Online Game: Me, with Unparalleled Comprehension

Wu Changfeng did not argue, but simply cupped his hands again: "This disciple dares not speak presumptuously. If Master does not believe me, please allow this disciple to demonstrate a thing or two."

Looking into his open eyes, Song Yuanqiao pondered for a moment and nodded: "Alright. You can demonstrate the Wudang Long Fist and the Soft Cloud Sword Technique." He chose fist and foot techniques and sword techniques, one forceful and the other gentle, which are the most representative.

"Yes."

Wu Changfeng walked to the open space in the hall, composed himself, and began with the Wudang Long Fist, his feet neither too far apart nor too far apart.

The moment the fist technique began, there was no trace of the awkwardness he had shown during his morning lessons.

The movements are graceful and powerful, with strength contained yet not revealed, and fluid and controlled.

Each move was seamlessly connected, as if they had been practiced a thousand times. As the fight progressed, the subtle force of their punches even caused a slight swirling of air in the room. Although they lacked a fierce and deadly aura, their calm, profound, and continuous spirit had already deeply grasped the essence of boxing.

Song Yuanqiao's hand, which was holding the teacup, froze in mid-air.

After finishing his set of punches, Wu Changfeng's breathing became steady. He then took the Zhan Tie sword from his waist with a backhand—since there was no wooden sword available, he used a longsword with a sheath instead.

Though the sword was not drawn, the intent had already arrived.

The "Gentle Cloud Sword Technique" unfolded. The scabbard in his hand seemed weightless, its trajectory smooth and continuous, drawing soft arcs.

The footwork, coordinated with the swordplay, flowed smoothly like clouds and water. Although the speed was not fast, it gave people a sense of oppression that was inescapable and like unraveling a silkworm's web.

The sword sheath, with its touches, smears, strokes, and flicks, though lacking a sharp edge, reveals an unmistakable sword intent that is both "soft" and "resilient," as well as "cloud-like" and ever-changing.

Song Yuanqiao gently placed the teacup back on the table, making a soft "click" sound.

His calm expression had long been replaced by astonishment, his eyes sharp as lightning, fixed on Wu Changfeng's every move.

The fist retracted, the sword stopped.

Wu Changfeng stood with his sword in hand, looking at Song Yuanqiao: "Master, what do you think?"

Song Yuanqiao did not answer immediately. He remained silent for a moment, and the room was so quiet that the rustling of the bamboo leaves in the wind could be heard outside the window.

After a long pause, he slowly spoke, his voice lower than before: "...Indeed, you have reached the pinnacle." He paused, suppressing the surging emotions within him, and then asked, "How is your practice of the 'Wudang Inner Strength Method' progressing?"

"This disciple is unworthy, but last night I managed to cultivate it to the Great Perfection," Wu Changfeng replied.

"Great...Perfection?" Song Yuanqiao's breath hitched slightly this time.

Mental cultivation is harder to master than external martial arts. Could one achieve perfect enlightenment overnight? He subconsciously focused his attention on sensing Wu Changfeng's aura.

Sure enough, the opponent's internal energy was abundant, and its circulation carried a pure and peaceful Taoist charm, which was a sign of returning to simplicity and authenticity after the Wudang mental cultivation method had reached its peak. It was not fake.

Even with his profound self-cultivation, only one thought remained in his mind at this moment: Monster! Truly a monster! This was beyond description; it was utterly inconceivable!

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, his gaze becoming exceptionally serious: "Your talent... is indeed unparalleled in my lifetime. However,"

He then changed the subject, saying, "I observe that in your body, besides the true energy of my Wudang mental cultivation method, there are several other internal forces of considerable strength and different natures. Although you have temporarily suppressed and harmonized them with your refined mental cultivation method, and no conflict has arisen, in the long run, they will eventually become mixed and impure, which may hinder your future ascent to higher realms."

Wu Changfeng's heart skipped a beat, realizing that a master had seen through his possession of multiple internal martial arts techniques. "Please enlighten me, Master."

Song Yuanqiao said, "Now that you have mastered my Wudang mental cultivation method to its peak, its true energy is pure and refined, and it excels at absorbing and integrating. The most urgent task is to use the peak mental cultivation method to gradually refine and purify the remaining internal energy in your body, transforming it all into the same source of Wudang Taoist true energy. In this way, the true energy will be pure and consistent, and the foundation will be incredibly solid. In the future, you will be able to achieve twice the result with half the effort when practicing any superior techniques of our sect, and success will come naturally."

