"So you really plan to teach the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra, the cult's sect-suppressing canon, to Quinn?" Crippled Joe asked.
Granny Sue nodded lightly. "He's better than me. The Heaven-Forging Demon Art is just one divine ability from the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra. I use it for skin-flaying and making clothes, which is rather sinister—but I never thought to use it against the Thunder Chant Eight-Form's Sun-Bathing Soul Refining in Midair. He did."
Apothecary nodded. "Sealing your own soul with the Heaven-Forging Demon Art to counter Sun-Bathing Soul Refining in Midair—that's inspired."
Granny Sue smiled. "So if he masters the Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra, maybe he'll take the demonic canon even further and create things we couldn't imagine before."
Mute gestured a couple of times. Grandpa Blindeye shook his head. "Don't tell him. If you do, it's no fun anymore."
The group of old men and women exchanged knowing smiles, clearly delighted.
From Oldridge Village came the sound of thunder, as Quinn and Grandpa Mark's figures interwove, both unleashing Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush upon each other.
Boom—
Thunder rolled, deafening. Quinn and Grandpa Mark's fists collided; he grunted and staggered back, his footwork coiling like a divine dragon. Though it looked like retreat, he was actually gathering strength.
In just a few steps, Quinn's power peaked—his body surged like a furious dragon rising from the abyss, launching himself at Grandpa Mark!
"Brat, you even went and modified the Heaven-Stealing Leg Art I taught you!" Crippled Joe exclaimed in surprise.
He saw that the footwork Quinn just used resembled a coiling dragon compressing its body, storing up power—retreating, yet actually preparing to strike. Exceptionally cunning.
His Heaven-Stealing Leg Art was exquisite, but Crippled Joe, by habit, always preferred sneaky business and never cared about maximizing its power. He used the footwork for theft and ambush, not for direct attack.
Quinn only made minor tweaks to his footwork, unconsciously infusing it with dragon-like momentum—his movement now carried the force and winding grace of a dragon.
Bang bang bang—a rapid succession of explosive impacts rang out. Quinn and Grandpa Mark had only traded a single punch, yet forty-five thunderous booms echoed, strangely enough.
Quinn was knocked back, tumbling through the air. His body twisted like a swimming dragon, dissolving Grandpa Mark's force and landing steadily on his feet.
"Grandpa Mark is still Grandpa Mark," Crippled Joe sighed in admiration.
Grandpa Mark said, "Quinn, have you grasped the essence of this move?"
Quinn's face showed shock. He blurted, "Your punch is different from mine! My punch has forty-five dragons, but they're all the same. Yours has forty-five divine dragons, each with a different force!"
"You've understood."
Grandpa Mark looked gratified. "In Great Thunderclap Temple, there are a hundred Heavenly Dragon reliefs called the Hundred Dragon Diagrams. The first World-Honored One carved them from the hundred kinds of Heavenly Dragons he saw, for later disciples to study and use in cultivating Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush. When I trained in Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush, I didn't see real dragons—just those reliefs. The technique contains forty-five dragon forces, each drawn from forty-five diagrams, but the temple actually preserves a hundred. Do you know what that means?"
Quinn's heart jolted. He blurted out, "Every time you use Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush, the dragon forces in your punch are different from before!"
Grandpa Mark nodded. "Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush looks like a simple punch, but inside it hides endless variations. The changes are buried in the force; outsiders can't see them. Watch closely, Quinn!"
Grandpa Mark punched with his single arm. A dragon's roar sounded, then thunder boomed—a stream of dragon-shaped qi erupted, surging like a furious dragon bursting from the abyss, ready to devour!
Then came two more dragon roars—two dragons shot from his fist, intertwining and drilling forward!
Three dragon roars followed—three kinds of dragon force, fierce and domineering, split stone and crack monuments!
Then four dragons pounced, five dragons refined demons, six dragons cycled, seven dragons overturned seas, eight Heavenly Dragons, nine dragons of wind and thunder!
With this punch, Grandpa Mark unleashed forty-five dragon-shaped forces, each vivid as a living dragon.
He punched toward the sky, and suddenly forty-five azure dragons appeared overhead, accompanied by thunder, crackling lightning, and rolling thunder—forty-five azure dragons soared into the clouds.
Quinn looked up and saw a cloud in the sky suddenly shatter and vanish.
The cloud shattered, and suddenly a human head tumbled out, landing at Quinn's feet. Startled, Quinn looked closer—it was a monk's head, somehow hidden in the cloud.
"Could some demon have killed the monk and flown into the cloud with his head?"
