Chapter 8. A New Technique
When we returned to the Eye of Ice and Fire, the first thing I did was pull out the "rainy day" supplies I'd hidden in my spatial ring and eat in peace. It was easier to think on a full stomach, and from there everything only got more complicated.
On the one hand, it would've been nice to sleep, but noon had already passed. If I lay down now, I'd only ruin my schedule, and I wasn't tired enough to pass out instantly anyway. But I also didn't have the strength left to keep training: my body was honestly demanding rest, not heroics.
Besides, I'd already exhausted every method I knew to speed up the start of cultivation. From here on it was only normal meditation and absorbing high‑age rings. And it would stay that way at least until the sixty‑first rank.
I didn't want to sleep in the middle of the day, I wasn't planning on doing anything complicated, and nothing urgent was happening. So I did the truly cultivator‑like thing: I sat down and started cultivating.
From the outside, it might look mind‑numbingly boring: sitting motionless for hours. At the very beginning of the path, when my body still didn't differ much from that of an ordinary human, it really had been hard. But now… The sensation of drawing in the surrounding energy, guiding it through your meridians, feeling it gently assimilate into your body—this all had an almost hypnotic effect. Time smeared out like fog.
That's how I sat until evening, until Tang San called us to dinner.
Tang Hao I didn't see, and I didn't ask where he was. After a rather modest dinner, during which I shared some of my dried meat with the boy, I finally turned my thoughts to the tent. I set it up nearby, climbed inside, and almost immediately fell into sleep.
The sleep, however, turned out to be restless.
First I dreamed how things might have gone if I had tried to pull off the same stunt today, but had only a single martial spirit like the original Zhu Zhuqing. In the dream, my body withstood the onslaught of the ring's energy, but my mind did not. It was that strange, absurd type of dream where you clearly understand that you're still thinking and generally alive, but at the same time you believe you've turned into a vegetable for life. Your consciousness is there—but you're convinced you're lying there as an empty shell.
Then the picture shifted, and I was back in today's battle. Everything there was painfully clear. It's not that hard to imagine myself deciding to take a risk, leaping toward the ghost tiger's head, hoping to end the fight with a single blow. But we were equal in speed. I'm still in midair, he only slightly turns his head, opens his jaws—and with a single snap bites off half my body.
After a dream like that, whether you want to or not, you wake up.
Crawling out of the tent, I noticed it was still night. The waning moon was only just approaching the zenith; there was still some time until dawn. After those dreams, I had no desire to go back to sleep.
Looking around, I immediately saw Tang Hao: the man's figure sat near a slightly grown patch of blue‑silver grass. He just sat there silently, staring at the sky. The plant, meanwhile, had stretched its stalk up as if it were holding his hand.
Honestly speaking, the sight made me smile despite myself.
There were countless theories about how the relationship between the hundred‑thousand‑year Blue Silver Emperor Ah Yin and Tang Hao had actually begun. Some believed he had seduced her from the start purely for the sake of a hundred‑thousand‑year ring through a sacrifice, that even the attack by the Titled Douluo had been planned in advance. But looking at them now, I refused to believe that.
I didn't interfere. There was still plenty of time until dawn, and I had more than enough topics for reflection. First and foremost—the future.
In the past two days I had completed the most important part of my original plans. Taking into account all the enhancements I'd received, I was certain: even Qian Renxue of Spirit Hall, born with a divine martial spirit—the Six‑Winged Angel—and twenty ranks of spirit power at awakening, couldn't compare to me in potential.
Yes, her spirit gave her the absolute light attribute. Yes, thanks to her innate power her cultivation speed was notably higher than that of others, and because of the attribute her combat strength on average was equivalent to being about twenty ranks higher than ordinary spirit masters. But now I had my own trump card: the immortal herb and the whale glue had made my body as if it were twenty ranks above my current level. And the ring's age allowed me to fight opponents who surpassed me by roughly those same twenty ranks. If in the future I managed to develop the darkness attribute to an absolute one, then even in that aspect Qian Renxue would lose her advantage over me.
Now I needed to prepare for my next two main goals.
First, the Continental Tournament. I needed an academy whose team I could join to participate in it, so that I could defeat my sister publicly on the official stage, where she'd be fighting in tandem with the crown prince. In the Star Luo Empire, where might is everything, not even the emperor would dare go against tradition. If I demonstrated my superiority in front of everyone, I'd be able to openly refuse any struggle for the throne. Dai Mubai, who had never managed to win my favor, would automatically be the loser. His obvious infidelities would become a convenient and respectable reason for my withdrawal.
