Chapter Twenty-Three: Realms of Martial Arts

After the ceremony of accepting disciples was completed, the atmosphere suddenly grew quiet.

Zhou Yi and Song Hai glanced sidelong at Wenren Ying, uncertain about what to do next.

“Call me senior brother,” Wenren Ying said, looking at the two of them. He felt a faint headache coming on. In the past, he had always hoped for a few geniuses to join his sect. The development of any sect depends on people, and among them, a single genius is worth more than countless ordinary disciples. Whether a sect rises from mediocrity to fame often hinges on the difference that just one talent can make.

Thus, every sect leader dreams of producing a genius within their ranks.

Now, the geniuses had come; it seemed all his dreams had suddenly been realized. Yet Wenren Ying found himself at a loss. They were not merely gifted—they were so exceptionally talented that he didn’t know how to guide them. With his abilities, he could teach ordinary prodigies and help them avoid detours on their path, but Zhou Yi and Song Hai were on an entirely different level. For them, even if they took a wrong turn, their innate gifts would allow them to straighten it out, perhaps even walk a path superior to the conventional one.

Such is the nature of true talent.

For them, there is no such thing as a detour; all roads lead to Rome. The only difference is in the distance and whether the path is smooth or rough, but the destination remains the same.

Ordinary people walk this path on foot.

Geniuses ride bicycles.

For most, the road to Rome is so long that they can scarcely traverse it in a lifetime.

But Zhou Yi and Song Hai are different—they travel by airplane, even rocket. The journey that might take someone else a lifetime could be nothing more than a brief nap for them.

Under such circumstances, the shortcuts and broad roads paved by predecessors lose their meaning.

Wenren Ying understood this well. He knew that neither he nor anyone else in the sect was qualified to instruct them. To be precise, no one even knew what to teach them.

“You want to learn martial arts. But do you know what martial arts truly are?” Wenren Ying pondered for a moment, then led the two outside, questioning them as they walked.

“I don’t know!” Song Hai replied quickly, for he genuinely had no idea.

“I don’t know,” Zhou Yi echoed, though he had some thoughts, but after considering, this was his answer.

“Martial arts, in essence, are just fighting,” Wenren Ying said, startling them both. They stared at him, utterly perplexed.

“You don’t understand?” Wenren Ying didn’t need to look back to imagine their expressions. Smiling, he continued, “Spend enough time in this world, and you’ll come to understand.”

“In this world, there’s only one truth: the bigger your fist, the greater your reason.”

“No matter what you want, what you desire to do, as long as you have strength, you can achieve it.”

“If you lack strength, everything remains a dream—just something to think about.”

“Martial arts require cultivation; cultivation needs resources; and resources must be seized.”

“Seized? Why? Because of strength!”

“So, when all is said and done, martial arts are about fighting.”

Wenren Ying’s fragmented words fell on their ears, novel and strange. Something felt off, yet after some time, they found his reasoning oddly convincing.

As they spoke, the three crossed clusters of palace buildings, walking on flagstone paths until they reached an open space before a cliff—the mountaintop, the highest point. Looking down, one could see endless forests stretching out below.

Wenren Ying stood at the edge, half his foot hanging over the precipice, the other half planted firmly on the ground. Leaning forward, the gentle mountain breeze lifted his hair, rendering him somewhat ethereal, especially with his neatly groomed beard.

Zhou Yi and Song Hai watched him in silence.

“And fighting, in the martial world, consists of three tiers,” Wenren Ying said, closing his eyes and savoring the mountain wind.

“The first tier is momentum—relying on brute force, raw courage, and blood, all woven together. When you lift it up, you just go for it.”

“Our sect trains in swordsmanship, so here, this tier is known as sword momentum. In the wider martial world, it has a more poetic name: the Postcelestial Realm.”

“My word, what a refreshingly unconventional explanation. I’ve never heard the Postcelestial Realm described this way!” Zhou Yi had seen countless definitions in that information-rich world, but this was a first, leaving him dumbfounded.

“So this legendary Postcelestial Realm is actually just that—truly, living long enough brings surprises.”

Wenren Ying, unaware of Zhou Yi’s thoughts, continued, “The Postcelestial Realm, simply put, is a stage for accumulating power. You train to build strength, and rely on strength.”

“One day, when your strength reaches a certain level and your will is resolute, you combine your momentum and power, fuse them, and unleash them. That’s breaking through to the next realm. In our sect, it’s called sword intent; in the martial world, the Precelestial Realm.”

“Oh, so that’s what the Precelestial Realm means?” Zhou Yi’s expression was wooden; he felt the world was vast, and novelty abounded.

“What exactly is momentum?” Song Hai, less knowledgeable than Zhou Yi, was earnestly trying to understand Wenren Ying’s words. Whenever he didn’t grasp something, he asked directly.

“Momentum?” Wenren Ying muttered, then explained, “Momentum seems complicated, almost mystical, because we can’t see or touch it—it appears mysterious.”

“But actually, it’s quite simple.”

“Simple?” Song Hai was confused, his face full of doubt. Not only him; even Zhou Yi was bewildered.

Zhou Yi understood a little about momentum, but only just. That slight understanding made his mind even more muddled than Song Hai’s.

From his perspective, momentum was indeed complex—perhaps it really was simple, but only to those who grasped it.

For those who didn’t, it was truly an unfathomable tome, a book without words.

Zhou Yi could not fathom what exactly made momentum so simple.