Chapter Twenty-One: The Sky-Splitting Hand

The Divine Martial Pavilion of the Tianhai Sect!

“Brothers, this is the Divine Martial Pavilion of the Tianhai Sect!”

Led by Juefeng, Luo Hao and the others finally arrived at the Divine Martial Pavilion they had long yearned for. Before their eyes stood a five-story tower, whose sweeping eaves bore a striking resemblance to the style of ancient Chinese architecture. On either side of the steps below the eaves, two gigantic stone lions stood guard.

“The Martial Pavilion of Tianhai Sect has five levels. The higher you go, the more advanced the techniques. As new disciples, you may only choose your martial skill from the first floor. As for those on the second floor, they require contribution points for exchange. You gain contribution points by completing tasks from the Contribution Hall,” Juefeng patiently explained. Then, someone in the crowd asked, “Senior Brother, is there any other way to earn contribution points besides completing tasks?”

“Yes. If you turn in treasures you acquire, you may also receive contribution points. Now, as you enter the Divine Martial Pavilion to choose your skill, remember that you have only three hours.” With that, Juefeng took out a jade-green token and displayed it before the pavilion. The token emitted a faint light, and a green glow flickered in the eyes of the stone lions outside.

Noticing the flash of green in the lions’ eyes, Luo Hao realized that these statues were not mere decorations—they likely concealed some sort of formation or restrictive spell.

“Make good use of your time, brothers. In three hours, you will be automatically transported out.” With these words, Juefeng put away the token and turned to Luo Hao and the others.

“Does rushing in first really help?” Luo Hao shook his head as he watched the crowd surge forward. Lagging at the end, his gaze drifted and he noticed, by the stone steps near the pavilion, an old man with silver hair and snowy brows, clad in gray, sweeping fallen leaves with a broom.

“A hidden master!”

This scene reminded him so much of the legendary Sweeper Monk from the martial arts tales. After a brief hesitation, Luo Hao approached the old man and bowed deeply. “Junior Luo Hao greets the elder.”

The old man paused his sweeping at the sound, looked up, his eyes deeply sunken and clouded, then returned to his work without a word.

Seeing he was ignored, Luo Hao took no offense and entered the Divine Martial Pavilion.

Inside, Luo Hao finally understood the meaning of “a sea of books.” Compared to the collection here, the world’s grandest library was but a drop in the ocean. The sheer number of martial manuals in the Divine Martial Pavilion was so overwhelming that chaos reigned—everywhere, skills lay scattered on the floor. At the entrance was a table where a young disciple slumped, fast asleep.

Everyone within was busy searching for their ideal martial technique. Luo Hao wasted no time and joined the hunt. He picked up a manual, “Gale-Breaking Fist,” a Mortal Grade, Intermediate Level skill. Without even looking, he put it back—too low a grade. His “Doomsday Tiger Manual” and “Twin Dragons Overlord Technique” were both top-tier introductory skills; he couldn’t settle for anything less.

He then picked up “Wild Bull Fist,” Mortal Grade, Low Level, and immediately gave up on it. After two such manuals, Luo Hao realized that the first floor was filled almost entirely with Mortal Grade techniques, though perhaps there might be an overlooked gem of higher grade lurking somewhere.

“In so chaotic a pavilion, finding a truly suitable skill is easier said than done,” Luo Hao thought, and he wasn’t alone—everyone seemed to share this sentiment. But the Tianhai Sect, as an ancient and mighty order, cared little for these basic skills, leaving them unsorted and in disarray.

With no other choice, Luo Hao dove back into the sea of books, picking up “Golden Tortoise Spirit Art,” Mortal Grade, High Level. The title stirred his interest, but on closer inspection, he found it a defensive art—not suited to his aggressive, offensive nature.

Though his “Doomsday Tiger Manual” was a top Mortal Grade technique, even after full mastery it only offered five moves. What Luo Hao desperately sought now was a truly powerful offensive skill—the more destructive, the better.

