jdhmnovel Chapter 360 A Drill of Getting Beaten Up! (Page 12)
Chapter 360 A Drill of Getting Beaten Up! (Page 12)
The pages of the Nine Yin Manual in Zhang Yun's black-clad hands moved without wind, and the golden tadpole-like runes that had been swimming suddenly trembled violently, as if drawn by some supreme law.
They intertwined and recombine wildly, outlining a mysterious and unpredictable meridian diagram in the void—the pattern constantly twisted and changed, sometimes resembling the underworld, sometimes like a celestial palace, with the concept of the six realms of reincarnation appearing and disappearing within it.
"Om-"
The space suddenly emitted a mournful cry of unbearable strain.
All the golden runes suddenly collapsed, condensing into a dazzling golden fist imprint in Zhang Yun's palm!
The fist imprint was no bigger than a fist, yet it seemed to bear the weight of the six realms of reincarnation, with six distinct Daoist auras flowing across its surface: "Heaven, Man, Asura, Animal, Hungry Ghost, and Hell".
Wherever the fist struck, even light was distorted and collapsed, forming circles of pitch-black ripples in spacetime.
"Daozang Reincarnation Fist!"
Zhang Yun, dressed in black, spoke with the voice of a judge from the underworld, declaring life and death. Before his fist was even unleashed, the ground of the entire training ground began to crack and sink.
Suddenly, Baili Pangpang, who was watching the battle from a distance, clutched his chest, his fat face draining of all color—the "death" law flowing within him had frozen itself at that moment!
"Starting with Yin, the Six Paths evolve..." Zhang Yun, dressed in black, slowly brought his fist to his waist. This simple movement completely disrupted the gravity field within a hundred meters.
The training equipment floated into the air, Cao Yuan's black sword was uncontrollably drawn three inches from its sheath, and Jia Lan's golden energy was forcibly forced back into his body.
"—Reincarnation!"
Punch out!
There was no earth-shattering explosion, only a soft "crack" like glass shattering.
Where the golden fist imprint passed, space peeled away layer by layer like a shattered mirror.
The six alternating phantoms behind it were revealed: the Heavenly Path of Holy Light shines everywhere, the Human Path of Mortal Dust is vast and boundless, the Asura Path of War burns the sky... and finally all collapsed into a single point of light that was pitch black to the extreme.
"boom!!!"
The alloy target 300 meters away vanished silently, not broken, but completely erased at the atomic level.
Even more terrifying, six black hole vortexes, each ten meters in diameter, appeared behind the target stand, each reflecting a different cycle of reincarnation.
"This...this..." Zhou Ping, who has always been socially awkward, could not even hold his sword steady at this moment. The ancient sword "Cheng Ying" let out a whimper like a young beast in his hand.
He huddled in the corner, shaking his head frantically, his voice trembling with tears: "This student is too abnormal! He can learn this kind of martial art just by reading a novel?!"
An Qingyu's glasses shattered with a "crack," but he seemed oblivious, muttering blankly, "It's not an adaptation... it's a direct alteration of the underlying logic of martial arts..."
The copy of "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils" in Lin Qiye's hand suddenly burst into flames, and Duan Yu's portrait showed a terrified expression in the flames before turning to ashes in the blink of an eye.
Zhang Yun, dressed in black, withdrew his fist and stood up, watching the fading illusory image of reincarnation on his fist. Suddenly, he turned to Zhou Ping and revealed a devilish smile: "Teacher, is this class... still going to be held?"
With a "whoosh," Zhou Ping leaped onto the roof beam, clinging to it like a frightened cat, only half his head sticking out as he frantically shook his head.
Time slipped by quietly as everyone immersed themselves in the world of the novel.
The only sounds in the training ground were the rustling of pages turning and the occasional smacking of Baili Pangpang gnawing on a chicken leg.
Zhang Yun, dressed in black, leaned against the wall, the Nine Yin Manual spread out and covering his face. His breathing was so even that he seemed to be asleep—if one ignored the golden runes that flashed around him from time to time.
"Alright, next, we'll conduct a live-fire exercise!"
