CHAPTER 41: CHAPTER 41

"What a powerful Martial arts technique!" Ethan exhaled, awe threading through the calm of his mind.

Before him, the scene unfolded like a tempest of shadow and fire—a martial art not born of mortal men, but of demonic clans.

Each movement of the wielder was infused with dark, potent energy, dripping with the essence of an ancient, troubled bloodline. The incandescent tendrils of black and crimson swirled in fierce harmony, saturating the air with malice and raw power.

Yet, beneath the mesmerizing dance, Ethan’s insight pierced the veil of demonic vigor. For all the formidable aura, the martial art—the fabled Black Mist Hand—drew its strength from two sources: the primordial essence of energy and the lifeblood that coursed through the wielder.

Unlike human cultivators whose blood shone a vibrant scarlet, Ethan’s own veins pulsed with a rare cerulean hue bound deep within his marrow, an essence of pure clarity. The demons’ blood was stained dark, nearly black and thick as tar, woven with infernal threads of power.

Watching the technique unfold again and again, Ethan’s mind raced.

Inspiration sparked within him, eager to seize the nuanced wisdom of the Black Mist Hand.

Yet, restraint tempered his excitement. Pushing himself to calm the tempestuous emotions swelling inside, he forced a deep breath and returned to the present.

Though the Black Mist Hand was truly a heavenly-grade martial art, it resembled a path long lost to human cultivators. It was a signature of the Demonic clans—ancestral enemies of all mankind, entwined in endless warcraft and darkness.

The domains of human beings and demons were forever locked in strife. Battle broke out frequently near contested territories, where sect walls and cursed woods blurred into contested borders. Flyers clashed, blades sang death, and countless geniuses from both sides fell beneath each other’s might.

To practice the martial arts of demons was dangerous; discovery meant disaster. Mistrust and fear could easily cut deeper than any sword.

Yet this martial art was a gift from old man Mr. Burn—a gesture as enigmatic as the man himself. Given Mr. Burn’s unusual position within the Sect, it was unlikely to draw immediate ire, provided its use remained concealed.

Ethan allowed himself a sly grin. "Even so, such power is worthless and useless to even keep, if left untrained," he mused in silent counsel.

"If nothing else, I’ll master it quietly, keeping it as a last resort. The first time I release it openly... well, be grateful you’re not in front of me."

With careful fingers, he tucked the scroll back into the shadowy folds of his robes.

Two new items hovered in his inventory, glistening with promise. He summoned them forth, eyes fixed on their glowing shapes.

[Mystic Marrow Tempering Lotion]

A bottle shimmered with molten core fire—a rare elixir forged beneath the earth’s heart, where primal energies of magma and spirit merged over eons. Within the translucent crimson liquid lay the fury of stars and the patience of stone, a distillation of destruction and creation.

Upon application, the lotion seeped deep into flesh and bone, igniting a transformative blaze. Feeble sinews and brittle veins were thrust into newfound vigor, tissues reinforced like tempered steel. Blood vessels swelled and thickened, muscles crystallized into living armor.

The mystic properties burned away weakness, while simultaneously infusing the cultivator’s body with resilience unyielding to fracture or poison. An invaluable treasure for those blazing beyond mortal limits.

Ethan uncorked the vial, releasing a scent rich with iron and ember, warmth spilling forth to envelop his senses, chasing away winter’s chill.

"This will help me break through the current bottleneck," he thought with rising excitement. "With the Dirt World flower and Mystic Marrow lotion combined, the leap to the late stage of the third level of the Celestial Jade Physique scripture should be within reach. And the peak of the third... level just within my grasp."

He carefully returned the lotion to rest, understanding the treasure was too potent to absorb in mere hours. Such treasures demanded patient retreat, meditation, and perfect balance.

Next, he summoned the final gift—a tightly sealed diamond-shaped scroll.

Its surface shimmered with a celestial aura, marked with the sigils of a lost era.

The Divine Flame Bodybuilding Technique.

Drawn from an ancient clan renowned for their mastery of the elemental fires, this artifact promised to transform the physical form through the taming of spectral flames. With flames sculpted from primal energies far beyond mere fire, the technique offered the path to unparalleled strength:

Using strange flames of the heavens and earth to temper the body, transforming flesh and bone into blazing pillars of power.

Ethan scanned the earliest pages, eyes narrowing.

"Strange flames? Taming flames to refine the body?" he muttered.

"That sounds like courting death..."

These spiritual flames existed as rare manifestations between worlds, possessing furious and unyielding properties. Categorized by rarity and potency, strange flames ranged from the lowest Beast Fire to the elusive Original Spiritual Fire.

The lowest Beast Fire, the next The Innate Spiritual Fire, and the peak of Strange flames The Original Fire.

Even the Beast Fire dwarfed common elemental flames, burning with intensity that could forge weapons and distill elixirs of immense potency.

Of course, these flames were fickle.

No man’s body could withstand even two different strange flames simultaneously. To attempt such was to invite sudden and violent annihilation—an explosion of chaos and destruction from within.

Yet this scroll, this Divine Flame Bodybuilding method, defied convention.

It claimed mastery over the absorption of multiple strange flames—each tamed and woven into harmony with the physical body.

This was no mere technique. It was a revelation. It was power no one else had.

Though the danger loomed large, Ethan’s heart pounded with hunger for the path that stretched ahead.

With great care, he prepared to delve into the mysteries bound in the cedar scroll—its wisdom centuries lost but now his to wield.

Stillness settled over the night as the wind whispered through lingering pines, bearing the faint scent of burning embers and sharp ice.