Martial God Asura Chapters 6-10: The Illusionary Palm Mastery & Chu Family Debt

The path of cultivation is paved with relentless effort and unexpected revelations. For Chu Feng, the newly minted inner court disciple of the Azure Dragon School, the hallowed halls of the Martial Skill Building represented his first true proving ground. Having defied expectations by secretly claiming first place in the entrance exam, he now sought the tools to solidify his strength, tools that others deemed too perilous for a newcomer to grasp.

His destination was the third floor, a quiet realm reserved for rank 3 martial skills. As he crossed the threshold, a voice, weathered by time yet firm with authority, halted him. “The skills here are not suitable for new disciples. It is best you start from the first floor.”

Chu Feng turned to see the guardian of the floor, an elder with hair, brows, and beard as white as mountain snow. The elder’s eyes held a mix of scrutiny and weary experience. Chu Feng offered a respectful salute, cupping one hand over the other in the traditional manner. “Thank you for your reminder, but I have my own plans.”

With that, he walked in, leaving the elder to shake his head in disappointment. “Ahh, another arrogant disciple,” the old man murmured, having seen countless youths brimming with overconfidence only to falter and lose their way. He always offered the warning, a kindness to steer them from ruin, though few heeded it.

Undeterred, Chu Feng moved between the shelves, his fingers trailing over spines until they settled on one particular skill book. He brought it to the elder for registration.

The elder took the book, his eyes widening slightly. “Are you sure you want to train in this Illusionary Palm?” he asked, doubt thick in his voice.

“Mm,” Chu Feng replied with a calm smile.

“Did you look over the description of this skill?” the elder pressed, his tone implying Chu Feng must have missed a crucial detail.

“I have seen it.”

“Yet you still choose it? This is the hardest one in the entire Martial Skill Building.” The elder was baffled. The Illusionary Palm was notorious for its complexity, a skill that demanded immense perception and control, often defeating disciples far more experienced than this purple-clad novice.

“This is exactly the one that I want to train in,” Chu Feng said, his smile unwavering, his gaze hardening with a resolute light that gave the elder pause.

With a sigh of resignation, the elder—whose name was Ouyang—registered the skill. “Remember to know what point to stop,” he advised as he handed the book back, a final piece of well-intentioned counsel.

Chu Feng accepted it with a nod, appreciating the elder’s responsibility despite his skepticism. As he turned to leave, a figure brushed roughly past his shoulder. It was Duan Yuxuan, one of the disciples who had falsely claimed the top exam score, and his face was a storm cloud of humiliation. Puzzled, Chu Feng overheard the whispers that followed Duan Yuxuan, and the mystery unraveled.

“Isn’t that Duan Yuxuan? I thought he already had a rank 4 skill book…” “You don’t know? At the feast last night, the inner court elders clarified that the rank 4 skill book cannot be shared. They had to confess they weren’t first!” “So who was first? Forty Fierce Beasts, including a rank 4… that’s unimaginable.”

A faint, private smile touched Chu Feng’s lips as he descended. The truth was seeping out, but his focus was elsewhere. He needed to train.

The fourth floor was a cacophonous training ground, a vast hall teeming with hundreds of disciples sparring, yelling, and attacking mechanized pillars. Chu Feng passed through the noise and ascended to the quieter sixth floor, selecting a private stone room. Inside stood a mechanism pillar, a sturdy construct of steel and wood designed to dodge attacks based on the opponent’s speed. It was the perfect, unforgiving partner for mastering a skill.

He opened the skill book. Illusionary Palm. Using the power of the wind from the palm to formlessly control the enemy. The concept was elegant: attacks that were felt, not seen, manipulating an opponent through invisible force.

Chu Feng faced the pillar. Whoosh! Whoosh! His hands shot out, palms tracing two faint arcs aimed at specific points. But in an instant, the pillar swayed with lightning speed, evading both strikes effortlessly. Chu Feng stared, momentarily taken aback, then a grin of genuine interest spread across his face. “Interesting.”