Sword Saint Zhou Ping suddenly spoke, his voice as soft as a feather, yet everyone simultaneously closed their books.
Lin Qiye's "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils" was still at the "Six Meridian Divine Sword" chapter, while An Qingyu's "The Three-Body Problem" had just turned to the "Dark Forest Theory" section.
Everyone nodded in unison, and the atmosphere in the training ground instantly became tense. Cao Yuan's black blade was already humming, and Jia Lan's golden energy flowed between his fingers.
But the next second—
"But before we begin..." Zhou Ping suddenly became hesitant, tapping his two index fingers together, his voice trailing off, "I still have something important to do..."
The training ground was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The swordsman, capable of cleaving through the clouds with a single strike, now hung his head like a child who had done something wrong, an unnatural blush rising on his cheeks: "I... I haven't cleaned the kitchen yet..."
"Huh?!" The chicken leg in Baili Pangpang's mouth fell to the ground with a "thud".
Garan's golden energy dissipated with a "poof," and Cao Yuan's black blade slammed into his foot with a "clang," yet he forgot to cry out in pain.
Even Lin Qiye, who is usually calm, had his eyes twitch violently twice.
Before anyone could react, Zhou Ping had already dashed into the kitchen, leaving behind only a fleeting "It'll be ready soon."
......
Half an hour later.
Outside the training ground, Baili Pangpang squatted on the ground drawing circles: "This takes even longer than last time waiting for Jialan to get her makeup done..."
The kitchen, however, was lit with warm lights.
Zhou Ping, wearing an apron with cartoon cat prints, was wiping the stove inch by inch with a white towel.
His movements were as gentle as if he were maintaining a famous sword; he even used cotton swabs dipped in alcohol to clean the gaps in the range hood.
The stainless steel cookware was polished until it reflected a person's image, and the condiment bottles were arranged in a rainbow pattern according to their colors.
“Oil stains... are a swordsman’s greatest enemy…” He examined the tiles against the light and suddenly discovered a stain the size of a sesame seed. He immediately drew his sword as if facing a formidable enemy.
The ancient sword in his hand transformed into a thin blade, precisely scraping away the stubborn stain.
An Qingyu, peeking through the window, sighed and asked, "Using a sword... to scrape off the oil stains?"
By the time Zhou Ping finally folded the rag into the shape of a swan and arranged it properly, the sun had already set.
His face flushed, he ran back to the training field, and under the numb gazes of everyone, he whispered his explanation: "If the kitchen is clean... the food will taste better..."
"Alright, everything is ready. Let's have a practical exercise! Who wants to go first?" Zhou Ping clapped his hands, his voice as gentle as if he were inviting everyone to have some tea.
The group looked at each other, their gazes shifting among themselves.
Finally, Shen Qingzhu took a deep breath and walked out, carrying the jet-black straight sword.
The blade emitted a clear, resonant dragon's roar as it was drawn from its sheath, its cold light tracing a chilling arc across the training ground.
Seeing this, Zhou Ping slowly took one out of his pocket—
Chopsticks.
That's right, it's just an ordinary bamboo chopstick, with some chili oil still on it, obviously just taken from the kitchen.
An eerie silence fell over the entire training ground. Half a biscuit, still inside Baili Pangpang's gaping mouth, fell to the ground with a "thud."
Garan's golden energy suddenly became chaotic, almost setting his hair on fire;
Even Lin Qiye, who is usually expressionless, twitched his eyes almost imperceptibly.
Shen Qingzhu's hand holding the knife froze in mid-air, a rare look of confusion appearing on his usually cold face: "Senior... what is this?"
Zhou Ping scratched his head somewhat embarrassedly, his voice growing softer and softer:
"Um... if I use a sword..." He glanced furtively at Shen Qingzhu's black straight blade, then suddenly shuddered. "I... I might accidentally hurt you..."
"Crack!"
The Coke can in Baili Pangpang's hand was crushed.
An Qingyu adjusted her glasses, the lenses reflecting a white light: "According to calculations, Senior Zhou Ping's combat power fluctuation value when using chopsticks is 0.0001% of that when using the Cheng Ying Sword."
