Chapter 145 Spring Break (7)

Words : 1582 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

The Wall of Talent. It was the immutable truth of the world, a silent executioner that spared no one, no matter how hard they worked or how fiercely they dreamed. Talent was the dividing line—the chasm that separated the great from the ordinary, the destined from the forgotten. Li Zenith knew this better than most. He'd lived it. He'd seen it. When he was young, he'd watched his twin brother leap ahead of him with infuriating ease, carving paths that Li could only stumble through despite putting in double the hours, double the effort. That was the first lesson. The second came with the Martial King. Li had been there, his brother standing tall and proud, wielding the sword style that was their family's pride. And then, the Martial King had crushed it—crushed it underfoot like a handful of fragile plum blossoms. His brother's pride, their family's legacy, trampled to dust. The third lesson came years later, with Sun Zenith, the golden prodigy who had arrived at the sect like the first ray of dawn piercing the cold night. A boy who seemed to take the world in his stride, bending it to his will with a smile that said, 'this is easy.' Li thought he'd seen it all. He thought he'd made his peace with the Wall, with the brutal truth of talent and its unforgiving nature. And then, the world surprised him again. "Master, I did it!" Arthur's voice rang out, cutting through the roar of the waterfall. The light mana that had coiled around him dissipated into the air, leaving him standing there, soaked to the bone but radiating a quiet, startling triumph. Li's breath caught. He felt his heart begin to pound, a sensation he hadn't experienced in decades. It wasn't the exhilaration of pride or even awe—it was fear. Cold, creeping fear. Talent. No. This wasn't just talent. This was something far more terrifying. Li's hands trembled as he stared at the boy before him. He tried to clench his fist, to steady himself, but the tremor refused to subside. In three days. Three days. That was all it had taken. Arthur Nightingale had taken a five-circle spell—an already absurd feat of casting—and transformed it into the first movement of a Grade 6 art. Not copied. Not mimicked. Created. Personalised. Made his. S~eaʀᴄh the Nôvelƒire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Li Zenith's mouth was dry. He didn't trust himself to speak. His mind was a storm of disbelief, confusion, and the faint whisper of dread. This wasn't normal. This wasn't natural. He'd thought he understood the boy's talent when he saw him wield light and dark mana—when he saw him form both the Black Star and the White Star. But this? This was beyond his understanding. Beyond anything he'd ever witnessed. The prophecy. The words came to him unbidden, crawling out of the recesses of his memory like a serpent. The Second Hero. The destined figure who would rise, eclipsing all others, to reshape the world. The sect had debated it for years. Some said it was Sun Zenith, their golden prodigy. Others argued for Ren Kagu, whose potential defied comprehension. But most had pinned their hopes—and their fears—on Lucifer Windward. The boy whose monstrous talent made even the greatest tremble. But now, as Li stood there, his hand shaking, his eyes fixed on the boy before him, a thought clawed its way to the surface. 'What if we were wrong?' Arthur looked up at him, his expression calm but filled with a quiet fire. He wasn't boastful. He wasn't arrogant. He didn't need to be. The proof was in the air around him, in the hum of mana still resonating from his body. "Master?" Arthur asked, his voice cutting through Li's spiraling thoughts. "Is something wrong?" Li swallowed, his throat dry. For a moment, he couldn't speak. And when he finally did, his voice was quieter than he intended, almost reverent. "No," he said, shaking his head. "Nothing's wrong. You've... surpassed every expectation." Arthur tilted his head, clearly confused. "Is that bad?" Li almost laughed, but it came out more like a shaky exhale. "No," he said again, firmer this time. "It's not bad. It's terrifying." Arthur blinked, but Li didn't elaborate. He couldn't. The words felt too heavy to voice, the implications too vast to consider. All he could think was that the Sovereign's Tournament was fast approaching. And for the first time in his life, he wasn't sure what the outcome would be. The answer would come in the arena. Of that, he was certain. But as he looked at Arthur, standing there with the faint glow of light mana still clinging to him, Li Zenith couldn't shake the thought that the prophecy had just taken an unexpected turn. __________________________________________________________________________________ "Alright, you may have completed this, but you're not off the hook just yet," Li said, his grin carrying the distinct air of a man about to drop something arduous into my lap. "You've still got a few days here, so I want to teach you something else—something I think will suit you perfectly." "What is it?" I asked, already wary. Li's enthusiasm usually meant sweat, tears, and occasionally, questioning my life choices. "The Grade 3 art, Illusion Sword," he said, leaning back as if waiting for my reaction. I blinked. "Why?" Li raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by my lack of enthusiasm. "Alright, let me explain, genius," he began, his voice taking on the tone of a patient schoolteacher trying to educate a particularly slow student. "Your talent is Grade 6. That means anything below Grade 6 will come to you faster, smoother. A Grade 3 art? You'll breeze through it—at least, compared to anyone else." He paused, letting the words settle. "But here's the real kicker. Once you reach the zenith realm of mastery in an art like this, it stops being a card you can pull out of your sleeve. It becomes woven into the very fabric of your swordsmanship. Every stroke, every thrust, every movement of your blade will carry its essence. In short, you won't just be using Illusion Sword—you'll become it." That caught my attention. Li's grin widened as he continued, clearly noticing the shift in my expression. "The beauty of Illusion Sword lies in its simplicity. It focuses on creating multiple overlapping mana flows, a technique designed to confuse your enemies. Feints on feints, layers upon layers. The moment someone tries to read your mana flow to anticipate your attack, they're lost. The real strike lands before they even realize they've been fooled." I frowned, the gears in my mind turning. "If it's so straightforward, why is it classified as a Grade 3 art? Surely it has some catch." Li's grin turned wolfish. "Ah, there it is—the catch." He tapped the hilt of his sword meaningfully. "The art is straightforward in concept, but mastering it? That's another beast entirely. It demands exceptional expertise in feints and precision control over mana flow. Most swordsmen struggle to make the technique convincing, let alone seamless. That's why it sits comfortably in the Grade 3 bracket—not because it's easy, but because its impact is capped without mastery." I nodded slowly. The explanation made sense. The grades of martial arts weren't just about their effects in battle—they were also about the time, effort, and raw talent required to master them. A Grade 5 art could take years to perfect, while a Grade 4 art might be mastered in under a year with sufficient dedication. A Grade 3 art, for someone like me? Months at most. "I could probably master it in six weeks," I mused aloud, calculating the time based on my current level of swordsmanship. The rainforest training I'd endured—brutal and unrelenting—had honed my instincts to a razor's edge. Illusion Sword would still be a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. Li nodded approvingly. "Exactly. Six weeks, give or take. And that's why this is perfect for you. While you're refining your new Grade 6 movement, this will work in tandem to enhance your base swordsmanship. It's not just about adding another trick to your repertoire—it's about making your swordplay unpredictable on a fundamental level." I frowned, trying to envision how Illusion Sword would fit into my overall style. My current approach relied heavily on precision and overwhelming power, but unpredictability? That was something I lacked. And in a world where fights were won and lost in the space of a single breath, the ability to deceive was invaluable. Li leaned forward, his gaze intense. "This isn't just about utility, Arthur. It's about laying the groundwork for what's to come. If you want to create a Grade 6 art, your swordsmanship needs to evolve. You need layers. Depth. Illusion Sword will give you that." His words struck a chord. The path to greatness wasn't just about raw talent or brute force. It was about growth, adaptation, and understanding. And this? This felt like the next step. "Alright," I said, meeting his gaze with renewed determination. "Let's do it."

Chapter 145 Spring Break (7)

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