At the same time, I had no intention of being completely hypocritical. From the very start he hadn't had a single chance to win me over. I wasn't going to blame him for running away or for living as a libertine—especially since my first goal in many ways coincided with his own interests.
The question of which academy I'd join basically answered itself. Considering Tang San and Grandmaster Yu Xiaogang, there was hardly any choice. Naturally, Shrek Academy. All the more so because it was directly connected to my second goal.
I had promised to take the empire's interests into account. And, to be blunt, I was not at all satisfied with how the original story handled the world after the war with Spirit Hall, which proclaimed itself an empire and went to war against the whole continent.
No one from Shrek or the two empires had bothered to properly think through a replacement for Spirit Hall which, for better or worse, had fulfilled two extremely important functions: mass spirit awakening for the entire population, including remote villages, and hunting so‑called evil spirit masters, who grew stronger by killing people. Instead the problem was handled carelessly. They started hunting not for actions but for type of spirit. As a result, some people who might still have been pulled back from the brink, in their despair really did go down the dark path, and the number of evil spirit masters only grew.
I wanted to solve several problems at once with a single shot. To prepare a replacement for Spirit Hall based on one of the great sects, which, if approached correctly, would also contribute to the development of the Star Luo Empire, while the thoroughly rotten Heaven Dou Empire would, over time, be almost naturally absorbed. A gap in development, a shift in the balance of power—and then everything would proceed on its own.
And I was thinking about one particular great sect—the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
It was the only one of the three great sects where I had even some chance. The main family's spirit was the best support‑type spirit on the continent, that very Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda. But it had a major drawback: without evolving into the Nine Treasure Glazed Tile Pagoda, its bearer could never advance beyond the rank of Spirit Saint.
They needed protectors. They lacked combat force. Most of their people were support‑type spirit masters. And that was something I could try to play on. Besides, under a sensible emperor, the Star Luo Empire could achieve almost perfect synergy with this sect.
In the end, my first goal seemed quite achievable. The second, though, was much more complicated. The only real path was to try to create techniques in this world that did not require spirit rings to activate.
The first thing that suggested itself was, of course, the Rasengan from the Naruto world. The essence of that technique's power lay in the physical processes achieved through fine control of energy. I was inclined to think my control was quite good. After all, I'd been learning to manipulate spiritual energy long before my own spirit awakened. And the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect was famous for its control arts thanks to their split‑consciousness technique, which let them do several things at once.
"Only one offensive technique won't be nearly enough," I sighed, noticing the sky in the east was already starting to grow lighter.
Tang San had woken up too. Apparently, like me, he'd decided not to disturb his parents. He simply sat down nearby, greeted me with a brief nod, and settled next to me to wait for dawn. When the sun began to rise over the horizon, we started cultivating.
While we were deep in meditation, Tang Hao approached us. He patiently waited until we finished, and only then spoke:
"Zhu Zhuqing," his voice was even, but there was something heavy in it. "Come with me."
I was curious what could have come into his head so early in the morning, but I didn't ask—just followed. The answer didn't keep me waiting.
"You seem to already know…" He stopped beside the familiar sprout of blue‑silver grass. "This is my wife, Ah Yin."
He was looking at the plant with such tenderness and pain that no explanation was needed. The Blue Silver Grass that had to again walk the path of a hundred‑thousand‑year beast to regain a human form. And only the Eye of Ice and Fire could shorten that period to a reasonable length.
Honestly, I had no idea how I was supposed to behave. I'd never had to communicate with plants before. Especially ones this… special. At this stage she couldn't even respond telepathically—she was too weak.
"Hello…?" I ventured uncertainly.
In response, the plant swayed slightly from side to side, as if greeting me. The movement unexpectedly reminded me of someone.
"Uncle Tang," I shifted my gaze to the man, "it seems you've got a real family tradition—getting involved with hundred‑thousand‑year beasts."
"What are you talking about, Zhuqing?" Tang San immediately spoke up, full of genuine puzzlement.
Tang Hao only let out a heavy sigh. The Blue Silver Grass shivered noticeably, giving the impression that it was… laughing.
"I mean Xiao Wu," I explained, not even trying to hide my smile. "In my opinion, you two are just a perfect couple. It would be cruel to leave her on her own for several months."
"I'll bring her," the man cut in shortly.
"I hope you'll be gentle with her," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "I'm afraid if she suddenly sees a Titled Douluo, her little heart might not survive the fright."
"You think I don't know how to treat people?" the big man frowned.
"I never said that," I replied peaceably.
He closed his eyes for a second and let out a deep breath. The Blue Silver Grass's stalk lightly patted his leg, as if soothing him.
