I Can Replicate Martial Arts

These were peerless martial arts that countless people in the world of Martial Arts dreamed of acquiring.

With so many Divine Skills on the line, it would be a lie for Zhao Rui to say he wasn’t tempted.

Since they were willing to hold a Martial Arts Tournament, Zhao Rui naturally wanted to head over and join in on the excitement.

After all, opportunities to fleece Shaolin were rare. The power of that old Monk he met last time was so profound that even now, Zhao Rui found it unfathomable just thinking about it.

The road to Shaolin was long. Fortunately, he had plenty of time, so Zhao Rui chose to travel on foot at a brisk pace.

As he traveled, he could take in the scenery along the way.

While he was making his way to Shaolin like a carefree wanderer, a group of uninvited guests arrived at the Celestial Mountain Sect.

This group had a long talk with the "real" Mr. Zeng the Elder before descending from Tianshan.

「The Central Asia Trading Land.」

In front of a magnificent residence that resembled an ancient palace, perfectly aligned rows of soldiers stood guard on either side. They held long halberds, their heads turned toward the front right.

There, a luxurious black car was parked. A pretty young woman with a playful expression was getting out. Light as a swallow, she crossed the carpet laid out on the ground and entered the palace.

"Sister, you’re finally back. Father’s hair has gone gray with worry these past few days."

At the palace entrance, a tall, handsome young man with an equally bright smile spread his arms to welcome her.

"Brother!"

Upon seeing the young man, the young woman’s eyes instantly reddened, and tears streamed from her eyes.

"There, there, Ling’Er. You must have suffered along the way," the young man said, comforting her.

It turned out this young woman was none other than Mo Ling’Er, the Great Shang Witch Venerable who had escaped from Gui Xu Great Zhou.

"I didn’t really suffer. The Old Ancestor would never let anyone bully me..."

Her expression darkened at the mention of this, as she was clearly reminded of her time in Gui Xu and all the ways the Old Ancestor had doted on her.

"Yes, I know. But... come on, let’s go inside and see Father."

The young man gave a carefree smile, took his sister’s hand, and led her into the grand hall.

In the center of the grand hall, an imposing man with a resolute face and a beard as stiff as steel needles sat on a wooden chair. He held a book in one hand and rested the other on the armrest, completely absorbed in his reading.

"Father!"

Upon seeing the imposing man, Mo Ling’Er rushed forward and knelt on the floor.

"Ling’Er has made you worry, Father."

"Ah, my dear daughter is back! It’s good that you’re home. As long as you’re home."

The imposing man’s face was a mixture of shock and joy. He quickly rose, helped Mo Ling’Er to her feet, and looked her up and down before sighing, "You’ve lost weight."

"You’ve lost weight too, Father."

After the father and daughter caught up for a while, Mo Ling’Er recounted her recent narrow escape with Zhao Rui and her subsequent departure from the Yun Mansion.

"Now that’s what I call a young hero!"

Father Mo said, a faint smile playing on his lips as his pupils narrowed.

"Father, he’s just a little thief with a first-class talent for running away."

Mo Ling’Er couldn’t help but think back to the fun she had chasing Zhao Rui during that time.

A smile involuntarily spread across her face.

"Is that so?"

Father Mo’s gaze grew sharper, but his tone remained gentle. "If you get the chance, you should thank him. After all, he did help you escape the Wilderness."

"Mm."

Mo Ling’Er couldn’t help but nod.

"You must be exhausted from your long journey. Go and get some rest. You can see your mother later."

"Yes, Father."

Mo Ling’Er bowed and then withdrew from the grand hall.

As soon as Mo Ling’Er was gone, Father Mo turned to the handsome young man. "This person must be Zhao Rui of the Qingcheng Sword Sect, who returned to the Central Plains not long ago," he said, his tone turning cold.

"Yes, Father. According to our intelligence, that man is indeed Zhao Rui of the Qingcheng Sword Sect. He returned several months before Ling’Er."

"He’s certainly a talent. The question is whether he can be made to serve our Great Shang."

"I will make the arrangements, Father."

"Mm. Great Zhou presses ever closer. The Great Shang Trading Land in Gui Xu is in peril. It’s only a matter of time before we must abandon the territory and move the capital to Central Asia..."

"Father, King Chonghou now rules over hundreds of millions, commands a vast army of soldiers and generals, and has the support of Blue Star Technology... I fear he will not easily..."

