Early spring arrived.0

In the manor courtyard, Li Yuan trained shirtless under a heavy load, gripping his Dragon-Fanged Spear as he thrust repeatedly. Each strike was like a venomous serpent lashing out from thick undergrowth—fast, vicious, and perfectly uniform in angle and trajectory, every single time.3

The air crackled with each jab.0

He unleashed six thrusts in a row, all converging on the exact same spot in midair, angles overlapping precisely. Then, with a mere shift of thought, he launched another onslaught of stabs, each blow landing in a new location. But once again, all strikes converged on a single pinpoint.0

This was a seventh rank technique he had acquired called Lock-Throat Spear. He was close to mastering it. Aside from spending one skill point at the final bottleneck, all his progress had been honed through personal training.0

Compared to the continuous onslaught of the Dark Grasp Linked Spear he had learned before, Lock-Throat Spear emphasized pinpoint accuracy. If Li Yuan set his sights on a fly’s left wing, he would never so much as nick its right.0

After finishing his Lock-Throat Spear practice, the young man flipped his palm, and the Dragon-Fanged Spear suddenly turned lithe in his grasp. What had once been the venomous...0