Chapter 25: The Three Martial Arts United

Martial arts avatars, unexpectedly, had merged together. After a while, only one of the three martial arts avatars remained.

Above his head appeared the words: Second-tier martial arts avatar, Nameless, Unity of Man and Martial Arts.

At the same time, Lu Yan’s internal energy and the blood vessels he had opened underwent a violent transformation, a faint stabbing pain coursing through him. Segments of information streamed in, absorbed by his mind. These were new martial arts techniques and insights gained from the fusion.

This process lasted several hours.

Bang!

Lu Yan threw a punch; a stone slab as tall as a person exploded, leaving a large crater and scattering fragments everywhere.

“The total energy is the same, but the quality has improved. As expected of a second-tier martial art.” Lu Yan was elated.

He could scarcely believe that after merging three third-tier martial arts with the unity of man and martial arts, they had fused into a single second-tier martial art.

The only concern Lu Yan had was that the number of opened blood vessels had decreased.

Originally, each of the three third-tier martial arts, when united with the practitioner, had opened 576 blood vessels. Altogether, that made 1,728. Now, only 1,152 remained—the exact number a second-tier martial art opened upon unity.

Let me test it!

Lu Yan immediately consumed half a pound of martial food and began training according to the new techniques.

Half an hour later, he stopped, his face glowing with delight.

The number of opened vessels had decreased, but the speed at which energy accumulated had grown even faster.

After pondering for a moment, Lu Yan understood why.

Previously, although more vessels were opened, they belonged to three separate martial arts, each operating independently. For example, when practicing Iron Thread Fist, energy could only flow through the vessels opened by that technique; the vessels opened by Six Harmonies Leg remained unaffected. The reverse was also true.

Therefore, while training, only 576 vessels were in motion.

Now, 1,152 vessels worked in unison; training engaged all of them, greatly increasing efficiency and the speed of energy accumulation.

This fusion had further boosted Lu Yan’s combat prowess.

“What name shall I give it?” Lu Yan mused.

“Leg, fist, and palm techniques combined—power begins in the legs, the body becomes the axis, and force channels through the arms, twisting into one. Let’s call it Gale Hand.”

Lu Yan murmured.

As he spoke, the word “Nameless” vanished from the avatar above, replaced by “Gale Hand.”

“The Dao Book has a spirit. In those old tales, magical artifacts possessed spirits—could the Dao Book have one too?” Lu Yan wondered quietly.

He then resumed training Gale Hand, stopping only after several hours.

Three days later, the news was confirmed: the Liu and Wu clans had formed an alliance to enter the mountains and eradicate the bandits.

At the Scarlet Guard’s martial grounds, about sixty guards stood in neat formation. All were selected for the campaign against the bandits, Lu Yan among them.

This left Lu Yan speechless. He had hoped to hide his cultivation and avoid selection, but fate had other plans.

Several familiar faces, such as Wang Lin and Zhang Jun, were also present.

“Of the nine captains, five have been deployed—including three who have broken limits five times,” Lu Yan observed silently.

The five captains said nothing, waiting quietly.

Soon, a group entered. There were nine in total, seven young men aged fifteen to thirty, followed by two elders.

“Direct descendants of the Liu clan,” Lu Yan thought.

“The one in the center is Liu Xingren,” Wang Lin whispered nearby.

“So it’s him,” Lu Yan replied. Like Liu Xingchao, he had never met Liu Xingren but had heard of him.

Liu Xingren was the rising star of the Liu clan’s younger generation. Before Liu Xingchao’s ascent, he was hailed as the clan’s most gifted youth. Now, at twenty-three, he had broken limits five times; before turning thirty, he was expected to channel energy into his bones, master bone force, and be enshrined as a martial marquis.

The other six youths were equally imposing—all elite members of the Liu clan’s new generation.

“The two elders are retainers of the Liu clan,” an older Scarlet Guard explained beside them, envy flickering in his eyes.

Retainers were not of Liu blood, yet their status far exceeded that of the guards. To become a retainer of a noble house was no simple task; it required great merit and unwavering loyalty.

Retainers participated in the clan’s inner decisions and enjoyed privileges beyond what guards could imagine.

“I am Liu Xingren; I trust you all have heard of me. This campaign against the bandits will be under my command,” Liu Xingren announced. Standing nearly two meters tall, his deep voice echoed throughout the grounds. Pausing, he continued, “The Liu clan rewards both merit and failure. For every bandit leader slain who has broken limits, rewards will be given—silver amounts based on achievements.”

