Chapter 39: Master of Fist
When Soren finished packing his luggage, the mysterious Merchant Caravan Mistress had already left. He glanced at the departing mysterious woman and squatted down to whisper, “Vivian.”
“What did she say to you?”
The little girl replied without any reserve, tilting her little head, “She didn’t say much, just asked me how old I am this year.”
“And then asked me if I can read.”
“Don’t worry.”
“I didn’t tell her that I can cast spells.”
Upon hearing this, Soren nodded in reassurance. It was better not to let anyone know that Vivian was a naturally born Sorcerer, because she was just too young. Although he didn’t have a bad feeling about this mysterious Merchant Caravan Mistress, he didn’t feel entirely at ease either. Wizards were often peculiar characters, and the conflict between Thieves and Spellcasters had been ongoing for some time.
There wasn’t a single simple character among the native wizard plotters!
The caravan soon continued its journey.
Perhaps because of the conversation with the mysterious woman, the little girl suddenly developed an interest in learning to read, and Soren felt she should know some more characters because not all Sorcerers’ abilities awakened automatically. They couldn’t awaken their knowledge abilities like dragons did. Sorcerers still needed to master language and writing on their own, while dragons automatically grasped quite a few languages and scripts. Vivian had learned some characters with him before, but the number was less than a few hundred; the little girl was actually very smart and learned faster than Soren. However, she still preferred to engage in activities she loved!
Sometimes, when faced with things with a lot of text, she would get sleepy, and soon her little face would be yawning repeatedly.
The caravan was moving at a slower pace today.
The little girl still didn’t like things with a lot of words. After Soren taught her a few dozen new words, she became a bit drowsy. So she murmured a few words quietly, and then cheerfully told Soren to learn again next time, before starting to fiddle with the little trinkets that others had given her. In just one day, the little girl gained a good rapport in the caravan. Some of the little trinkets were given to her by the caravan crew, while others were toys from the mysterious woman, such as a delicate set of tarot cards.
Vivian liked things with patterns.
Half a day passed like this, and they saw some active Werewolves and Goblins along the way, but none dared to attack such a large-scale caravan.
It wasn’t until some turmoil occurred ahead that the caravan came to a temporary stop.
Soren wanted to earn more killing experience, so he went to take a look, but this time there was no opportunity for him to take action.
The caravan encountered a person.
An adventurer traveling alone in the wilderness! He was an ordinary-looking middle-aged man, with a square-shaped face, bushy eyebrows, and big eyes; he wore very ordinary gray cloth clothes, had bandages wrapped around his arms, his legs were wrapped in bandages, his hair was very short, and his neck was much thicker than that of many people. This indicated that he had likely trained in a special combat style, such as ‘War Roar,’ a special ability somewhat similar to the Lion’s Roar technique. When Soren saw him, the Merchant Guards were talking to him from a distance, and nearby were three dead Werewolves, all taken down with bare hands.
“Master of Fist?!”
Soren looked at the middle-aged man in surprise, then got off his horse, clasped his hands together, and said, “Did the Master travel alone?”
The middle-aged man returned the gesture gracefully, bowing his head humbly.
Seeing Soren’s actions, the Merchant Guards relaxed a little, and the Guard Captain rode over and whispered, “Who is he?”
“Someone just saw him deal with the Werewolves, taking down three of them quickly barehanded.”
“The other Werewolves ran away.”
Soren nodded slightly and then explained, “This should be a Master of Fist.”
“A practitioner of the Monk’s path.”
“They like to wander alone in the wilderness, seeking opportunities to temper their will and strength. This one looks like an Ascetic.”
Monk?
Ascetic?
The Guard Captain’s expression relaxed a bit because most Ascetics are not evil beings.
The Master of Fist is an advanced profession for Monks; they completely abandon weapons and become proficient in unarmed attacks. Only Masters of Fist and Holy Fist Guardians can master this powerful specialty. Monks are one of the professions that love to travel alone in the wild because they need to temper their will in the wilderness while experiencing the powers of ethereality, extinction, and chaos. If the chosen path is that of the Ascetic, they have a special sacred ritual, which is to donate all their wealth to the poor.
Ascetics donate the vast majority of their wealth, retaining only a small amount of material wealth to temper their willpower!
This is one of the professions with the highest will attribute.
They are almost immune to most charm and mind-affecting spells, and by giving up material pleasures, their convictions become even stronger.
Very few advance to become Ascetic!
Because they need to make a special oath, violation of which could lead to spiritual vulnerabilities.
This is known as ‘self-deception.’
If a powerful professional develops such a situation, then obvious vulnerabilities will arise in their mental state, significantly affecting their own strength.
One Ascetic exists among every ten Monks.
Among every ten Ascetics, only one advances to become an Ascetic Monk, which is the hardest advanced special profession.
Because Ascetics do not keep overnight wealth, many have completely abandoned weapons and extraordinary equipment, reaching the highest achievement of a Master of Fist.
— Inch Power!
Not using any weapons, not wearing any gear, solely relying on powerful intuition and their hands to fight.
These individuals have exaggerated spell resistance and also possess very unique abilities.
