Chapter Sixteen: The New Cloud Script

Donning the eerie mask, the Daoist with the red birthmark transformed into a blue-faced fiend, stomping thunderously as he lunged at Qi Xiu.

A chilling aura swept toward him. The numbing, tingling sensation he had once felt began seeping into his flesh through every pore.

Trying the same trick again?

Qi Xiu pinched the talisman marked “Suppress” between his fingers, and streaks of golden light dispersed the cold aura. With a flick of his wrist, he scattered the remaining “Suppress” talismans toward the blue-faced fiend.

Sizzle—sizzle—sizzle—

Golden rays shot out like sharp arrows, piercing the fiend’s body and burning bloody, gaping holes that oozed pus.

With a furious roar, the fiend grew even more frenzied. Its massive maw split open, from which flew a horde of palm-sized, winged corpse lice, screeching as they emerged.

A swarm of ghost lice, dark and buzzing, poured toward Qi Xiu like a living cloud.

These corpse lice were parasites of the blue-faced fiend—cunning, treacherous, with jaws like steel blades. They could bite through the toughest armor and burrow into human flesh to devour organs, vicious and deadly beyond compare.

Qi Xiu’s footsteps were agile as he leapt aside, swiftly opening distance from the swarm.

“Hahaha! Don’t you have plenty of talismans? Keep using them!” the Daoist, now the blue-faced fiend, laughed triumphantly as he saw Qi Xiu retreating.

His laughter rumbled, shaking the cave and sending stones tumbling.

“You said it yourself.”

“You heard wrong—I never said that!” The fiend sensed something amiss and immediately denied it.

“Hahaha, too late!” Qi Xiu laughed loudly, his robe billowing as he bit open the tip of his right index finger. Using his blood as ink, he drew a new cloud script rune in the center of his left palm.

“Martial”

Once completed, Qi Xiu’s face paled; clearly, this rune demanded far more energy than the “Suppress” character. Yet as soon as the rune took shape, his spirit surged with fresh vigor.

“I only recently grasped this ‘Martial’ rune and have yet to test its edge against a true foe. Consider yourself honored to be the first to taste it.”

“Honored, my ass! I’ll eat you alive!” The Daoist, already mentally corroded by the strange mask, sank into complete madness at being treated as a mere punching bag.

“Watch your mouth—have a slap!” Qi Xiu tensed his back and, aiming at empty air, struck out with his palm.

What is he doing? The Daoist froze in confusion as he saw Qi Xiu attacking nothing, but before the question could form, a palm print, half a man tall and black as ink, materialized.

It carried the force to shatter mountains and crashed into the swarm of corpse lice like a cannonball.

A muffled boom rang out, mingled with the wet, sticky sound of lice being pulverized and torn asunder. Chunks of their remains fell to the ground.

The mass of lice, over three meters across, was blasted open with a palm-shaped void.

“What spell is this?!”

Staring in disbelief at the gaping hole in the swarm, the Daoist cried out.

How can a mere martial artist wield spells?

“Buddha’s Palm,” Qi Xiu replied offhandedly, making up a name. He unleashed his full strength, body and arms moving like a tempest.

Boom—boom—boom—boom—

With each palm strike, a black imprint formed in the air, the “Martial” rune in his palm fading a little each time.

In a flash, the cave was filled with a rain of ink-black palm prints pounding down.

The roars were deafening, shaking the cave and making rocks collapse from above.

Nothing could withstand it. The entire swarm of corpse lice was crushed to pulp, and the ground itself was left with deep palm-shaped craters.

Ten blows in quick succession, and the “Martial” rune in Qi Xiu’s palm vanished completely.

After this barrage, dust filled the cave, stones tumbled, and the blue-faced fiend, covered in dreadful palm prints with half his body nearly beaten to nothing, lay in a ruined pit.

His dull yellow eyes rolled weakly, lips trembling in a mix of fear and unwillingness.

Moments later, the fiend’s bloated body began to wither. The Daoist’s true form reappeared, the eerie mask tumbling aside, now blank once more.

