NP Li Muzhan trained alongside the others, galloping his horse across the drill ground, releasing arrows in full stride.
His archery was peerless, drawing cheers from the crowd.
Li Muzhan had practiced throwing knives since childhood, achieving exquisite accuracy.
Many others present were latecomers to martial arts; even those who had practiced archery since youth lacked his fine sensitivity.
He had also mastered the Flying Cloud Arrow, building up his skill until his archery prowess reached profound depths.
Chiying was truly intelligent, and their coordination was flawless.
The moment a thought formed in his mind, Chiying would sense it and act accordingly, without any explicit signal from him.
However, Li Muzhan noted that these riders possessed robust physiques, far surpassing ordinary men.
If he hadn't cultivated the Twelve Great Strengths since youth, granting him immense power, he would surely have been the weaker one.
They fired arrows from horseback, the twang of the bowstrings like thunderclaps—truly awe-inspiring.
Feng Dakun and the heavily bearded man, in particular, were masters with formidable strength.
Seeing this, Li Muzhan no longer concealed his power.
Every arrow hit the target with perfect precision, demonstrating the sheer force behind his shots.
He understood that the army, unlike civilian life, valued strength above all else.
Moreover, without his profound inner strength, his current abilities were merely average.
Considering that even Li Luoquan was a formidable master, let alone the Commandant, trying to hide his skills would prevent him from ever becoming a general.
Looking at the surrounding knights, each radiating vitality, moving with agility, and exuding surging energy, he realized these were merely common soldiers.
The generals must be far more astonishing.
Furthermore, possessing immense strength was merely a natural endowment, nothing extraordinary.
Feng Dakun was naturally stronger than most, though his strength was but a drop in the ocean compared to Li Muzhan’s.
Besides archery, Li Baolu enthusiastically taught him various maneuvers, such as flipping beneath the horse’s belly or standing upright on the saddle, executing somersaults that resembled acrobatics.
Li Muzhan studied diligently, yet progress was slow, often resulting in falls.
It was then the benefits of the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art became apparent: a fall only brought a sharper sting of pain, but no lasting injury to his body.
The onlookers clicked their tongues in admiration, envying Feng Dakun and the others for finding such a promising talent—someone destined to become a powerhouse.
Feng Dakun and the other two felt a shared pride, grinning broadly and puffing out their chests.
As Li Muzhan stayed near the trio, sensing the moods of those around him, he quickly noticed a tall, burly youth in the distance staring coldly at him, his face ashen, radiating intense hostility.
Just as Li Muzhan was about to turn and inquire, Zhao Shengli’s booming voice cut through the air: "Monk, hurry over here! Pay your respects to the Chief Instructor!" Li Muzhan turned to look.
Beside Zhao Shengli stood an elder clad in a black robe, large and imposing, quietly assessing him.
Li Muzhan reigned in Chiying, who nervously pawed the ground, eager to continue the excitement.
Unwilling to stop, Li Muzhan dismounted and tossed the reins aside, letting the horse amuse itself.
He strode forward with long, decisive steps to stand before Zhao Shengli: "Headman Zhao." As he did so, he casually scanned the elder.
The man had a square face, radiating righteousness, yet his expression was somewhat impassive, overlaid with solemnity, and his eyes were focused and profound.
Li Muzhan mused inwardly that this elder’s heart was utterly tranquil, completely unruffled.
He had met few people like this—Master Yinming was one, as were his Master and Senior Sister.
The former possessed a settled state of mind, the latter, mysterious cultivation.
He guessed this elder was of the former type: settled and unflappable.
Zhao Shengli glared, harrumphing, "Look at you! Why aren't you wearing your iron armor!?" Li Muzhan was currently quite disheveled, covered head to toe in dust and grime.
Li Muzhan chuckled, "It's fine, Headman.
My skin is tough; a few tumbles won't hurt me." "What's the rush? You'll have plenty of time for that later!" Zhao Shengli snorted, then turned to the elder with a smile, "Chief Instructor, I'll leave him in your capable hands, sir." The black-robed elder examined Li Muzhan for a few moments, nodded, extended a hand, and Li Muzhan felt a surging suction pull him forward.
Instinctively grounding himself, he stabilized his steps.
The elder narrowed his eyes, nodded again, took two steps forward, reached out, grabbed Li Muzhan's right wrist, and placed three fingers upon it, squinting in silent observation.
Li Muzhan felt a stream of inner energy, gentle as the wind—Though a Monk in Another World, he was Mighty—seeping through his body in delicate strands.
It passed not only through his meridians but seemed to penetrate every part of his flesh, every single cell.
It felt profoundly comfortable.
After a long pause, the black-robed elder slowly opened his eyes, released his hand, and nodded once: "Not bad." Zhao Shengli was overjoyed and quickly asked, "Chief Instructor, what technique should he practice?" The elder pondered briefly, then declared, "Flying Bear Palm, perhaps." "Excellent, Flying Bear Palm is excellent!" Zhao Shengli beamed, nodding repeatedly.
Seeing his elation, Li Muzhan figured this Flying Bear Palm must possess significant power.
