Xiao Gao was precisely that kind of sycophant, a type commonly found in the mortal world, yet by no means rare among cultivators.

They fawned over the powerful and scorned the weak, sucking up to those richer or stronger than themselves, only to immediately turn around and assert their sense of superiority over those beneath them.

Once they latched onto a powerful master, they forgot their own inherent incompetence, daring to snarl and bare their teeth even at newborn tigers or leopards.

“Senior Brother Gao is joking. By sheer luck, this junior brother is already recovered…” “Hahahaha!”

Xiao Gao kept laughing, then suddenly slapped his forehead. “I remember now, back at General’s Tomb, you were still trailing after that trash Huo Zhongguang, weren’t you?

What a fool with no foresight; that old man was doomed to fail at Foundation Establishment years ago and will be dead in a few years, yet you were still tagging along like an idiot!”

He had long forgotten that Huo Zhongguang, whom he called trash, was already a powerhouse at the ninth layer of Qi Induction, three whole levels above him.

“It was merely a chance encounter with Senior Brother Huo…” “You don’t need to say another word!” Xiao Gao waved his hand arrogantly.

“You’re a fool anyway, I don't care who you follow… Don’t you remember? You used to imitate dog barks often. Bark twice today, and if I’m in a good mood, maybe I’ll let you pass…” Feng Zikang was utterly enraged! To utter such words implied that they must have engaged in such behavior frequently in the past. Although this was not an act committed by Feng Zikang himself, it still filled him with immense humiliation! “Senior Brother Gao…”

He did his best to quell the anger churning within, but the look he gave Xiao Gao was no different from gazing upon a dead man. “Hahahaha! Just a joke, you simpleton. Now scram inside!”

Xiao Gao stepped aside, seemingly highly amused by his own crude joke, laughing incessantly until his harsh features turned red, revealing a face riddled with ugly pockmarks.

Feng Zikang subtly clenched his fists, nodded toward him, thanked him in a calm voice, and proceeded toward the Scripture Hall on his own. First, learn the Art of Object Control, and then come back to hunt!

The summit of Sunset Peak was smooth as a mirror, rumored to have been flattened by a single axe stroke from the progenitor of the Military School when he first founded Dragon Tiger Mountain. With his Infant Transformation stage cultivation, this feat was certainly not beyond him.

The Scripture Hall was situated on the edge of the eastern cliff, a solitary wooden structure. An old man sat at the entrance, squinting as he soaked up the sun. Though he appeared utterly frail and decayed, he was still clad in black armor, standing ramrod straight. His white hair streamed wildly in the wind, and two broad, long scars marked his wrinkled face, hinting at the fierce bravery he once possessed.

“Uncle-Grandmaster Wu, I am Feng Zikang from the Little Bamboo Grove. I recently achieved the third layer of Qi Induction and have come to study the Divine Art of Hundred Soldiers Control.”

Feng Zikang’s tone was respectful, daring not to show the slightest slackness. Ye Tiansheng had specifically warned him that the elders presiding over the Merit Hall and Hundred Weapons Workshop within the Military School’s Scripture Hall seemed idle, but each was a first-generation successor of the Military School, possessing unfathomable cultivation. These old men were the hidden strength of Dragon Tiger Mountain; they must never be offended. “Oh…” The old man drew out his ‘oh’ sound, his gaze never once flicking toward Feng Zikang, remaining half-lidded. “It has been over two hundred years since Little Ye came here to study the Hundred Soldiers Control Divine Art…” His eyelids lifted slightly, revealing eyes glittering with sharp light. “I did not expect that after so long, he would finally send me a grand-disciple. Good! Very good!” Elder Wu slowly rose, as if all the joints in his body were rusted, emitting a series of clicking sounds. Although Feng Zikang was not knowledgeable enough to judge, he had been told by Ye Tiansheng that this was not a sign of genuine age and decay, but rather a unique divine art. “The Iron Armor Charging Cavalry Method!”

This was originally merely a Yellow Grade, Tenth Rank divine art, peaking at only the fortieth layer in cultivation.

