Chapter Nine: Please Call Me Your Highness (Part One)

With a barely audible sigh, Jiang An appeared on a descending stone staircase. Just a simple wall-passing technique had drained the last trace of spiritual power in his body—what a dreadful environment for spiritual energy!

How much better things were in the Celestial Pavilion.

For Jiang An, now bound by numerous seals and restrictions, this was a true reflection of his inner state. The Celestial Pavilion technique, along with the Breaking the Heavens technique he had used earlier to awaken the tiger's intelligence, belonged to two of the four styles of the Celestial Record. In the classification of the Immortal Realm, these were ranked as “Divine Arts,” a realm between immortal and daoist techniques. Currently, he could not use the Breaking the Heavens technique; the only one left to him was the Celestial Pavilion, for this technique was the foundation of his Dao, the source of all arts, seamlessly fused with his soul, making soul and technique one. Thus, all other arts were repelled, and he could use it under any circumstance.

Celestial Pavilion, on the surface, meant kneeling in worship to the heavens, but in truth, it was a marvelously subtle divine art for manipulating void gravity. At his current cultivation, Jiang An could control gravity within a radius of three meters around him, increasing it up to three times the normal force. Gravity is a force from above to below—when he used the Celestial Pavilion, every object within three meters would be crushed by triple gravity. The subtlety lay in his ability to control the range and intensity, as he had just done to that spoiled youth: with a thought, he imposed a single fold of gravity above the man's head. Others could not sense it, but the target would feel a dominant force pressing down, and their soul would be flooded with deep, primal awe, as if facing a god who held countless lives in his hands. Both body and mind would submit and kneel!

At his peak, Jiang An could have used Celestial Pavilion to bring the moon crashing down upon the earth.

Now, Jiang An stood midway up the stone stairs. Above him was the gatekeeper, who clearly hadn’t noticed his entrance. Below, a few meters down, the stairs bent around a corner. Without hesitation, Jiang An headed downward.

“Who’s there!”

Beyond the corner lay a hall of several tens of square meters, paved entirely with stone slabs, devoid of any decoration or furniture; at the far end stood a table and a chair. On the chair, a handsome young man with earrings was feasting on a roasted chicken, his mouth greasy. In front of him, two rows of men in suits wielded long knives, nine per row. As Jiang An appeared at the entrance, the man eating chicken sensed something, abruptly looked up, and barked a warning, his gaze icy and severe.

Jiang An’s eyes immediately caught the iron door behind the man; he frowned slightly—clearly, he would need to defeat these men first.

Seeing the newcomer remain silent, the chicken-eating man narrowed his eyes. Suddenly, his right hand flicked, and with a burst of wind, he hurled a chicken bone like a hidden weapon at Jiang An to test him. To his astonishment, the bone, flying like a dagger, fell abruptly to the ground a meter before Jiang An, with a quiet “snap,” as if a helicopter had suddenly lost power.

The chicken-eating man gritted his teeth. The newcomer stood tall, hands at his sides, expressionless, and walked forward.

“The mat’s spiked! Everyone, attack—use the Six Harmonies Blade Array!”

With a command, the eighteen knife-wielding men sprang into action, blades flashing, shadows dancing, quickly encircling Jiang An. Six per circle, each circle’s blade work and movement differed, yet they were subtly linked. Danger lurked from all directions; even a master of internal strength would find it hard to withstand such a barrage.

Meanwhile, the chicken-eating man vanished, hiding somewhere, waiting for a deadly strike.

Jiang An did not blink, nor did he bother to subdue them with fists and kicks like Wong Fei-hung—how undignified that would be. Instead, he raised his right hand, palm forward. The knife-wielders tensed, ready to respond to his move. But then—

His palm closed: Celestial Pavilion!

Boom! Dust billowed.

It was as if invisible hands pressed down upon them. The knife-wielders were instantly flattened, faces to the ground, unable to move, wailing in terror.

“Impossible…”

A voice from the shadows escaped. A breeze swept past; Jiang An’s left hand flashed, leaving a faint afterimage. Pausing, he saw his index and middle fingers tightly gripping a shining knife blade, the other end held by the chicken-eating man’s incredulous face. The man’s muscles strained as he pulled with all his strength, but the blade seemed rooted between Jiang An’s fingers, unmoving.

“You too—kneel. I have shown mercy.”

No sooner had Jiang An spoken than the chicken-eating man's body crashed to the ground, listening to the earth, yet stubbornly shouted, “Who are you? Why are you so strong? Why?!”

Jiang An smiled silently. With a thought, the Celestial Pavilion’s gravity vanished. Those prone on the ground felt the “Five Elements Mountain” lift from their bodies, struggled to stand, but dared not pick up their knives, retreating in terror.

“Come, lead me to your boss. The rest of you stay here—do not move.”

Jiang An picked up the chicken-eating man with one hand. With the other, he struck forward; a powerful gust burst forth, and with a thunderous crash, the iron door ahead shattered and flew away, revealing a dim passage.

Strolling toward the opening, Jiang An entered without fear. Before he could take in the scene, three shots rang out nearly simultaneously.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three bullets, spinning swiftly, struck his wrist, forehead, and heart!

Yet, the hidden gunman could not smile, for Jiang An vanished like a bubble the instant he was hit, only to appear unharmed at the right side of his original position.

“Shifting positions! Good. Put down Chaozi and fight me!”

A hoarse voice accompanied a tall figure stepping from the shadows. This man stood nearly two meters, robust and muscular, appearing about thirty or forty, his features quite decent save for a scar two fingers wide on his left cheek. His powerful hands each gripped a black pistol, his expression calm, exuding fierce confidence.

Interesting—martial arts combined with firearms.

