After three days and four nights in the Magma Chamber, when Wang Baole finally returned to the Armament Peak, every student he passed couldn't help but look over.
That record-breaking stay… was simply too shocking.
Even many instructors on the Lower Courtyard Island had started really paying attention to him. After all, less than a year had passed since term began. His cultivation speed wasn't technically the fastest, but in terms of impact, he was absolutely unrivaled.
His feats had stirred up one storm after another on the Spiritnet. By now, throughout the entire Lower Courtyard Island, no matter old student or new, there was pretty much no one who didn't know the name Wang Baole.
On the way back, Wang Baole had already logged into the Spiritnet and seen how his "weight loss arc" had blown up these last few days. His feelings were… complicated.
"I was just trying to lose some weight, and it caused this big of a commotion… I really am something else."
He coughed lightly, very pleased with himself, and swaggered back toward his cave-dwelling. Once inside, he took out a bottle of Ice Spirit Water, tipped his head back and gulped down a large mouthful. Coolness spread through his whole body.
"Losing weight is really not easy…"
Thinking back on the Magma Chamber, Wang Baole sighed emotionally, then pulled out a bag of snacks and started crunching away.
"I've got to be careful from now on. I absolutely cannot let myself get fat again. Losing weight is way too painful."
He kept reminding himself. Every time he thought about that hellish heat in the Magma Chamber, his scalp tingled. To steady his nerves, he took out another bag of snacks and stuffed it into his mouth.
"No way, I'm never getting fat again!"
With that solemn resolve, after eating snacks for the entire afternoon, Wang Baole finally patted the fat on his belly, eyes serious, and started thinking about his Spirit Stone purity problem.
Just remembering the insane spiritual energy surge when he hit eighty-five percent made him hesitate. He dove into the Spiritnet and dug through a ton of information. Only after that did he feel halfway confident. In his later refining sessions, he began to tighten his control, deliberately slowing things down and doing his best to keep the influx of spiritual energy within a safe range.
Because of that, though his refining speed dropped, his caution finally paid off: that terrifying explosion of spirit-fat never returned.
With the crisis resolved, Wang Baole's mood soared. In his mind, the title of "Class Head" suddenly felt very close. Fired up, he began working on raising the purity again.
That didn't last long…
A month later, Wang Baole depressingly discovered that he'd hit another wall. His Spirit Stones refused to go beyond eighty-five percent.
This was the second time he'd run into a bottleneck. He sulked for a while, then took out the black mask. After a moment of hesitation, he decided to dive back into the dream.
The scene blurred. When it cleared, he was once again standing in that world of ice and snow.
The wind howled. Wang Baole hurriedly lowered his head and stared at the indistinct black mask in his hand. But no matter how long he stared, the text on it was still the same as last time—the lines about the Purifying Pill. Nothing had changed.
"Weird… do I have to say it out loud?"
He scratched his head. Last time, the text had only changed after he muttered to himself. So now, eyes narrowed, he stared at the mask and spoke softly:
"Oh great mask, tell me—what can I do to break through the eighty-five percent purity bottleneck and push my Spirit Stones above ninety percent?"
He finished speaking and didn't even blink.
A few breaths later, the writing on the black mask rippled and blurred. The whole mask flickered twice, then slowly formed a new set of characters.
"There really is someone in there!"
Wang Baole sucked in a breath; his heart thumped wildly as he read the new text.
"Taixu Grappling Art?"
There were more lines this time. When he read through them all, he froze.
Because this time, the mask wasn't giving him a pill recipe.
It was teaching him… a martial art. Something very similar to the Combat Arts used in the Battle Martial Department.
The college wasn't exactly short of these. Battle Martial especially had all kinds of grappling forms—joint locks, holds, throws. This kind of thing was nothing unusual.
Which was exactly why Wang Baole felt a bit confused. He went back and reread it carefully.
According to the explanation, the reason for the bottleneck was that the Devouring Seed in his body still hadn't fully integrated with his flesh. It couldn't respond completely to his will. The Taixu Grappling Art was supposedly the best way to accelerate that integration.
Once cultivated to completion, it would not only massively increase the Devouring Seed's suction force, it would also spread instinctively through his whole body—letting him manifest devouring power anywhere, just by moving his thoughts. Only then could he shatter the eighty-five-percent barrier and reach perfection.
"The first move… is just… bending fingers?"
Wang Baole blinked. He was no fool, and the Taixu Grappling Art didn't look all that complicated. He raised his left hand and made a grabbing motion.
After practicing a few times, he simply altered the dream, conjuring a middle-aged man in front of him as a sparring partner. The man's face was blurry, his cultivation at the Blood Qi stage. As soon as he appeared, he rushed straight at Wang Baole.
Wang Baole glared and charged straight in. With his current Body-Sealing speed and strength, a single punch was enough to force the man back. He closed in with a blur, grabbed his opponent's hand, found a finger…
And bent it.
"That's way too easy."
He was still muttering when he suddenly noticed a flash of dark light from the mask. At the same time, the entire dream world twisted faintly. He even heard a cracking noise echo outwards.
"What's happening!"
Startled, he hurriedly backed away and looked around. The wind had become even colder. In the distance, some of the animals looked… different somehow.
Before he could take a closer look, the sparring partner he had summoned suddenly snapped his head up. He was still nominally at the Blood Qi stage, but it felt like he'd become a different person—there was a hint of killing intent about him as he lunged again.
