High Martial Arts: Become a God by Spending Money, Start by Spending All Your Compensation Funds

The next morning, Lin Yun was awakened by his communicator.

As soon as the screen lit up, Gu Xiaoman's face appeared, with Zhou Chong, Qian Hao, and the others' heads peeking out from behind.

The background noise was like a bustling market.

"Brother Yun!" Gu Xiaoman's voice boomed, "You guys really won the championship! I watched the replay three times last night, and I watched the part where Liuli conceded ten times!"

Qian Hao shouted from behind, "Brother Yun is awesome!"

Zhou Chong didn't shout, but simply held up a small Chinese flag in front of the camera and shook it vigorously.

Lin Yun leaned against the headboard, his chest wrapped in bandages, and it hurt whenever he moved.

He looked at the faces on the screen, and the heaviness that had been weighing on his heart last night eased a little.

"Brother Yun, get some rest, and win another individual match!" Gu Xiaoman pumped her fist. "I'm saving up some money; I'll treat you when you get back."

Less than ten seconds after the call ended, Song Yu's call came in.

It was much quieter on her side, with the martial arts training hall in the background, and the shouts of students sparring could be faintly heard.

"Little brother, how's your injury?"

Song Yu asked the question as soon as she opened her mouth.

"It will be fine in a few days."

"Don't try to fool your sister." Song Yu stared at him for two seconds. "Your face is so pale, do you think your sister is stupid?"

Lin Yun touched his nose and didn't reply.

Song Yu didn't dwell on it, and instead said, "The martial arts school's revenue has doubled this month. After winning the team competition yesterday, more than thirty people signed up this morning. I've already had the accounts checked, and your share of the profits has been paid out in advance, with ten million to be settled at the end of the month."

Lin Yun was taken aback: "So many?"

"That's still a conservative estimate," Song Yu said. "Team champion captain, number one in China—any one of those titles is enough for them to fight tooth and nail for. You can focus on the competition on Shenxi Island; I'll take care of things at the martial arts school."

After she finished speaking, she softened her voice.

"If you don't have enough money, just say so. Your most important thing right now is to heal your injuries and win them back."

Lin Yun nodded: "Understood."

The third phone call came from Mr. Qin.

The old man didn't turn on the video; only his voice came through, slowly, as if through a layer of old tea smoke.

"Xiaoyun, did you receive the money?"

"received."

"I watched your match with that little girl from Japan last night."

"What did you see?"

"I could tell you won by a hair," Old Qin said. "In the team competition, you won by a hair's breadth thanks to your courage. But if she had held on for just one more breath, it's hard to say who would have fallen first."

Lin Yun held the communicator without refuting it.

Old Qin continued, "And those knife techniques of yours, you're too skilled at them. You're comfortable with them, and others find them pleasing to the eye. That girl lost this time, and when she gets back, she'll definitely break down every single one of your strikes. Next time you clash, the moment you move your shoulder, she'll know where you're going to cut."

"Being skilled with a knife is a good thing, but you can't rely on just a few moves. If you run into someone who knows how to read the room, the more skilled you are, the easier it is for them to outmaneuver you."

Lin Yun's heart sank.

Old Qin's words were rough, but they hit the nail on the head.

From training camp to the Asian League, his blade grew faster and his bursts of power more ferocious. Enemies often fell before they even grasped his true strength. But Liuli did manage to get close. She only lost because of that final, crucial move—she lost to his willingness to risk his life.

Next time, she will definitely block his path to survival first.

"Then how should we change it?" Lin Yun asked.

"I'll do it for you?" Old Qin said irritably. "Try it yourself with the knife. Stop thinking about all sorts of grand principles all day long."

The phone hangs up.

The notifications of funds arriving in the account sounded one after another.

With Song Yu's ten million and Qin Lao's thirty million, Lin Yun suddenly had plenty of funds.

However, it's still not enough to break through to the fourth level of the Great Martial Master realm; it's only enough for him to raise his cultivation to the peak of the early stage.

For the next two days, Lin Yun did not leave his room.

Inside the room, the projector played the final battle of the team competition over and over again.

Liuli shattered the black stone, and the blade, grazed by the red light of the lava, slashed towards them.