“Mortal Grade, Low Level, ‘Mountain-Suppressing Sword Style.’ Pity I don’t practice swordsmanship.” Sighing, Luo Hao set the manual aside and resumed his search. To find a truly suitable technique among this ocean of books in just three hours—he had little confidence.

“Mortal Grade, High Level, ‘Crane Wind Step.’ A movement technique—not bad, but there’s still time. If I don’t find anything better, I’ll settle for this.” He kept “Crane Wind Step” in hand and plunged again into the endless manuals.

Half an hour later, Luo Hao unearthed a skill with yellowed pages: “Radiant Spirit Finger,” Mortal Grade, High Level. He read the introduction, which said: “With practice, light patterns gather at the fingertips; at mastery, its power rivals top Mortal Grade skills.”

Looking at “Radiant Spirit Finger,” Luo Hao was tempted. A High-Level Mortal Grade skill was rare even here. After much deliberation, he put down “Crane Wind Step” and picked up “Radiant Spirit Finger” instead.

Two more hours passed, and Luo Hao’s luck seemed abysmal. All he’d found were Intermediate and Low-Level Mortal Grade techniques, or ones that didn’t suit him—like the “Moon Spirit Blade,” a High-Level Mortal Grade skill he’d only just discovered and abandoned.

By now, many new disciples had left, elated with their chosen techniques. Luo Hao grew anxious—was “Radiant Spirit Finger” truly the best he could find? Stubbornly, he refused to believe there was nothing better for him in this vast pavilion.

“Mortal Grade, Intermediate, ‘Tiger Emperor Fist.’”

“Mortal Grade, Low Level, ‘Mist Veil Palm.’”

“Mortal Grade, High Level, ‘Stunning Cloud Sword.’”

“Mortal Grade, High Level, ‘Heaven Spirit Blade.’”

…

He grabbed manuals at random, finding some high-level ones, yet none suited him. As the three hours drew to a close, Luo Hao gritted his teeth. “Fine, it seems the ‘Radiant Spirit Finger’ is all I can get.”

Just as he was about to leave, suddenly the ancient mirror within his dantian trembled. The vibration caught Luo Hao’s attention immediately. He knew well that the mirror’s origins were extraordinary—and it never acted without reason.

Sensing the mirror’s agitation, Luo Hao began to wander the pavilion. The tremors grew more intense, leading him at last to a corner where a mountain of manuals lay scattered.

He began to search the pile. Minutes later, he set aside “Radiant Spirit Finger” and looked dubiously at a new manual in his hands: “Ten-Thousand Tribulations Finger,” Top Mortal Grade. Its introduction was brief: “A single point shatters the heavens.” The power of this finger technique was self-evident.

Yet, the ancient mirror still vibrated, clearly dissatisfied. Luo Hao sighed and continued his search in the disordered heap.

When he picked up another manual, the mirror finally stilled. Luo Hao looked at the book in his hands with a strange expression.

“‘Sky-Splitting Hand’—the name sounds impressive, but what grade is it?” He scrutinized the manual, only to find it had no grade listed at all.

Was this technique worthless? Luo Hao, frustrated, tried to communicate with the ancient mirror in his dantian, but the grand artifact ignored him completely.

“Should I choose ‘Ten-Thousand Tribulations Finger,’ or this ‘Sky-Splitting Hand’?” Torn, Luo Hao finally gritted his teeth, put down “Ten-Thousand Tribulations Finger,” and took the ungraded “Sky-Splitting Hand.” As for “Radiant Spirit Finger,” he had already abandoned it.

If “Sky-Splitting Hand” proved worthless, Luo Hao swore he would smash the ancient mirror in his dantian—even if it meant cutting himself open to do so.

Three hours passed in a flash. Luo Hao’s figure was suddenly enveloped in white light, the world before him blurring. In a flash, his silhouette vanished from the pavilion.

When he reappeared, he was standing outside the Divine Martial Pavilion. The building still stood tall, the stone lions unchanged. Had it not been for the “Sky-Splitting Hand” pressed to his chest, he would have doubted he’d ever entered the pavilion at all.