Inside the residential estate.
It was a pleasantly cool morning. Andrew Han, dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt, stepped out of his building and walked toward the apartment block across the way.
Between the two buildings,
two property managers in formal attire were squatting beside the fractured brick surface, looking at each other in confusion as they discussed the scene, their voices tinged with puzzlement.
“How did the bricks crack like this? They're almost pulverized.”
“Probably something heavy fell here. Look closely at the center of the cracks—it forms a rectangular area.”
“Huh?”
“The other brick is the same way. It almost looks like a slipper print.”
Squatting beside the bricks, they felt a heavy pressure and couldn’t help but stand up, adjusting their suits.
Strange.
Far too strange.
They exchanged glances. Cars couldn't drive onto this brick path, and there hadn't been any construction nearby lately. So what kind of heavy object could have caused such dense cracks?
At first glance, it was almost intimidating.
“Let’s go, report it to the supervisor. These two bricks are shattered like this—they’ll have to be replaced.” The older of the two men lit a cigarette and spoke calmly.
Click.
Click.
Andrew Han walked past with a calm expression, but inwardly he cursed himself.
Last night, after finally encountering the White Wraith from his past-life memories, his killing intent surged and his emotions ran high—he’d completely forgotten to repair those two broken bricks.
From now on, he could never act rashly; carefulness and caution would always serve him well.
And so—
Andrew Han squinted and walked toward the building across the way, secretly sighing to himself, "Next time, I'll just crush them to dust."
...
Miles Ning’s apartment.
In the living room, his wrinkled old face showed the faintest trace of a smile as he leaned indifferently on the sofa and casually tossed Andrew Han a worn backpack.
Even when Miles Ning was in a good mood, he rarely showed it openly.
“Take a look for yourself.”
“There are three things inside. First, a Martial Communicator for the Martial Arts World. Second, the Sect’s core inheritance—the Mountain-Sketch Pillar Stance. Third, some techniques suited for you.”
As he spoke,
Miles Ning lit a cigarette, and through the haze, casually explained further.
Martial techniques come in countless complex varieties, each with different depths even within the same category—like endless roads. For newcomers to the Martial Arts World, choosing is nearly impossible.
Of course,
most Martial Artists don’t have the luxury of choice.
To obtain even a single technique is considered extremely fortunate. Few ever get to touch hundreds of techniques, let alone those that are truly profound.
Andrew Han, however, was completely different.
With Miles Ning—a master who fully understands the martial three realms—as his teacher, all his techniques were carefully selected and deeply profound. Even Martial Lords would find these arts rare.
In other words,
if compared to ordinary Martial Artists, the quality of these techniques was simply overwhelming.
“Brand-new techniques.”
As Andrew Han listened, he glanced at the five thin booklets in the backpack—each one depicting a deeply profound technique.
Every technique was even deeper than the Raging Downpour.
He reconsidered and stopped examining the techniques, instead asking, “Master, how do you know which types of techniques suit me?”
The first time he’d chosen techniques, Miles Ning had simply produced seven or eight rough manuals for him to pick from.
The direction of one’s technique is extremely important.
Once you choose a technique, you must devote yourself to practicing it. If you can reach the level of true mastery, you’ll be able to use most similar techniques interchangeably.
The next moment—
“Because I hadn’t interrogated you back then.” Miles Ning glanced at Andrew Han and said flatly, “Your strengths are physical toughness, recovery, and flexibility. Since your body far surpasses the norm, you should focus on that.”
“Let’s set that aside for now. Look at the Mountain-Sketch Pillar Stance.”
“This stance training is incomparably important. Its significance is extraordinary—it’s enough for you to practice all the way to Martial Lord, and even higher.”
His words carried unusual gravity.
This Mountain-Sketch Pillar Stance was the Sect’s core inheritance, never given to outsiders. Martial Artists without enough talent couldn’t train it—instead, it would become a terrible burden.
As for the Solar Pillar Stance, in front of Mountain-Sketch, it was merely the faint light of a firefly.
Stance Training is meant to actively strengthen the practitioner. A profound stance training yields results countless times stronger than ordinary ones. And Mountain-Sketch’s significance was immense; Miles Ning was naturally cautious.
“Let me take a look.”
Andrew Han treated it seriously, picking up the old book... Its edges were already yellowed, clearly showing its age.
The moment his fingers touched the book’s surface, he suddenly froze.
Whoosh!
A strand of endlessly flowing Graywhite Aura was contained within.
Absorbing this strand of Graywhite Aura, Andrew Han felt his physique improve ever so slightly. Acting nonchalant, he asked, “Master, this book looks rather old.”
Hmph.
Miles Ning snorted, “I personally revised it thirty years ago. Back then, every disciple in the Sect was qualified to practice Mountain-Sketch.”