085 The World of Martial Arts Abilities

As Chen Wen pressed his palms together, the flame vanished without a trace. He looked at Zhong Yun, his gaze tinged with anticipation. “Show me your ability as well.”

Still reeling from the aggressiveness of Chen Wen’s ‘Origin’ power, Zhong Yun did not hesitate. Since Chen Wen had already been so open, there was no point in hiding his own abilities any longer. He extended his hand as well.

Tian Hai, still in a state of utter shock, turned toward Zhong Yun. Could it be that his childhood friend, whom he had known for so many years, possessed such abilities too?

Under Tian Hai’s incredulous stare and Chen Wen’s expectant gaze, faint strands of violet energy began to weave around Zhong Yun’s hand. The purple glow intensified, growing thicker and deeper, until it enveloped his entire hand.

With a gentle wave, the violet light faded away, and everything returned to normal. Zhong Yun’s eyes held a trace of apology. “I didn’t mean to keep this from you.”

“Huh?” Tian Hai snapped out of his astonishment, his expression shifting rapidly. Just as Zhong Yun braced himself for Tian Hai’s anger, Tian Hai’s face broke out in exuberant joy. He leapt up, exclaiming, “Xiao Yun, teach me! You have to teach me!”

It seemed Tian Hai didn’t mind his secrecy at all. Zhong Yun felt a surge of gratitude. With a brother who understood him so well, what more could he ask for?

“I will teach you. I promise.” Zhong Yun gave his solemn word.

At that moment, Chen Wen let out a long breath. “Just as I thought.” He looked at Zhong Yun with a complex emotion. “I was right—you’re one of the special types.”

“Special types?” Zhong Yun echoed, unable to suppress his curiosity. He was eager to know how ‘Origin’ was classified in Davos. “How are these abilities categorized and graded?”

Chen Wen laced his fingers together, giving them a slight squeeze as he gathered his thoughts. “Generally, physical arts—or abilities—are divided into two major categories: combat types and special types.

“Combat types possess immense power and excel in battle. The military is full of combat ability experts—like the mecha operators—who are the elite among them. Over ninety percent of those who train in physical arts fall into this category, and their energy is characteristically a milky white.

“But special types are a different story—strange and varied. Take me, for example: my ability manifests as high-temperature blue flames. Yours, Zhong Yun, is a wave of violet energy. In short, anything that isn’t milky white falls under special types.”

Here, Chen Wen paused. “Of course, this classification isn’t entirely scientific. My blue flames, for instance, are far more formidable in combat than abilities of the same level in the combat type category.”

“How is the hierarchy of abilities determined?” Zhong Yun asked next.

Chen Wen replied without hesitation, “Physical arts have a clear hierarchy. From the first level upwards, each higher level means greater strength. Levels are formally assessed by the Physical Arts Association, which uses specialized instruments to measure the intensity of energy within you.

“But there’s also a combat technique evaluation. Only after passing both can you advance to the next level.”

“What’s the highest level for physical arts?” Zhong Yun asked, captivated.

Chen Wen shook his head. “No one knows how many levels there are in total; no one’s ever reached the highest. Currently, the strongest in our nation is at level thirteen.” A trace of longing flashed in his eyes as he spoke of this legendary figure.

After a moment, he added, “Level ten is the watershed. Below level ten, no matter how skilled you are, you’re doomed if you face a mecha. But…”

Chen Wen licked his dry lips. “Once you surpass level ten, you’re strong enough to defeat a Type Seven mecha.”

“Defeat a Type Seven mecha?” Tian Hai, who had been listening with rapt attention, suddenly exclaimed, “Impossible! How could a human overcome the ‘Devil of War’?”

Since the advent of mechas, with their agility and versatility, they had become the darlings of the battlefield. Their unrivaled destructive power earned them the nickname ‘Devil of War.’

The Type Seven mecha was the most powerful model ever produced by the Giant Machinery Group. A decade ago, it placed tenth in the United Intermediate Civilization Mecha Tournament of the Omi Star System—a dazzling accomplishment that forced the established intermediate civilizations to look at Davos, the up-and-coming civilization, with new respect.

The Omi Star System’s leading nation, the Grand Empire, was one of the oldest civilizations, with a history that stretched back a hundred million years. Thanks to the Grand Empire, the Omi Star System was one of the most prosperous, boasting a single advanced civilization and over a hundred intermediate ones.

Davos had only recently ascended to intermediate civilization status, and in its first tournament had claimed the tenth spot—a spectacular debut.

All this showed just how formidable the Type Seven mecha was. To the people of Davos, it was a source of great pride. To say someone could best it was, to Tian Hai, utterly unbelievable.

Chen Wen didn’t try to convince him further. There was no point explaining the power of those above level ten to someone outside their circle.

“At what level can one fly through the sky under their own power?” Zhong Yun suddenly asked.

“Level ten.”

Zhong Yun nodded. That meant level ten in physical arts was equivalent to what Zero called the second tier. At last, he understood the relationship between these systems.

“Why have we never heard of people like you before?” Tian Hai wondered aloud.

“It was probably to avoid causing panic among the general populace,” Chen Wen replied with a shrug. “The family used to have strict rules—abilities weren’t to be shown in public unless absolutely necessary. These days, few still follow that rule. Though the media observe a code of silence and don’t report on ability-related events, plenty of ordinary people know about the existence of physical arts practitioners.”

“As a path of evolution, it’s only natural that physical arts should be promoted to the masses,” Zhong Yun said.

“Exactly.” Chen Wen agreed. “In fact, the Physical Arts Association established several academies over a decade ago, and has branches in every city. Recently, there have even been negotiations with the government to introduce physical arts courses in universities.”

As they spoke, the automatic walkway halted before a door. Chen Wen stopped and said, “Here we are. Let’s go in.”

Inside, they found a spacious hall lined with many closed doors. There were few people about, and those present glanced curiously at the trio before returning to their own affairs.

Chen Wen led them to a door on the far left and knocked three times. The door slid open automatically, revealing a simple room. Seated cross-legged in the center was a frail, elderly man.

Chen Wen approached the old man and bowed respectfully. “Great-uncle Jiu, I’ve brought my friends to see you.”

“Speak. What is it?” The old man’s voice was dry and rasping, unpleasant to the ear.

“My friend wishes to have his physical arts level tested,” Chen Wen replied.

The old man opened his eyes, his gaze settling on Zhong Yun. Suddenly, his clouded pupils blazed with two brilliant sparks of light.