Jiang An loosened his grip, dropping the chicken-eating man, who coughed and said, “Brother Yang, this man is too strong. I couldn’t stop him. I’ve brought shame to Boss Dao!”

“I’ll handle it,” the scarred man replied coldly, his sharp gaze fixed on Jiang An, searching for an opening. He suspected this was a martial grandmaster, but believed he still had a slim chance, bolstered by the twin pistols he’d wielded for ten years.

The path of martial arts was vast and perilous, but modern firearms could defeat the strong with the weak. The scarred man had combined both, honing his marksmanship to perfection with the physique of a master. He was unmatched—even the king of soldiers in the army couldn’t rival him.

This intruder seemed young; even if he was a grandmaster, he must be newly advanced. There was a thirty percent chance to injure him…

So thinking, the scarred man suddenly sprang into action. His hands flitted like butterflies, tongues of flame flashing in the gloom, bullets whizzing forth to seal every escape around Jiang An.

The scarred man knew how hard it was to wound a grandmaster in one strike. After firing ten shots in succession, he retreated into darkness, constantly shifting his position, leveraging his gunman’s advantage for a drawn-out assault.

Indeed, the ten shots struck only the intruder’s afterimage—his movement was too swift, already vanished from sight. The scarred man’s heart grew heavier; he heightened his senses, continuing to look for an opening.

Then—

A faint exhalation sounded behind him. The scarred man plunged into icy dread, hair standing on end, instinctively attempted to dodge, but it was too late. A hand chop from the darkness struck his neck, knocking him unconscious. His massive body crashed to the floor.

“Brother Yang!”

The chicken-eating man, now able to move, cried out in panic, ready to rush Jiang An desperately.

“Chaozi, stand down—you’re no match,”

An aged sigh quelled Chaozi’s impulse. Then, the chamber’s lights came on, illuminating an old man.

The elder sat on a stone bed in the corner, surrounded by transparent bulletproof glass, apparently in the midst of crucial training. Yet his face was gray and disappointed, clearly having failed.

“To invite a grandmaster to kill me—I suppose it’s worth it. Are you sent by Bai Feihu or Feng Qianrui?” The elder stood and left the enclosure. He was broad and burly, his grizzled beard imposing, though his eyes now held only resignation and unwillingness.

“Are you Boss Dao?” Jiang An asked with interest.

“I am. I’ve practiced martial arts for nearly fifty years, but my talent is limited; I never broke through that barrier. You, so young, have surpassed me already—how enviable.” Boss Dao smiled as he approached, displaying the ease of a gang leader. “No matter. I’ve failed to break through—there’s no advancing in this life. If I must die, I only ask you spare my men…”

“Don’t say that, Boss Dao. With all the commotion, those above must know. I bet Brother Jun has led the gang to surround us—we still have a chance!” Chaozi said, gritting his teeth.

“A grandmaster is like a dragon—no matter how many people come, it’s useless!” Boss Dao shook his head with a bitter smile.

“You two are talking too much—do you take me for nothing?”

Jiang An’s quiet remark silenced the pair, thickening the tension. Then Jiang An broke into a smile, “I did not come here to kill. Otherwise, I would not have shown mercy; you would all be corpses by now.”

Indeed, Jiang An had not killed a single person since his arrival. This reignited hope in Boss Dao, who asked, “We were reckless. What is your purpose, then?”

“A transaction—a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“You serve me, and I’ll bring you great success!” Jiang An declared. “For example, I can let you break through to the grandmaster realm instantly!”

“What?! Impossible!” Boss Dao’s eyes lit up, but he quickly denied it. “You jest. If it were so easy to reach the grandmaster realm, there wouldn’t be so few grandmasters in the world.”

“Frog in a well! If I’m not mistaken, you’ve already used true energy to open all your major acupoints, but you can’t link their energy flows into a self-sustaining cycle, hence your bottleneck.” Jiang An, though unfamiliar with martial arts, knew that mastering one law meant mastering all. He had traveled countless realms, seen myriad races, studied countless secret arts—this crude true energy refinement was obvious to him.

“Exactly! Senior, do you truly have a way?” The elder heard the confidence in Jiang An’s words, his heart pounding, disregarded the age gap, and addressed him as “senior.”

“Haha!”

Jiang An laughed, did not answer, but suddenly flashed to the elder’s side, sealed his acupoints, then thrust three long needles into his scalp, finally released him, and said, “Sit and meditate, attack your bottleneck again!”

With the three needles vibrating, the elder sensed a cool energy rising inside, flowing downward from his head, making thirty-six acupoints itch. He rejoiced, immediately sat cross-legged on the floor to cultivate.

Half an hour passed; the elder remained motionless, his face calm.

Jiang An stood with hands clasped behind his back, expressionless. Chaozi watched nervously, sometimes glancing warily at Jiang An.

After a quarter hour, the elder’s expression shifted; his eyes snapped open, glowing brilliantly. He growled, “Break!”

Suddenly, a breeze rose from nowhere, stirring his robe. Wisps of pale energy spiraled around him, lifting his body a foot off the ground. At last, all energy converged atop his head, surging through the three needles into his body. In that moment, Chaozi seemed to hear a shattering in the void, then the air exploded, and he was flung several meters away by the pressure.

Whoosh—

All fell silent. The elder gently landed, staring silently at his hands, feeling the endless, vigorous true energy within, murmuring, “I… I really broke through?”

“Haha! I broke through! I am a grandmaster now!”

The elder laughed skyward, decades-long dreams fulfilled—his excitement and joy beyond words.

“Disciple thanks his benefactor!”

After his frenzy, the elder remembered who had granted him this realm, bowing low to Jiang An in gratitude.

But—

“Disciple? No, I do not accept disciples. Serving as a slave beneath me is an option,” Jiang An replied, his words both gracious and intimidating. He had given kindness; now came the authority.