High Martial: I Use Everything as Swords

The maneuvers now resembled a synchronized exercise routine, casually displayed by this group of pilots on their maiden flight, their coordination so perfect they moved as one.

Some even started playfully performing two-ship formation rolls, their wingtips less than two meters apart!

Before, this would have been considered a suicidal act and a serious violation of regulations.

But with the aid of the "Neural Resonance" system, it was merely two comrades, their minds linked, greeting each other.

They danced in the sky, composing a symphony of steel and Will.

Standing in the control tower, Han Feng watched the data flicker across the screen and nodded slightly.

’This path of "Blood Refining plus technology" is a success.’

’Though their maneuvers still look a bit green and unrefined to me, that’s just a matter of Skill Proficiency.’

’Just give them time, and this Ghost Squad...’

’...will become a nightmare for any enemy at Tier Four or below—the sharpest aerial blade in East Sea City’s arsenal.’

Half an hour later, the seven fighter jets, seemingly reluctant to stop, returned and landed gracefully on the runway.

The moment they stepped out of their jets, the pilots swarmed him, their faces flushed with excitement and their eyes gleaming with a fanatical light. They looked at Han Feng with the same reverence they might give their own fathers.

"Instructor! That was godlike! Truly godlike!"

"I feel like I could fly for another ten hours! That was more exhilarating than any jet I’ve ever flown!"

"Is this what they call Man and Sword Unity?

I feel like the jet is my own body—even more agile and powerful than my actual body!

Even though my body still feels a little weak, this sense of control is enough to make my blood boil!"

Han Feng raised a hand, pressing it down, and the clamor instantly died.

"Don’t celebrate too soon."

Han Feng’s tone was level. "Your current level of coordination is artificially high. It’s the result of being forcefully bound by your blood essence.

If you don’t nurture it, this connection will gradually fade over time, and your power will drain away with it."

Zhao Tianlan’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately asked:

"Instructor, what should we do to maintain this state and continue to improve?"

"It’s simple. Treat it as your second heart, or... as a life-bound Soul Soldier that you must ’nurture’ with your spirit and Qi Blood."

Han Feng pointed at the helmets in their arms. "Refine it with your True Qi every day. Sleep with it.

When you have free time, nurture it with your Qi Blood and True Qi to establish a deeper connection.

The day you can sense its state from ten meters away without even putting on the helmet...

...and even feel its ’emotions’—that’s when you’ll have truly mastered the basics and stepped into a higher realm of Human-Machine Unity."

The crowd nodded repeatedly, their eyes filled with a thirst for knowledge, looking as if they wished they could take out notebooks to jot down every word Han Feng said.

Han Feng glanced at the time. His work here was more or less done, and it was time for him to get back to his own business.

"From now on, Wang Rui and Zhao Tianlan will be in charge of training.

The training regimen is in the simulation program. You can adjust it based on the actual situation."

Han Feng’s gaze swept over the crowd.

"The next time I come, if anyone’s coordination level has dropped below 70%, leave your helmet behind and get your ass back to your old unit to fly transport planes."

"Yes, sir!"

All twenty-four men roared in unison, the sound wave shaking the sky, vowing to carve Han Feng’s teachings into their hearts and win glory in his name.

Han Feng said no more. He gave a dismissive wave and turned toward his X-01 Prototype.

His retreating figure was effortlessly cool and decisive, leaving behind a wake of awe and surging excitement.

...

「East Sea Martial Arts University, Lakefront No. 9 Villa.」

Han Feng threw himself onto the sofa in the Underground Cultivation Chamber and let out a long breath.

He’d been running all over the place these past few days, killing people and performing Artifact Refining. Even with a body forged from iron, he was feeling the strain.

But beneath the exhaustion was the profound joy of a bountiful harvest.

With a flick of his wrist, he pulled a jet-black bone card from his ring.

A Tier Four Spiritual Artifact, the Soul-Suppressing Bone Card.

This item had dropped from the Blood Shadow he’d blasted to smithereens. Inside, it stored years’ worth of pure Soul Power that the Evil Cultivator had accumulated.

This thing was originally saturated with an extremely dense Evil Qi. A normal person would go mad from the slightest contact.

But with the dual support of his Three-Inch Heart Sword and Middle Level Heart Clarity and Nature Seeing...

...it was a ready-made feast—the perfect resource for breaking through to a higher realm.

’My Spiritual Power is currently 3100 hertz, right at the threshold of the Tier Four Middle Stage.’

Han Feng caressed the bone card, a sharp glint in his eyes. ’This level of Spiritual Power isn’t stable enough to forcefully open my acupoints.

I must become stronger to lay a solid foundation for the violent opening of my acupoints that will follow.’

Without further hesitation, he sat down cross-legged and gripped the bone card with both hands.

Within his Sea of Consciousness, the formless Three-Inch Heart Sword let out a clear, resonant hum, poised and ready.

BOOM!

As his Cultivation Technique activated, the oceanic Soul Power within the bone card instantly found an outlet, surging madly into Han Feng’s body.

Pain!

Excruciating pain!

Even though Han Feng had prepared himself, the immense surge of Energy still forced a muffled groan from him. A layer of cold sweat instantly beaded on his forehead, his muscles tensing.

Inside his Sea of Consciousness, raging waves crashed, threatening to devour everything.

The influx of Soul Power was no gentle stream, but a black, frozen ocean churning with countless specks of resentment and madness!

Countless twisted faces bobbed and wailed within the black Energy, trying to drag his Will into the abyss and corrode it completely.

Han Feng felt as if his Divine Soul had been thrown into a high-speed blender. Every wisp of his Spiritual Power was being torn, crushed, and then forcibly reassembled.

That feeling of being ripped apart at the soul level was a hundred times more terrifying than any physical torture imaginable.