“My master… will not… spare you…” With his last ounce of strength, the Daoist clawed a fleshy sac from a boil on his abdomen and crushed it.

Pus splattered, and a barely visible, blood-red insect wobbled out of the cave, flying into the distance.

Having released a messenger bug, the Daoist kicked his legs and went to join his junior brother in death.

Is he dead?

Standing ten meters away, Qi Xiu confirmed the demon had perished, finally allowing himself to exhale. Exhausted, he found a flat stone and sat down.

Now I have a rough idea of the ‘Martial’ rune’s power: formidable, but at a terrifying cost.

Using it once drains all strength, leaving me weak and breathless, my very bones turned to jelly.

It can only be a trump card for desperate moments. Only when my martial cultivation grows further, my body more robust and my energy abundant, will I be able to use it as a regular means of defense.

As he massaged his temples, Qi Xiu’s thoughts churned while gazing at his left palm.

Three days ago, he’d advanced his calligraphy to the second realm, gaining insight into a second innate cloud rune—Martial!

After condensing this innate character, he had a premonition: the cloud runes drawn through calligraphy seemed mysteriously bound to his own abilities.

The “Martial” rune had formed because he had stepped onto the martial path.

But with this realization came a question: if the “Martial” rune stemmed from martial arts, then what had given rise to the earlier “Suppress” rune?

He examined himself thoroughly, but could not comprehend the “Suppress” rune’s origins.

With no solution, he set the puzzle aside to focus on the newly acquired “Martial” rune.

“The ‘Martial’ rune was born of my martial cultivation and, unlike the naturally miraculous ‘Suppress’ rune, its powers are tightly linked to my martial arts.

Today’s trial more or less confirms the nature of its power.”

Qi Xiu picked up a broken stone and wrote the character “Martial” in ordinary script.

After acquiring the rune, he had tried to write it, but found it violently unstable—ordinary paper and ink would explode instantly when he attempted to inscribe it.

Apparently, nothing mundane could withstand the “Martial” rune’s might.

After many tries, he discovered a barely effective method: writing it in his own blood, on his own skin.

Since the rune’s power came from him, it wouldn’t backfire if used this way.

“The true wonder of the ‘Martial’ rune is its ability to manifest the essence of martial arts. For now, it seems to only channel the essence of first-realm martial arts or above.

The essence of the Black Sand Palm is pure, overwhelming force—so the rune produced those unstoppable black palm imprints.

If a third-rate external martial art can become so terrifying with the rune’s support, what about a top-tier technique? Or even… a true art?”

At the thought of true arts, Qi Xiu immediately remembered Qian Yuchuan.

Previously, Qian Yuchuan had forced him to translate a scroll on beast hide—a fragment of a true art.

In the martial world, there were ordinary techniques and true arts. The former generally trained a specific body part, with higher-level arts refining more and more of the body. True arts, however, tempered the entire body seamlessly.

“I still recall the contents of the Cold Waterfall True Art, but they’re only about a third of the full text. Not only is it incomplete, but practicing it as is would lead to disaster.

However, if Qian Yuchuan found one fragment, he likely has leads on the rest.

To obtain the complete Cold Waterfall True Art, I’ll have to get it from him.”

As dusk fell, in the dim light of the cave, Qi Xiu’s eyes grew bright and piercing.

“No, calm down… stay calm.” As his gaze burned hotter, he suddenly slapped his own cheeks. The sting sobered him, quelling the wild thoughts in his heart.

“I mustn’t be rash. This world is vast, full of unknown powers. With my proficiency system, there’s no need to rush.

Steady progress is the true path.”

Aware that his temperament had grown more aggressive since training in martial arts, Qi Xiu tugged his sleeves thoughtfully.

“I’d better avoid fighting so much in the future. Grinding skills in safety is the best way forward.

I can’t be like a certain brute, bullying scholars just because I’m strong. Shameful!”

…

Hundreds of miles away, deep within an ancient, shadowy tomb, Qian Yuchuan hunched through a narrow, dark passage. Suddenly, he sneezed, turned his head suspiciously, and grumbled,

“Which bastard is cursing me now?”

…