Chapter Twenty: You Have No Idea How Powerful You Truly Are

Reflecting on the events of that day.

Compassionate Master’s eyes held infinite sorrow.

In his youth, he devoted himself to Buddhist martial arts, once imagining that someday he might encounter a worthy adversary. He pictured that opponent as a towering figure, eight feet tall, broad-shouldered and robust, a master of martial arts, wielding a staff even heavier and thicker than his own iron Demon-Subduing Rod, pinning him to the ground with overwhelming skill.

But at that time, Compassionate Master never considered that one day he would truly meet such a foe.

And when he did, that opponent had not a shred of martial prowess.

All he possessed was a slender, delicate rod that seemed harmless enough, yet crackled with electric sparks and flashes.

“I lost to him—not to him, but to the times.”

“Amitabha.”

Compassionate Master sighed, once more fingering his prayer beads and chanting sutras.

It seemed only this could soothe the bitterness in his heart.

Perhaps moved by this melancholic atmosphere, the great Confucian scholar Mo Buzhi, sitting nearby, sighed as well, as if recalling something himself.

“That day, I debated doctrine with another.”

“You know, my name is Mo Buzhi—though I cannot claim omniscience, I have read widely.”

“The principles of being human, the laws of heaven and earth—I understand them all.”

“But... he insisted on asking me how to prove d?x/dt? equals (-d?t/dx?)/ (dt/dx)^3?”

“I... ah, best left unspoken! That’s not the worst—what I cannot accept is that every question I asked, he answered perfectly. I thought I’d met a hidden sage, but it turned out there’s something called Baidu!”

“How unfortunate, truly unfortunate.”

Mo Buzhi sighed, set aside his book, and took a mobile phone from his robe, fiddling with it.

Lin Fan: “...”

This child, he’s truly a soul plagued by hardship!

Old Daoist Dao Wanqian, who seemed to have a peculiar fondness for exposing others’ shortcomings, glanced at the Mohist heir beside him—Gongshu Ming, dressed in a black Zhongshan suit, still playing with his bird.

“Don’t be fooled by how happy he seems with his bird.”

“Ha, once upon a time, Mohism shone with glory.”

“Ancestor Gongshu Ban invented the flying bird technique, carving wooden birds that soared on the wind, attracting the world’s gaze as if they were immortals.”

“There was also the wooden horse technique, wooden steeds with hidden mechanisms that could travel a thousand miles in a day.”

“But now...” Dao Wanqian looked at Gongshu Ming, “I heard last time you raced an airplane. How did that go?”

Gongshu Ming’s fingers, playing with the bird, trembled slightly.

After a long moment, his face flushed red as he managed two words: “Not bad.”

“How exactly?” Dao Wanqian smiled slyly at Gongshu Ming.

“I hadn’t even taken off when the jet stream from that plane knocked me over...” Gongshu Ming’s face was burning with embarrassment, yet he stubbornly protested, “But you can’t say Mohist flying birds are inferior to airplanes—it's just... just... just that the plane was despicable, it sprayed me with its jet stream!”

“Come off it, you only got to experience its exhaust at the start,” Dao Wanqian sneered. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t even see the tail of the plane.”

“No, no...” Gongshu Ming shook his head, wanting to argue, but after so many ‘no’s, nothing else came out.

“Enough.” Dao Wanqian waved his hand and looked around at everyone. “In truth, we all know exactly what state we’re in now—there’s no need to hide it.”

“And you—”

Dao Wanqian’s gaze grew complex as he looked at Lin Fan. “Do you understand our predicament now?”

“If it were in earlier times, perhaps we could have helped you.”

“But now—”

“The times have changed.”

“It’s like our Daoist sect once had the so-called ‘flying message technique’—which was just an exaggeration. We’d keep carrier pigeons to deliver messages. Even so, the speed was once legendary, spoken of as miraculous.”

“But now.” Dao Wanqian carefully took out a mobile phone from his robes, speaking solemnly: “This magical device called a phone—just a few presses and it sends messages instantly. There are even dancing girls inside... cough, cough.”

“In short—”

“We are no longer masters—we are people abandoned by the age.”

“A peerless punch? Can you compete with artillery?”

“A supreme sword technique? Can you face off against a Gatling gun?”

“And what Mohist invisibility, what so-called Starfall Slash that claims to be as swift as a meteor... Isn’t a sniper rifle simpler and more effective?”

“Mr. Mo Buzhi’s wisdom—can it compare to Baidu?”

“And the Demon-Subduing Iron Rod—wasn’t it subdued by electricity?”

“So, you see—”

“Martial arts in this era are no longer killing skills, at most they are techniques for health and fitness.”

“We truly can’t help you.”

“Much less when your enemy is a god. Even if we want to help, we are only human,” Dao Wanqian sighed, “If you want our help, you’d be better off with a few bulldozers or hydraulic presses—they’re stronger than we are.”

The others fell silent.

Even Xingye, who had previously seemed indifferent, now hung his head, fists clenched.

How could they not wish to help their great nation?

But—

The times have changed!

In this era of rapid technological development, what can these martial families and sects still do for their country?

Planes, high-speed trains, tanks, cannons.

Hydraulic presses, bulldozers.

Are these not faster, more destructive, more powerful than they?

Human strength has long been crushed by modern technology.

How can they hope to fight gods?

With science so advanced, what place is left for their martial arts?

Looking at the somber, silent faces around him, Lin Fan understood.

These people did not lack the will to serve their nation—they simply felt utterly incapable of helping!

They no longer believed that human martial arts could stand against gods!

In that moment,

Lin Fan suddenly understood why, in his past life, Xingye had shouted himself hoarse: “Give me five more years—even gods could not set foot in our land!”

Because,

At this moment, they have yet to realize how powerful they will become in the near future!

And when they finally do,

The gods will have already arrived!

And they will be wholly unprepared!

Thus, these guilt-ridden souls would go on to cherish every second in the future, fighting for their nation at every moment.

Suddenly—

“Hahaha.”

“How interesting.”

Amid the heavy atmosphere, Lin Fan suddenly burst out laughing.

The laughter rang out abruptly, starkly out of place.

It was as if salt had been sprinkled on the wounds of those lost in despair.

“What’s this—” The hot-tempered Wang Hu was the first to stand, slamming his fist on the table. “Are you mocking us simple-minded, strong-limbed men, abandoned by the times?”

“Heh.” Lin Fan looked at Wang Hu and smiled, “I’m not laughing at your being discarded by the times.”

“I’m laughing because you have no idea how powerful you will become, how incredible your martial arts are!”

“What do you mean?” Wang Hu frowned. “You, who have never cultivated, understand better than we do...”

Lin Fan ignored Wang Hu, pressing a finger to the sturdy, heavy rosewood table before him!

Crack!

In the next instant, Wang Hu’s voice was abruptly cut off. Eyes wide, he stared at Lin Fan—

And at the rosewood table before him!