Chapter 72: Compensation

The abrupt turn of events left Gao Wu and the others with no mood for reminiscing about the past. He turned to the old man and Shang Qingjun, saying, “It must be Song Chunqiu who’s taken action.” His use of Song Chunqiu’s full name bore no disrespect; he simply wanted to make things clear and avoid any misinterpretation from the old man or Sister Jun.

The old man thought for a moment and replied, “General Song is seasoned and decisive—he’ll handle this minor matter with no trouble.” Song Chunqiu was widely renowned in the military, and even though Shang Hongyi was now retired, he had heard of this figure. The Aurora Icefield was notoriously perilous, and Song Chunqiu’s command of an entire army was certainly not due to family background alone. Dealing with these demon god cultists should not pose much difficulty.

Furthermore, no one knew for sure what the current situation was. The old man needed to remain calm and set an example, lest Xiao Wu and Qingjun become alarmed.

“There are a lot of people involved. If even one slips through the net, it could spell trouble,” Gao Wu pointed out. “Tonight, let’s all stay on the second floor and keep our weapons close, just in case.” His coach, Huang Hai, was a demon god cultist—who could say if the man might, in a final act of madness, try to take revenge? The odds were slim, perhaps, but it was better not to take chances.

“That’s reasonable,” the old man agreed. Though unafraid, he dared not be careless. He went to his bedroom, opened the false bottom of the wardrobe, and retrieved three guns: a shotgun, a six-shooter, and an automatic pistol. As a retired soldier, he had a legal permit to carry firearms. With beasts running rampant and cultists stirring trouble, the authorities allowed enlisted soldiers, hunters, and specialized security to obtain gun permits to help maintain order.

Gao Wu was given a Flying Eagle Model 99 automatic pistol. As a military weapon, it weighed over two and a half pounds fully loaded and fired 13mm steel-core armor-piercing rounds—easily capable of killing large beasts like elephants or rhinos at close range. The military’s primary targets were exotic beasts, so their sidearms were all high-powered models. The greatest drawback of such weapons was their tendency toward mechanical failure.

Gao Wu felt a surge of excitement as he received the pistol, removing the magazine to check the gun and ammunition. High school students trained in live-fire shooting every year, and he had gone hunting in the mountains with the old man more than once, so he was no stranger to firearms. With his formidable strength and superhuman agility, so long as he understood the principles of shooting, he could easily become a skilled marksman.

Shang Qingjun also checked her Iron Python revolver with practiced ease. This was likewise a military weapon, rugged in appearance, and looked a bit unwieldy in her single hand. Still, she was strong enough to wield it without difficulty.

Because of the threat of exotic beasts, buildings in Dongjiang all had thick, reinforced doors and windows, and the second floor was fitted with an extra security gate. The three of them took some water and food upstairs, locked the security gate, and felt reasonably safe—even a forced entry would take time.

The old man, still uneasy, had Gao Wu and Shang Qingjun sit with him in the small upstairs lounge for quite a while. Not until midnight, with no unusual noises to be heard, did he finally allow them to rest.

Back in his room, Gao Wu checked the safety on his pistol once more before placing it on the bedside table. Such a powerful firearm was no joke; if it discharged accidentally and struck him in the head, he might not survive, no matter his strength. With the old man and Sister Jun in the house, he had to be all the more vigilant.

Lying in bed, Gao Wu found his mind too restless for sleep. He opened the Book of Boundless Merit, which now held 390,000 merit points. The surge was due to his high profile these past days, bringing in a host of new followers. His previous fans had mostly been teenagers, but things had changed.

People over thirty were generally indifferent to online news. But the Xuetao Cup was the most famous traditional martial arts competition in Dongjiang, with a history of fifty years and immense influence—truly a household name, its reach extending to surrounding counties and cities. His victory in the tournament had made him a local celebrity; the stories of his rescues and demon-slaying exploits were once again in the spotlight, earning him a large amount of merit.

The greatest share of merit, however, came from Tie Biao, who alone contributed a hundred thousand points. Even Zhang Hao, whom Gao Wu had slain, yielded nearly thirty thousand—reports said Zhang Hao had killed at least three people. Gao Wu suspected Tie Biao had killed many innocents and bore a heavy blood debt, which explained the enormous merit reward for bringing him down.

If his martial arts were high enough, he could simply go out and eliminate a few cultists and quickly amass a million points—a shortcut to merit, indeed! Unfortunately, he was only a low-level martial artist, and the cultists ranged from the weak to the terrifyingly strong. He couldn’t afford to provoke them just yet.

Three hundred ninety thousand merit was a great deal, but still not enough to directly upgrade the Azure Dragon Divine Qi Mantra. From experience, he knew that raising its proficiency brought little benefit; only advancing its tier would lead to real improvement.

He glanced at the Book of Boundless Merit. The Nine Forms of the Dragon, the Soaring Dragon Palm and Sword, all stood at mastery level, while the newly acquired Warrior’s Fist was listed as beginner. This surprised Gao Wu—even the basic Long Fist Thirty-Six Forms had taken him over a month to master. That foundational set was so simple that the book had merged it with the Nine Forms of the Dragon, given its lack of practical combat value; it was essentially akin to calisthenics.