Elder Wu, however, possessed the ability to innovate and break past the rank limitations, mastering this art to the forty-fifth layer. When deployed, its momentum was overwhelming, like an avalanche, comparable to a high-grade Profound Rank technique. Rumor had it that this old man also possessed a Celestial Steed; when combining man and horse to unleash the charging technique, even cultivators two layers higher would be forced to retreat three steps.

However, due to breaking the limits, his skeletal structure had become like iron armor, inevitably producing strange noises when he walked. “Follow me!” Elder Wu’s tone was relatively gentle. He slowly turned, leading Feng Zikang into the dim Scripture Hall. This place could be considered the core lifeline of Dragon Tiger Mountain’s Military School.

Apart from a few unique, specialized techniques, backups of all Military School heart methods and divine arts were stored here. It looked merely like a dilapidated wooden building. The first floor housed rows upon rows of bookshelves, neatly stacked with various scrolls, bamboo slips, and jade tablets. A general service disciple was diligently dusting.

“Ke Di, bring the supplementary scroll for the Hundred Soldiers Control Divine Art!” The service disciple, about sixteen or seventeen, was quite sharp. Hearing Elder Wu’s command, he quickly agreed, skillfully retrieving a paper scroll from the third shelf on the left and presenting it before Feng Zikang. Elder Wu nodded, then turned his head, seemingly observing Feng Zikang for the first time. “You are different from your master. When he was your age, he couldn’t control his mouth; he spoke thirteen sentences on the way in with me. You are silent—a true mute one.”

“This is the supplementary scroll for the Hundred Soldiers Control Divine Art. You shall cultivate it here. If you need anything, tell Ke Di, but do not tamper with the scriptures; otherwise, the penalty is severe expulsion. Do you understand?”

Elder Wu’s tone sharpened. Feng Zikang understood the gravity of the situation. Cultivation sects feared the theft of secret teachings above all else; this was a major taboo.

Though the place looked simple, there were likely hundreds of formidable restrictive formations between the bookshelves. He was not impatient, nor did he harbor any greedy rush. He acknowledged the order, took the Hundred Soldiers Control Divine Art, found a table, and began to study it carefully.

This divine art was not complicated; it simply required using one's own killing intent to resonate with the inherent aura of slaughter within the controlled magical weapons.

Thus, with a mere thought, the weapon would move. Reaching a profound level allowed one to shrink or enlarge the weapon at will, forming the fundamental skill for object control flight and combat. Feng Zikang imprinted the technique’s formula onto his spiritual consciousness.

With a slight mental nudge, killing intent flared; the first layer of the divine art was already half-complete. However, lacking a weapon immediately at hand, he could not test it for now. He returned the supplementary scroll and let out a long sigh of relief. The young disciple Ke Di was exceedingly well-behaved. Seeing his composed expression, he quickly brought over tea, his face full of envy.

“Martial Uncle is truly remarkable! To have mastered the true technique so quickly! Congratulations!” Feng Zikang smiled faintly and handed the supplementary scroll back to him. The young man, however, was eager and kept trying to strike up a conversation.

“Judging by your age, Martial Uncle, you look even younger than me, yet you’ve already reached the third layer of Qi Induction. Truly enviable!”

He raised his head and clenched his fist. “But I, Luo Kedi, will not lag behind. I must strive diligently in my practice, and I vow not to be inferior to Martial Uncle in the future!”

Luo Kedi was an Outer Sect disciple.

He had practiced martial arts since childhood and could be considered a genius in the mortal world, already reaching the fifth layer of Houtian at a young age—a true secular master. However, dissatisfied with worldly cultivation, he painstakingly found the Military School of Dragon Tiger Mountain and passed the tests to become an Outer Sect disciple.

He had not been here long and, perhaps unaware of the difficulties of the Dao path, was still brimming with confidence and hope. Feng Zikang looked at the youth's eager expression.

Although his demonic heart remained unmoved, he couldn't help but let out a slight sigh. The path of cultivation was never that easy!