All are abilities gradually realized through long-term training, many relying on their strong willpower, tempered in harsh environments, ultimately directly interfering with the elemental energy of the material world.
Many Ascetics give up in the end, for not everyone can resist the material world’s allure!
Once practice is abandoned.
Ascetics become ordinary Monks, and may never have the courage to try again in their lifetime.
…
The caravan soon gained a new companion.
The Master of Fist appeared very taciturn, hardly speaking proactively with others; this was not very strange, as some Ascetics could even pretend to be mute for years without speaking a word.
By noon.
He would beg other members of the caravan for just a bit of water and simple food, refusing most meat, eating only rough black bread.
Ascetics do not refrain from eating meat.
But when they begin a period of training, unless under special circumstances, they only eat the simplest and coarsest food.
This kind of training can last for several years, often resulting in a noticeable increase in strength upon completion.
Many people initially attempted training.
Unfortunately, they all failed in the end; players simply could not endure this way of life, preferring to challenge some powerful monsters and directly use killing experience to upgrade their levels.
Monks are not rare in this world!
Their training methods have been increasingly accepted, and even combined with some aspects of the Sword Saint’s training, eventually giving rise to the current Master of Weapons profession.
The only difference lies in the shift from unarmed combat to specializing in a specific weapon!
These individuals possess strong willpower.
Some Priests also attempt to train in a similar way to strengthen their belief powers.
This Master of Fist had very little presence.
Even by evening, he had not initiated a conversation with anyone, simply moving silently alongside the caravan.
He also didn’t ride a horse, even refusing a generous offer of a mount from another; he just walked the whole way, but he walked quickly and had much greater endurance than ordinary people, it could be said that he moved with ‘swift steps,’ easily keeping up with them. When evening came and they camped, he didn’t even need a tent to rest, not even needing to get close to the campfire; he just found a stone to sit cross-legged on.
Then he remained completely motionless.
The travel the next day could be described as very peaceful; aside from the presence of this Master of Fist, they encountered almost no troubles on the road.
By the time Soren woke up on the third day.
The Master of Fist was still sitting on the stone; nearby, some Merchant Guards were pointing at him, their faces showing evident surprise and shock. It was clear their warrior training, while very tough, hadn’t reached such extreme levels. Only the Guard Captain’s face displayed a thoughtful expression, as his Northern Barbarian training was also very extreme, requiring immersion in ice water below zero degrees to suppress raging power, which had almost cost him his life.
Having not moved for the entire night, by the next morning, the Master of Fist’s body was even covered in dew, and in the cold weather, there was a faint white frost on his eyebrows.
At this time.
Others finally understood why Soren held a bit of respect for him.
This indeed was not a training method that ordinary people could withstand.
In fact, normal Monk training isn’t vastly different from that of warriors; only the Ascetic as an advanced profession is quite special, and their way of training is much more extreme, employing the most arduous methods to excavate their own potential.
In the abyss, there is a Succubus Queen.
Even many deities cannot withstand her charm spells, but legendary Monks can directly ignore them.
One can imagine how exaggerated the willpower of such individuals is!
…
The Master of Fist departed in the afternoon of the third day.
Because Soren and the others were approaching a small town; they were already nearing the vicinity of White Horse City, with just two days left of travel.
Ascetics do not typically approach populous areas when training, preferring to temper themselves in deserted regions.
He planned to head to a large waterfall in the northwest to conduct a year-long training session, seeking opportunities to comprehend ‘Ethereal Body’ and pursue the chance to become a legendary Monk, ultimately mastering the legendary ‘Transcendence.’
Until he left.
No one knew his name, like just a passerby met along the journey.
However.
For some reason, he actually gifted Vivian a scroll.
It wasn’t some martial arts secret manual.
There’s no concept of martial arts secret manuals in this world; it was merely a scroll titled “Mastery of Unarmed Techniques and Inch Power Mastery,” akin to a warrior’s “Advanced Cleaving Techniques and Finding Enemy Weaknesses,” a wizard’s “On the Enhancement of Transmutation Spells and Flexible Usage,” a priest’s “On the Impact of Faith Intensity on Divine Techniques,” a paladin’s “The Holy Power Brought by Conviction,” etc.
These are insights many had written down themselves; if practiced according to the methods outlined, one could master some additional specialties.
For instance, a thief’s “Special Techniques for Lockpicking and Usage,” if this book is read thoroughly, it could slightly enhance lockpicking skills, with good luck resulting in learned specialties.
The book given by the Master of Fist, if trained according to the methods described, and the training requirements met, one could gain the ‘Unarmed Attack’ specialty, thereby achieving the requirements to become a Monk, and ultimately try to train in the specialty mastered in the outlined manner.
However.
How could Soren possibly allow Vivian to advance into the grueling profession of ‘Monk’?
The training approach of this profession is far too tough.
So he directly kept it for himself, tossing it into the Dimensional Bag; Vivian should continue to quietly be a ‘wealthy beauty’ Sorcerer.
Moreover, he couldn’t bear to let the little girl train alone in the wilderness.
He was even less willing to let her suffer.
