Chapter 113: Fists That Move Mountains and Rivers, The World Three Thousand Years Hence

"Of course I have heard of it. His Majesty practiced for five thousand years, traversing the human world. Aside from his defeats by those from the Upper Realm, he only lost once, and that was to the Innate Tiangang Sacred Body!"

The white-haired elder spoke with deep emotion while writing in the air.

Little Purple widened its snake eyes and cried out, "Wasn't the Great Saint an invincible existence in the mortal realm?"

"That is true, but His Majesty did indeed lose to the Tiangang Sacred Body. It is a pity that the holder of that Tiangang Sacred Body passed away young. Not being able to duel them at their peak became a regret of His Majesty’s. For this reason, he specifically created the True Technique of the Tiangang Sacred Body," the elder sighed, stroking his beard.

Little Purple pressed on, "Why did the Tiangang Sacred Body pass away young? Was it also killed by the gods and immortals of the Upper Realm?"

The elder shook his head. "He died during the Crossing the Void Realm. At that time, he was already capable of fighting across cultivation levels and had offended too many enemies. Various major sects joined forces against him, and he eventually fled into an ancient forbidden land, never to emerge again. This meant he died within that forbidden ground; there is no such thing as an immortal in the mortal world."

Upon hearing this, Little Purple looked toward Fang Wang, its eyes filled with concern. It suddenly worried that Fang Wang might follow in the footsteps of that Tiangang Sacred Body.

Zhao Zhen remained silent, as focused as Fang Wang on reading the cultivation method for the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist. Although he was a ghost, he continued to cultivate; what if he could one day become a Ghost Immortal? Zhao Zhen was shrewd and daring. Had Lu Yuanjun been his master, he would never have dared to dream of such things, but with Fang Wang as his master, he felt it was not necessarily impossible. If there truly were immortals in this world, then one with the aptitude of a Heavenly Origin Treasure Spirit would have the greatest hope of achieving the realm of immortals and gods.

After a long while, the white-haired elder finally finished writing. Thousands of characters floated in mid-air, their radiance dazzling to the eyes.

Fang Wang looked up at the cultivation method of the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist. He could memorize the thousands of words after just one glance. As he neared the final line, he took a deep breath, struggling to calm his emotions.

Little Purple asked with concern, "Young Master, what is wrong?"

The white-haired elder looked at him and asked with a smile, "This fist technique is indeed difficult. If you cannot calm your mind, it is impossible to master the True Technique of the Tiangang Sacred Body."

Fang Wang replied calmly, "It is not difficult."

Not difficult? The white-haired elder was stunned, then burst into hearty laughter.

Fang Wang ignored him and looked at the last line of text. As he read the final character, the world before him shattered, and a familiar wave of dizziness washed over him. When he opened his eyes, he found himself inside the Heavenly Palace.

Looking at the magnificent, spacious hall, he moved his mind to shift the scenery into that of mountains and rivers. He felt as if he had suddenly landed amidst ranges of peaks, with a winding river flowing through them; seen from high above, it resembled a long dragon, magnificent and breathtaking.

Fang Wang revealed a satisfied smile; such grand scenery was perfect for practicing the fist. He walked to the edge of a cliff and practiced his punches while facing the brilliant sun on the horizon.

The Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist consisted of only a few simple moves. Like most spells, the key lay in the method of circulating energy and activating specific acupoints. Fang Wang stood in a horse stance and began to punch, one after another, recalling the cultivation method to guide his internal energy.

On the first day, he threw ten thousand punches toward the sun. He maintained this count every day thereafter. Ten years later, he was throwing twenty thousand punches daily, a rhythm that continued for five years. After that, he increased his daily count to thirty thousand!

Day after day of throwing punches—within the Heavenly Palace, his consciousness would not tire, though his body would ache. Once he grew accustomed to it, he could clearly feel his physical strength increasing. By the time he attained minor success in the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist, a single punch could shatter a mountaintop hundreds of feet away, its destructive power astonishing.

However, the true profundity of the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist did not lie in its brute force, but in its understanding of space. To break the heavens with a single punch was to shatter space itself!

Fang Wang delved into a path of cultivation he had never explored before. Sweeping away his dull mood, he began to practice with renewed vigor. In this practice, a century passed!

Fang Wang brought the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist to great success, but the Heavenly Palace did not release him, which meant there was still room for further cultivation. He had no choice but to continue meditating.

By the time he had thoroughly perfected the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist to the Great Completion, he looked back and realized three hundred and thirty years had passed!

At Great Completion, the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist could shatter the space of a small world with a single strike. As long as his cultivation was strong enough, breaking the heavens was by no means impossible. That Zhu Changsheng, who had spent two hundred years mastering the fist, might not have reached the Great Completion—perhaps he had merely "mastered" it. One must know that Fang Wang, in order to master the technique, had also borrowed the profound principles of the Heart of Battle, turning his own body into a divine weapon.

In this world, the more profound the ultimate technique, the less certain it is that one will succeed through constant practice alone. The most overbearing aspect of the Heavenly Palace was that it could assist Fang Wang in bringing any ultimate technique to Great Completion!

Just like that, Fang Wang’s vision blurred, and he returned to reality.

The white-haired elder was still laughing, as if he had heard the funniest joke in the world. Little Purple stared at Fang Wang and suddenly noticed his gaze had changed. It felt a surge of excitement; every time the young master practiced, this peculiar state would occur, signifying that he had mastered the technique. It never told anyone this, as it did not find it confusing itself. Geniuses, after all, were always difficult for ordinary beings to understand.

