Martial Dao: Peace by Force

”I’ve gathered most of what we need, but we’re still missing a location... Finding a spot with the right feng shui will take some time.”

Zhai Jia shared more of his martial arts experience, covering everything from power-generation techniques and combat rhythm to the essentials of stance training and breath control. He explained it all in meticulous detail before patting Wan Ze on the shoulder and slowly departing.

Wan Ze remained in the courtyard, in no hurry to leave.

He stood where he was, closed his eyes, and replayed every moment of his spar with Zhai Jia in his mind.

The timing of Zhai Jia’s backhand elbow strike, the rhythm of his footwork when dodging, and even the ebb and flow of power when their fists met... Every detail unfolded before Wan Ze’s eyes in crystal-clear slow motion.

This practice of post-fight analysis was a long-standing habit of his.

The increase in his Intelligence, in particular, had not only accelerated his learning but also transformed his way of thinking.

He would repeatedly ponder, deconstruct, and deduce until he had thoroughly grasped every last move and stance.

After about ten minutes, Wan Ze finally opened his eyes, rolled his shoulders, and began his formal Cultivation.

He had no plans to touch the two Qi Refining Techniques he’d obtained from Liu Yuan for the time being.

’The difficulty of practicing these two Magic Techniques in the real world is considerable, and I lack the necessary materials and conditions. Besides... the Beginner Level requirement for the Blood Evil Celestial Net is to ”allow Yin Evil to invade the body once.” That’s no laughing matter.’

’If anything went wrong, I have no desire to become some creature that’s neither human nor ghost.’

’I might as well wait until I’m in Huangliang to practice them.’

As for the three Martial Skills he had obtained from Brother Yu and Brother Jia, they were now his top priority.

”Twelve Divine Intentions Fist...”

Wan Ze let out a soft breath and assumed a stance.

’This Fist Technique is all about the evolution of the Twelve Forms...’

’To be precise: Dragon, Tiger, Monkey, Horse, Alligator, Rooster, Eagle, Bear, Tai, Snake, Sparrowhawk, and Swallow. Each of these forms has its own unique divine intent and method of generating power. Since I’ve already practiced the Taming the Tiger Vajra Skill, which follows the path of the Tiger Form—fierce and domineering, with overwhelming momentum and heavy strikes—starting with the Tiger Form should allow me to progress with half the effort...’

By now, Wan Ze’s Intelligence had long surpassed 2.7, so he learned everything quickly.

An ordinary person practicing the Twelve Forms would spend months just imitating the movements, and it would be a great achievement to simply get the outer form right.

But for him, mastering these three Martial Skills was well within his grasp.

He immediately sank his waist, shaped his hands into claws, dropped his shoulders and elbows, and took a deep breath.

The first form, the Tiger Form, emphasized the momentum of a ”ferocious tiger descending a mountain.” It wasn’t a simple pounce, but a pounce that suppressed, then tore. Power exploded from his waist and hips, his spine arched like a bow, and as his claws shot out from his chest, they stirred a gust of wind.

Wan Ze’s movements were not fast, but each one carried a tangible weight, as if hundreds of pounds of force were pressing down on his shoulders.

To an ordinary person, anyone who could achieve ”spiritual resemblance” while imitating the Twelve Forms would already be considered a master, their imposing aura radiating a tiger’s might.

But Wan Ze was no ordinary person.

He could clearly perceive his own every subtle deviation—flaws that would be completely invisible to an onlooker, flaws that even he wouldn’t have been able to detect before. But now... his Perception Power had become so keen he could capture these minute differences.

And so, he adjusted tirelessly.

If once wasn’t enough, he did it twice. If twice wasn’t enough, he did it ten times.

With every strike, he fine-tuned and calibrated, pushing his movements toward perfect form.

He wasn’t aiming for spiritual resemblance.

He wanted to become the form incarnate.

Not to be *like* a tiger, but to *be* a tiger.

The moment he threw a punch, he *was* a ferocious tiger.

He wasn’t imitating or acting. From his very bones and blood, from his divine intent to his killing intent, he was to become that form, completely and utterly.

This was the highest Realm of the Twelve Divine Intentions Fist.

Time flew by, lost in a river of sweat.

The courtyard was silent, save for the WHOOSH of his fists tearing through the air.

The setting sun slowly sank behind the wall, stretching Wan Ze’s shadow long across the ground.

An unknown amount of time passed before he finally stopped, letting out a long, foul breath.

His gaze shifted downward.

...

[Illustrated Guide: Twelve Divine Intentions Fist] (Basic Mastered)

[New Effect: Punching Power Increased (Physical Strength +0.02; Endurance +0.02; Power +0.02)]

[Skill Intermediate Requirement: Practice the Twelve Forms 10,000 times]

...

’The Twelve Divine Intentions Fist focuses on using form to build momentum...’

Wan Ze carefully savored the new strength welling up inside him and muttered to himself, ”I’ve practiced several Fist Techniques, and they all follow a fierce and domineering path. Different paths to the same destination, I suppose.”

”Still, ten thousand repetitions... that’s going to take a while.”

After resting for less than two minutes, he once again assumed a stance.

The Cloud-Breaking Fist was a technique he had learned from Brother Jia. It focused on ”Beng Jin”—a force that rose from the ground, channeled through the waist and hips, and surged through every joint before exploding from the surface of the fist. The impact was like a low rumble of thunder erupting from within the clouds: deep, heavy, and unstoppable.

Wan Ze took a deep breath, drew his right fist to his waist, lowered his center of gravity, and dug his toes into the ground.

”HA!”

He threw a punch.

A dull CRACK resounded through the air, as if something had been forcibly displaced.

His fist stopped in mid-air, but the force traveled through the air, shaking loose a layer of dust from the wall three meters away.

He didn’t stop.

Punch after punch, each one solid, each one a Cloud-Breaking Fist.

Each punch was thrown with his full strength, and each one carried that same thunderous crack.

Supported by his immense Physical Strength, he was like a tireless machine. One punch, ten punches, fifty, a hundred...

Two hundred punches.

Three hundred punches.

Four hundred punches!

As he threw a punch just past his four hundredth, Wan Ze suddenly felt a warm current surge through his body, as if he had just shattered some internal barrier with the blow.