Chapter 953: The Hidden Thunder, Who Can Recognize It?
Xuan Yuan Po was somewhat startled. No one had ever been able to discern the cultivation technique he practiced, yet now Bie Yang Hong had seen through it with a single remark.
Seeing his expression, Bie Yang Hong knew his guess was correct and asked, "Did Chen Changsheng choose this technique for you?"
Xuan Yuan Po nodded.
Bie Yang Hong praised, "I always thought his own talent in the Dao was exceptional, but I didn't realize his judgment was equally sharp. He's a very competent academy principal."
Xuan Yuan Po thought for a moment and said, "That's not necessarily true."
Bie Yang Hong glanced at his right arm again and said, "It's clear you've trained well, but there seems to be some issue."
Xuan Yuan Po didn't mind and wiped the lingering meat juice from his fingers with a piece of paper.
Bie Yang Hong's voice sounded again, entering his ears and then his heart.
"The Heavenly Thunder Guide is the Heavenly Thunder Concealment, hiding wind and thunder without any trace. You haven't erred in this; in fact, you've cultivated it exceptionally well."
Bie Yang Hong continued, "But it's a bit too deliberate."
Xuan Yuan Po looked up, slightly puzzled, and asked, "Sir, what are you referring to?"
Bie Yang Hong looked at him and said, "Plant the roots deep in fertile soil, not letting them see the sky or suffer the harsh winds, refining them with earthly fire. Within, thunder brews silently, accumulating over time. When it breaks through the earth, it suddenly becomes a towering tree, its branches and leaves covered in thunder sparks and lightning. Who can withstand its might?"
Xuan Yuan Po's gaze followed Bie Yang Hong's to his own right arm.
His right arm was noticeably withered, especially compared to his thick left arm, making it glaringly conspicuous and pitiful.
Many drinkers in the small tavern thought it was a disability from his defeat by Tianhai Ya'er in the capital years ago and had mocked him many times.
Only he knew the terrifying power hidden within that seemingly crippled right arm.
Of course, now it had been seen through.
Only then did Xuan Yuan Po realize he was facing a Saint Realm powerhouse, a legendary figure of the Eight Winds and Rain level.
His expression turned serious, and he sought guidance, "What do you mean by 'deliberate'?"
Bie Yang Hong said, "Thunder and lightning are the natural laws of heaven and earth. Concealment can only hide their intent, not their form. Just like a true towering tree, when it bursts forth from the earth, carrying countless rocks and soil, its momentum seems astonishing, but it loses one crucial characteristic."
Xuan Yuan Po continued to ask, "May I ask what that characteristic is?"
Bie Yang Hong asked, "What is the external method of the Heavenly Thunder Guide?"
Xuan Yuan Po answered without hesitation, "Fist."
Bie Yang Hong smiled and said, "I happen to know something about that."
Back in the great battle at the Heavenly Book Mound, he had witnessed the Heavenly Saint Empress astonish the world with a single punch, gaining profound insights.
Over the years, he too had begun using fists, and in the world after the Heavenly Saint Empress, no one's fists were stronger than his.
Naturally, no one had broader or deeper knowledge in this area.
"Why did the Saint Empress not use the Wooden Phoenix or the Ruyi back then, but instead faced us with her fists?"
Bie Yang Hong looked calmly into Xuan Yuan Po's eyes and said, "That's because the fist is part of our body, rising and falling at will. Compared to external objects like swords or spears, it's faster at the start and finish—and speed... is power."
Xuan Yuan Po's eyes lit up.
The demon race valued pure power more than humans or the demon race. As a member of the demon race, he was no exception, but Bie Yang Hong's words struck him not because of that, but because they hinted at a very important principle.
No matter the Dao method, sword technique, or formation, they all ultimately serve combat. All methods converge to the same principle, ultimately pointing to speed and power. No matter how dazzling the presentation or how earth-shattering the momentum, there is no difference in essence.
Concealing wind and thunder could indeed maximize the accumulation of power, but as Bie Yang Hong said, it would affect the speed of striking.
How could one achieve both to the extreme?
Xuan Yuan Po raised his difficulty.
Bie Yang Hong began to explain using the precious experience he had gained from centuries of cultivation and countless battles.
Xuan Yuan Po's focus grew more intense, to the point where he even forgot to breathe.
The room became exceptionally quiet. The morning breeze slipped through the gaps in the paper door, gently brushing the crystals on the floor and the three small pagodas.
If not for the impatient snort of Wu Qiong Bi, this teaching session might have continued for a long time.
Xuan Yuan Po snapped back to reality, bowed to Bie Yang Hong in thanks, then stood up and left the room.
Standing on the wooden planks in front of the house, watching the rising cooking smoke beyond the courtyard, he was silent for a long time. The words Bie Yang Hong had spoken gradually merged with his years of hard training, helping him resolve many cultivation doubts and even vaguely touching a certain boundary.
He took a deep breath of the cool air, stepped on the cool white pebbles to the wall, used a small wooden ladle to pour clear water over the dwarf pine, then bent down to scoop up cool well water and vigorously washed his face several times. Confirming his mind was fully alert, he wiped the water from his face and walked out of the small courtyard.
The war drums still echoed incessantly from the upper city.
The roar of the Red River grew louder and was very close.
Song Town had already woken up. The neighbors yawned, rubbed sleep from their eyes, and carried clay pots as they lined up to buy breakfast.
Some laborers who had already eaten sat on long benches outside the porridge shop, legs crossed, chatting idly as if they couldn't hear the war drums from the upper city or the roaring waves of the nearby Red River. But that didn't mean they weren't interested in the Heaven's Chosen Ceremony; many discussed which arena to visit after work.
Xuan Yuan Po walked down the street.
A neighbor girl he knew asked if he had eaten breakfast. He smiled and nodded. A laborer he knew asked why business at the small tavern was so bad lately and when the owner would be willing to sell cheap barley wine for two coins a cup again. He shook his head, saying he didn't know.
Then, casually, the owner of the steamed bun shop asked where he was going so early in the morning.
He stopped and replied, "I'm going to participate in the Heaven's Chosen Ceremony."
The street fell silent for a moment, and even the steam spilling from the steamer edges in the shop seemed to pause.
The next moment, laughter erupted and didn't stop for a long time, growing louder, tinged with mockery or amusement, with goodwill or malice.
Xuan Yuan Po rubbed the back of his head and laughed sheepishly as well.
...
...
The arena Xuan Yuan Po went to was in Song Town, close to his home, so he could walk there without needing to take a car, saving some money.
When he reached the street corner where the arena was located, a crowd of onlookers had already gathered, but the registration roster wasn't even two pages full.
This place was remote, far from the imperial city and the Celestial Watchtower. No important figures would notice it, and it was unlikely to attract any formidable characters, let alone strong fighters seeking challenges. Those willing to register here were often ordinary demon folk with no real interest in the Heaven's Chosen Ceremony, just wanting to have some fun with brute courage. Fights between such ordinary folk were naturally unremarkable, often resembling street brawls that ended after a few clumsy exchanges.
The Carp Clan referee and two supervisors in charge of this arena were already thoroughly bored. The clerks from Song Town found it even more tedious. The minor official at the registration desk had even started to doze off, his head drooping from time to time, seemingly about to bang hard on the table edge at any moment.
Xuan Yuan Po walked to the table and gently tapped its surface.
The minor official jolted awake, irritated, and looked up ready to scold, but froze.