From that day, Chu Feng’s world narrowed to the cycle of eating, sleeping, and relentless training. He divided his focus between the fierce, thunderous might of the Three Thunder Styles—a legacy skill of the Azure Dragon founder—and the subtle, deceptive artistry of the Illusionary Palm. Ten days blurred past, a period of minimal rest and maximal effort. Slowly, the nature of the two skills unfolded to him. The Three Thunder Styles was direct power, fast as lightning, devastating as thunder. The Illusionary Palm was its philosophical opposite: illusion replacing reality, striking where the enemy least expected. Both were profound in their own right.

His dedication bore fruit. He achieved a high degree of mastery with the Illusionary Palm, nearing perfection. With the Three Thunder Styles, he successfully cultivated the first two forms. When he unleashed the second style within the stone room, the explosive force that erupted from his fist shocked even him, leaving a deep, web-like dent in the unyielding mechanism pillar.

Satisfied for now, he returned the Illusionary Palm skill book to Elder Ouyang on the third floor.

“What, did you reach a dead end?” the elder asked, a hint of mockery and self-satisfied pride in his eyes. He saw Chu Feng’s serene smile as silent confirmation of failure. “Go to the first floor and start from the rank 1 skills,” he advised, not unkindly.

“Thank you, elder.” Chu Feng saluted and departed.

“He knows when to back off, so he still understands a bit,” Elder Ouyang mused, watching him go.

When dusk fell and the Martial Skill Building closed, the elder guards began their nightly inspections. Soon, a middle-aged guard urgently summoned Elder Ouyang to the sixth floor. “You have to check this out. I haven’t seen such a strong disciple in such a long time.”

Inside the private room Chu Feng had used, the supposedly indestructible mechanism pillar was covered in dents, nearly scrap-worthy. Elder Ouyang’s face grew serious. His experienced eyes scanned the damage and identified the shallow, overlapping palm marks. “This is…” The Illusionary Palm. And not just any amateur attempt; this was damage inflicted by someone who had grasped the skill to a remarkable degree. Few in the inner court could achieve this, and those who could were usually away on journeys.

A startling thought occurred to him. The recent disciple, the one who borrowed the Illusionary Palm ten days ago… “Don’t tell me it’s him?” But he dismissed it just as quickly. Ten days was impossible. No one could progress that fast.

“Elder Ouyang, look at this!” a call came from the adjacent private room.

What he saw there made his earlier astonishment pale. This mechanism pillar wasn’t just dented; it was utterly destroyed, shattered by a force of terrifying, concentrated power. He examined the fracture patterns. “Three Thunder Styles, the 2nd style.” His face turned grave. This was a skill for core disciples. Its presence in the outer court suggested a dangerous leak, or… another impossible possibility. Deeply troubled, he ordered, “Request for Elder Su Rou.” He needed the insight of a high-ranking core disciple.

Unaware of the stir he had caused, Chu Feng was in his own quarters, facing a different kind of problem. He sat cross-legged, having just refined three Saint Spirit Grasses in two hours—a speed that would stupefy any master. Yet, as the vast spiritual energy poured into his dantian, it was swallowed whole by the nine dormant Divine Lightning, leaving him feeling no closer to a breakthrough.

“It seems like the price for getting your power is extremely huge,” he sighed. The Divine Lightning granted him strength beyond his level, but the spiritual energy required to advance was equally monstrous. Months of normal cultivation couldn’t match the energy in a single Saint Spirit Grass. His path would be one of immense resource consumption.

He looked at the two remaining Saint Spirit Grasses on his bed, intended for Chu Yue. “Chu Yue should be stepping into the 5th level of the Spirit realm soon. These should give her a hand.” Resolved, he extinguished his candle.

The next morning, he set out to find her, but the inner court was a sprawling city of palaces and a hundred thousand disciples. As he wandered, a conversation between two brothers caught his ear.

“Brother. Say…Do we join an alliance or not? This is the Spiritual Medicine Hunt, and more power comes from more people.” “Once you join an alliance, it’s really hard to get away from it…”

The Spiritual Medicine Hunt! Chu Feng’s spirits lifted. He approached them politely. “Seniors, you just said the Spiritual Medicine Hunt’s registration is starting?”

