Advent of Immortal Truth
Chapter 369: Martial Arts Crash Course

Xiao Zheng Peak, Martial Arena.

Ning Zhuo and Han Zhou were sparring.

Han Zhou’s fighting style was completely different from Lin Shanshan’s. His moves were broad and forceful, with offense dominating most of the exchange, and defense being rare—unless it concerned his vital areas.

Once Han Zhou launched his attack, his offensive became relentless, like a frigid blizzard sweeping across the skies.

Ning Zhuo clenched his teeth and held on, finding himself in a situation much like his initial sparring with Lin Shanshan—only able to defend, unable to counterattack.

Han Zhou was surprised to see how solid and tight Ning Zhuo’s defense was.

“How long has it even been? Ning Zhuo has made such huge progress in martial skills!”

His sense was much more acute than most.

Because not long ago, he had been the one to challenge Ning Zhuo. During that battle, they had engaged in close combat.

In just a few exchanges, Ning Zhuo’s defense had crumbled, and Han Zhou had seized the opportunity to push forward. If not for a Spiritual Talisman saving him, Ning Zhuo would’ve lost.

But now, even after Han Zhou unleashed his full offensive, Ning Zhuo hadn’t faltered.

Despite Ning Zhuo’s sorry appearance, his defense was indeed tight enough to force Han Zhou to consider other means to break the deadlock.

“Careful, I’m going to use martial arts now,” Han Zhou warned in a low voice.

In the next moment, a layer of white frost coated his fists, and the air temperature plummeted.

Martial Art—Frost Fist.

A wave of bitter cold spread out along with it.

Ning Zhuo didn’t dare take it head-on. With a light tap of his toes, he moved nimbly, constantly retreating.

Han Zhou followed close behind.

Ning Zhuo focused on evasion. Every dodge and sidestep flowed like water, crisp and clean, showcasing his solid foundation.

Martial Art—Old Cold Legs.

Han Zhou’s leg strikes were fierce, sending gusts of cold wind whooshing through the air.

Ning Zhuo barely managed to fend off the attacks, clearly on the losing end.

Prolonged defense eventually fails, and Ning Zhuo showed a gap.

Han Zhou’s eyes lit up. Seizing the chance, he suddenly powered forward, a frost-laden punch heading straight for Ning Zhuo’s face.

Ning Zhuo’s gaze sharpened. He stepped lightly, attempting to sidestep.

He dodged most of it but was still struck on the shoulder.

Staggering back, Ning Zhuo’s defensive posture finally collapsed.

But Han Zhou withdrew his hand, standing in place without pressing the attack.

“Impressive, impressive!” Ning Zhuo clutched his shoulder. The pain from the hit was secondary—he was genuinely delighted and sincerely praised Han Zhou.

Previously, his sparring with Lin Shanshan had diminishing returns. His insights into martial arts and combat were becoming fewer.

But now, switching partners had brought his sharpness back. Although the spar had been short, Ning Zhuo had gained a lot, with many realizations he needed to review and internalize immediately.

“Brother Han Zhou, sparring with you was absolutely the right decision. I’ve learned a lot—thank you, truly!” Ning Zhuo offered sincere thanks.

Han Zhou’s eyes flickered. He harbored other intentions. The more Ning Zhuo sparred with him, the easier it would be to convert him.

After all, the Foundation Establishment Stage wasn’t the Golden Core Stage yet—cultivation techniques could still be changed!

Han Zhou thought for a moment, then acknowledged Ning Zhuo’s progress, saying the experience this time was entirely different from their previous fight.

“But what you lack are proper martial arts. Otherwise, you could’ve held your own against my Frost Fist and Old Cold Legs.”

“Fellow Daoist Ning Zhuo, the technique you cultivate focuses on your Qi Sea, which puts you at a disadvantage in close combat.”

“I suggest you practice some martial arts. While martial arts are just skills and not full techniques, they can still harness and utilize your physical strength and stamina effectively.”

Ning Zhuo responded with interest, “I’d love to hear your suggestions, Brother Han Zhou.”

Han Zhou immediately offered, “If you don’t mind, I’d be willing to teach you Frost Fist, Old Cold Legs, and other such martial arts.”

Ning Zhuo frowned. “Is that really appropriate?”

“Appropriate? It’s perfectly appropriate!” Han Zhou chuckled inwardly. “Once you learn these martial arts, you’ll be more inclined toward the Bitter Cold techniques. If I can convert you in the end, that would be an immense virtue!”

On the surface, Han Zhou said, “Fellow Daoist Ning Zhuo, your ability to grasp the essence of Bitter Cold shows a natural affinity for the *Bitter Cold Sutra*. This is fate.”

“We met through combat—it’s not much to pass on a few martial arts. These aren’t core techniques, after all.”

“In fact, even the *Bitter Cold Sutra* itself isn’t forbidden from being passed on. Back then, I was just a beggar, and someone shared it with me in a broken temple amid snow and ice—that’s how I began my cultivation journey.”

“For me to teach you these martial arts is akin to how someone once taught me the full *Bitter Cold Sutra*. It’s sowing a good cause for a good effect.”

Ning Zhuo nodded thoughtfully. “Hearing you say that confirms my suspicion. The *Bitter Cold Sutra* is indeed a Buddhist Sutra, isn’t it?”

Han Zhou hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “That’s right.”