Lin Yun turned to the side, his dark blade flashing upwards.

She flipped her wrist, the blade sliding along the back of his sword, without the slightest hesitation in her movements.

time out.

Go back.

Look again.

Her left shoulder sank a fraction of the way before the knife tip.

Her breath was cut short as she sheathed the knife.

When she is cornered, she will press her heel into the ground first, and then use the momentum to turn away.

Lin Yun sat in front of the screen, his eyes bloodshot.

There were more than a dozen empty bottles of Qi and Blood potion on the table, and the bandages on the wound had been changed three times, with a little dark red seeping through.

He not only looked at the glass, but also at himself.

See when you get anxious, when you get greedy, when the knife goes first and you don't follow, and when you clearly have a safer option but choose to risk your life for a slight advantage.

Once.

Ten times.

One hundred times.

More than two hundred times.

The two people in the video collide and separate again and again.

In the end, Lin Yun closed his eyes, and he could see every step Liuli took in his mind.

When she raises her shoulder, he knows where the knife will fall; when she takes a breath, he knows how far the next outburst will be.

Knowing something is one thing, but your body may not be able to keep up.

At dawn on the third day, Lin Yun got up and drew his Dark Blade.

The room was dark, and the cold light from the projection screen fell on the spine of the knife.

He had no luck, nor did he have any explosive moments; he simply delivered a knife forward in an ordinary manner.

The blade sliced ​​through the air with a very soft sound.

He was so light, unlike himself.

Lin Yun stood there stunned for a moment, then struck again with his sword.

This time, he didn't strike before the enemy moved, nor did he channel his blood and qi into his arm. He simply waited for the tiny, invisible opening to appear on its own before letting the blade penetrate it.

The alloy training post in the corner cracked silently.

The cut was very narrow and shallow, only half an inch deep. In a real battlefield, this cut might not even be able to break through the body's protective qi and blood.

Lin Yun smiled.

Half a month passed in the blink of an eye.

During the day, he used medicine and his own blood to repair the wounds, and turned the blood and qi vibration device to the limit that his muscles and bones could withstand, filling up the overdrawn foundation again and again.

At night, he practiced his sword alone, dismantling those blindingly fast things piece by piece, and then putting them back into his body.

On the seventh day, the wound scabbed over.

On the tenth day, the body's energy and blood were fully restored.

Late at night on the fourteenth day, the room was filled with the roar of blood and qi. With the dark blade across his knees, Lin Yun's aura gradually rose, eventually stopping at the peak of the third level of the Great Martial Master.

He picked up the Dark Blade and walked to the window.

The night breeze from Shenxi Island seeped in through the cracks, carrying the salty scent of the sea. In the distance, the volcano stood silently, its summit no longer glowing red, only the warning lights of the event organizers sweeping across it in circles.

Lin Yun raised his hand and drew his sword.

There was no sound of wind.

There is no outward release of Qi and blood.

A small flying insect that was perched on the windowsill suddenly fell, and half of its wing was cleanly severed.

When the blade stopped, the insect's body remained in place, as if nothing had happened.

Lin Yun sheathed his sword and said in a low voice, "This strike is called 'Peerless Dust'."

Cut off the path of origin, and also cut off all distracting thoughts.

The blade is drawn, leaving no dust behind.

The individual competition began the following morning.

Lin Yun sat up in bed, washed up, changed his dressing, got dressed, and put all the medicines and cultivation equipment into a corner.

Su Nianhe knocked on the door.

"Lin Yun, let's go."

He opened the door.

Su Nianhe stood outside, carrying a sword on her back, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment.

After half a month apart, he became much quieter, so quiet that even his sharp, edgy aura had vanished.

"you……"

She hesitated for a moment.

"You've gotten stronger again?"

Lin Yun smiled and said, "I've gained a bit."

Su Nianhe stared at him for two seconds, then didn't ask any more questions.

The two walked side by side towards the meeting point. In the distance, above the Orochi Arena, the flags of the sixteen kingdoms rose simultaneously, and the individual competition schedule screens lit up one by one.

Lin Yun looked up, his eyes expressionless.