Chapter 4: Cultivation Has Made Me More Handsome

Although his mind was set, Zhang Kai still felt a vague unease and waited anxiously. Half a day passed before the young Taoist came again to deliver lunch. Zhang Kai seized the opportunity to inquire.

The young Taoist smiled and said, "The police left early. They didn’t find any bodies. But there was a young man who wanted to become a disciple on Mount Wudang; he claimed to have seen a great cultivator shrouded in purple light. The police took him away—thinking perhaps the boy was behind it, trying to create a sensation for some video platform. Honestly, these days people will do anything for fame."

Zhang Kai breathed a sigh of relief, then sighed again. A lesson, he thought. I must remember this: until I possess absolute power over my own fate, I must keep a low profile and remain hidden. After all, firearms are the bane of martial artists. Surrounded and fired upon—how long could even innate energy withstand it? Not to mention missiles, nuclear bombs, hydrogen bombs. Without becoming an immortal cultivator, one hardly has the courage to face such things.

After the young Taoist left, Zhang Kai closed the door and resumed his practice.

Transmuting sixty years of inner force, the Purple Mist Divine Skill reached minor achievement in an instant. Yet there was still surplus power, enough to continue refining.

After several days of arduous cultivation, Zhang Kai fully absorbed and digested all sixty years of inner force. The Purple Mist Divine Skill halted just at the brink of perfection—one final step remained.

The effect of this divine skill was truly extraordinary—beyond what any uninitiated person could comprehend. It developed the body in every aspect: his flesh became stronger, muscles and bones both resilient and powerful, blood and tissue condensed. Even without employing inner strength, he could unleash astonishing force. Zhang Kai had tested it—he could punch through a table an inch thick, and with inner strength, shatter a stone as large as a bowl into gravel with a single blow.

This was still with his limited time in practice and lack of finesse; otherwise, he could reduce rock to powder.

Moreover, his internal organs were nourished, his heartbeat steady and powerful, each breath long and deep. Without question, his lifespan had certainly increased, if only slightly.

As for keen hearing and bright vision, lightness of body, and boundless energy—these went without saying. The sensation was superb.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Zhang Kai noticed that the once merely handsome face now shone with refined beauty: pores had shrunk, his skin was like jade, his eyes dark and clear, his bearing transcendent.

No longer quite human—he seemed more like a celestial youth descended to the mortal world.

Zhang Kai sighed: So handsome am I—what woman could be my equal?

Perhaps, he mused, I should bring a few beauties out from movies or television dramas. The Seven Fairies, Nie Xiaoqian, Chen Yuanyuan, the Lady of Mount Mo, Maria Ozawa—all prettified by the screen—might just barely be worthy.

Of course, this was merely a thought. Zhang Kai dared not truly bring such otherworldly beings into reality. One misstep, and a blessing could turn to disaster.

Yet, having now succeeded in cultivation, this proved that true practice was possible in the real world. Which raised another question.

In a world where cultivation was possible, did true supernatural beings exist? The ancient myths, the myriad legends of monsters and ghosts—could they be real?

Zhang Kai’s thoughts wandered far, uncertainty growing in his heart. Humanity, after all, was but an accomplished colony of ants on the face of the Earth. Not to mention the bizarre events of ages past, even today there were countless things unknown or unexplained.

After much contemplation, Zhang Kai decided to focus on cultivation. Perhaps, once he was strong enough, he could set out to explore whether the extraordinary truly existed in this world.

With this in mind, he took out the pitch-black Great Rejuvenation Pill.

He had also brought along his notebook. The “Modern Tathagata Palm” had been ruined twice by his experiments, though the second time he hadn’t chosen the Tathagata Palm or the Seven Whirlwind Slash.

One manual was enough.

He took another dose of medicine.

The pill was converted into inner force—sixty years more.

With two doses combined, he now possessed one hundred and twenty years of inner force—enough to stand among the very apex in the worlds of Jin Yong’s martial heroes.

This time, Zhang Kai was determined to perfect the Purple Mist Divine Skill, to discover more benefits of martial cultivation, and to ponder how to transcend from martial arts into the path of immortality.

Eyes closed in meditation, the barrier that had halted his Purple Mist Divine Skill was effortlessly broken, and the skill was perfected.

Yet perfection was not enough. Martial arts had clear stages; perfection was but one. Beyond perfection lay consummation, and beyond that, new realms to be broken through.

Zhang Kai had chosen the Purple Mist Divine Skill because research indicated it was likely derived from the Innate Skill.

Therefore, he pondered whether by breaking through with the Purple Mist Divine Skill, he could glean insights into the method of cultivating the Innate Skill.

Innate—within the world of immortal cultivation, this was a critical step; to break through meant leaping directly into the realm of cultivation, laying a foundation for immortality.

With direction came motivation. Zhang Kai devoted himself to diligent effort.

Another two days passed.

Mount Wudang remained tranquil; it seemed that the commotion Zhang Kai had caused had left no ripples.

After all, this was the real world—who would truly believe in martial arts?

By now, Zhang Kai had cultivated the Purple Mist Divine Skill to its consummate state. Every movement was imbued with overwhelming strength; cleaving mountains and splitting rocks was a casual feat.

But after reaching consummation, the path forward was entirely obscured.

Though the Purple Mist Divine Skill was miraculous, it could not shatter the final barrier. The so-called Innate Realm remained a mystery.

Unwilling to accept defeat, Zhang Kai took out several Blood Bodhi fruits from the “Storm Riders” world and ate them.

The result was that his inner force increased by another thirty years, but the Purple Mist Divine Skill did not change. In fact, his meridians began to ache under the immense inner force.

At this point, Zhang Kai dared not continue.

Otherwise, he would self-destruct before reaching the Innate Realm.

Therefore, Zhang Kai shifted his focus to other methods of cultivation.

Perhaps the failure to break through was due to insufficient accumulation: too little time in practice, a body not yet attuned to the strength of his inner force, or perhaps too few techniques learned. He reasoned that collecting more skills—using the strengths of many methods—might allow him to comprehend the path to the Innate Realm.

This time, however, he would not take risks.

To be extra cautious, Zhang Kai selected several renowned lightness skills from the Langhuan Jade Cavern of “Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils”: Grass-Top Flight, Stepping-Stone Crossing, and the Eight-Step Cicada Pursuit.

All were famous, each with unique merits. Zhang Kai intended to master them all, laying a foundation for future sword flight.

With everything prepared, Zhang Kai quietly slipped out after dinner that evening, heading deep into Mount Wudang.

From now until the young Taoist delivered breakfast the next morning, no one would disturb him—the privilege of the wealthy.

He sped along, his one hundred and fifty years of inner force combined with consummate Purple Mist Divine Skill making him faster and capable of even greater leaps; with no concern for technique he seemed more bird than man—utterly astonishing.

Fortunately, it was dusk and the mountains remote; no one could see.

He ventured deep into the wilderness, running for over ten miles until he reached a primeval area untouched for centuries, a gorge of jagged rocks and murmuring streams, the air fresh and scenery beautiful. Zhang Kai was very satisfied.

He set down his books, turned on his phone’s flashlight, and began to study the Grass-Top Flight manual.

With the Purple Mist Divine Skill perfected, his senses were sharp, his mind focused—almost as if his intellect had sharpened. He wasn't quite eidetic, but after a few readings, he could remember most of the contents.

Soon, Zhang Kai was absorbed in the mysteries of various lightness skills.

He failed to notice, behind a distant tree, a small head peeking out, quietly observing him.

It was a fox.