as well take this opportunity to explore," Chen Zong thought, tucking away the Soaring Dragon Invitation with a smile. He figured Tang Junluo had invited him because their evenly matched battle during their Martial Apprentice days had earned him the young master's respect. Otherwise, someone from Chen Zong's humble background would never have caught Tang Junluo's eye.
He imagined the messenger who delivered the invitation earlier must have been puzzled by why a fourth-layer Qi Blood Realm disciple from a branch clan would receive an invitation from the Tang Clan. Envy was only natural.
This meant other talented individuals would likely be invited as well, their purpose being to highlight Tang Junluo's extraordinary abilities.
It was the perfect opportunity to observe the geniuses of other clans.
The path of a martial artist was never a solitary journey. To grow stronger, one needed both worthy rivals and reliable allies.
The Soaring Dragon Invitation didn't disrupt Chen Zong's regular training. Each day, he continued to visit the Forging Hall to craft Common Iron Ingots, practice the Dividing Light Sword Technique and Fierce Tiger Art, steadily improving in all aspects.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye. Chen Zong sheathed his refined iron sword and strode out of the Clan Hall.