The Warrior’s Fist, though simple in its movements, had a high level of power, breath control, and visualization—no less sophisticated than the Soaring Dragon Palm. Yet he had managed to master it so easily? Clearly, Song Chunqiu’s direct transmission had imparted the essence of the Warrior’s Fist to him, saving him much hardship and practice.

Sadly, martial arts skills could not be upgraded with merit! Gao Wu shook his head, frustrated at having so much merit with no way to spend it.

Unable to sleep, he rose and began practicing the Warrior’s Fist slowly in his room. Guided by the spiritual imprint left by Song Chunqiu, the subtle variations of each movement were deeply etched in Gao Wu’s mind. Although it was his first time practicing the form, it felt as if he had done so a thousand times, his motions preternaturally fluid.

Pistol stance, assault rifle stance, shotgun stance, heavy machine gun stance, sniper rifle stance, grenade stance, landmine stance, combat dagger stance, combat saber stance, combat axe stance, infiltration stance, and charge stance—twelve fundamental forms, each corresponding to a modern infantry weapon, hence the name Warrior’s Fist. The highest art of the style lay in harmonizing the movements with the matching weapon, fusing martial arts and modern arms into a single whole.

Conversely, by using firearms, a martial artist could gain deeper insight into the Warrior’s Fist’s principles. While Gao Wu could handle guns, there were many he had never even touched, which hampered his practice. Fortunately, Song Chunqiu’s spiritual imprint directly revealed the true meaning of each form, making the learning process far more efficient than fumbling through it with unfamiliar weapons.

As Song Mingyue had said, these were ultimately Song Chunqiu’s own insights—the floor was high, but the ceiling was limited to Song Chunqiu’s own level. To truly master the Warrior’s Fist, Gao Wu would one day have to break free from Song Chunqiu’s imprint and forge his own path. Of course, he was still far from that stage and need not worry about it for now.

The bedroom was not suited for exerting full force, so Gao Wu practiced the twelve forms repeatedly without explosive power. He focused on visualization, breath control, footwork, and the proper engagement of every muscle and tendon, striving for perfection in each detail.

Though the Warrior’s Fist was said to be simple, true mastery demanded attention to hundreds of subtle points. Even Song Chunqiu would not claim to have perfected every aspect. After dozens of rounds, Gao Wu gradually began to find the right feeling.

The pistol form emphasized speed and concealment. The assault rifle form was a direct offensive, but very taxing physically. The shotgun form focused on ferocious, overwhelming force to break through in a single blow. The heavy machine gun form was a more powerful, less varied version of the assault rifle form.

The sniper rifle form was a secretive, one-strike killing technique, but required a long wind-up and was nearly impossible to use in a straight fight. The landmine form taught explosive force through footwork, which could also launch the body. The grenade form was for explosive bursts of movement, useful for pursuing an enemy.

The charge form was a forward-surge movement, while the infiltration form encompassed a host of stealth and tracking skills, including following traces, underwater movement, and more—a comprehensive set of methods for covert operations, relatively complex compared to the others.

The combat dagger, saber, and axe forms were more straightforward—true hand-to-hand techniques, which, when combined with their respective weapons, doubled their power.

Gao Wu trained until four in the morning, both mind and body exhausted, before washing up and finally going to bed. Used to rising early for training, he woke again at six, checked that all was quiet outside, and drifted back to sleep.

It was not until after eight, when Shang Qingjun came to call him for breakfast, that he woke from deep slumber. Even with only four hours’ rest, the quality of his sleep had fully restored his energy.

The family sat together at breakfast. The Dongjiang TV host read the morning news as usual, with no mention of last night’s explosion. Gao Wu checked his phone; every online platform and social media channel was equally calm and quiet.

Clearly, Song Chunqiu had managed to suppress all news of the incident—a testament to his abilities. Of course, it was still early; with so many cultists involved and such a commotion, word would surely leak out in time.

He was just about to message Song Mingyue for news when a Feixin message from her arrived first: “It’s taken care of. Lü Hongsheng, the Yang Hongye brothers, and a total of twenty-nine high-ranking demon god cultists have been executed. Across the region, over a thousand lower-level cultists have been arrested.

“There’s some bad news, though—Huang Hai got away. Be careful.”

Gao Wu was speechless. Old Song, this is a bit sloppy!

Seeing no reply, Song Mingyue guessed his mood couldn’t be good. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t matter, but Huang Hai was Gao Wu’s coach, someone he had invested a lot of effort in. If Huang Hai came back, he might well cause trouble for Gao Wu.

Song Mingyue, knowing Gao Wu well, sent another Feixin: “Grandpa says it was his subordinates’ negligence. He can offer you some compensation.”

Gao Wu’s reply came in less than two seconds: “What compensation is Grandpa offering?”

Attached was an emoji of a dazzled face with hearts for eyes.

Song Mingyue could just imagine Gao Wu, phone in hand, grinning with eyes aglow—just like the emoji! She couldn’t help but laugh out loud…