"Girl, go mind your own business," he said wearily.
"Uncle Tang," I called to him as I was leaving.
"What now?" He opened his eyes again.
"I think Dugu Bo should finish forming his spirit core today."
"Got it. I'll keep that in mind."
As I'd expected, by midday Dugu Bo really was finished. He came out of the cave looking so pleased with himself that I wanted to feed him a lemon. Still, he did have a respectable reason to be happy.
After forming his core, his energy had become noticeably denser, his combat capabilities had increased, and on top of that he had finally broken through the bottleneck of the ninety‑first rank, reaching the ninety‑second.
In the world of the Combat Continent, help with cultivation is considered a benefaction almost equal to saving a life. Those who help you reach a new level are at the very least regarded as friends. Betraying such people is one of the lowest acts. The reverse is also true: anyone who hinders your cultivation automatically becomes a mortal enemy.
So Dugu Bo's gratitude was entirely sincere. Not only had they helped him grow stronger, they were also effectively saving him and his granddaughter from his own poison.
After listening to his thanks, I didn't really support the conversation—kept a bit to the side. Soon almost all of the old man's attention shifted to the Tang family.
I focused on my own matters. First and foremost—trying to recreate the Rasengan. And since I didn't consider myself completely brainless, I used a clone created by my fourth ring as the test subject, not myself.
From what I remembered, the Rasengan was a sphere of compressed energy with flows rotating in different directions. In practice, though, it quickly turned out that I remembered more general principles than concrete details. Time after time I tried different options, and every time I got something else.
Almost a whole month flew by like that. I became so absorbed in the experiments that I only got distracted once—when Tang Hao returned with Xiao Wu.
The poor thing was terrified to the point of shaking. She trembled like an aspen leaf until they finally explained to her that Tang San's mother was also a hundred‑thousand‑year beast and that nothing threatened her here. For a couple of days she still remained wary, spoke little, and literally didn't leave Tang San's side, as if only near him did she feel safe. But eventually her playful nature took over, and then the new problem was that she was bored.
First she tried to entertain herself with chatter, then she started dragging me into her games. This went on until one day, while I was once again absorbed in my experiments, she decided to distract me.
With my clone, I first created one spherical layer of energy and spun it clockwise. Then on top of it I formed a second layer, spinning it counterclockwise at the same speed. After that, I tried to expand the inner layer and compress the outer one.
The control suddenly became much more difficult. The two layers of energy, which I carefully fed and compressed, were pressing against each other, each striving to break through the other's resistance. Because of the high rotational speed, intense friction arose. Soon a real sphere of fire was hanging between my clone's palms. Flickers of electricity shot off from it, the air vibrated with a low hum.
And right at that moment Xiao Wu distracted me.
The instant I lost concentration for a fraction of a second, the sphere slipped out of control. All the contained energy, heat, and static electricity were released at once—the explosion thundered.
The clone was destroyed instantly. I went blind for a second from the flash, and then the shockwave hit like a solid wall. I was thrown back, but I managed to regroup and land on my feet.
Xiao Wu was less lucky; she tumbled across the ground and came to a stop a couple of meters behind me. Judging by the sound, she'd fortunately gotten away with only a scare.
I blinked away the remnants of the blinding flash and looked forward.
In the place where my clone had been standing a moment ago, there yawned a crater, smooth as if carved out with a bowl, about two meters in diameter. The rock inside glowed a dull red, in some spots like living lava. Heat and the smell of scorched stone wafted up from it, and the air shimmered.
"Not bad," I muttered, looking at the result. "Now I just need to make it more stable and figure out how to send it farther away from myself."
"Ow‑ow‑ow," a pained groan came from behind.
I turned around. Xiao Wu was already getting up, her little face twisted with mild displeasure. There was no blood or sign of serious bruises on her.
"How are you, you okay?" I asked.
"As you can see," she grumbled, brushing dust off herself, and then suddenly flared up: "Do you even realize how scared I was?! A flash—and then I get tossed around like a rag!"
I tilted my head slightly, studying her face. The fear was still there—dilated pupils, pressed lips.
"Everything was under control until you distracted me," I answered calmly.
"You didn't say a single word!" she protested. "You're just standing there, staring, spinning your… thing—and then BOOM!"
I paused for a second. From the outside it really must have looked that way.
"I'll warn you next time," I nodded briefly. "But you should get used to this too: if I'm training a technique, don't get in my way."
She snorted but didn't argue. She only threw a nervous glance at the cooling crater.
Tang San had already approached us. He looked at the newly formed pit and asked, somewhat worried:
"Are you both all right?"