The black-robed elder continued, "His strength exceeds the common man, and his flesh is thick, akin to a bear.
Practicing Flying Bear Palm will yield twice the results with half the effort.
You are Ming Kong, correct?" "Yes, Chief Instructor," Li Muzhan replied, clasping his hands in respect.
The elder said calmly, "Very well.
Starting tomorrow morning, I will teach you the Flying Bear Palm." "Thank you, Chief Instructor," Li Muzhan replied, bowing with clasped hands again.
The elder waved his hand, nodded toward Zhao Shengli, and turned to leave with a slow, steady pace.
Watching him depart, Zhao Shengli burst into loud laughter: "Good lad, you actually get to learn the Flying Bear Palm! Remarkable, truly remarkable, ha ha ha!" Feng Dakun and the other two converged.
Li Baolu eagerly asked, "Headman Zhao, Monk is learning the Flying Bear Palm?" "That's right!" Zhao Shengli nodded, then harrumphed, "You know the Flying Bear Palm too?" "Heh heh, I don't, but it sounds incredibly powerful," Li Baolu scratched his head, grinning foolishly.
Feng Dakun frowned, thinking deeply, "Judging by the name, it must be potent...
Headman Zhao, what exactly is this palm technique?" Cai Yuzhang interjected, "The martial arts within our army are categorized into three tiers: named after tangible objects, named after animals, or named after celestial bodies...
Flying Bear Palm should be the second tier, right?" Zhao Shengli clapped Cai Yuzhang on the shoulder, approvingly saying, "Little Cai knows quite a bit!" This Flying Bear Palm is indeed the second tier.
I myself practice the Raging Tiger Fist, which I only learned after becoming a Fire Leader!" Cai Yuzhang concluded, "It seems the Monk's body is sturdy enough to skip directly to the second tier." Li Muzhan inquired further and learned that the army's martial arts comprised three levels.
The first level focused on building a foundation, mainly tempering the body to make it robust—this was what Feng Dakun and the others were practicing.
The second level was where true martial arts began, allowing one to generate internal jin (force).
The third level involved supreme, ultimate skills, where force could project outward, perhaps even materialize.
This was merely legend, supposedly achieved only by the Great General.
However, the Great General was stationed far away in Tianjing, rarely seen by ordinary folk, so no one knew if it was true or not.
Li Muzhan suddenly understood.
Since he had cultivated the Vajra Indestructible Divine Art, his body was tempered to an extreme degree.
With such a solid foundation, he naturally bypassed the first level of military martial arts.
Though a Monk in Another World, he was Mighty.
In the mornings, the men practiced mounted archery; in the afternoons, they practiced individual combat skills, including saber and spear techniques, taught by a middle-aged man they called Instructor Zhang.
Instructor Zhang was tall and lean, with sharp, piercing eyes, radiating a fierce, martial aura.
The saber and spear forms were very basic.
The saber technique comprised five stances: Chop, Slash, Sweep, Thrust, and Hook.
The spear technique had three forms: Block, Capture, and Stab.
There were no elaborate flourishes; simplicity and directness were key.
Mastery came from relentless practice until skill became instinct.
Li Muzhan struggled with exquisite, subtle moves, but this kind of straightforward martial art suited him perfectly, like a fish in water.
He mastered it quickly and joined the others in their drills.
Under the scorching sun, they stripped to the waist, forming ranks on the drill ground—about two hundred men holding sabers, practicing each movement in sequence following Instructor Zhang's booming commands.
Instructor Zhang paced among them, carrying a rattan whip as thick as a chopstick, issuing commands whose sound was like thunder.
His gaze was hawk-like; a single sweep took in all two hundred men.
Anyone who slacked off or failed to execute a move with full effort was instantly spotted and met with a whip lash that burned to the bone.
They practiced in company units, separated by some distance.
Li Muzhan followed behind Zhao Shengli, mimicking his saber swings, putting his full strength into every stance.
The long saber hissed, cutting through the air with astonishing momentum.
Instructor Zhang spared him a couple of glances, his expression calm, showing no surprise, as if he were accustomed to such displays.
Within a short time, everyone was drenched in sweat, yet Li Muzhan seemed unaffected.
The efficacy of his Vajra Indestructible Divine Art was fully evident: his organs were vigorous, and his energy pathways sustained.
Despite training with full effort all afternoon, he felt no fatigue.
Instructor Zhang cracked his whip with a sharp report.
The men ceased their forms, letting out deep breaths.
Li Muzhan concluded his stance, then looked toward Instructor Zhang, who beckoned with a hand and called out in a loud voice: "Ming Kong! You, come here! Come here!" Li Muzhan moved without hesitation, striding through the crowd to stand before him, clasping his hands in greeting: "Instructor Zhang!" Instructor Zhang waved a hand dismissively. "Enough with the clasped hands.
From now on, use the military salute...
You are a monk, but here, you are a soldier.
Understand?" "Yes!" Li Muzhan snapped to attention, his right hand placed across his chest.
Instructor Zhang nodded with satisfaction. "I see you have considerable strength; you're a promising student.
