Chapter 11: The Blowing Fire Palm
Peach Blossom Island.
Yutian stood atop Snapping Finger Peak, his sharp eyes surveying the landscape below. His expression was cold, the corner of his mouth subtly upturned, as if he were defying the heavens themselves.
“The ninth stage of ‘Qi of Fighting’ has beco a reality,” he murmured. “My body has been strengthened to bear the force of a thousand pounds, yet this so-called strength is nothing. My physique—flawless, untainted, ice muscles and jade bones—has beco like the body of no leakage. My ridians… they flow like the Yellow River, surging with boundless waves.”
Seemingly lost in emotion, Yutian raised his right hand and swung his fist. The air boldly exploded under the sheer force of his strike.
Retracting his hand, he marveled, “In Dou Broken World, even the ninth stage of ‘Qi of Fighting’ grants such terrifying power. It is not just about strength—this fighting qi has transford into an incomparably pure force. My entire body, like a divine vessel, stands unrivaled in the Divine Eagle World.”
With those words, he turned and left.
The Woof Pool lay at the center of Peach Blossom Island. Yutian had to pass through it on his way to the bamboo house.
At that mont, a man appeared—a large, rough figure with thick eyebrows, dark skin, and coarse features. A single glance was enough to label him a brute, his appearance harsh and unrefined.
This man stood by the pool, directly blocking Yutian’s path.
Their gazes t—Yutian’s cold and stern, the man’s simple yet unwavering. In that instant, Yutian frowned slightly and flicked his right hand, as though brushing away sothing distasteful.
The burly man furrowed his thick brows, a trace of irritation flashing in his gaze. He scoffed, “Tian’er, where have you been? Let have a good look at you.”
Yutian’s face darkened. A wave of nausea surged through him as he glanced at the man in disgust.
“What do you want? If it is nothing important, I will take my leave.”
Without waiting for a reply, he stepped past the brute, heading toward the peach blossom forest.
The man turned to watch him go, his fists clenching montarily before he released them in silent frustration. By then, Yutian had already disappeared into the trees.
Yutian arrived at the bamboo house, his lips curling in disdain. “Guo Jing is looking for ? Disgusting.”
He stepped inside, heading straight for the desk. Picking up a book, he exhaled slowly. “The ninth stage of ‘Qi of Fighting’ is complete. The once-thin fighting qi in my dantian has transford into a vast reservoir of power. Now, I can finally maneuver martial arts and fighting techniques.”
He flipped through the pages absentmindedly, until a particular passage caught his eye.
“Blowing Fire Palm… Xuan-rank low-grade fighting technique. Among Pill Elder’s collection, this is the weakest. When executed, it generates imnse wind pressure.”
He studied the text intently, his right hand unconsciously mimicking the movents described. Finally, with a long sigh, he set the book down.
“Blowing Fire Palm… Though low-ranked, its power is not to be underestimated. A single palm strike can summon a hurricane. However, it demands an imnse amount of energy. With my current reserves, I cannot execute it properly. In the end, it is a technique that relies purely on energy output. Without sufficient energy, it is useless. Still… the principles behind it are worth studying.”
Closing his eyes, Yutian guided his internal energy toward the tendons of his right hand.
His gaze sharpened. He exhaled coldly. “Blowing Fire Palm.”
The air trembled. It was neither purely wind nor fire, yet sothing between. A faint red glow appeared in the center of his palm, encircled by a thin, crimson aura. When he struck downward, a red gale burst forth.
A smirk played at the corner of his lips. Within his sharp gaze, a glimr of satisfaction erged.
“A red wind… so this is aura manipulation. To succeed on my first attempt—this is the advantage of possessing a powerful soul. Combined with the ninth stage of ‘Qi of Fighting,’ my talent is truly unrivaled.”
Setting the book aside, Yutian turned his gaze toward the bamboo door. His brows furrowed slightly.
Mother? Why is she coming here?
A soft voice echoed before the door even opened. “Tian’er, Mother is coming in.”
A jade-like hand pushed the door open.
Through the doorway stepped a stunning woman—Huang Rong.
Yutian’s stern expression softened. “Mother, why have you co?”
On Earth, he had devoured 9,999 fire-type psychics, ascending to the rank of ‘Yan Di’ through his Devouring ability. Ruthless and unrelenting, he had committed countless acts without remorse.
Yet in this life, only two people held a sacred place in his heart—his grandfather, Eastern Heretic Huang Yaoshi, and his mother, Huang Rong.
He could kill Guo Jing without hesitation, yet he could not bear to see a trace of sadness in Huang Rong’s eyes.
A mother’s love… it was a strange and powerful force. One that had managed to lt even his cold heart.
Now, his gaze remained calm, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he listened to her speak.
Huang Rong observed him with gentle eyes. “Today, your father has decided to teach you martial arts. You are already ten years old, Tian’er—it is ti for you to begin training.”
Yutian’s brows knit together. The silver fla at the center of his forehead seed to flicker.
His voice carried undisguised contempt. “Guo Jing? Teach martial arts? What could he possibly have to offer? His skills co from the Nine Yin True Scripture and the Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms. He would never pass those on.
What remains? The Quanzhen Sect’s techniques? He will not teach those either. That leaves the skills of the Seven Freaks of Jiangnan. Compared to my grandfather’s art, those techniques are worthless. If I waste ti learning them instead of mastering my grandfather’s kung fu, would it not be a joke?”
His words dripped with disdain, casting a shadow over Huang Rong’s expression.
She sighed softly. “Tian’er, what you say is reasonable. But you are only ten years old. This is rely foundational training. For now, it does not matter what you learn. You will study Peach Blossom Island’s arts when you grow older.”
Yutian exhaled in frustration. Huang Rong’s insistence left him no choice.
With a gentle yet firm hand, she took his arm and led him outside.
Huang Rong had made up her mind—she would have Yutian train under Guo Jing, hoping to nd the strained relationship between father and son.
For Yutian, her request was difficult to refuse.
With reluctance, he followed her out of the bamboo house.
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