Stuff that's three days away can wait for, well, three days. Right now, priority one is heading to Misty Peak. Misty Peak sits on the eastern side of Tianshan, and by Jill Young’s pace, it's about five or six days out.
Exactly one hour later, Terrence Bar showed up like clockwork. Not only did he show up, he was weirdly obedient about it. Wu Zhengfeng kept an eye out—Terrence was waiting about a hundred meters away, checking the time, watching Jill Young’s moves, and once he figured it was about right, he hustled over.
He looked absolutely defeated, like his soul had just packed up and left the building.
“How... did you pull that off?” Wu Zhengfeng was dying of curiosity—she just couldn’t figure it out.
"Easy. Just give him some time. Let him talk himself into it, let him beat himself up. You can whip him, threaten him, whatever—those are just tactics. But in the end, the only thing that’ll make him kneel and bow his head is himself."
"So only he can make himself kneel, huh..." Wu Zhengfeng mulled that over a bit, feeling like there was some deep wisdom there. Then she asked, "But what if he’s just pretending to go along, and secretly plotting something?" She’d been burned by that before, so she really wanted Jill Young’s take.
"Real surrender or just playing dumb—you see enough, you can tell. You’ve lived longer than me, but you haven’t seen half the weirdos, freaks, and crazy stuff I have. At first, yeah, you gotta watch and judge carefully, but after a while, it’s like throwing punches—you just get a feel for it." Jill Young sounded super chill, like she was dropping some life wisdom: "Bottom line, I’m not scared of him fighting back, running away, or even dying. I’ve got the edge in both muscle and mindset, so he’s got no choice but to fold."
"So you think he’s really given up now?"
"Right now?" Jill Young glanced at Terrence Bar’s face and chuckled, "Almost. Not quite there—just a smidge to go."
Terrence Bar obviously saw Wu Zhengfeng, now looking like a one-year-old kid. First he was shocked, then he squinted and tried to remember, and finally his whole face went pale and he started shaking like a leaf. But since Jill Young didn’t say anything, he didn’t dare ask—he just trailed along quietly.
"Yeah, he managed to patch that up himself too."
Setting off from the valley, Jill Young dashed east, scrambling over mountains and cliffs, barreling through the night. The whole way was just crazy terrain—sheer drops, weird rocks, you name it. Every single day, Wu Zhengfeng aged up another year—like magic, she went from one to two, then three years old. Kids change a ton in a year, so by now, Terrence Bar was looking at Wu Zhengfeng like she was some kind of mutant.
Three days in, the baby wrap was officially useless. Jill Young’s storage space was stuffed with second-rate meat pills, and since she could handle any weather, she hadn’t packed any clothes. Wu Zhengfeng was freaking out, but Jill Young had an idea. She found a valley with trees and a stream, busted out her ancient world crafting skills, tore up the wrap, poked some holes, ran a string through, and—boom—made a makeshift outfit. Slap on a few leaves, and you’ve got yourself a certified wild-child look.
"If we run into a leopard or a bear or something, I’ll whip you up a fur coat. For now, just deal with it."
While they were on the road, Jill Young and Wu Zhengfeng got to chatting about internal energy. Wu Zhengfeng was super curious about Jill’s external power, so they started swapping stories. Wu Zhengfeng explained and demoed a bunch of wild martial arts theories. Jill Young mentally translated it into something that made sense: Internal energy is all about life force—whether you’re nurturing or wrecking it, it’s got special effects on living things.
For centuries, people have argued about which is better—raw muscle or internal energy. But, honestly, it’s super easy to explain with an example.
Imagine the Hulk and the Terminator both drop into a martial arts world and have to pick two fighters to back them up. One picks Li Yuanba from Legends of the Tang, the other goes for Wang Chongyang, the king of superpowers. Li Yuanba could smash the Terminator to bits, but he’d get pancaked by the Hulk. The Hulk could flatten Li Yuanba, but Wang Chongyang would just freeze him with a pressure point move. And after the Hulk’s stuck, Wang Chongyang turns around and sees a Terminator, shrugs, and says, "Hey, Chaoying, you can carve words into stone, wanna give this a shot?"
Basically, compared to brute force, internal energy is all about maintaining or wrecking the essence of life—and doing stuff that makes zero sense, like using it to lower friction and turn yourself into a human skateboard. There’s way too much to explain in a few words, and Jill Young hadn’t experienced it herself, so she couldn’t say for sure. But bottom line: in a one-on-one fight, internal energy users have a huge edge. Even Terrence Bar could give her a headache if he caught her off guard.
On the flip side, if she’d had internal energy back when she fought the Alien Queen, things would’ve been way easier.
"Looks like I really need to find some epic martial art to train in. Bet it’d work wonders." Jill Young muttered under her breath, and Wu Zhengfeng, riding piggyback, perked up—clearly thinking hard about something.
They chatted some more about martial arts basics, but what really blew Jill Young’s mind was how they actually measure years of internal energy.