“But please, Fellow Daoist Ning Zhuo, don’t pass it around lightly. I’d rather not expose my foundation.”

“The *Bitter Cold Sutra* comes from Lesser Vehicle Buddhism. It emphasizes self-salvation. As they say, the sea of bitterness is endless—only by enduring bitter cold can one forge a true cultivation body and will.”

“The *Bitter Cold Sutra* turns all life’s suffering and poverty into fuel for cultivation.”

Ning Zhuo nodded. “In that case, please teach me the related martial arts.”

Han Zhou smiled. “I have a method that can help you learn them quickly.”

Ning Zhuo showed a curious expression and asked immediately.

Han Zhou pulled a small bowl from his storage belt. The bowl was filled to about eighty percent with water.

“Back then, the one who taught me the *Bitter Cold Sutra* used this.”

“This bowl holds *Bitter Water*, refined with the true intent of the *Bitter Cold Sutra*. Just a small sip will allow you to understand and fully grasp seven martial arts instantly.”

“Ordinary people can’t use this method. The *Bitter Water* is incredibly bitter—so much so that it can plunge someone into extreme gloom, making them feel life and the world are gray and meaningless, even leading to suicide.”

“But you, Fellow Daoist Ning Zhuo, have already endured my bitter cold aura and grasped some truths of the Sutra. Clearly, you have excellent comprehension and a natural affinity for this Buddhist scripture.”

“Why not give it a try?”

Ning Zhuo looked at the water in the bowl. It was a deep black-blue, flickering with a faint, icy glow.

Standing nearby, he could clearly sense a bone-piercing chill from the bowl—it seemed as if it could freeze his very soul.

“Bitter Water—I’ve heard of this. It’s the treasure of water-path sin,” Ning Zhuo sighed.

In Puppet Immortal City, he had encountered *Water of Supreme Goodness*, a water-path merit treasure.

Now he was seeing *Bitter Water*, which stood in direct contrast as a sin-bound treasure.

*Bitter Water* was itself a symbol of sin. Legend held it was condensed from countless tears of pain and regret.

Those who possessed or touched it would be forced to face the darkest parts of their hearts—guilt, grievances, sorrow, suffering. Long-term exposure would gradually corrode their spirit, plunging them into endless misery and remorse.

Once the corrosion reached a certain level, cultivators would experience auditory hallucinations—whispers and weeping at their ears, all voicing their sorrow.

It was an immense torment.

Ning Zhuo showed a cautious expression.

Han Zhou reassured him, “Don’t worry too much. This *Bitter Water* has been refined. Under my supervision, it will help you glimpse the true intent of the *Bitter Cold Sutra* and instantly comprehend seven martial arts.”

“Of course, there’s a prerequisite.”

“You must withstand the bitterness and gain insight from it—not be overwhelmed by the emotions, your mind drowned by grief and negativity.”

“If that happens, you won’t be learning martial arts. You’ll need a tremendous cost just to return to normal.”

“This method carries serious risks.”

Ning Zhuo thought for a moment, then smiled. “Brother Han Zhou, since you’re this honest, I trust you! It’s worth a try.”

“But this martial arena isn’t the right place.”

“Can I take some of the *Bitter Water* with me?”

Han Zhou nodded. “Of course.”

He immediately poured a small vial and handed it to Ning Zhuo.

After parting ways, Ning Zhuo returned to his cave dwelling.

He and Sun Lingtong carefully inspected the *Bitter Water* and confirmed it had indeed been refined, and no longer posed great danger.

Ning Zhuo asked Sun Lingtong to watch over him while he tried the *Bitter Water*.

Sun Lingtong was very interested. He told Ning Zhuo he had never tasted it before and asked him to save a bit so he could try it too.

The two entered the Spirit Plant Chamber.

Inside, the dark yellow soil had clearly lightened compared to before.

Although it was just a thin layer, due to spatial folding by the array, its true depth was far greater than it appeared.

At the center of the chamber stood a *Hidden Spirit Willow*.

Pleasant, melodious sounds echoed around them. A spring breeze gently stirred the air, and the willow branches swayed with the wind.

Both Ning Zhuo and Sun Lingtong gazed at the willow and observed it carefully. Ning Zhuo frowned slightly, while Sun Lingtong looked pleased.

Sun Lingtong said, “Brother, look—the dried branches are showing signs of recovery. They were completely dehydrated before, but now they’re regaining fullness.”

Ning Zhuo sighed. “It seems the *Hidden Spirit Willow* consumes more than I expected.”

“We’ve already done our best and gathered the finest materials available, but its recovery is far from ideal.”

Ning Zhuo looked down at the soil near the willow’s roots. He extended his spiritual sense into the ground and saw that the multicolored divine sands and three-treasure spirit soil they had scattered earlier were nearly depleted—less than ten percent remained.

Previously, they had also poured in *Stellar River Spirit Liquid*. The soil had been moist, but now it was dry—the spirit liquid was gone.

Ning Zhuo decided immediately. “Looks like this *Hidden Spirit Willow* is not easy to nourish. We’ll need to keep investing if we want to sustain it.”

Sun Lingtong also frowned. “Regular means won’t cut it. Even Lin Shanshan, the darling of the Nascent Soul Sect Leader, got locked up over this.”

“But I’m sure the Ten Thousand Medicine Sect has more spirit soil and divine sands. Otherwise…”