Chapter 2: Nine Cycles Heaven-Plundering Scripture

Evan Norman lifted a brow, disbelief flashing across his face. He and Lucian Sabey had always been rivals. Last year, Evan had beaten him fair and square for the single slot, earning the right to represent the fifteen-year-old students of Stellar Gale Academy at the Martial Arts Tournament in the Imperial City. It had been a clean competition. Did that really warrant Lucian wanting him dead? Evan drew a slow breath. The reason no longer mattered. What mattered was how he was going to defuse the crisis bearing down on him. Nine Cycles Heaven-Plundering Scripture! That was the mysterious Cultivation Method Colin Umpleby had obtained, the very thing that had even led to that powerhouse's death. It was Evan's only lifeline. At Stellar Gale Academy, and even across the entire Splendid Origin Kingdom, martial artists could only cultivate through Physical Art. They relied on brutal training, breaking the body's limit again and again, forcing strength to climb to absurd heights. That was why, after Evan's leg and arm meridians were injured, he could no longer cultivate and became a half-cripple. But the Nine Cycles Heaven-Plundering Scripture seized the world's Spiritual Energy and made it one's own. Its mysteries ran bottomless. In Colin Umpleby's memories, Evan even saw it clearly: cultivating with a Cultivation Method was the true path. Physical Art was only support. Yet the Martial Way in Splendid Origin Kingdom treated the support as the main road, and people had practically never even heard the name "Cultivation Method." Evan had no idea why. The formula of the Nine Cycles Heaven-Plundering Scripture flickered through his mind. Colin Umpleby had only memorized it. He had never had time to cultivate it. That meant Evan could only reconstruct it, but as for understanding it, he had been completely at a loss. Strictly speaking, it was not a formula at all. It was a string of symbols, baffling and alien. And yet, when those symbols swept through his mind, Evan realized with a jolt that he knew exactly what to do. By Colin Umpleby's logic, the more profound a Cultivation Method was, the harder it should be to cultivate. Evan had grasped it without effort. Was it because the method was too low-grade? But Colin Umpleby had died because of it. How could it be low-grade? Nine cycles. Plunder the heavens. Evan tried to circulate the Cultivation Method. In an instant, his awareness stretched beyond his body, forming invisible feelers that spread outward. He saw another world. Energy filled everything. It drifted in the air, slept in the earth, shimmered in sunlight. Flowers, grass, and trees stored it within themselves, leaking only traces. Even every person was the same, carrying energy in their own way. With a single thought, his soul became a net and drew the nearby energy back. Boom! The energy crashed into his body, surging with his blood. At a terrifying speed, it reinforced Evan's physique. When the last of it was absorbed, his awareness unfurled again, reaching outward once more. Evan understood. One expansion, one contraction. That was one cycle. In that process, his body strengthened, and the price was the consumption of Soul Power. "Fifteen left!" Bowen Bennitt's voice rang in Evan's ear, clearly trying to needle him on purpose. Evan ignored him and circulated the Nine Cycles Heaven-Plundering Scripture again. Boom. A massive amount of energy was intercepted and used to temper his body. "Fourteen left," Bowen Bennitt called again, petty as ever. Third cycle, fourth cycle… ninth cycle! "Five left." Evan stopped circulating the Nine Cycles Heaven-Plundering Scripture. His Soul Power had run dry. No wonder it was called nine cycles. He could only run it nine times. After that, he could only wait for his Soul Power to recover. He clenched his fist, feeling the surging strength packed into his body. He had not even tested it yet, but he could feel it in his bones. His improvement was huge. "Bowen Bennitt," Evan said evenly. After absorbing Colin Umpleby's memories, he carried the steadiness of a true powerhouse. "Are you really going to keep sprinting down the road to your own death?" In his eyes, Bowen Bennitt was nothing but a dog on a leash. "Hah! You still dare threaten me?" Bowen Bennitt threw his head back and laughed. He even spread his hands toward the crowd, as if astonished. "Did you hear that? The great genius Evan Norman is threatening me!" A few people laughed, but most shook their heads. Bowen Bennitt had gone too far. The girls especially stared at him like their eyes were blades. "Evan Norman, don't forget you're already a cripple!" Bowen Bennitt had no awareness of how ridiculous he looked. Stepping on his former boss felt too good. It made him practically float with satisfaction. "Let's make a bet," Evan said. "If I pass the yearly exam, you'll kneel on the ground and shout three times, 'Lucian Sabey is a bastard.' How about it?" Bowen Bennitt sneered. "Evan, at a time like this you're still dreaming? Fine. I'll bet. You're guaranteed to lose!" He did not even mention what Evan would pay if he lost. In Bowen Bennitt's eyes, Evan was no different from a dead man. "Evan Norman, step up for the test." A voice came from the front. Evan took a deep breath and strode forward. Outside the crowd stood a strength tester. Three academy teachers waited beside it. One recorded the results, while the other two supervised. "Identity verified. Correct," one teacher said with a nod. "Begin," the teacher with the record book told Evan. Evan stopped in front of the strength tester. It was simple. One punch into the impact plate. Force transferred, gears turned, and the needle stopped at the corresponding mark. He inhaled, steadying himself, then drove out his left fist. His right would not do. The meridians in that arm were damaged, and he could not exert strength at all. Thud! His punch slammed into the plate. The needle spun at once, slowed, and finally settled on a number. "One thousand nine hundred seventy-seven jin," the record-keeper read out, waiting for the other two teachers to confirm. Then he added, "Last year's yearly exam was one thousand five hundred six jin. That's an increase of a little over thirty percent." "Pass." He stared at Evan, shock plain on his face, because he knew Evan's condition better than anyone. He might not remember every student, but he would never forget Evan. Evan had once been the academy's genius, and he was handsome enough that one glance stuck in your mind. "What? One thousand nine hundred seventy-seven jin?" "How is that possible!" The students erupted, each more stunned than the last. "After last year's yearly exam, Evan only had three months left where he could still cultivate. The next nine months, he couldn't cultivate at all. His strength should've dropped." "Even if it didn't drop, you're telling me he raised his strength by thirty percent in three months? Kill me and I still won't believe it." "Yeah, impossible!" "The strength tester must be broken!" But the girls were practically glowing. Evan had passed, which meant he could stay in the academy at least another year. That gave them another year to steal the heart of their handsome idol. They immediately went to war with the boys, snapping back with startling ferocity. Bowen Bennitt froze too, never expecting this result. Then he hurriedly shouted, "The strength tester has to be broken. That number isn't accurate!" "Old Liang, is the strength tester malfunctioning?" one supervising teacher asked the record-keeper. The teachers all knew Evan's situation. "I'll test it." The record-keeper reset the needle to zero, then punched the impact plate. The needle whirled and stopped at five thousand five hundred jin. "Not broken," the record-keeper said. His strength had always hovered around five thousand five hundred jin. Not broken. The strength tester was not broken. The crowd roared again. This was like seeing a ghost.