As Quinn speculated, several more thuds sounded—two arms and two legs fell from the sky, and a torso landed outside the village.
"Not the work of a demon!"
Quinn's heart trembled. "That monk was hiding in the cloud!"
Mute, Blindeye, Butcher, and the others in the village seemed utterly unfazed—clearly, they'd seen stranger things.
Grandpa Mark didn't even seem to notice he'd killed a monk. He glanced toward the Heavenly Demon Patriarch outside the village—a show of force.
A demonstration to the Heavenly Demon Patriarch, meant to intimidate the cult's many experts!
In the neighboring village, the youthful Patriarch was moved. "Great Thunderclap Temple's boxing arts are truly formidable, though still a notch below the old World-Honored One. I know who the one-armed man is now—he's the temple's discarded disciple, Venerable King Ma. He made his name in a single battle, fighting his way out of the temple. Who would've thought he'd be hiding here? This little village is not to be underestimated."
The Enforcer Elder glanced at the body that had fallen from the sky. "That's a monk from Great Thunderclap Temple, killed by King Ma. Strange, why would a temple monk be here?"
The youthful Patriarch smiled. "Probably here to keep an eye on King Ma. It's a trivial matter—the World-Honored One is old and no longer stirs from the mountain. But that boy's boxing technique is fascinating, very impressive. Clearly he's never learned the Grand Buddha Mahayana Scripture, yet he can fully unleash the power of Thunder Chant Eight-Form..."
In the village, Grandpa Mark withdrew his gaze and continued, "Quinn, what did you see in my punch just now?"
(Irrelevant line; skip translation.)
Quinn suppressed his confusion. The forty-five azure dragons he'd just seen were not only different in form, but each was a completely different kind of dragon—it left him shaken.
Suddenly, Grandpa Mark unleashed Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush again—forty-five distinct azure dragons appeared in the sky, thunder crashing, storm clouds swirling, soaring high!
Punch after punch, Grandpa Mark sent more and more dragon-shaped forces flying—soon, a hundred li around was filled with dancing azure dragons!
The azure dragons formed a magnificent array in the sky, their bodies coiling together to create a vast dragon ring, all their heads facing outward, roaring in unison!
Ten thousand dragons roared, shaking the heavens and earth!
This wasn't just a demonstration of Nine-Dragon Thunder Rush's secrets—it was a blatant show of force, a warning to the Great Ruins, the Cult of the Heavenly Demon, and all who harbored ill intent toward Oldridge Village!
Quinn was transfixed, and the other villagers were full of admiration, nodding repeatedly. Even the cult members in the neighboring village looked shaken, murmuring praise. The youthful Patriarch told his followers, "If you ever meet King Ma alone, show him respect."
The Enforcer Elder whispered, "Does our Cult of the Heavenly Demon really need to fear this tiny village?"
"Fear? Not quite."
The youthful Patriarch smiled. "They're crippled now, ruined—their skills aren't what they once were. But among them, two are at my level: one without arms or legs, and the other is the blacksmith. The rest are stronger than my sect's Twelve Guardian Elders or even the Four Town-Sect Heavenly Kings. The Saintess is probably the weakest of them. See that butcher with only his upper body? If you've met him, you'd remember—he's known as the Skyblade!"
The Enforcer Elder was shaken, staring at the butcher in disbelief. "That's the Skyblade? Wasn't he supposed to be dead?"
"I heard he died too."
A Guardian Elder said, "I heard he went mad, slashed at the heavens, and charged into the sky. Some say the shadows of gods appeared above, and the lunatic charged at them. The sky was filled with thunderclouds, saber light weaving through them—soon after, Skyblade's corpse fell from the sky. If this butcher really is Skyblade, how did he survive?"
The youthful Patriarch said, "For someone like him, dying isn't so easy."
The Enforcer Elder asked, "Patriarch, why agree to Cult Mistress's request to make that boy our Young Cult Master? His strength doesn't seem that impressive."
"The boy's strength isn't that great yet—he's still raw. But do you see who surrounds him?"
The youthful Patriarch beamed. "The experts around him are terrifying—each was a legend in their day, each with their own specialty! The boy is their child; they've passed on all their life's knowledge to him. Add in our Grand Fostering Heavenly Demon Sutra, and if he becomes our Holy Cult Master, our sect will profit greatly!"
The Enforcer Elder was convinced. "Patriarch, your wisdom is unmatched. But why test him further?"
The Patriarch replied, "What if he's a fool? We must test him. Notify the Three Hundred and Sixty Halls' hall masters—they're only allowed to use Spirit Embryo Realm skills! Tomorrow, let him enter the halls!"