"Octane Blast?!"
Yang Fan's memory of this skill dated back to the Spirit Hall Headquarters.
It was with this very technique that Yao Lao had crippled Salas before finishing him off with Blowing Fire Palm.
"Power comparable to an Earth-tier technique."
Those words burned brightly in Yang Fan's mind.
The moment he received the ancient scroll, he didn't hesitate—immediately using his soul perception to imprint its essence.
In an instant, a surge of profound energy flooded his consciousness. The secrets of Octane Blast were now etched into his memory.
"You little rascal…" Yao Lao chuckled, amused by Yang Fan's ravenous eagerness.
He'd prepared this Xuan-tier high-grade technique for Yang Fan long ago—just waiting for the right moment.
Octane Blast was a pure, brute-force technique. To unleash its devastating power required an unyielding physique—otherwise, the backlash would cripple the user.
Hah—!
Yang Fan threw a punch. A sapling as thick as a bowl snapped cleanly in half.
And that was just a light strike!
Truly, this Xuan-tier technique's power was terrifying.
But…
"Master, why can't I produce the eight layers of hidden force?" Yang Fan frowned.
This wasn't the effect he wanted.
He craved Yao Lao's effortless mastery: one casual punch, Salas scoffing at first, then bewildered, then collapsing instantly.
"Good—you understand the essence of Octane Blast," Yao Lao nodded. "You can't manifest the hidden force because your Dou Qi control is still too crude. That requires more practice."
The scroll described it thus:
[Xuan-Tier High-Grade Dou Technique]
Close-quarters combat skill, famed for overwhelming power. At mastery, conceals eight layers of hidden force. Stacked together, its power rivals Earth-tier low-grade techniques.
The raw power showcased its Xuan-tier nature—but the eight hidden force layers were what truly equated it to Earth-tier might.
Without those layers? It was just a decent Xuan-tier mid-grade fist technique.
Yao Lao hadn't planned to reveal these secrets yet. He wanted the brat to struggle first.
"Crude?" Yang Fan stared at the crimson Dou Qi in his palm. He felt his control was solid—after over a year of training, "as natural as moving his own arm" seemed accurate.
"Not crude?" Yao Lao's retort left Yang Fan speechless.
The path to true strength was still long, long, long ahead.
Octane Blast!
Octane Blast!
Octane Blast!
All day, Yang Fan drilled his new technique on the hill behind the outer town.
"Heh… this kid!" Yao Lao muttered.
He'd expected Yang Fan to beg for guidance after failing.
But he'd underestimated his disciple's talent.
The brat had already deciphered partial insights!
Though he couldn't yet produce all eight layers, achieving two was astonishing.
Yao Lao himself had needed a full day to master the eight layers when he first obtained the scroll.
Octane Blast—!
Yang Fan punched a tree trunk. Externally, it no longer snapped—it looked intact. But internally, two hidden force layers had pulverized its core.
"Stop. Let me demonstrate."
"The essence of Octane Blast lies in Dou Qi manipulation and power release…"
To ensure clarity, Yao Lao moved slowly.
His fist emitted no fierce wind—yet the air behind it warped violently.
One punch, through empty space!
A tree ten meters away—thick as a man's waist—twisted into a pretzel.
"Understand?"
Yang Fan nodded.
To unleash eight layers, you couldn't expend all force at once.
The "hidden" in "hidden force" meant concealing power within the strike, catching enemies off-guard.
Yao Lao's eight layers were like a New Year's pig—once inside the enemy, they rampaged uncontrollably.
"Train."
Yao Lao was confident. With this guidance, his disciple would soon master the technique's essence.
From dusk to midnight…
Yang Fan grew obsessed with his new skill.
If the hillside trees could withstand it, he'd have trained for three days straight.
…
Dawn.
Ah… haaah…
Yang Fan stretched, yawning.
Another damn energetic day.
After sending his letter, he prepared to re-enter the soul beast forest.
Unlike the arena, battles here were rare—mostly wandering through the forest. But every encounter brimmed with lethal peril.
That constant, life-or-death tension was something the arena could never replicate.
"Chenxiang, this is the soul beast forest! Be careful—a tiger might jump out any second!"
"You're lying! This is just the outer town!"
Yang Fan's attention snapped to the group.
A cluster of teens surrounded a little girl in purple, twin-tailed, about five or six years old. Nearby stood several middle-aged adults—their guardians.
One trait united them all: ragged, threadbare clothing.
The Speed Clan!
Though he hadn't seen them in over three years, Yang Fan recognized them instantly. Only the Speed Clan was this poor; they bled pennies.
Since the Four Great Sects were abandoned by the Hao Tian Sect, they'd relied only on each other—meeting biennially by their elders' agreement.
Among the four patriarchs, Tai Tan (Strength Clan) and Niu Gao (Defense Sect) were closest, while his grandfather Yang Wudi and Bai He (Speed Clan) shared private camaraderie.
Thus, the Breaking Clan had supported the Speed Clan for years.
Yang Fan scanned the crowd but didn't spot the frail, sharp-eyed elder.
"Hmph!"
"I'm not playing with you anymore!"
The twin-tailed girl, teased relentlessly, stomped away. Pushing past taller youths, she plopped onto a roadside curb, pouting.
Bai Chenxiang?
Yang Fan's memory flashed back three years—to the Four Sects' gathering.
Tai Tan's grandson Tai Long, fresh off obtaining his first soul ring, had flaunted his Mighty Gorilla martial soul, terrifying the then-two-and-a-half-year-old Chenxiang into tears.
That night, Yang Fan had dreamed of awakening his own martial soul, green with envy!
He smiled wistfully.
Those were simpler times.
"Make way!"
"Clear the road!"
A sudden commotion shattered the morning calm.
A runaway horse dragged an open carriage down the narrow street. The middle-aged driver's face was ashen with terror.
The carriage careened straight toward Bai Chenxiang, sitting obliviously on the curb.
Disaster loomed!
Yang Fan wouldn't save just anyone—but the Speed Clan gave him no choice.
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