"Strange, I just felt a flash of inspiration." Andrew Han leaned against the round stone, gazing leisurely at the lively, bustling scene. Suddenly, he felt a faint sense of loss.
Silence.
His only sensation just now was utter, all-encompassing silence.
Faintly, he could hear birdsong, the rustling of leaves, and the rushing river—but all of it seemed to vanish without a trace.
"Fusion?"
"Or perhaps some new insight into Martial Techniques?"
Andrew Han's gaze grew thoughtful as he stood quietly by the round stone.
The prerequisite for creating a Martial Technique is Presented Liquid Internal Power; only when Internal Power within the body gains an attribute-like energy quality can it begin to communicate with nature.
Strictly speaking, it's not true communication—it's more like humble observation.
Take the Raging Downpour Technique, for example: it was created by an ordinary Martial General who, upon witnessing a torrential rainstorm, was inspired to carefully craft this art.
"So then—"
"That mysterious sensation just now was probably my Presented Liquid Internal Power forming a faint connection with the natural world, letting me perceive some indescribable patterns."
Andrew Han gazed forward.
A clear stream flowed ahead, lush green mountains stood behind, together creating a sense of tranquil beauty—mountains deep, forests quiet, water pure... As for the tourists standing on both sides of the stream, they seemed almost insignificant.
Compared to nature, humans are tiny and frail.
Not to mention catastrophic disasters like volcanic eruptions or massive tsunamis—even just facing a flash flood head-on, Martial Artists are at mortal risk, and only those in the Martial General Realm can barely escape.
After all, no matter how strong a Martial Artist becomes, they're still made of flesh and blood.
Unless one reaches the Martial Lord Realm, the peak of the Three Martial Realms—it's said that at this level, a practitioner can walk rivers as if they were flat ground, and their fists can split the air itself, unleashing shockwaves.
As for Master Miles Ning—
Even Andrew Han found it hard to fathom: to forge a blazing chain of fire with nothing but flesh and blood—Miles Ning was certainly far beyond an ordinary Martial Lord.
As he was thinking, a group of middle-aged people appeared on the nearby stone path, accompanied by a flock of chattering children who ran eagerly toward the river.
The adults settled down, sitting directly on the ground.
First they spread out blankets, then brought out canned fruit and a variety of snacks, apparently preparing for a forest picnic.
Splash.
Four or five children began to play and splash, sending water droplets flying.
Some people standing by the riverside were splashed by the cool water, but seeing so many unruly children, their faces showed helplessness as they shook their heads and left.
"Hmm."
"Such a lack of manners."
Andrew Han glanced at the laughing, boisterous children, then shifted his gaze to the middle-aged adults deep in conversation. He paid them no mind and turned to walk down the stone path.
He simply thought, Lucy Han must never be like that.
Sometimes, a child's character must be shaped by example, and as her older brother, he had to set a proper standard.
"Still—"
"With Master Miles Ning's careful guidance, Lucy Han would never turn into one of those troublemakers." Andrew Han glanced back with a sense of realization. Through the dense green leaves, he could vaguely see some sort of dispute by the stream.
He shook his head and continued on his way.
Tap.
Tap.
Strolling leisurely, Andrew Han gradually reached the end of the path—a secluded, desolate patch of forest with no trails nearby.
"This place will do."
Andrew Han moved his palm slightly, slicing through the brush like a sharp blade. He walked forward over a hundred meters, stopping in front of a sign that forbade further entry, and began practicing Mountain-Sketch Pillar Stance.
At present, he couldn't practice stance training indoors.