If you're made a fake emperor, why did you change the country's name?

The image suddenly became clear...

At dusk, on the busiest street, stands a martial arts school with a huge signboard.

Black Tiger Martial Arts School

Beneath the plaque, a boy of twelve or thirteen years old, dressed in faded mourning clothes, stood quietly.

In his hand, he held the short knife he used for chopping wood, the blade still bearing several nicks.

The boy didn't cry, nor did he make any unnecessary movements. He just stood there, his eyes filled with a deathly stillness.

Inside the martial arts gym, the faint sounds of several men laughing could be heard.

"...That lame woman, she's really fun to play with, but she doesn't last long..."

"What a pity, if only we could do it again..."

Before he could finish speaking...

"boom!"

The heavy wooden door of the martial arts school was kicked open from the outside with tremendous force, flying inwards and scattering wood chips everywhere!

The laughter inside the museum abruptly stopped.

Everyone was startled by this sudden turn of events and turned to look. Then, they were all stunned.

At the entrance, the boy dressed in mourning clothes, carrying a knife, walked in step by step.

The first to react was the burly man with thick bandages wrapped around his arm; he recognized the boy.

"Who do we have here? Isn't this that lame bitch's little brat?"

"What, dressed like that, are you here to find your mother's father?"

"Ha ha ha ha."

A burst of laughter immediately filled the martial arts hall.

The boy ignored the foul language, his eyes flashing with murderous intent as he swept them over everyone.

The next moment, the boy moved!

Without the slightest hesitation, he charged directly at the leader of the bullies!

But its speed is strangely fast!

Everyone in the museum was stunned for a second.

That brief second gave the boy his only chance.

Upon approaching, he suddenly leaped up and slashed straight down with his sword!

He had no martial arts foundation, no knowledge of moves or techniques.

All he knows is the instinct to chop firewood, something he's developed from childhood, day after day.

How to generate power from the wrist, at what angle the blade should cut in, and how to shift the body's center of gravity during a chop...

These muscular memories, already etched into their very bones, evolved on their own under the catalysis of overwhelming anger and utter despair.

A crude, chaotic, yet extremely brutal sword technique was born in his hands!

"court death!"

The bully realized what was happening and angrily stepped forward, intending to finish off this arrogant brat with a single punch.

but.....

The angle at which the machete chopped was too strange; it was right in front of me, yet I couldn't block it no matter what I did.

puff!

The blade sliced ​​through the thug's throat, slicing it open and gushing blood.

He clutched his neck and collapsed in disbelief.

Everyone was shocked, realizing that this child had come to fight to the death!

"Kill him!"

"Attack together!"

Several people simultaneously assumed a fighting stance and surrounded them from all directions.

The youth do not retreat, but charge forward!

In the boy's hands, the machete transformed into a scythe for death to reap the harvest!

"ah--!"

"Ugh!"

"No, no, no! Please don't!!"

...............

The martial arts gym had been completely transformed into a living hell, with screams echoing everywhere.

Pedestrians on the street noticed something was wrong and came to the door. They were terrified by what they saw inside!

"Aaaaaah! A ghost!!!"

............

Inside the martial arts school.

The sound of bleeding was constant, and there were broken limbs and limbs everywhere!

Blood flowed in clumps down the drain...

thump!

When the last bully fell, the martial arts school was completely transformed into hell.

The boy's white mourning clothes had long been stained red.

The boy knelt on one knee in the pool of blood, gasping for breath, each breath causing excruciating pain in his chest.

"How dare you!! You dare cause trouble at my Black Tiger Martial Arts School!"

A furious shout rang out.

A burly man stepped forward; he was none other than the master of the Black Tiger Martial Arts School, a master of the Innate Realm!

He stared at the corpses strewn across the ground, his eyes twitching.

He had already noticed the horrific scene outside, but the boy's swordsmanship was too unpredictable, so he dared not come out to stop it.

He deliberately waited until the great battle was over and the boy was exhausted before appearing.

"You little brat, since you dare come here to die, I'll grant your wish!"

Swish!

As soon as he finished speaking, the master of the martial arts school flashed by, creating a gust of wind, and struck the boy's crown with a palm.

The speed of someone at the Innate Realm is far beyond what a teenager can react to.

He could only watch helplessly as the hand grew larger and larger in front of him.

At this critical moment, the boy used his last bit of strength to throw the wood-chopping knife in his hand toward the temple master's face!

The owner of the building disdainfully sidestepped, easily avoiding the attack.

The dagger grazed his cheek, struck the wall behind him with a clang, and bounced high into the air.

The master ignored him and continued his attack, his hand already reaching the boy's head.

He could almost see the boy's brains splattering out.

However, at that very moment, something unexpected happened!

The wood-chopping knife, which had been launched into the air, traced a strange arc in the air and fell straight down from directly above the curator's head!

puff!

The museum owner's hand stopped less than an inch from the boy's scalp.

