Chapter Twenty-Three: Stern Guidance

Bang! Bang! Bang!

In just a few seconds, Yin Seventeen unleashed hundreds of punches. Unfortunately, each one fizzled out before it could land, not a single blow truly thrown. Thankfully, the bronze-masked figure seemed uninterested in harming him; every move was precisely calculated to deflect his fists, never employing excess force, never retaliating beyond what was necessary.

“What do you want from me?” Realizing his attacks were futile, Yin Seventeen reluctantly ceased his assault. He refused to be toyed with like a monkey.

“You have passed.”

From beneath the bronze mask, a cold voice issued.

“What does that mean?” Yin Seventeen was utterly confused.

The masked man offered no explanation. Instead, he pointed to a massive stone nearby, five meters square, and said icily, “Split it with your fist.”

Yin Seventeen considered the request in silence and walked straight toward the stone. Overpowered, resistance was meaningless; he could only do as told for now.

He ignited his microcosm, channeling its power into his fist.

Boom!

His fist struck the stone’s surface, and the force of his microcosm erupted. The entire stone exploded with a thunderous roar.

“Is that enough?” He turned to the bronze-masked man.

That stone, five meters square and weighing at least a thousand pounds, would have been impossible for him to shatter with a single blow before awakening his microcosm. Even if he could, without its protection, the recoil alone would have pulverized his hand.

The bronze-masked man picked up a stone the size of a fist from the ground and said coldly, “I told you to split it, not shatter it.”

“Like this.”

As he spoke, Yin Seventeen sensed a fleeting ripple of microcosmic energy within the man’s body, and the stone in his hand was instantly cleaved in two.

The cut was so smooth, it seemed polished to a mirror’s finish.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Achieving that level requires years of practice!” Yin Seventeen shook his head.

“I know you can’t do it. That’s why I only asked you to split the stone,” the masked man continued.

Upon hearing this, Yin Seventeen formed his hand into a blade, focused his microcosmic power, and brought it down on a basketball-sized stone.

Boom!

The stone broke in two.

But rather than being split, it was more accurately crushed by the power of his microcosm. The break was jagged, as though a cookie had been snapped in half.

“Will this do?” he asked tentatively.

“Continue.” The masked man nodded, then added, “Concentrate your microcosmic force, reduce the contact area with the stone. That way, less energy will dissipate, making it easier to cleave through.”

“Still more?” Yin Seventeen groaned inwardly, but dared not refuse.

He targeted another stone, following the advice, and brought his hand blade down with focused power.

Bang!

The stone split once more.

But Yin Seventeen knew there was little difference between this attempt and the last; the stone was still crushed, not cleaved. The only change was that the break was much smoother than before.

“Can I leave now?” he asked again.

“Continue,” the bronze-masked man replied, arms crossed, still icy. “I didn’t tell you to stop, so you’re not allowed to stop. Keep splitting stones until I’m satisfied.”

“What?” The command grated on Yin Seventeen.

He still needed to train, to grow familiar with the power of his microcosm, and had no time to amuse someone by splitting stones.

“Training?” Suddenly, realization dawned and his expression shifted.

The masked man was guiding him in splitting stones—wasn’t this a form of training? The bronze-masked figure wasn’t mocking him, but instructing him on how to wield his microcosmic power!

With that thought, all irritation vanished, and he no longer resisted the task.

Having a mentor with unfathomable strength to guide him was infinitely better than fumbling alone.

Moreover, the mysterious old Daoist had said his body was harmonized with sword energy, so practicing sword forms would yield twice the results. The masked man’s cutting ability resembled sword energy greatly.

Receiving guidance from him could only benefit Yin Seventeen.

Resolute, Yin Seventeen let go of his reservations and found another stone to place before himself.

“Concentrate your power!”

He took a deep breath, focusing his microcosmic energy along the edge of his hand blade.

Though his hand blade was nowhere near as sharp as the masked man’s—it was more like a stick—iron rods, after being forged and tempered, could become razor-sharp.

Boom!

Once again, his hand blade struck, splitting the stone in two.

Though the break was still uneven, it was noticeably smoother than before.

Yin Seventeen could see his own progress clearly.

He even felt, with focused energy, the act of splitting stone became easier.

He targeted another stone, carefully adjusting the distribution of power along his hand blade.

With each stone he cleaved, he refined his technique, sharpening the edge bit by bit.

Large stones became smaller ones; small stones turned to fragments.

Yin Seventeen, as if possessed, continued without pause, not knowing how long he worked, until his feet were surrounded by rubble and not a stone larger than a fist remained. Only then did he stop.

Glancing at the darkening sky, the bronze-masked man, utterly devoid of emotion, said, “That’s enough for today. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

Before the words faded, he vanished.

Yin Seventeen quickly expanded his senses, hoping to catch a trace of the masked man.

But even now, with his microcosm ignited and having stepped into the realm of the extraordinary, he found nothing.

The masked man’s speed was simply too great, beyond perception.

“Who is he?” Yin Seventeen couldn’t help but wonder about the masked man’s identity.

Though the masked man had always watched him, they’d had no dealings, so Yin Seventeen had simply ignored his presence.

Now, with the masked man guiding him, curiosity about his identity was inevitable.

As far as he knew, the Capricorn Palace’s Shura wielded this kind of powerful, cutting microcosmic force.

But he was unfamiliar with Shura, and they had no interactions.

Furthermore, as a Gold Saint guarding the Capricorn Palace, Shura wouldn’t leave easily.

No matter how he considered it, he couldn’t believe that the bronze-masked man, who’d silently watched him for two years, was Shura.

“If not Shura, then who?” Yin Seventeen felt troubled.

Aside from Shura, no one else in the Sanctuary seemed capable of harnessing such power.

“Forget it. Whoever he is doesn’t matter—as long as what he teaches me proves useful.” Yin Seventeen shook his head, abandoning thoughts of investigating the masked man’s identity.

Clearly, the bronze mask was meant to conceal his identity.

To pry might only provoke him.

If that led to a breakdown in their relationship and the loss of his guidance, the loss would be immeasurable.