Chapter Twenty: Half a Warrior

Tianlan University, Faculty Residence

After several consecutive days of clear skies, the autumn leaves hung slightly drooping, their once vibrant vitality fading, as if silently narrating the scorching intensity of the relentless sun. Just as everyone feared this weather would persist, the long-awaited first autumn drizzle finally arrived amid countless hopeful hearts.

“Drip... drip...” The sound of raindrops echoed softly by the window.

Such weather was long desired by many; the relentless sun had worn them down. Not everyone, however, shared Chen Xian's fondness for this heat. The sudden coolness brought by the rain comforted all. Despite the continuous rain outside, pedestrians still moved about. Even when soaked, they bore no complaints. This rare rain had quenched the parching heat baked by weeks of sun, offering a refreshing reprieve.

For Chen Xian, blessed with extraordinary powers, this weather was less agreeable. During his practice of the White Crane Fist, the qi and blood energy gained daily from his powers often exceeded what he could refine, leaving surplus. But since cultivating the Dragon-Tiger Pill Scripture, which simultaneously trains flesh, muscles, and bones, his qi and blood consumption increased dramatically, rarely leaving any surplus.

On such gloomy days, without the qi and blood boost from his powers, coupled with his limited food intake, his energy was insufficient to sustain rigorous practice. Naturally, he couldn’t train as vigorously as usual.

Lying on the sofa, he held a copy of the Dragon-Tiger Pill Scripture, studying it meticulously. Outside, raindrops fell on the dry ground, stirring the fragrant scent of earth into the air. Occasionally, wisps of this scent drifted through the window into the living room.

The pages in his hand were fewer than days before. Over these past days, he had etched the earlier training methods firmly into memory. The remaining pages, naturally, he had burned. Though he was easygoing, the world was no kindness. Especially in Daxuan, where many practiced martial arts. Most martial artists were robust and preferred action over words—after all, why waste breath when a punch could settle matters? For many, practicing martial arts was precisely to let fists do the talking.

Thus, peace was scarce in Daxuan. Otherwise, there would be no need for the Enforcement Squad. Sometimes, it was best to leave no loose ends.

“Ding dong...” The sudden doorbell interrupted Chen Xian’s thoughts.

“It’s me.”

A familiar voice came from outside. Hearing it, Chen Xian felt reassured, his earlier wariness fading. After placing his book in the bedroom, he opened the door.

When he first entered university, he lived in a dorm with several roommates. Although he later moved out, they kept in touch and often gathered to eat, maintaining a close bond. The visitor was one such roommate who, after dorm life, had also moved out. Unlike Chen Xian, who rented, this friend came from a wealthy family and had bought a house off-campus.

Seeing him, Chen Xian smiled.

“What brings you here?”

“Hehe, just curious,” the friend replied.

“Even though we’re about to graduate and have few classes, you’re hardly ever seen around. Thought I’d drop by.”

Chen Xian felt speechless.

“What do you mean hardly ever seen? Although he’s been absorbed in martial arts lately, he hasn’t skipped any classes. How could he be unseen?”

Yang Fan’s visit likely had other reasons.

He was unceremonious, heading straight to the living room to sit down.

“You’ve been practicing martial arts, right? How’s it going?”

“We’re not a martial arts school, and few here practice seriously—mostly just for fitness. Recently, I encountered some martial arts-related matters and came to ask you about them.”

“Huh?”

Chen Xian was surprised. As far as he knew, Yang Fan had never practiced martial arts or had any ties to the martial world. Why ask about it now?

“I’ve practiced for three years, so I’ve made some progress. I recall you never trained in martial arts; how did you get involved in related matters?”

Since Yang Fan came to ask, it couldn’t be a secret. Chen Xian asked directly.

“Hehe,” Yang Fan grinned proudly, “Who says I haven’t trained martial arts? I’m a half-martial artist now.”

“You’re a martial artist now?”

Chen Xian was astonished. Before the holidays, he was certain Yang Fan had no martial cultivation and didn’t train like him. Moreover, Yang Fan’s gait gave no hint of skill. Martial artists and ordinary people walk very differently; generally, one could tell a martial artist by posture alone. Of course, some who had refined their skills to simplicity might be indistinguishable, but Yang Fan didn’t seem such.

Could Yang Fan have acquired some form of extraordinary power?

Recalling Yang Fan’s recent martial progress, Chen Xian pondered this possibility.

“Ahem, half, half,” Yang Fan emphasized. “My old man, for some reason, perhaps after hearing rumors, insisted I learn martial arts. I’m already in my twenties, past the prime age to start, so progress is limited, but he wouldn’t relent.”

“During this holiday, I went abroad, spent a hefty sum to buy a Saintlight chip. With its help, I gained some martial arts cultivation.”