The friendly brothers confirmed it and invited him along. The hunt was a major event where disciples entered the Spiritual Medicine Mountain to capture elusive, sentient spiritual plants. For Chu Feng, desperately in need of such resources, it was providential timing.

As they walked, Chu Feng inquired about the inner court alliances the brothers mentioned. They spoke of the massive World Alliance and the specialized Sword Alliance, both backed by powerful core disciples. But their debate grew heated over the Wings Alliance.

“The Wings Alliance are the legends in our inner court,” the younger brother said, eyes shining. He described a small, elite group of only thirty-two members, bound by unbreakable loyalty, known for annihilating a third-rate school that harmed one of their own. Their founder, Zhang Tianyi, was a prodigy who became the Azure Dragon School’s #1 disciple by age sixteen. Even the renowned beauty and core disciple, Elder Su Rou, was a member.

“On their chest, they wear a small badge with a pair of wings,” the brother finished.

Chu Feng stored the name Zhang Tianyi in his mind. This was someone worthy of remembrance.

They arrived at a bustling registration plaza. The brothers advised Chu Feng to join an alliance for protection during the hunt, warning against the flashy, weak ones. As an example, the elder brother pointed dismissively at a purple-clothed girl handing out bamboo slips nearby. “With a glance, you could tell she’s from some weak little alliance.”

Chu Feng looked over and froze. The girl was Chu Yue.

“Chu Yue!” he called out, his heart leaping with joy.

She turned, and her face blossomed into a radiant smile. “Chu Feng!”

He hurried over, leaving the two brothers to shake their heads in pity. “Another idiot has been tricked.”

“Chu Feng, you’ve finally entered the inner court, this is great!” Chu Yue exclaimed, her happiness for him utterly genuine. She explained she was recruiting for the “Chu Alliance,” founded by Chu Wei, to strengthen the Chu family’s presence. Chu Feng’s brief joy was tempered at the mention of Chu Wei, a childhood tormentor, but he offered to help.

Chu Yue declined, not wanting to trouble him. Her eyes then sparkled with excitement. “Did you register for the Spiritual Medicine Hunt?”

He showed her his token. “That’s great! This time, I can go with you!” She was thrilled, but spotting another potential recruit, she quickly shoved a bamboo slip with her address into Chu Feng’s hand. “At night, come find me. I have something to say to you. You have to come.”

That night, Chu Feng found Chu Yue pacing anxiously outside her residence. She skipped over, hands behind her back. “Hey, hurry and pick it up,” she said, laughing as she revealed a Saint Spirit Grass in her palm.

“Chu Yue, this…” Chu Feng was speechless.

“It’s for you. My supplement for this year.” She pushed it into his hands.

He gently pushed it back, pulling out one of his own. “Did you forget? I still owe you two.” Chu Yue was stunned, thinking it was the one she’d given him before. “You didn’t refine it?” He insisted on returning both, speaking from the heart. “In the entire Chu family, besides my elder brother and my father, you treat me the best. Just view this as a younger brother showing you respect.”

Moved and ashamed, Chu Yue’s cheeks flushed. “Chu Feng… this Saint Spirit Grass isn’t from me. Chu Guyu asked me to give it to you.”

Chu Feng was stunned. His elder brother, Chu Guyu, the pride of the Chu family training at the Lingyun School, was still looking out for him. “Even so, I thank you. Your feelings all these years are real. Please, take these. You need them for your breakthrough.” He was adamant.

After a struggle, Chu Yue accepted one as a loan. She then gave him a letter from Chu Guyu, a tangible piece of home that stirred deep emotion in Chu Feng’s heart. Five years away from family, sustained only by letters.

“Now, come inside!” Chu Yue said, pulling him toward her residence. “Today is a good day!”

But as they approached, Chu Feng’s sharp hearing caught familiar, unpleasant voices. His smile faded. Inside the hall were over thirty people, most of them Chu family disciples he knew all too well, their faces etched with disdain.

“Everyone! See who’s here!” Chu Yue announced brightly.