"It matters not. Our Mo Family commands its own legion and has the backing of the eight great tribes. Whoever ends up in the royal palace will need our support."

Father Mo’s expression was cold, his gaze seemingly piercing through time and space toward the distant Great Shang Trading Land.

"I understand, Father."

The handsome young man nodded. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, he strode out of the grand hall.

News of Shaolin holding a Martial Arts Tournament spread throughout the Jianghu. From the various sects of the Central Plains to the original organizations of Blue Star, like the Martial Arts Association and university Martial Arts Teams, everyone received the notice.

As the greatest sect in the world, they still wielded that much influence.

As the date of the tournament approached, more and more martial artists began making their way toward Mount Song Shaolin.

Many of these people had not been invited. The most they could do upon arrival was wait outside the temple monastery.

The only ones truly qualified to enter were the great and famous sects, supreme masters of the Martial Dao, venerable seniors of the Martial Arts world, and certain official organizations and departments.

If one were to look down from the clouds, one would see that all the martial artists of the Central Plains were converging on Songshan.

It was a vast, majestic procession, like a game of Snake from a past life.

After seven days of trekking and leisurely travel, Zhao Rui finally arrived in the He Nan region.

By then, less than three hours remained before the start of the Martial Arts Tournament.

The sky was just beginning to lighten as Zhao Rui awoke from his meditation and set off toward Songshan.

As the saying goes, a mountain’s fame comes not from its height, but from the immortal who resides there. Though Songshan is one of the Five Great Mountains, without the Shaolin Temple, it’s unlikely it would have become a household name.

At this moment, the mountain path on Songshan was swarming with groups of people from the Martial Arts world, rushing tirelessly up the mountain like a plague of locusts.

"There’s a fight up ahead! The aura is incredible... must be a Divine Void Realm master..."

"Isn’t Shaolin going to do anything? We’ve come all this way as guests; they should be protecting us."

"How many people do you think Shaolin has? They must be running around like crazy these last two days. They don’t have time to care who you are."

As the crowd whispered amongst themselves, a cheer erupted from up ahead.

"Shaolin has stepped in! Amazing! They subdued the troublemakers in a single move."

They watched as the two troublemakers were apprehended by Shaolin Martial Monks and escorted back down the mountain.

The crowd instantly erupted in deafening cheers.

"Truly worthy of their reputation as titans of the Martial Arts world! To think just two Martial Monks possess power above the Divine Void Realm."

"Exactly. Causing trouble right under the nose of the Shaolin Temple—they truly don’t know their own limits."

A dense, dark mass of people had gathered at the foot of Songshan—at least ten thousand strong.

These were all people of the Martial Dao who had rushed here from every corner of the land.

In the past, even for such a grand event, so many people would not have been able to gather due to limitations of time and distance.

But things were different now. The strength of martial artists had undergone a world-shaking transformation. Never mind crossing mountains and plains as if they were flat ground; there were plenty who could even fly for short periods.

It wasn’t just the top-tier martial artists, either. Even the Martial Arts Cultivation of ordinary people had reached Level 5 or Level 6.

Splitting mountains and cracking boulders was no difficult feat.

Many of those gathered at the foot of the mountain were martial artists from nearby cities. Taking advantage of their proximity, they had naturally arrived early.

The vast majority of them were Blue Star natives who had only heard stories of a Martial Arts Tournament, let alone seen one in person.

Although the Martial Dao had flourished in the past, and there had been all sorts of competitions for martial artists, they were of a completely different nature than a Martial Arts Tournament organized by the Shaolin Temple.

This was the true Jianghu.

Now that they’d heard about this event, their enthusiasm was comparable to a past life’s Olympics being held in their hometown.

"Make way, make way! The masters from the Kongtong Sect have arrived."

At the sound of the cry, the martial artists crowding the mountain path all looked down.

The disciples of the Kongtong Sect, led by Master Changkong, followed a Shaolin deacon monk up the mountain steps, their expressions solemn.

"CLICK, CLICK!"

All manner of cameras were pointed at the members of the Kongtong Sect, unleashing a frenzy of shutter clicks.

Everyone had a phone in their hands. Who wouldn’t want to snap a picture of such great martial arts masters? ’What if I manage to comprehend some peerless martial art from the photo?’

Although Master Changkong was a native of Blue Star, even he was flustered by the immense crowd and the over-the-top atmosphere.

He wished he could find a hole to crawl into and disappear.

But what was done was done. He could only put on the air of an enlightened master and stride purposefully up the mountain.