Chapter Ten: The Nameless Heart Technique

Luo Chen’s head throbbed with pain. Ever since he had escaped from the Hungry Ghost Marsh, inexplicable events had unfolded one after another. He tried to remove the ring from his finger to inspect it closely, but no matter how hard he pulled—nearly wrenching his finger off in the attempt—the ring would not budge, as if it had become part of his flesh. In the end, Luo Chen gave up, deciding to leave it on for now since it didn’t seem to affect him. Still, not knowing the ring’s origin left him uneasy. He planned to apply some oil to it back at the dormitory later in hopes of slipping it off. For the time being, he needed to review his cultivation progress.

He pushed himself upright and fished a mechanical watch from his breast pocket. The watch was a relic from the ancient civilization era. Many inventions from that time had been lost, but the craft of mechanical watches had survived, recreated by artisans who essentially replicated old designs. Of course, such handcrafted watches were expensive—well beyond Luo Chen’s means. He had acquired this one as a boy during his wandering years: the small city where he had stayed was destroyed by a beast, and as he fled with the crowd, he had found the watch on the corpse of a wealthy man.

“One hour and twelve minutes!”

The time shown was precise. Luo Chen quickly deduced that his training beneath the waterfall had lasted exactly one hour and twelve minutes this time. This result surprised him. Before the internship assignment, he could only last about an hour and five minutes before exhaustion set in, but now he’d managed seven minutes more. Considering the other factors—the torrential storm tonight had made the waterfall’s flow fiercer than usual, and Luo Chen, venting anger and frustration, had trained with relentless intensity, barely pausing for breath. The distance he managed to walk, holding his breath at the heart of Thunderclap Falls, was also farther than before.

Taking all these into account, the results were indeed remarkable.

“Could it be that after the internship, I’ve made a dramatic leap forward?” Luo Chen muttered to himself.

Was the effect of that trial truly so profound? He found it hard to believe.

“Fierce storms cannot quell my passion; savage beasts cannot diminish my courage; thorn-ridden paths cannot halt my steps! The wild winds sing for me, lightning points the way—under heaven’s canopy, upon earth’s bed, I am a fearless adventurer, braving the endless wilds, sailing the boundless sea…”

Singing the widely known “Song of the Brave” in a voice as grating as a duck’s quack, Luo Chen returned to the dormitory. Shi Feng was nowhere to be seen—the fellow was a notorious womanizer, and it seemed he’d scored again tonight and would not be coming back. The fact that his friend hadn’t come to comfort him after his ordeal was infuriating—some friend, putting women above all else! Still, with rumors spreading, Luo Chen worried whether Shi Feng would still want to be friends.

Surely, that guy would believe him, right?

Luo Chen and Shi Feng often cooked in the dorm, so they had cooking oil on hand. He dabbed some on the ring and, after thoroughly lubricating it, tried again to remove it. The ring, however, clung stubbornly to his finger, as if it had taken root. He fetched some small tools and tried prying and twisting it off, but nothing worked. In the end, he slumped in defeat.

This was beyond strange—the ring was definitely unusual.

Thinking back, Luo Chen remembered that he hadn’t been wearing the ring during the internship mission. Yes, it must have happened when he fell into the Hungry Ghost Marsh, though he hadn’t noticed it at the time.

His miraculous survival from the marsh was surely linked to the mysterious ring—of that, Luo Chen was almost certain.

He examined the ring carefully. Its texture was peculiar—unlike metal, for its surface was warm to the touch. He drew a knife and cautiously scraped it, but couldn’t even make a scratch—the material was clearly very hard, yet oddly light. Wearing it was almost like wearing nothing; it felt as if it were part of his body. In fact, until he’d seen it, Luo Chen had been unaware of its presence.

Beyond this, he could glean nothing more.

Exhausted from his training, Luo Chen washed up briefly and went to bed. His sleep was far from restful; as the saying goes, what occupies the mind by day haunts the dreams by night. He dreamed of being hunted in the Forest of Fear by that raging beast, then the scene shifted—he was back at Weston Academy, with everyone pointing at him in scorn and shouting, “Luo Chen, how could you abandon Ellie? Are you even a man?”

The entire night passed amid these muddled nightmares. When Luo Chen awoke, the heavy night had faded, and the sky was tinged with the first blush of dawn—daybreak was close at hand.

Dawn was crucial for psionic warriors. At this hour, the human mind was at its sharpest, and the ambient energy of heaven and earth was at its peak—both conditions optimal for absorbing spiritual energy.

However frustrated he felt, Luo Chen could not truly allow himself to fall into despair. He rolled out of bed, preparing for his daily breathing exercises.

Breathing exercises were the foundation of all cultivation techniques. Weston Academy’s method was called the Cloud Breath Formula, a technique developed by the Martial Hall of the Eternal Alliance’s Ancient Martial Arts Research Division—refined, improved, distilled, and perfected over centuries.

The Martial Hall was the most authoritative martial arts institution of the Eternal Alliance, gathering numerous grandmasters and superhuman experts. It arose soon after Earth underwent cataclysmic changes. At that time, Earth’s qigong masters—the first psionic warriors—emerged: the high monks of the Shaolin Temple from the dragon-emblazoned nation, ascetic yogis from one of Africa’s great countries, Thai boxers and karate practitioners from a small East Asian nation, as well as many hidden martial arts masters from across the world—all gained the power of spiritual energy. Their survival rates far exceeded those of ordinary people.

After the Great Catastrophe, fearing human extinction, martial artists from various countries united to form the Martial Hall, selflessly sharing and integrating their techniques. Ultimately, they succeeded in developing a method for absorbing spiritual energy, which they spread far and wide, teaching it to others.

Under the guidance of the Martial Hall, the new humanity rapidly grew stronger, gaining the power to resist the beast hordes, survive the crisis, and reclaim their future. Without the Martial Hall, humanity would not exist as it did today. Because of its immense contributions, the Martial Hall became an exalted institution in the Eternal Alliance, revered by all. Every psionic warrior regarded it as the Mecca of the martial path.

The Cloud Breath Formula was created by the Martial Hall. While it was not an advanced technique, its strength lay in its accessibility and effectiveness—even those with modest aptitude could quickly master it.

Yet the Cloud Breath Formula was merely a stepping stone for ordinary people becoming psionic warriors. Because students from different academies had varying physiques and training regimens, their progress and approaches varied; what worked for one might not suit another. Blind imitation could lead one astray, so experienced breathing technique instructors at Weston Academy were needed to offer guidance tailored to each student.

Before beginning the Cloud Breath Formula, Luo Chen reviewed the advice that Instructor Hogg had given him a few days prior. Suddenly, he was stunned.

New insights had surfaced in his memory—ones he was certain had not come from Instructor Hogg. Luo Chen’s memory was reliable; other than Hogg, no one else had ever taught him breathing techniques. So where had these insights come from?