Hearing this, Chen Xian grew serious. Yang Fan’s father was a true self-made man, now wealthy and successful in competitive Daxuan. Such a person was shrewd and thorough. His information sources must be extensive, enabling access to first-hand intelligence unknown to others. For such a man to change his mind and urge the previously uninterested Yang Fan to train meant something significant had occurred.

These thoughts raced through Chen Xian’s mind, but lacking crucial details, he buried them deep.

“What model?”

Chen Xian inquired curiously. The Saintlight series had already reached the third iteration for qi transformation. He wondered which version Yang Fan used.

“Saintlight Three,” Yang Fan said proudly. “As far as I know, all citizens in Daxuan must pass official channels to acquire Saintlight chips before they enter the market.”

“Saintlight Three is only rumored inside Daxuan and not officially released.”

“How did you bring Saintlight Three back from abroad? Unapproved chips carry risks since they interfere with the body. Aren’t you afraid of problems?”

Chen Xian voiced his concerns.

“That’s why I say I’m only a half-martial artist.”

“Saintlight Three hasn’t been approved or released in Daxuan, but abroad it’s already in limited use.”

“After using it abroad, I applied a high-energy nutrient solution, reducing the usual hundred-day transformation to nearly half. I completed bone transformation, muscle change, and marrow cleansing before the holiday ended, then removed the chip.”

“This way, even if Saintlight Three has issues, it won’t affect me, and I can pass checks entering Daxuan.”

“Not bad, right? According to my old man, most Daxuan martial artists use Saintlight chips this way.”

“No matter what the Black Eagle nation plans with the chips, as long as they use them like me, their schemes won’t work.”

“I see,” Chen Xian finally understood why Yang Fan called himself half a martial artist.

In Daxuan, a true martial artist’s body must transform, and they must master qi control—missing one means not a genuine martial artist.

The Saintlight chip controls subtle bodily functions, adjusts hormones, and accelerates transformation, but cannot help the user master qi manipulation. The chip-dependent martial artist’s qi control is managed by the chip’s immense computing power.

Yang Fan used Saintlight Three to transform his body, then removed it, meaning he completed bone, muscle, and marrow transformation but lacked mastery of bright qi, dark qi, or transformative qi—hence only half a martial artist.

“So, you’ve stepped onto the martial path. But over there, are they so lenient as to let you remove the chip freely? No restrictions?”

Chen Xian was surprised.

“Hehe, they actually prefer it. What they lack most is genuine data. Every used chip is bought back to extract information to improve their database. These data are valuable.”

“So, to research Saintlight chips further, they need to collect as much martial artist-related data as possible, making every used chip a piece of experimental data.”

“I see,” Chen Xian realized.

“Technology’s power grows ever stronger. Martial artists once needed decades to transform their bodies, yet now a chip can do it in less than fifty days—truly miraculous.”

“If the Daxuan martial world can’t keep pace with such technological advances, adopting these innovations to develop martial arts, they risk being surpassed.”

“Exactly. Technology advances rapidly,” Yang Fan nodded in agreement.

“We live in a technological era. Innovations permeate every aspect of life, becoming indispensable. In such times, everything must follow the trend, including martial arts.”

“Enough talk. What did you want to ask?”

Chen Xian’s thoughts were scattered.

“I’ve completed bone and muscle transformation and marrow cleansing, but lack qi mastery. Without it, my cultivation may regress to that of an ordinary person.”

“So, after returning, I pulled some strings and got martial arts manuals and techniques. The master I contacted is tied up and can’t come immediately. I’m stuck at the basic stance exercises, so I thought of you.”

“I want to ask if there’s any way to quickly grasp the basics and find the key.”

Chen Xian was silent for a moment. If there were a shortcut, he wouldn’t have taken three years to reach the threshold of bright qi mastery. Maybe shortcuts exist, but he didn’t know them, nor had his Dragon-Tiger Pill Scripture recorded any quick-start secrets. Instead, it emphasized laying a solid foundation, advising disciples against impatience or recklessness.

“You’re overestimating me. Quick mastery of basic stance exercises requires a skilled master’s guidance—a Pill Scripture Grandmaster, a Force Master, or even a Martial Legend might achieve it. But not me!”

Chen Xian smiled wryly.

“You’re so used to shortcuts, you won’t even take the usual route!”

“Yeah, once you get used to shortcuts, the regular path seems unappealing. Well, looks like there’s no shortcut this time,” Yang Fan sighed helplessly.

Chen Xian chuckled at his expression.

“You...”

“Seems this stance training takes time. I’ll wait for the master my family arranged.”

“By the way, have you heard the recent rumors? They all concern major martial sects, one even related to our university.”

Yang Fan bragged.

“Related to our university? I’ve been cultivating and haven’t followed such news.”

Chen Xian’s curiosity was piqued. Tianlan University wasn’t a martial arts school; what connection could there be?

“Apparently, it involves a freshman at our school,” Yang Fan said, “My dad heard it through some circles.”

“A freshman? Still a first-year?”

[End of excerpt]