Veins bulged on Shen Qingzhu's forehead, and the patterns on the Black Moon Blade suddenly glowed with a scarlet light: "Senior, please do not hold back."
“But…” Zhou Ping looked at the tip of the chopsticks with a troubled expression, then his eyes suddenly lit up.
With a slight flick of his wrist, the ordinary chopstick suddenly emitted a clear, melodious sword cry, and a three-inch-long transparent sword aura extended from the tip of the chopstick, refracting a seven-colored halo in the sunlight.
"Is this alright now?" He shook the glowing chopsticks happily, like a child showing off a new toy. "I deliberately suppressed the sword energy to the level of a kitchen knife!"
Zhang Yun, dressed in black, suddenly laughed, his red robe billowing as he leaped onto the wall: "I suggest you run! Last time he said 'cleaver level'..."
Before he finished speaking, the chopsticks in Zhou Ping's hand suddenly burst forth with a hundred-meter-long sword light, instantly carving a deep trench in the training ground.
Shen Qingzhu's black moon blade trembled with terror, while the culprit waved his hands in a panic, "I'm so sorry! My hand slipped!"
From afar came Baili Pangpang's scream: "This is called a kitchen knife?! This is a dragon-slaying sword!!"
Shen Qingzhu's lips twitched slightly, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the Black Moon Blade. He forced a stiff smile:
"N-nothing, senior, let's continue!" His calves trembled involuntarily as he caught a glimpse of the terrifying, hundred-meter-long sword wound beside him. "But senior, you have to... hold back... I... I can't withstand your sword energy..."
Upon hearing this, Zhou Ping immediately nodded repeatedly like a child who had done something wrong, and hurriedly tried to suppress the sword energy on his chopsticks.
The once flickering, three-inch sword light has now shrunk to a pitiful one centimeter, like a tiny candle that could be extinguished at any moment.
"Is this...is this okay?" Zhou Ping asked cautiously, his voice so soft it was as if he were afraid of disturbing something.
Shen Qingzhu took a deep breath, her eyes suddenly sharpening.
The dark patterns on the straight sword glowed with a scarlet light, like veins, and the surrounding air began to distort—
"Qi Min!"
With a low shout, the air within a ten-meter radius was instantly compressed to its maximum!
The training ground floor cracked open with a spiderweb-like pattern, and dozens of visible transparent air blasts condensed around Shen Qingzhu, each containing terrifying pressure enough to blast through steel plates.
"go with!"
The air bomb roared out, drawing a strange vacuum trajectory in the air!
Zhou Ping blinked.
With a slight flick of his wrist, the seemingly frail chopstick suddenly traced a mysterious arc—
"Boom."
A soft, almost imperceptible sound.
It's like popping a soap bubble.
All the air bombs vanished in the same instant, without even causing a ripple.
Shen Qingzhu remained in the stance of drawing her sword, her expression frozen between shock and bewilderment.
"Clap."
A bead of cold sweat slid down his forehead and hit the ground.
Zhou Ping put down his chopsticks somewhat embarrassedly: "Um... shall we continue?"
The training ground was completely silent.
Baili Pangpang's chicken leg fell to the ground, An Qingyu's glasses slipped down to the tip of her nose, and even Zhang Yun in black raised an eyebrow.
Shen Qingzhu silently sheathed her sword, turned around and walked back to the ranks, her steps unsteady as if she were walking on cotton.
As he passed the hundred-meter-long sword mark, he subtly moved two steps to the side.
"Who's next?" Zhou Ping asked weakly, when the chopsticks in his hand accidentally emitted a three-meter-long sword aura, startling him so much that he quickly covered it with his other hand.
Everyone took a step back in unison, their movements so synchronized as if they had rehearsed.
Lin Qiye silently turned to the page of "Lingbo Weibu" in "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils" and began to study it carefully.
Just when the atmosphere reached its peak—
"Qiang!"
A clear, resonant sound of a blade suddenly rang out!
Cao Yuan steeled himself and stepped out of the ranks, his well-defined fingers slowly gripping the hilt of the black sword.