Wu Zhengfeng went off: "In the martial arts world, folks always say stuff like ‘This guy’s got five years of power, that guy’s got ten.’ You might think it’s about how long they’ve trained, but nope—it’s about how strong their internal energy is."
Terrence Bar’s in his thirties, and people say he’s got twenty-five years of power—which isn’t too wild. But thinking back, when they were swapping secret codes, Terrence guessed Jill Young had forty years of power. Now that’s just nuts.
Jill Young doesn’t look anywhere near fifty, so where’d the forty years of power come from? She didn’t think much of it at the time, but now it’s starting to make sense.
"Training longer doesn’t always mean you’re stronger. Some folks are stuck with bad talent or crappy techniques and never get far. Others have top-notch talent, solid bones, great methods, and lucky breaks—they can build up crazy internal energy in no time. So this ‘five years of power, ten years of power’ thing isn’t about time spent, it’s about how much juice you’ve actually got."
Jill Young totally got it after Wu Zhengfeng explained. Take two easy examples: Ke Zhen’e and Zhang Wuji. If you go by training time, Ke Zhen’e’s got a ton more years than Zhang Wuji, but if they actually throw down, Zhang Wuji’s power is like Ke Zhen’e’s raised to the nth degree.
"So why use five years, ten years as the benchmark?"
"Well, that’s tied to the Hundred-and-Fifty-Year Limit." Wu Zhengfeng wasn’t in the mood to explain it all, so she kept it simple: "Basically, anyone who trains internal energy faces all kinds of hurdles, but the Sixty-Year Gate and the Hundred-and-Fifty-Year Limit are the big ones. Once you break through the Sixty-Year Gate, your power and age get linked, so people measure everything in five- or ten-year chunks. Before the Sixty-Year Gate, there are twelve milestones—one every five years. Most martial artists are somewhere in those twelve."
"Got it." Jill Young nodded, then pointed at Terrence Bar: "So this guy claims twenty-five years of power. What’s that make him in the martial arts world? I’ve heard folks hyping him up like he’s a big deal."
"Barely counts as third-rate," Wu Zhengfeng said bluntly. "He’s basically a blacksmith who started out making weapons. Everyone in the martial arts world wants a good blade, so they hype him up. But he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, and after a while, he starts thinking he’s some kind of master. Honestly, most folks with a bit of fame are at this level. The rest are even worse, so they get propped up. If you want to get good at martial arts, it all comes down to your technique. If your technique sucks, you’re stuck on a dead-end path and you’ll never make it big."
There was a lot more they could’ve talked about, but Jill Young and Wu Zhengfeng kept it surface level. They’d only just met, so their chat stuck to stuff each thought was basic but the other didn’t know. Anything deeper would need a closer bond. Still, in just a short time, they realized they both had knowledge the other needed—but for now, they’d keep it simple.
Right now, top priority was rescuing Spirit Eagle Palace. According to Terrence Bar, Wuhuan and Weibo had brought in some outside experts. Terrence Bar, bless his clueless heart, didn’t know much, but Wuhuan sounded super confident, bragging that they’d take Spirit Eagle Palace in three days flat.
"Pfft, what a joke. My Freewind Sect’s been hiding out for over a century, never made any enemies in the martial arts world—who could Wuhuan possibly call in?" Wu Zhengfeng scoffed. "Plus, Spirit Eagle Palace is easy to defend and tough to attack. Even if the best fighters aren’t home, there’s no way they’re taking it in three days."
Another day passed, and Wu Zhengfeng hit the five-year-old mark—prime milk-baby age, as Dad would say. Jill Young had made it to the eastern Tianshan range. Even picking the easiest routes, covering that much ground in such a short time was nuts. Wu Zhengfeng looked out at the mountains and suddenly said, "Hold up, these peaks look familiar. We must be near Misty Peak’s territory."
Jill Young nodded, then suddenly perked up and looked off to one side, climbing up a snowy slope. The elevation wasn’t too high, and there were pine trees around. Hiding behind the pines, Jill peered down and saw a crowd at the bottom of the slope. Even from far away, she could hear the noise and feel the tension in the air.
These folks were packing knives and swords, dressed all kinds of ways—at least three hundred of them, all surrounding a cave. The cave people were all in blue, mostly women, not many men, and definitely the underdogs. The two sides were squaring off, ready to rumble. Jill Young’s eyes flashed—using her super-vision, she spotted that the leader of the three hundred was none other than Weibo.
"So this is your Spirit Eagle Palace? Looks decent, but kinda shabby, honestly."
"Of course not," Wu Zhengfeng said, suddenly getting it. "No wonder it looked familiar—this is one of the Eighteen Caves, just outside Misty Peak."
"One of the Eighteen Caves? Near Misty Peak?" Jill Young put it together, feeling like this was some kind of cosmic joke. She squinted and asked, "Don’t tell me it’s..."
She didn’t get to finish—Weibo’s voice boomed out, full of murderous intent: "You call yourself cave-dwellers, but your cave master helps the bad guys! If you don’t surrender right now, we’ll wipe out your Cold Frost Cave!"
So it really is Cold Frost Cave...