Chapter 337: Huang Feihong's Disappointment
Fang Yi's gaze shifted away from Soul Society.
If Aizen were to become a player, he'd likely shoot straight into the top five on the combat power rankings.
Across the entire Shinigami world, Aizen was one of the most powerful beings—a genius nurtured over countless years. If it weren't for the twist of fate that brought Ichigo Kurosaki into the picture, he might have truly achieved his ambitions.
That said,
players from the worlds of One Piece and Naruto weren't easily manipulated either. Those worlds had their share of geniuses, held back only by the rules of their respective universes.
Take Orochimaru, for example.
Originally destined to lose faith and become a stepping stone for Sasuke Uchiha, he had now strayed from his former path.
Not only did he not fall, but he had doubled down—pursuing the mastery of all jutsu with unwavering conviction.
"According to the combat power rankings, four main factors determine a player's strength: base stats, equipment, skills, and special enhancements."
Aizen, even without being a player, already had close to [2000] combat power.
Currently, the number one spot was held by Orochimaru, who boasted a combat power of [2900], supported by powerful equipment, gems, forging bonuses, and enhancements.
Once Aizen entered the game,
those gaps would close rapidly.
And then—
a clash for the top spot might very well erupt.
Who would ultimately come out on top remained to be seen.
Meanwhile—
in the low-tier martial arts world of Qing Nation, a large steamship docked at the harbor, flying a foreign flag.
"Master Huang, it's all thanks to your generosity in sharing the Foundation Body Tempering Method that we're even able to eat these days!"
"That's right! Master Huang, you are like a second father to us!"
"From now on, all my disciples will bow respectfully whenever they see Master Huang."
A group of martial artists in tight-fitting clothes surrounded a round table, showering Huang Feihong with compliments.
Not long ago,
Huang Feihong had summoned all the heads of Guangzhou's martial halls and publicly revealed what he claimed was a new cultivation method he had developed.
Until now, no matter how powerful a martial artist was, their techniques were limited to external arts.
Iron Shirt, Shadowless Kick, Five Tigers Breaking the Gate Sabre—
all sturdy, practical techniques that could strengthen the body, shatter thick wooden planks, even dent metal plates.
But that was the limit.
The cultivation manual Huang Feihong unveiled was like something from a divine revelation, as if heaven itself had granted him inspiration. It was a complete upheaval of conventional martial tradition.
It surpassed centuries of hard external styles—
and introduced internal cultivation methods!
Practically fantastical, these methods allowed the condensation of vital essence into a circulating force within the body,
like the oil and coal powering the foreign devils' steamships and cannons.
This internal energy could massively enhance a fighter's external strength, as if a roaring furnace had been ignited within them.
Some martial hall leaders had even tested it against foreign firearms.
At a few zhang away, if a practitioner was on guard and had cultivated internal force, they could easily evade bullets—or even catch them with their bare hands.
The shadow of Western firearms that had long loomed over the martial arts world was beginning to lift.
Despite all the praise,
Huang Feihong simply clasped his hands and said, "Fellow masters, I'm sure by now you've seen for yourselves that internal cultivation is real. It does require talent and dedication, but it's a powerful weapon to stand against the Westerners."
The internal method he had spread was already the easiest one to learn.
He had tried teaching his own [Nine Yang Divine Skill] to his disciples—but none of them could grasp it.
That was the drawback of a low-tier martial world: the foundational energy was too weak, and top-tier talent was exceedingly rare.
Huang Feihong's goal was to drive out the foreign invaders and help the people of his nation rise again.
Naturally, he wouldn't hoard high-difficulty techniques that couldn't be widely taught.
"That's right."
The leader of the Five Tigers Hall, an aging man with a gray beard, chuckled. "I showed a little something to those arrogant Westerners, and they were so stunned they offered me a twenty percent cut. Unheard of!"
In the past, the foreigners relied on their guns and ships to bully them. They'd never even bother negotiating.
Finally, they had earned some dignity.
"Same here!"
"Felt amazing…"
The other hall leaders echoed his words, laughing heartily.
Huang Feihong smiled slightly. Clearly, spreading internal arts was effective.
At the very least, it had forced the Westerners to stop treating the Chinese like punching bags.
Seizing the opportunity in the cheerful atmosphere, he stood up and said,
"In the past, we allowed foreign powers to trample our land because the Qing government was corrupt and our people were numb and indifferent."
"We lacked the means to resist. But now, internal cultivation gives us the power to fight back!"
His voice was firm, as heavy as thunder.
As soon as the words left his mouth, the room went dead silent.
The very same hall leaders who had been smiling and fawning seconds ago,
the ones who controlled several key port cities, all fell quiet at once.
The Five Tigers Hall leader took a drag from his pipe and stared at Huang Feihong with an unreadable expression.
He said nothing.
Huang Feihong frowned. He could sense something was wrong, but continued,
"That's why I humbly ask all of you—to break free from foreign oppression."
"To shut down the opium dens, sink the boats trafficking our people overseas, and drive out the thugs preying on our own."
"Let's give this nation a clear and righteous sky again!"
Still, no one spoke.
The atmosphere in the private banquet room was suffocating—
as if a silence spell had been cast, muting even their breathing.
After some glances were exchanged, the Five Tigers Hall leader finally said cautiously,
"Master Huang, while it's true we now have internal force on our side, the Westerners are not weak. If things escalate, many lives will be lost."
"That's right, Master Huang. Getting the foreigners to fear us is already a huge step forward."
"If we go too far—drive them out, close the opium dens and gambling houses—our disciples will lose their livelihoods. They'll starve."
The last speaker had made it abundantly clear.
Still, Huang Feihong's expression didn't change.
He responded, "Without those vices, I will find a place to build factories. I'll find a way to break free from foreign dependence. Once we develop our own industries, there'll be plenty of honest work."
But his words were met with silence.
Worse, a mocking snicker came from the corner.
These so-called hall leaders had long abused their power, extorted the people, and run dens of vice.
Whenever they were criticized, they blamed the foreign powers,
but in truth, they were just upset that the foreigners took too big a cut.
Now that they had internal power and no longer feared the Westerners,
they could freely plunder the people themselves.
Why would they give that up to go sweat in a factory like a common laborer?
"Master Huang, we're happy to make money together."
The Five Tigers leader bowed solemnly and said, "You've generously shared your divine method with us. Rest assured, we won't forget your kindness."
"From now on, a portion of all silver earned in our Five Tigers territory will be delivered to Baozhilin as tribute."
He looked around at the others.
They quickly caught on and did the same,
each promising to send Huang Feihong a cut of their profits.
Some even smirked, thinking, So that's what this is about—money. Why pretend it's something noble?
With the internal arts giving them leverage, they could take more from the foreigners.
Throwing a little silver at Huang Feihong was nothing.
They just didn't want to turn him into an enemy—not until they were sure he didn't have even more powerful techniques up his sleeve.
"You…"
Huang Feihong's face turned grim.
These nine men in front of him controlled the local power in seven coastal towns.
They had always flown the banner of saving the Qing Nation,
recruiting disciples by the thousands, constantly preaching patriotism.
But now… this was their true face.
It felt like a heavy, blunt object had smashed into Huang Feihong's chest,
making it hard to even breathe.
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