Too bad your saber technique is clumsy...
Come, let's spar a bit!" "Yes!" Li Muzhan agreed, bringing his saber down in a swift arc, fast as lightning.
Instructor Zhang tilted his head, deftly avoiding the blow, and shouted: "Too slow! Far too slow! Faster!" Li Muzhan twisted his waist and swept the blade in a sudden arc, a sharper arc of light than before, accompanied by a distinct slicing sound.
Though a Monk in Another World, he was Mighty.
Instructor Zhang leaped backward, just clearing the tip of the blade, and called out loudly: "Still too slow! The transitions aren't fluid! On a battlefield, you'd already be dead!" Li Muzhan stepped forward, thrusting the tip straight ahead.
Instructor Zhang twisted his waist sideways and slipped past again.
Li Muzhan pressed forward, each strike pressing hard, yet the instructor moved like a drifting willow fluff, swaying with the sweep of the blade.
No matter how swift the long saber moved like electricity, it could not connect.
Li Muzhan attacked relentlessly for nearly a hundred exchanges, yet he remained composed and unruffled.
Instructor Zhang showed no sign of tiring either.
Between attack and evasion, Li Muzhan's saber technique continuously improved.
His internal energy remained concealed, but his comprehension of forms remained sharp.
He had originally derived the Azure Sea Nine Swords from the Azure Sea Nine Palms, and his insight into swordsmanship was ingrained in his bones.
Although this was saber technique and the sequences were different, the understanding provided significant assistance, allowing him to grasp the concepts much faster. "Alright, stop!" Instructor Zhang commanded, leaping out of the sparring circle.
Li Muzhan retracted his saber and stood still, deep in thought—pondering improvements to his forms.
Though there were only five basic saber stances, each execution allowed for varied subtle applications. "Fine saber technique!" a loud shout rang out.
People turned to look.
In the crowd, a tall, imposing youth stood smiling, handsome, with sharp, bright eyes, his presence far outshining Li Muzhan’s.
He called out clearly, "Instructor Zhang, I wish to exchange a few moves with him.
What do you say?" Instructor Zhang glanced at Li Muzhan, who nodded gently. "Good.
Bring the ironwood sabers!" Instructor Zhang boomed.
Though far off, Li Muzhan could sense the young man's killing intent.
He frowned inwardly.
Was this man so narrow-minded that he wanted to kill him simply because he had stolen the spotlight? Zhao Shengli jogged quickly to the edge of the field.
He retrieved two dark, heavy sabers from the weapons rack and hurried to Li Muzhan's side, whispering, "Monk, be careful.
You stole this fellow's thunder, and now he wants to teach you a harsh lesson.
If you truly can't beat him, shout surrender loudly!" "Yes," Li Muzhan acknowledged.
Though a Monk in Another World, he was Mighty.
Zhao Shengli took the other saber and watched the tall youth approach.
He handed the dark saber over and scoffed, "Yue Feihu, you certainly know how to make an entrance!" Yue Feihu weighed the saber slightly and smiled faintly: "Headman Tie Tou [Iron Head], would you like a few friendly rounds?" Zhao Shengli let out a few cold laughs, then turned away, retreating to stand with the Feng Dakun trio.
Li Muzhan frowned.
It seemed Headman Zhao wouldn't gain the upper hand against this Yue Feihu; otherwise, given Zhao's usual temper, he would have already started shouting and cursing.
Li Muzhan let his body tremble slightly, completely relaxing his muscles, considering whether he should channel his sword techniques through the saber, using the Azure Sea Nine Swords against this opponent.
Observing Yue Feihu’s imposing stride and steady aura, his muscles moving as one when he walked, Li Muzhan judged him far superior to Feng Dakun and the others, no less formidable than Headman Zhao. "Yue Feihu, Ming Kong, are you both ready?" Instructor Zhang snapped his whip sharply, his voice low and firm.
Both men nodded.
Instructor Zhang violently cracked the whip—snap!—and shouted: "Begin!" With a whoosh, Yue Feihu charged, man and saber merging into one.
He raised the long saber high above his head, bringing it down in a direct chop with enough force to split boulders.
Li Muzhan bent both knees and twisted his waist in a diagonal upward sweep—meeting force with force.
Thud! a muffled impact sounded as the two blades collided.
The long saber flew up, tumbling end over end in the air before clattering onto the ground.
Li Muzhan drew his saber back a step, offering a slight smile: "I yield." Yue Feihu stood empty-handed, staring intently at Li Muzhan, his face a mask of disbelief.
After a long moment, he suddenly spun around and left the drill ground.
The crowd began whispering amongst themselves, eyeing Li Muzhan with various expressions. "Ha ha ha!" Zhao Shengli roared with laughter, striding forward with long steps to clap Li Muzhan heavily on the shoulder: "Good lad, good lad! You really make us proud!" Instructor Zhang shook his head, flicked his whip, and announced: "Alright, that's all for today.
Dismissed!" The crowd instantly broke formation and surrounded them.
Zhao Shengli and the other two hauled Li Muzhan away—back toward the tents.