Chapter Six: Am I Awesome or Not?

Two thousand.

As the title suggests, Zhang Chengyi’s internal energy finally stabilized at two thousand.

Two thousand times the basic health cultivation internal energy—who knows how many years of practice that equates to. He could no longer increase it; this proved his body had reached its limit, and there was simply no way to push it any higher.

Even if the internal energy was grudgingly summoned, it could still exert some effect. Forced efforts rarely yield sweetness, but it quenched his thirst.

After all, as long as he felt good, that was enough.

When his internal energy reached one hundred times, he felt a swelling pressure in his chest and abdomen, reminiscent of the scene with Duan Yu in a novel, but much easier to bear—after all, all his internal energy was truly his own, unlike Duan Yu’s borrowed power.

After a simple process of guiding the qi back to emptiness, everything indeed calmed down.

At five hundred times, his ears sharpened, his vision cleared, and his hands and feet became nimble. At this level, even instinctively channeling his will through his body allowed him to stride three zhang in a single step—nearly ten meters. A slight exertion in a jump let him reach a beam several meters high.

His physical constitution cap rose from 2.2 to 4, nearly doubling. After maxing out his constitution as well,

even casually exerting power without practicing any specific palm or finger techniques, and with only a tenth or twelfth of his strength, he could snap out a flick of air that extinguished a candle several zhang away—

breaking the candlestick in the process.

This was not the ability to project internal energy; rather, it was pure finger strength enhanced by internal power, snapping the air itself.

He hadn’t tested the destructive force, as breaking things recklessly was not ideal.

At one thousand times, his body felt light, as if ready to take flight. By channeling energy within and lightly pushing off the ground, he could glide until pressing against a wall, his power still far from depleted. Rough calculations showed he could glide dozens of meters, so exerting full strength on a mountain was not much different from flying.

The problem was, he simply didn’t understand how to release genuine qi externally. Like Duan Yu seeing the Six Meridian Divine Sword for the first time, channeling energy to his fingertips or palm only produced swelling discomfort; he could not force the energy outward, let alone control it outside his body.

True external qi projection cultivation techniques were considered peerless skills, but his nameless health cultivation method lacked any martial arts involving fists, feet, palms, or fingers—let alone external qi projection.

Otherwise, he might have conjured a three-foot qi wall just for fun.

However, beyond this point, it was purely a matter of stacking internal energy. Once he surpassed about eight hundred seventy times, any excess internal energy could only remain in his internal organs; the energy deposited inside could not be simultaneously utilized or further enhance the body.

The same principle applied at one thousand five hundred and two thousand times. By the time he reached two thousand, even his body’s capacity to bear internal energy had hit its absolute limit.

He felt this was partly due to bodily limitations and partly because the cultivation method he learned could only control internal energy up to about eight hundred times; beyond that, control was lost.

At the human body’s limit of two thousand times, the sole advantage was that internal energy no longer stayed confined to the organs; the meridians outside were also completely filled. Unlike others who needed to exert effort to draw qi from their organs, his power continuously bolstered his body with every move.

Incidentally, the negative status of nearsightedness disappeared, but hair loss and athlete’s foot remained. His unprecedentedly powerful internal energy did not make him any more handsome; if this body had truly been attractive, his wife would never have left him.

How to put it—legendary masters being strikingly handsome is really just wishful thinking by ordinary folk.

Who knows, perhaps some absolute master yet to emerge suffers from hair loss and athlete’s foot.

For the first time, his status bar gained a positive state: “Longevity Enhancement.” Its effect was somewhat trivial for him now, but it was better than nothing; perhaps it might be useful in the future.

Returning to the main point, with internal energy so strong, even without any martial arts knowledge, his body’s enhanced physical qualities were unparalleled. The only real threat was poison.

Fortunately, this was not the world of Gu Long’s novels, with their endless scheming villains. He wouldn’t be casually poisoned just by eating a meal served by a deranged waiter.

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Zhang Chengyi finished allocating his points shortly after three in the morning, but he remained exhilarated until dawn, unable to sleep. His internal energy was too abundant and powerful. Despite a sleepless night, his spirit was invigorated, and he felt he could endure extended periods without sleep.

The internal cultivation in "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils" brought extreme bodily transformations. At the Tianshan Lingjiu Palace, there was even someone who periodically rejuvenated, truly embodying the pinnacle of internal energy and largely escaping the troubles common to most humans.

After morning prayers, Xu Qing came to deliver vegetarian meals to Zhang Chengyi and was startled. The man who had seemed like an ordinary middle-aged figure yesterday now walked lightly, breathed smoothly, and his eyes gleamed with spirit. His temples were prominently raised, unmistakably the aura of a master of internal martial arts.

“Is this an illusion?” Xu Qing wondered, doubting his own eyes.

Originally intending to leave after delivering the meal, he couldn’t help but watch longer, growing increasingly alarmed.

No matter how he looked, this was clearly a master. Every step was vigorous and forceful; his breath stirred dust on the ground. This level of internal cultivation was abnormal.

Zhang Chengyi made no effort to hide or conceal his prowess. What else was his purpose in allocating points, if not to become powerful, heroic, and impressive?

If there had been any mosquitoes in this bitter cold, he would have performed a demonstration—crushing insects in midair to showcase his extraordinary internal energy.

He noticed Xu Qing’s astonishment growing. Smiling, he cleared his throat politely, then casually brushed the dust from the ground as a show of composure.

“Crack—crash!”

The bricks of the courtyard floor shattered under his palm, tumbling against the wall with a series of thuds.

Thankfully, he hadn’t used full strength, or the entire chamber might have collapsed.

The atmosphere turned even more awkward.

Unaware of Zhang Chengyi’s blunder, Xu Qing thought this was an intentional display. After a brief mental freeze and stunned expression, he opened his mouth but could say nothing.

It was simply inhuman.

Who had ever seen a man who yesterday still required transmitted power from others, suddenly become an unprecedented martial arts master today?

He had witnessed Master Xuan Nan of the Bodhidharma Institute in action, yet even he could not achieve such effortless dust and sand swirling with a simple brush of the hand.

Could this be due to some rare treasure, secret transmission from a grandmaster, or a hidden technique…?

He felt his mouth go dry.

“Am I awesome or what?” Zhang Chengyi asked with a grin.

“Huh? What?” Xu Qing snapped back to reality, puzzled by the phrase.

“Awesome” was a term from the late Qing dynasty, but this was the Song dynasty.

Realizing the anachronism, Zhang Chengyi quickly waved his hand to cover his embarrassment. “Nothing, I just ate and was about to descend the mountain. Thank you, Master Xu Qing.”

“Ah, yes,” Xu Qing replied twice, unable to help but say, “Benefactor, you…”

“Ah, my apologies,” Zhang Chengyi interrupted, pressing his palms together and bowing his head, murmuring a few words before withdrawing from the chamber.

A monk harboring greed or anger—truly a sin.