Same body, totally different feeling. Wang Baole didn't have time to think. He threw another punch.
This time, though, things got weird. His fist had just shot out when the sparring partner didn't dodge at all. Instead, his hand tapped sharply against Wang Baole's wrist.
A bolt of indescribable numbness shot up Wang Baole's arm, making his clenched fist instantly go limp. His strength seemed to scatter.
In the same motion, the sparring partner seized Wang Baole's finger—and bent.
"OW OW OW! Stop, stop, stop!!"
Agony like an electric shock blasted through him, and Wang Baole broke out in a cold sweat. His knees nearly buckled, his whole body stumbling with the pressure of that lock.
At his shout, the sparring partner released him at once and backed up a few steps, expressionless.
Clutching his finger, Wang Baole gasped, heart pounding, eyeing both the sparring partner and the black mask with deep suspicion. He was almost sure that what had just happened was the mask's doing.
That made him both nervous and… unwilling to accept it.
"What's so great about bending fingers? I just wasn't ready. Again!"
As soon as he spoke, the sparring partner charged.
This time, Wang Baole was prepared. He didn't lead with his fist—he stepped in with a powerful kick. When the man dodged, Wang Baole followed up, fist blasting toward his opponent's temple.
And then… things got even stranger.
Just as his punch was about to land, a suction force erupted from the sparring partner's body—like an invisible hand grabbing Wang Baole's arm midair, dragging him off course. In the same motion, the man spun, caught Wang Baole's hand…
And bent another finger.
The familiar pain surged up once again.
Wang Baole howled and quickly yelled for mercy, feeling even more wronged than before. The grievance in his heart was about to overflow.
Because this finger-bending hurt too damn much.
Even someone as often-called shameless as Wang Baole himself had to admit: this move was utterly shameless. That feeling of having all your strength with nowhere to go, only to have the opponent specifically twist your fingers…
It was enough to drive a man insane.
"Again!!"
After a long while, pale-faced and trembling, Wang Baole finally recovered. This time he decided to avoid using his hands completely.
He threw himself at the sparring partner once more.
Before long, though, his fingers were grabbed yet again. His whole body went weak; his arm was hauled high into the air. Before the lock even finished, his heart had already begun wailing.
"Heavens, this is bullying! I never used my hands, I've been hiding them the whole time, how are you still grabbing my fingers?! Ahhh—OW, OW, OW!!"
Wang Baole was on the verge of tears. Inside, though, the fury just kept building. The guy was only at the Blood Qi stage, and Wang Baole was already Body-Sealing—yet somehow, every exchange ended with his fingers being bent.
The pain, the humiliation, the helplessness… it all mixed into a raw, bitter mess.
"I don't believe this. Again!"
He clenched his teeth and charged in once more…
Time trickled by in the dream. His screams rang out again and again, each one more tragic than the last.
By the time he finally exited the dream world, an entire day had passed. Wang Baole collapsed in his cave, completely spent, staring mournfully at his ten throbbing fingers.
"Dear heavens, this finger-lock is way too much. And that suction—there's no way to dodge it… No. No way. I have to learn this. It's insane."
By now he understood very well: after that flash from the black mask, the "upgraded" sparring partner had been using the Taixu Grappling Art on him.
Nothing else could explain that strange suction. According to the description of the first move, that force was the Devouring Seed dispersed through the body, manifesting as a black-hole-like pull.
Having personally "experienced" how sharp the Taixu Grappling Art was, Wang Baole was thoroughly tempted.
Not only could it solve his Spirit Stone purity problem, it would also give him a serious Battle Martial-style technique.
That thought settled his heart. Even while resting that night, his mind endlessly replayed and analyzed those moves.
At dawn, after hurriedly eating a little bit of snacks for breakfast, Wang Baole dove back into the dream.
Day after day, the screams in the snowfield did not lessen—they actually became more frequent.
Because Wang Baole's pain tolerance was rising, and his recovery was getting faster.
So naturally… his fingers got bent more often.
"SO PAINFUL!"
"Whoever invented this grappling art is a MONSTER!"
"My fingers are going to snap…"
In the end, if not for his naturally thick skin and strong mentality, he really might not have lasted. As it was, after another month, Wang Baole was already on edge. He even started to question why humans needed fingers at all.
So he came up with an idea.
After "discussing" it with the mask—basically talking to it on his own—he conjured a second sparring partner in the dream. This one was smaller, different from the "main" sparring partner.
Thus, the small sparring partner became his punching bag.
Every time his fingers were bent, he'd drag his aching body over and pummel the little guy, practicing the same grip and finger-lock on him… and venting at the same time.
Using this method, Wang Baole managed to keep going.
But another month later, he made a tragic discovery.
The extra sparring partner was just too weak—and too stiff. He couldn't keep up with Wang Baole's growing craziness, nor did he provide any real combat feedback. Worst of all, no matter how Wang Baole twisted his fingers, the little partner never reacted. He just stared blankly back.
That… was something Wang Baole's heart truly couldn't bear.
By then, after months of getting his fingers bent, he had finally developed a decent feel for the move and gained real experience with the Taixu Grappling Art.
And now, he had an overpowering urge to test what he'd learned…
On real people.
So, naturally—
He thought of the Combat Club.