“Whoever locates the bandits’ lair will receive one thousand taels of silver; whoever severs the head of the chief bandit will be rewarded with three thousand taels.”

At these words, the crowd’s eyes blazed with fervor.

They had expected to risk their lives for nothing, but now there were substantial rewards.

Martial training was expensive; their monthly stipends barely sufficed, never nearly enough. The higher one’s cultivation, the more money was needed.

Why did the noble clans’ direct descendants advance so swiftly, breaking limits at a young age? It was because they dined on martial food every day.

Seeing the fighting spirit rise, Liu Xingren waved his hand—departure.

Their destination: Giant Fang Mountain, south of Longwind City.

The city’s greatest mountain was Longwind Mountain, but for danger, Giant Fang Mountain reigned supreme.

Giant Fang Mountain’s peaks were steep and jagged, resembling rows of sharp teeth—hence the name.

After days of investigation and speculation, the two noble clans concluded the bandits’ hideout was within Giant Fang Mountain.

At the mountain’s base, they encountered the Wu clan’s forces.

The Wu clan’s main force was the Wind Patrol Guards, led by young members—eight in total, one more than the Liu clan.

Both clans sending their youth was clearly a move to temper them.

When the two groups met, the atmosphere instantly grew tense, almost confrontational.

Especially between Liu Xingren and a young man from the Wu clan—their eyes collided, threads of murderous intent swirling in the air.

“Wu Chaokong,” Lu Yan instantly guessed the Wu clan’s leader.

He was the pride of the Wu clan, the top of the younger generation, Liu Xingren’s lifelong rival. Rumor had it they had clashed many times, with neither emerging victorious.

“Liu Xingren, shall we make a wager?” Wu Chaokong challenged.

“What kind of wager?” Liu Xingren asked.

“Let’s bet on which side slays more limit-breaking bandits. Ten thousand taels of silver, do you dare?”

Wu Chaokong pressed.

“Agreed. It’s settled,” Liu Xingren replied, showing no sign of weakness.

“Haha! That ten thousand taels is as good as mine!” Wu Chaokong laughed, leading his men into Giant Fang Mountain.

“This time, I have only one demand—victory. Nothing but victory,” Liu Xingren said coldly, sweeping his gaze over everyone. Then, he led his group into the mountains.

Once inside, they began to split into teams.

Giant Fang Mountain was vast, and searching for the bandits within was a daunting task. Splitting up increased their chances.

Five per team, they dispersed into the treacherous terrain.

Lu Yan’s team was led by Captain Ma Pengxin of the sixth squad, a martial artist who had broken limits four times.

They searched for most of the day, but found nothing—not even a trace, let alone a bandit.

Other teams reported the same.

Liu Xingren’s expression darkened; he ordered them to continue searching.

Two hours later, they had penetrated deep into Giant Fang Mountain.

Suddenly...

Two figures stumbled toward them, panic-stricken.

“Their sleeves are blood red—they’re Red Sleeve Army.” Lu Yan’s team’s eyes lit up; they quickened their pace to cut the two off, lest they escape.

The two men saw Lu Yan’s group and, instead of fleeing, rushed toward them, shouting, “Help! Save us!”

Lu Yan and his companions were stunned.

What was going on? The Red Sleeve Army saw them but didn’t run; instead, they came pleading for help.

The scenario made no sense.

Could these two not be bandits at all, but victims forced to wear Red Sleeve uniforms and escape?

Lu Yan and his group surrounded them.

Both men were in their thirties, bearing a resemblance to each other; their faces were etched with terror, bodies trembling, muttering, “Leave, leave, take us away from here or we’ll all die...”

Smack!

Ma Pengxin slapped them both, knocking them to the ground; one cheek swelled up, but their minds cleared a little.

“I’ll ask, you answer—or you die now.” Ma Pengxin gripped his blade, his gaze icy. “Are you Red Sleeve Army?”

“Yes, yes, we are Red Sleeve Army, please spare us,” the older man pleaded, bowing repeatedly. Though more lucid, the terror in his eyes remained intense.

This fear seemed not to be directed at Lu Yan’s group, but at... something else.

Ma Pengxin and the others rejoiced—they had finally found the Red Sleeve Army.

“What did you mean by calling for help?” Ma Pengxin pressed.

“He’s gone mad—the chief has gone mad. He murdered his beloved concubine, chopped her flesh into mince, mixed it with yellow clay to plaster the walls. Others who tried to stop him were killed too.”

“Then, then, the others started going mad as well,” the Red Sleeve Army member stammered.