To Jiang Fei, internal energy and martial force were fundamentally different.
At the very least, internal energy was an advanced version of martial force—far more potent.
In traditional martial arts, force cultivation was divided into three tiers:
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Ming Jin – External force. The most basic form, where power is delivered through direct physical strikes (e.g., fists). It damages muscles and bones.
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An Jin – Hidden force. A deeper, penetrating energy that injures internal organs without leaving surface marks (like pressing a watermelon—the rind stays intact, but the flesh inside is ruined).
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Hua Jin – Transformative force. The highest level, capable of disrupting an opponent’s qi and blood flow.
Jiang Fei had learned this from Chen Zhoujian during his training at Wudang Mountain. Chen had given him vivid examples:
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Ming Jin: A practitioner could cleave a brick in half with a palm strike—shattering the top while leaving the bottom unmoved. This wasn’t raw strength; it was refined force.
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An Jin: A strike that left no external bruising but liquefied internal tissues.
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Hua Jin: A master could attack an opponent’s vitality without even touching them.
But here was the key difference:
Martial force required physical contact.
Internal energy did not.
True internal energy could be projected outward—manifesting as sword qi, shockwaves, or even attacks that bypassed obstacles (“striking a cow through a mountain”). Techniques like the Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms weren’t just brute force; they were empowered by internal energy.
Yet now, Jiang Fei had absorbed Tian Fei’s martial force and converted it into Beiming true energy—blurring the line between the two systems.
The question was: What was the conversion rate?
Tian Fei’s two years of cultivated martial force had only translated to five months’ worth of internal energy for Jiang Fei. A steep discount, likely because the system recognized martial force as inferior to true internal energy.
Still, it was better than nothing. At least now, Jiang Fei didn’t have to wait fifteen years to level up his Beiming Divine Skill.
…..
Jiang Fei crouched beside the weakened Tian Fei, who lay like a deflated balloon.
“How long did it take you to develop martial force?” Jiang Fei asked cheerfully.
Tian Fei glared. “Why should I tell you?”
“As the winner, I’m entitled to ask questions,” Jiang Fei said, shrugging. “And as the loser, you don’t get to refuse.”
Tian Fei scoffed. “You think beating me means I’ll spill everything?”
Jiang Fei paused. The man had nothing left to lose. Threats wouldn’t work.
“What if I let you live in exchange for answers?” Jiang Fei offered.
Tian Fei’s expression didn’t flicker. “Do I look stupid to you?”
Fair point. This muscle-bound brute was sharper than he seemed.
Jiang Fei switched tactics. “Fine. Forget your boss, the poison plot, or framing traditional medicine. Just tell me how long you’ve trained your martial force. That’s harmless, right?”
Tian Fei’s thick eyebrows knotted. “Why do you care?”
“Curiosity.”
A tense silence followed. Tian Fei’s hatred burned—this man had ruined his flawless plan, humiliated him, and stolen his hard-earned force. Every fiber of his being wanted to rip Jiang Fei apart.
Yet…
“Do you want to know how I drained your energy?” Jiang Fei dropped casually.
Tian Fei’s eyes snapped wide. “How?!“
The idea of stealing someone’s cultivated force was unheard of. If such a technique existed, no martial artist would ever be safe.
“Tell me your training time, and I’ll tell you my method,” Jiang Fei bargained.
After a long pause, Tian Fei gritted out: “Two years. I’ve only reached Ming Jin.”
Jiang Fei nodded. Two years of martial force = 0.4 years of Beiming energy. The system clearly penalized the conversion.
Still, it’s a shortcut.
“Now, your turn,” Tian Fei demanded. “What did you do to me?”
Jiang Fei’s lips curled. “Ever heard of… the Beiming Divine Skill?”
Tian Fei blinked. “You mean—the legendary technique from Demi-Gods and Demi-Devils?!”
“The very one.”
For a second, Tian Fei gaped. Then his face twisted in fury.
“Are you mocking me?!” he roared. “Next you’ll claim you know the Nine Swords of Dugu or Li Xunhuan’s throwing daggers!”
Jiang Fei feigned shock. “Wow, you’re good at guessing!”