The warmth evaporated. A youth stepped forward—Chu Cheng, the elder brother of Chu Zhen. “Oh, I wondered who it was. Isn’t it the person who performed outstanding deeds to our Chu family?” he sneered. “You’ve stayed as an outer court disciple for five years and disgraced the Chu family. How thick is the skin of your face?”

“Chu Cheng, shut up!” Chu Yue flared.

Chu Feng calmly pulled her behind him. “I have no interest in your gathering. I am demanding a payment here today.” He walked into the center of the room, his gaze locking onto Chu Zhen, who was trying to look inconspicuous. “A few days ago, a certain person made a bet with me, betting I wouldn’t pass the inner court exam. He said if he lost, he’d give his yearly Saint Spirit Grass to me. Chu Zhen, you didn’t forget, right?”

Chu Zhen’s face twisted. The room fell silent.

“You need evidence,” interjected Chu Wei, the alliance founder, from his seat.

“That’s right, take out the evidence!” the crowd chorused, eager to see Chu Feng humiliated.

“I testify for Chu Feng.” Chu Yue’s clear voice cut through the noise. Every eye turned to her in shock, especially Chu Wei’s, which held a warning glare she defiantly ignored. “I was there. Chu Zhen even asked me to be a witness.”

The balance of the room shifted. Chu Zhen, Chu Cheng, and Chu Wei looked furious. Chu Feng felt a surge of gratitude for Chu Yue’s courage.

“Chu Zhen, are you failing to honor your debt?” Chu Feng pressed.

Chu Zhen stammered, clutching at the Saint Spirit Grass in his pocket—his key to breaking through to the 4th level.

“Hmph, so what if it’s true?” Chu Cheng stepped in, his tone cunning. “You want to extort Chu Zhen’s supplement? You can have it, but you need to admit in front of everyone that you are a useless garbage. An idiot that needed five years!”

The crowd roared in agreement, a wall of malice.

“Chu Cheng, don’t create trouble! This is a private matter!” Chu Yue argued, her body trembling with anger.

“You supported an outsider. Are you still even part of the Chu family?” Chu Cheng shot back venomously.

Chu Feng placed a steadying hand on Chu Yue’s shoulder and moved her behind him once more. His smile was gone, replaced by a calm, deadly seriousness. “I will only ask you one question. Will you give this Saint Spirit Grass to me or not?”

Chu Cheng smirked, seeing an opportunity. “How about a duel? If you win against Chu Zhen, you prove you’re qualified to take it. I’ll even add my own Saint Spirit Grass.” He placed his on a table. Chu Zhen, catching his brother’s meaning, did the same. “But if you lose, you hand yours over. Do you dare?”

The trap was set. Refusal meant being branded a coward. Acceptance meant facing Chu Zhen, who had a two-year head start in the inner court and had cultivated martial skills.

Chu Yue protested the unfairness, but Chu Cheng silenced her. All eyes were on Chu Feng, waiting for his humiliation.

“Why wouldn’t I dare?” Chu Feng said, his voice flat. He placed his Saint Spirit Grass on the table.

“Good! But fists and kicks don’t have eyes. You cannot complain about any injuries,” Chu Cheng grinned.

“Enough with the rubbish. Come at me.” Chu Feng walked to the center of the hall.

“Chu Feng…” Chu Yue grabbed his arm, her eyes worried.

He smiled at her, a different, confident smile. “Trust me.” The certainty in his tone and gaze made her pause, a strange feeling of assurance washing over her.

The crowd formed a circle. Chu Zhen stepped forward, a nasty smile finally returning to his lips. “Chu Feng, it seems that you want the riches but not your life.”

“Hoho,” Chu Feng chuckled softly. “I just wanted to say those words to you.”

“You talk too big!” Chu Zhen exploded into motion. His left foot stamped down with a boom, propelling him forward with surprising speed. His arms became a blur of flying fists, his entire body radiating a powerful aura as he charged like a wild beast, aiming to overwhelm Chu Feng completely from the outset. The lesson, and the humiliation, was about to begin.