Chapter Nine: Nine Yin and Nine Yang

The worlds differ, and so do their rules.

The moment Jiang Ming stepped through the gateway, a slight dizziness overtook him. In a flash, the stars seemed to shift, and he found himself in another realm, suddenly standing beside a mountain path.

He immediately became alert, examining his surroundings and sensing for danger. Only when he found none did he breathe a sigh of relief.

At the same time, fragments of information about the secret world surfaced in his mind.

The secret realm entered by those at the second tier of martial arts was generally also a second-tier realm. The most powerful beings within would reach only the third tier, at most approaching the quasi-fourth tier. This was a restriction of strength.

To escape the secret world and retain all that one had learned, there were two widely applicable standards across most worlds: either become the undisputed strongest in the secret realm, or ascend as its sovereign.

The greatest power, or the greatest authority.

Other requirements varied, depending on the world or the degree of its evolution.

At that moment, the air before his eyes twisted, and a screen appeared, displaying rows of text.

Secret Realm: The World of Nine Yin and Nine Yang.

Restriction: Maximum survival time is three years. In the final year, the world's will shall begin to reject you, and powerful beings, guided by fate, will sense your general location and hunt you down as a matter of righteous extermination. Note: Only your approximate location can be sensed.

Departure Conditions: First, endure until the three years end; second, acquire five supreme secret manuals; third, create a brand-new supreme technique. Note: Fulfilling the first condition allows you to leave at any time, but everything gained here will be erased.

Achievement Conditions: First, become the acknowledged strongest; second, ascend as emperor; third, attain a martial arts epiphany; fourth, obtain both the Divine Art of Nine Yin and the True Sutra of Nine Yang. Note: Achieving any of these allows for immediate departure, perfectly retaining all intangible gains.

At the bottom were two greyed-out buttons: Leave, Achieve.

The substance was simple: survive here for three years.

Were it not for the world's will turning hostile in the final year and powerful natives being led to hunt outsiders, this would pose little difficulty.

But clearly, his presence here was meant to stir up trouble.

The departure conditions were arduous.

The achievement conditions, even more so.

"Is the secret realm's purpose to cultivate and select the strong?" Jiang Ming pondered.

To become the supreme being or emperor within three years? That was no less than scaling the heavens. He knew little of the Nine Yin and Nine Yang techniques, but to attain an epiphany? That was even more difficult than becoming emperor.

If one reached the third tier and then comprehended an epiphany, it would be equivalent to a quasi-fourth-tier expert.

"No wonder so few truly reap rewards here."

Let alone benefits—even leaving was no simple feat.

To attain an epiphany? For someone at the second martial tier, that was pure fantasy. The time was simply too short: two years to grow, and the final year for desperate struggle.

To collect five supreme martial arts? Without third-tier strength, it would be exceedingly difficult.

As for the achievements?

He wasn't too concerned. With his talent for enlightenment, creating a new technique wouldn't be tough—at the very least, he could secure a condition for safe departure and stand in an invincible position from the start.

While musing, he also surveyed his surroundings.

Beneath his feet was a mountain road, flanked by high peaks on either side.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed something unexpected: gravity here seemed lighter. No, it was more of a loosening of restraints.

Circulating his Origin Return Scripture, he felt no hindrance—he could cultivate freely.

"Only, the absorption of vital energy is slower, far less than in the main world. No, the concentration of this world's essence is lower."

Jiang Ming frowned. This was hardly good news for him.

"What matters most now is understanding this place," Jiang Ming thought, just as he heard the sound of hooves drawing near, accompanied by loud, raucous laughter.

"Haha, this haul was a big one!"

"Indeed. Who would have thought there'd be three thousand taels of silver hidden among those merchants? Enough for a year!"

"If only we'd found some women. I'm dying of frustration. Boss, why don't we sack a village and keep the women for our pleasure?"

"Pleasure, my foot! If word gets out, those other gangs will be on us in no time. They're all heartless scum."

Jiang Ming's sharp hearing caught every word, and his brow twitched.

"Bandits? No, mountain brigands."

"And planning a massacre—these are no mere petty criminals!"

"This world is clearly lawless. Otherwise, how could mountain bandits dare to roam so freely, even contemplating wiping out villages?"

Jiang Ming shook his head, somewhat unaccustomed to this brutality.

Soon, a troop of over twenty men appeared ahead, all mounted and rushing forward like a gale.

He expanded his senses to their utmost and felt reassured.

None of them were strong.

Even the leader at the front hadn't reached the stage of harmonizing with heaven and earth, which meant he hadn't even achieved the second tier of martial arts.

Their blood and vigor were weak, and to Jiang Ming's eyes, they all carried a heavy aura of death, save for two whose auras were lighter.

The horses neighed, rearing to a halt.

"A pale scholar? Well, well, look at that creamy skin—whiter than a woman's bosom," the burly leader leered, licking his lips with wicked intent.

"Boss, this is just your type. Want us to catch him and bring him to your room?" one of the men jeered.

"Get lost! With your filthy claws, you'd only dirty my delicate darling! Can't wait any longer—I'll strip him myself and have some fun!" the leader cried.

Jiang Ming shuddered with disgust, his whole body tensing.

"Little beauty, come here and sing a song for grandpa!" the leader called, swaggering over after dismounting—his build was imposing, though his skin was rough as bark.

"Damn, how vile!" Jiang Ming spat, a wave of nausea rising within him. "You think you can lay a hand on me? Let's see you try!"

Without another word, he shot forward in a blur.

So fast—so very fast.

The bandit chief's pupils shrank in terror. He leapt back, desperately drawing the broadsword from his back, but before it was halfway out, Jiang Ming was upon him. A fist crashed down on his shoulder.

With a sickening crunch, flesh and bone exploded.

The left shoulder shattered, mangled beyond recognition.

The bandit chief screamed, sent flying to land before his horse, coughing blood, yet still managing to shout, "Tough one! Get him, all of you!"

These were men who lived by the blade. They sprang into action, charging as one.

Blades whistled through the air, faces twisted with murderous intent.

Jiang Ming's gaze sharpened. To him, their movements seemed slow as molasses. He exhaled a deep breath and struck again.

His fist shot out like a dragon, the air booming with thunder.

With a single blow, the nearest attacker and his blade were reduced to a cloud of blood—leaving the bandits frozen, then panic-stricken and horrified.

Even Jiang Ming himself was surprised, but he didn't pause.

He moved like a wolf among sheep, fists flying—switching between military boxing and his own domineering style. In moments, all but two—who hadn't dismounted—lay sprawled, dead or dying.

Horses reared and screamed, men groaned in agony.

Jiang Ming turned to the last two.

"Spare us, great hero!" pleaded the elder, a goatee on his chin and shifty eyes darting about. He tumbled from his horse and dropped to one knee. "This old man has committed no evil—please, spare me!"

The other, a young man, clasped his hands and bowed low, his caution tinged with terror but also a hint of delight.

"Interesting," Jiang Ming said, a smile touching his lips.