His movements froze.

A blood-stained blade tip protruded from his forehead.

He slowly lowered his head, looking at the indifferent-looking boy kneeling on the ground, his eyes filled with disbelief.

Then it fell straight backward.

boom!

The martial arts school master at the Innate Realm is dead.

The boy clutched his chest and coughed violently, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

He struggled to his feet, walked to the owner's body, and glanced down at the woodcutter's axe with only half of its hilt showing.

He reached out and pulled the knife out.

Afterwards, he searched the owner's body for a while and found several silver ingots and a thread-bound secret manual.

After doing all this, he turned around, dragged his badly injured body, and limped out of this living hell.

He didn't say another word from beginning to end.

……

The scenes in my memory began to jump around rapidly, and the timeline was stretched out.

In the wilderness, at the grave of Qian Batian's mother.

A man nearing thirty stood before the grave, his face resolute; he was none other than the grown-up Qian Batian.

Behind him, an elderly man with a sage-like demeanor lay severely injured in a pool of blood, barely clinging to life.

This old man was none other than the man in black who had helped him set up the body-snatching altar in the palace!

The old man spoke haltingly, using his last strength to reveal that shocking secret.

"Ahem... Martial arts... The end of martial arts is not the end..."

"Above that, there is the path of cultivation, and at the end of cultivation is attaining immortality..."

"Legend has it that there are three thousand Great Daos, and three thousand Dao positions. Among them... there is one who can control reincarnation and reverse life and death..."

"As long as... as long as I can obtain that Dao position, resurrecting a mortal is... entirely within my grasp..."

After the old man finished speaking, he fainted.

Qian Batian continued watching, but the expression on his face changed from calm to barely concealed excitement...

...................

The memory stopped here.

At this moment, all the fragments finally came together to form a complete picture.

Martial arts fanatic? Power? Throne?

neither.

Qian Batian had been patiently scheming for thirty years, laying the groundwork for this earth-shattering scheme, even at the cost of sacrificing power and reputation...

From beginning to end, it was actually his mother who resurrected him.

This result shocked Zhao Yu, but he also felt it made sense.

Task progress: 100%

[Task completed, reward being distributed...]

A system notification sounded in my mind.

The next moment, an indescribable, immense power appeared out of thin air, forcefully breaking through the blocked meridians and medicinal power within Zhao Yu's body!

The feeling was like a river channel that had been blocked by a giant rock for thousands of years being blown open in an instant!

boom!

Zhao Yu's consciousness expanded rapidly, and his divine sense power surged, instantly breaking through a barrier and reaching the peak of Foundation Establishment!

The surging power of his divine sense allowed Zhao Yu to clearly "see" for the first time the true nature of Qian Batian's torrent of consciousness.

No longer an irresistible natural disaster, but a wave that can be defeated!

He clearly grasped its "key".

At this moment, the situation has been completely reversed!

"It's my turn."

Zhao Yu's consciousness stopped dodging and transformed into a boundless torrent of steel, actively meeting the attack!

The fragments of consciousness that had once caused him so much trouble, forcing him to only passively defend himself, were now incredibly fragile under the impact of his divine sense.

Fragments of memories were forcibly locked, suppressed, and then crushed!

Those crushed fragments of consciousness transformed into the purest energy, which Zhao Yu's divine sense devoured and absorbed bit by bit, strengthening itself.

During this process, Zhao Yu noticed that there was some unusual information mixed in with those energies.

That was Qian Batian's martial arts insights accumulated over the past thirty years, and his battle experience from countless battles.

These things are priceless treasures for any martial artist.

However, Zhao Yu did not rush into integration.

With a sweep of his divine sense, he quietly sealed these fragmented pieces of information in a corner of his sea of ​​consciousness, intending to digest them slowly in the future.

Qian Batian's torrent of consciousness is crumbling at a visible speed.

Soon, only a last, stubborn fragment of consciousness remained, hovering in the center of Zhao Yu's sea of ​​consciousness.

Zhao Yu's divine sense transformed into a giant hand, which fiercely grabbed at the fragment, preparing to destroy it completely.

However, the moment his divine sense touched that fragment...

A sudden change has occurred!

An irresistible pulling force came from the fragment, and before Zhao Yu could react, his entire consciousness was violently pulled in!

……

The world spun around.

When Zhao Yu "opened his eyes" again, he found himself in a familiar place.

The dilapidated mud house had a floor covered with dry grass and window cracks that let in the cold wind.

A bone-chilling cold permeated the air.

This place is exactly the same as the dilapidated house deepest in Qian Batian's memory.

A figure sat quietly facing him beside the dilapidated wooden table in the center of the room.

The man held a cup of tea in one hand, sipping it leisurely, as if he had been waiting for a long time.

This man was none other than Qian Batian, the Prince of Zhennan.

He looked at Zhao Yu, his face showing no surprise, but rather a faint smile.

"They're here."