Zhao Mu didn't sleep the whole night.
Having just awakened his Spiritual Energy, he was too excited; the yard echoed with the sound of him drilling Combat Techniques until dawn.
Fists, grappling, weapons—he'd trained the skill [Seven Kills] for ten years, so its proficiency started out remarkably high.
Thus, in a single night he pushed [Seven Kills] to a new level: proficiency 125.
Because it was a personal, exclusive skill with no higher form, the name stayed the same.
During breaks he also raised [Strength]; proficiency hit 85!
One hundred proficiency is the limit of human physique.
That's an absolute ceiling for Acquired cultivators; even melee-type Ability Users can only reach 100 without channeling Spirit Power.
Yet Zhao Mu became the only person alive who could surpass that physical limit.
Bu Yanhuan, who'd stayed up with him, watched his transformation grow ever more shocked.
A [Seven Kills] more perfect than perfect.
The ultimate technique she'd spent seventeen years perfecting had been effortlessly eclipsed by Zhao Mu!
Zhao Mu twirled a wooden blade, grinning at Bu Yanhuan.
"Aunt Bu, care for another round?"
Seeing the excitement in his eyes, Bu Yanhuan curled her lips in a cold smile, kicked off her slippers, and stepped barefoot onto the courtyard stones.
"Brat, you've learned to push your luck! Watch how I deal with you!"
She snatched a feather duster from nearby; Zhao Mu's pupils shrank at the sight.
Aunt Bu's duster had been his decade-long nightmare—daily training tool that left him black and blue.
But recalling his new [Seven Kills] proficiency, Zhao Mu puffed out his chest.
"Aunt Bu, watch yourself!"
He slowly traced a half-circle with his right hand; the simple Move startled her.
A flawless opening stance—no weaker than hers, even more perfect.
"Stinker,"
she muttered with a laugh, then whipped the duster and shot forward like a whirlwind.
Duster and wooden blade shrieked through the air, clashing relentlessly, each strike aimed at vital points.
Bu Yanhuan knew Zhao Mu's level; as long as she didn't channel Spirit Power, she couldn't hurt him.
So this time she fought seriously, holding nothing back.
Clean cracks rang out as wood and feathers collided again and again.
Every Move of hers missed Zhao Mu by a hair, always a fraction too late.
It shocked her deeply.
"Aunt Bu, heads up!"
Zhao Mu's attack suddenly sped up; seeing the wooden blade streak toward her chest, she hastily parried.
Within thirty exchanges she was on the defensive!
Bu Yanhuan finally realized how terrifying Zhao Mu's [demon clown] gift was.
In one night he'd broken the limit of [Seven Kills] she hadn't surpassed in seventeen years!
It also granted her new insight into [Seven Kills].
The thought made her own Moves turn eager.
Clack-clack-clack! Neither used Spirit Energy; they fought with pure technique, looking like street brawlers—simple, direct, anything but flashy.
Yet to a true expert every Move was lethal, designed solely to kill.
After three hundred exchanges Bu Yanhuan flipped backward in a fluent arc, landing five meters away.
She tossed the duster aside and clapped her hands. "I'm tired. Done!"
Zhao Mu chuckled. "No winner yet?"
Bu Yanhuan shot him a glare. "Don't get cocky. [Seven Kills] is only for building combat sense and physique; how you develop it later is up to you."
"A strong body and smooth Moves won't save you from top Spirit Power Users—Spirit Energy is the root of everything!"
Zhao Mu flicked his wooden blade back to the rack without looking; it slid neatly into place.
He nodded. "I understand."
Aunt Bu had only sparred in technique; if she'd meant to kill, even with a duster she could've ended him in seconds.
He'd seen firsthand how ruthless this woman could be.
Years ago, to temper his ferocity and get him meat for nutrition, she'd taken him to Blood Bone Mountain near Lujiang City to hunt the beasts there.
Before Bu Yanhuan, those savage creatures that cost Lujiang a fortune in defense had trembled so hard they soiled themselves.
Bu Yanhuan looked at him. "At Qingfeng Camp's entrance trial you'll meet Geniuses from every district of Lujiang City—people who already use Spirit Power."
"Your base is low; an Awakening Combat Level of 1 means your total Spirit Energy is weaker."
"Have you figured out how to fix that?"
Zhao Mu smiled calmly. "Relax." He glanced at his hands; faint Spirit Energy flickered beneath the skin. "My Spiritual Energy Introduction proficiency is already 12, and every circulation raises it further. Within a week I'll max it out, and raising my Combat Level will be easy!"
Bu Yanhuan nodded. "Good."
As they spoke, a greeting came from outside the yard.
"Morning, Miss Bu, Xiao Mu."
Zhao Mu turned to see their neighbor who brewed liquor: Uncle Xie.
In his forties, his face was already lined, a metal prosthetic showing below one trouser leg.
Old Xie had served on the front lines twenty-plus years ago and, lucky enough to finish five years, had returned—minus a leg.
Now he made his living brewing. Aunt Bu often bought his wine, so they were all well acquainted.
"Morning, Uncle Xie."
Zhao Mu greeted politely.
Old Xie approached, studied Zhao Mu with a trace of pity, and produced a white porcelain bottle from his coat.
Over the wall he handed it to Zhao Mu. "Xiao Mu, I heard about your Awakening. Keep a calm heart; in any case you've stepped into the Spirit Energy User realm—already better than us common grunts."
"This is my treasured Bailu Wine. No hangover; wake up clear-headed. If you feel down, have a sip."