Zhao Zhen did not overthink it; he was still watching the glowing characters in mid-air.

After the white-haired elder finished laughing, he looked at Fang Wang and asked, "You said it wasn't difficult, then how long did it take you to master it?"

Fang Wang raised his right hand and looked at it. As his hand clenched into a fist, the surging spiritual energy within the ancient city rushed toward him frantically, concentrating on his right fist. The powerful gale that erupted made even Zhao Zhen turn to look at him.

Fang Wang’s black hair fluttered; the white-haired elder’s eyes widened, and his lips trembled.

"Could it be... Impossible!" the elder exclaimed, unable to maintain his previous composure.

Zhao Zhen, hearing this, looked at Fang Wang with an eerie expression. *Could it be...* He suddenly understood why Lu Yuanjun’s Xuanming Seal had failed. It was highly likely that Fang Wang had already mastered the Yin-Yang Xuanming True Technique...

*Rumble—*

As Fang Wang began to condense the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist, the entire ancient city trembled as if an earthquake had struck, making Little Purple and Zhao Zhen nervous. Fang Wang had only balled his fist, yet it possessed such immense power! Little Purple’s eyes were filled with adoration, while Zhao Zhen felt it was inconceivable.

The white-haired elder hurriedly shouted, "Stop! Quickly, stop!"

Fang Wang immediately loosened his right fist. The surging spiritual energy around him dissipated, the overbearing and peerless momentum vanished, and the ancient city returned to calm.

The white-haired elder let out a sigh of relief. He looked at Fang Wang with complex eyes and asked, "Have you learned the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist before?"

Fang Wang shook his head. "No. Besides, even if I had, I have mastered it now. Doesn't that count as passing the test?"

The white-haired elder felt a mix of emotions. How could someone master the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist instantly without prior learning? He felt that Fang Wang was not lying, and the reactions of the snake demon and the ghost did not seem faked. The more he thought about it, the more unsettled he felt. He hadn't even taught the boy yet, and Fang Wang had learned it just from the text... This was simply unreasonable! Were all the geniuses of the human world three thousand years later blessed with such talent?

If he truly was a genius who could learn anything at a glance...

The white-haired elder seemed to think of something, and his gaze toward Fang Wang shifted.

"Hey, old man, you aren't going to go back on your word, are you?" Little Purple spoke up, its tone unfriendly.

The white-haired elder smiled. "How could I go back on my word? Follow me."

He turned around, and the stone statue began to tremble; a gap appeared at its base, and it began to sink. As the statue submerged into the ground, an opening appeared, and the white-haired elder drifted inside. Fang Wang followed immediately, with Little Purple and Zhao Zhen close behind. Below the entrance, a staircase appeared, leading into the dark depths.

The man, the demon, and the ghost descended the stairs.

"Since His Majesty fell, ten thousand years have passed. Many people and demons have come seeking opportunities, but only three have mastered the Mountain and River Heaven-Suppressing Fist: you, Zhu Changsheng, and a peerless demon. I only granted that demon the cultivation method because his ancestors were once His Majesty’s demon generals," the elder said while floating ahead, as if recounting the past.

Little Purple asked curiously, "What was that demon's name?"

"Qitian. I wonder if he has made a name for himself nowadays?"

"Never heard of him."

"That is true. Five thousand years have passed; it is hard to say whether he is dead or alive."

And so, the voices of Little Purple and the white-haired elder echoed in the tunnel, while Fang Wang and Zhao Zhen listened in silence. Passing through the winding tunnel, they finally arrived at an underground palace.

As soon as they entered the gate, Fang Wang saw that the four walls, the ceiling, and the floor were all covered in text.

"This is where the True Technique of the Tiangang Sacred Body is recorded. However, I do not know where to begin; perhaps this is a test set by His Majesty," the white-haired elder said, stroking his beard.

Little Purple couldn't help but grumble, "Why is there another test? If he didn't want people to learn it, why leave clues?"

The white-haired elder glared at it. "This is part of the cultivation process itself. Even if I gave it to you to practice directly, you still wouldn't be able to master it."

Fang Wang did not question this. He walked to the center of the hall and looked up. Text was everywhere, dense and packed—at least hundreds of thousands of characters—with no clear start or end.

Fang Wang did not rush; he began to study them earnestly. The studious Zhao Zhen also began to observe.

"If Qitian could learn it, I will try too!" Little Purple huffed, crawling onto Fang Wang’s shoulder to look around.

The white-haired elder smiled, stroking his beard. "I do not know if Qitian learned it, but only Zhu Changsheng left after mastering it here."

Little Purple asked, "How many years did Zhu Changsheng spend?"

"Eight hundred."

"What? Eight hundred years? How did he not die?" It was Zhao Zhen who spoke; he had always been obsessed with longevity. Could it be that Zhu Changsheng had achieved immortality?

Little Purple added, "I remember now, the ancestor of the Jiao Hao Sect abdicated less than two hundred years after founding the sect. Could it be that his time had run out? Tsk tsk, what meaning is there in that? Most of his life was spent."

Zhao Zhen replied earnestly, "If you don't practice, you might not even have two hundred years of carefree time, and besides, he only abdicated; it doesn't necessarily mean he died."