"I see. I understand now. I will certainly follow Master's teachings and refine the impurities and purify my inner strength as soon as possible." Wu Changfeng bowed sincerely.

This was indeed wise advice, resolving a potential hidden danger for him.

Seeing that he was respectful and not arrogant, Song Yuanqiao felt relieved and waved his hand: "Well, you should go back first and consolidate what you have learned today. Familiarize yourself with these advanced martial arts and study the changes in their power and the principles of martial arts. Don't bite off more than you can chew; a solid foundation is the right way."

"Yes, disciple takes his leave." Wu Changfeng did not take the opportunity to inquire about more profound martial arts techniques. He knew that the talent he had displayed at this moment was already amazing enough, and being too eager would only make him look inferior.

In any case, the attributes brought by the perfection of the basic martial arts are enough for him to digest for a while. Moreover, he vaguely felt that it might be more important to thoroughly understand and integrate these martial arts that come from the same source than to rush to learn new moves.

Turning around and leaving Jingxin Hall, Wu Changfeng did not return to his residence, but went straight back to the training ground.

I was practicing boxing and swordsmanship in the Jingxin Hall just now, and the system only gave me a basic 126 points of proficiency. Obviously, only the martial arts arena has that kind of hidden bonus that doubles the skill level.

Going back to practice is the right thing to do.

On the training ground, there were still twenty or thirty diligent disciples sweating profusely.

Song Qingshu was also there, practicing his long fist with a serious expression, the force of which was much stronger than during morning class.

Wu Changfeng ignored them and found a slightly distant open space, got into a stance, and began practicing the Wudang Cotton Palm.

As soon as he began to strike, he became completely absorbed in it. The Cotton Palm technique at its peak had an even more subtle circulation of energy, appearing gentle but actually possessing boundless power.

He pushed out his palms one by one, feeling how the pure Wudang true energy in his body changed with the movement of his palms, and how the fierceness of the Iron Sand Palm and the power of the Pushing Tablet Hand were cleverly integrated into this extremely soft palm technique, attempting a preliminary fusion and transformation.

Not far away, Song Qingshu finished a set of punches and saw Wu Changfeng practicing his palm strikes.

He was stunned after just a few glances.

During morning lessons, Wu Changfeng's soft palm technique, though skillful, still showed signs of being newly learned.

At this moment, the palm technique was executed with perfect harmony and without hindrance. The force it contained had reached the point where it could be controlled at will. It was soft yet resilient, resilient yet strong. It was clearly at the peak of its mastery, and even faintly touched the threshold of perfection!

"This guy... his fist and palm techniques... have already reached a high level? And it was only half a day ago?" Song Qingshu felt his understanding was being challenged.

He considered himself the most insightful among the three generations of disciples, and even mastering a basic martial art would take many years.

This junior brother in front of me is simply defying all logic!

Looking at Wu Changfeng's figure, who was single-mindedly repeating the tedious palm technique over and over again, and whose back was already soaked with sweat but who didn't even notice it, Song Qingshu's complicated emotions caused by being outshone by Wu Changfeng's talent were gradually replaced by another emotion—this guy, his talent is terrifying enough, but he's working so hard.

He suddenly realized that he, as the number one disciple of the third generation, seemed to have become somewhat lax in recent years.

Watching Wu Changfeng's retreating figure, a long-lost sense of urgency and competitiveness quietly rose within him.

"Hmph, talented and hardworking? So what? I, Song Qingshu, will not easily admit defeat!" He took a deep breath, stopped looking at Wu Changfeng, and instead focused more intently on his own practice, his punches seeming to become even more powerful.

Seeing this, some disciples around, though not understanding why, were also inspired by how hard Senior Brother Song and that new junior brother who looked very fierce were working, and the atmosphere of cultivation in the training ground became more and more intense.

……

Inside the Tranquil Hall, Song Yuanqiao sat alone for a long time before finally getting up, leaving the courtyard, and heading towards a more secluded spot in the back mountain.

After passing through a bamboo forest and around several cliffs, we arrived at a seemingly ordinary wooden door that exuded a sense of antiquity and vicissitude.

This place is now a forbidden area of ​​Wudang, and ordinary disciples are not allowed to approach it.

Song Yuanqiao straightened his clothes, his expression extremely respectful, and stepped forward to gently knock on the door.

After the three rings, he took a step back, stood with his hands at his sides, and said loudly, "Disciple Song Yuanqiao requests an audience with Master."

The sound echoed through the silent mountain cliffs.