"Yeah, we're fine. Just a little fright. My clone took the whole hit."
He nodded, then asked with interest:
"What was that?"
"I'm trying to create a new technique."
A bit farther off, Dugu Bo had stopped. He lazily examined the crater, sniffed the air, and squinted.
"An explosion like that would be lethal even to an Emperor," he muttered, a mocking half‑smile on his lips. "Girl, what are you even trying to make?"
I shrugged.
"Not everyone can rely on spirit rings alone in battle. So why not come up with something… special."
"If your mistakes leave holes in the ground…" Xiao Wu muttered, "I don't even want to imagine what happens to the one using it."
"Once I perfect it, the only ones it'll be bad for are the enemies."
Tang San's lips twitched in a faint smile, but he kept silent. He was already calculating something in his head. I didn't add any details for him.
This technique was part of my plans. So for now I wasn't going to teach it to anyone else.
In the future, if everything worked out, this technique would become my trump card in negotiations with the Seven Treasure Glazed Tile Sect.
"Zhu Zhuqing," came Tang Hao's heavy voice.
He was standing a little to the side, clearly having been listening for some time.
"Next time," he said, looking at me, "first make sure there's no one nearby."
"All right, Uncle Tang," I replied calmly.
"Fine," I said shortly. "In that case, could someone help me make a cave where I can train this technique? It doesn't have to be big, just enough for my clone to fit, and then it'll gradually expand during testing."
"All right, you'll have your cave."
Like a proper man: he said it, he did it. Without bothering with details, Tang Hao simply brought his hammer down on the side of the crater. The blow created such a recess in the rock that it could easily serve as a training cave. That's exactly what I used it for over the next few months: with the help of clones I methodically expanded the cave while honing the new technique.
At first, almost every attempt ended with an explosion right in the clone's hands. And I was honestly very glad I could decide for myself whether to transmit my clone's tactile sensations to me or not. After all, even if only for the briefest instant before dispersing, my clone ended up at the epicenter of the blast—and I was more than sure that hurt like hell. Eventually I did manage to achieve much greater stability. Oddly enough, the key was increasing the rotation speed of the layers. Thanks to that, the formed sphere gradually became almost self‑sustaining. But there were side effects.
First, because of the friction at such speeds, the temperature shot up to insane levels. In the end it wasn't even a fireball anymore, but a real lump of plasma. Its explosion was no weaker, possibly even stronger than before, and on top of that the technique made an outright terrifying sound. To make matters worse, I had to rack my brains over how to protect myself from the heat. Even after I managed to achieve enough stability to hurl the sphere some distance away, the problem remained: the clone was simply dispersing from the temperature alone. And given that to forcibly disperse my clone you had to inflict enough damage to injure me myself, the technique was still a long way from being safe.
The situation was further complicated by the fact that I couldn't afford too many attempts per day. Even leaving aside how loud my experiments were, I kept running up against the limits of my spirit energy.
First, just initiating the necessary processes ate up about 20% of my reserves—and those were already several times greater than those of other spirit masters at the same rank, thanks to my ring configuration. Second, as soon as the process entered its active phase, the sphere began voraciously absorbing energy, compressing it and increasing its explosive potential. My spirit power was draining at a frantic pace. Plus, creating a clone also required a lot of spirit energy. And finally, some of my power went into experiments with protection—I was trying in parallel to figure out how to make the technique safe for the caster.
In the end, in one session I could allow myself at most two attempts, and then I was forced to spend almost half a day recovering my energy. And I couldn't afford to neglect physical training either. That's where Tang San helped: he was more than happy to have bare‑handed sparring. Without a healer on hand I wouldn't have risked using my claws. As it was, even in such bouts he flattened me without a chance. I was far too used to fighting with my claws and relying primarily on speed. But without merging with my spirit and using rings, I couldn't surpass him in my main attribute anymore—thanks to his movement technique, he ended up slightly faster than me. Still, the sparring did me good, so I had to put up with his advantage.
Xiao Wu was a more difficult case. Sparring seriously with her made no sense. Yes, Tang San had found an immortal herb for her and she'd quickly reached rank 31. But her body hadn't been tempered by whale glue, so physically she lagged far behind me.
That was how we spent half a year in that place. During that time Tang San not only fully helped Dugu Bo, but also prepared medicine for his granddaughter, whose symptoms, fortunately, were not as severe.
After that, Tang Hao sent us back to Nuoding Spirit Master Academy. There we continued to study theory under Yu Xiaogang's supervision, and Tang San could once again tinker with hidden weapons in the local forge.
We were to spend the next several years there—until it was time to head to Shrek Academy.