Eternal Sacred King Chapter 4 - Tri Bovine Style

Early the following morning, Su Zimo headed to the local market to purchase several head of cattle, securing his food supply for the upcoming days.

After settling the livestock, Su Zimo approached Die Yue’s quarters and gave the door a light rap. “Miss Die?”

To his surprise, the door swung open of its own accord at his touch.

Despite the bright daylight outside, the interior of the room was shrouded in an unnatural, pitch-black darkness.

“Enter,” Die Yue’s voice drifted out from the gloom.

Taking a steadying breath, Su Zimo crossed the threshold.

A strange sensation washed over him immediately. It felt as though he had pushed through a frigid, liquid curtain into an entirely different realm.

When he looked around, Su Zimo was stunned.

The space before him was no longer a simple bedroom; it was an area far more vast than his entire mansion. He found himself standing upon a lush green meadow, where a massive wooden barrel—reaching over half the height of a man—sat nearby.

Die Yue was reclined lazily against a giant jade-colored stone. Though she wore a voluminous, blood-red robe, the garment could not fully mask her slender, elegant physique.

“What is this place...?” Su Zimo asked, his mouth hanging open slightly.

In a single day, Die Yue had displayed numerous incomprehensible feats. To him, every moment was both bizarre and mesmerizing.

“This is the art of containing the vast within the minute. You will comprehend this once your realm is high enough; for now, do not waste your thoughts on it,” Die Yue answered with an air of absolute authority. “I have manifested this cultivation field for you. This is where your training will take place from now on.”

She leaped gracefully from the green stone. “I shall impart three additional styles to you. These are known as the Tri Bovine Style. You are to practice them in tandem with the breathing and expiration method.”

“The first style is the Plow Heaven Stride. It is a single style of infinite variations, and it is the sole path to tempering the strength of your legs.”

As she spoke, Die Yue began to pace across the grass.

Su Zimo’s eyes widened as he focused intently, tracking every shift and step she made, terrified of missing even the smallest detail.

After watching her for a few moments, he began to grasp the essence of her words.

On the surface, her steps looked unremarkable. However, upon closer inspection, it appeared as though she were wading through thick, heavy mud.

With her chest slightly tucked and her spine straight, she kept her knees bent and her center of gravity low. Her knees never extended past her toes, yet her strides were incredibly long!

Every step seemed precisely measured; the distance between them was perfectly uniform.

Stopping her movement, Die Yue turned her gaze toward him. “Your turn.”

Su Zimo did not rush. He stood still for a long time, mentally processing the movement before attempting his first stride.

The moment his foot moved, he knew something was wrong.

Die Yue appeared at his side instantly, her expression cold. She lashed out with a swift, sharp kick against his extended leg.

“Hiss!”

Su Zimo sucked in a sharp breath of air.

The impact sent a wave of agonizing, needle-like pain shooting up his thigh. It felt as if his leg were being pierced by a thousand white-hot points.

“Maintain the posture. Continue,” Die Yue commanded, her voice devoid of emotion.

Looking down, Su Zimo realized that her kick had forced his leg into a position that much more closely mirrored the Plow Heaven Stride.

“She’s correcting my form,” Su Zimo realized, understanding her intent.

He pressed his lips together, visualized the stance once more, and took a stride with his left leg.

“Wrong!”

The instant his sole touched the grass, Die Yue’s voice rang out, followed by that same piercing agony in his left limb.

He found himself instinctively adjusting his posture under the goad of the pain.

After a brief pause to catch his breath, he attempted a stride with his right leg.

“Wrong!”

Again, the familiar sting followed.

Wrong!

Stinging pain!

He kept practicing, enduring a cycle of constant error and brutal correction.

Eventually, Su Zimo’s legs went completely numb. The continuous bombardment of kicks had robbed him of all sensation.

Drenched in sweat and teeth clenched, his mind narrowed down to a single objective: he had to keep moving.

Hours slipped away unnoticed.

Finally, the word “wrong”—which had begun to sound like a recurring nightmare—ceased to echo in the air.

Su Zimo realized he was finally starting to grasp the core mechanics of the Plow Heaven Stride.

“Have you forgotten the lesson from last night?”

Die Yue’s reminder was like a bolt of lightning. Suddenly enlightened, Su Zimo integrated the breathing and expiration method he had learned the previous evening into his movements.

At first, coordination was impossible. He would lose his rhythm the moment he took a step.

However, as time went on, he discovered the harmony between the breath and the stride.

In truth, the breathing method and the Plow Heaven Stride were meant to be one. Su Zimo’s pace accelerated, and the numbness in his legs vanished. His blood felt as though it were boiling, and a surge of boundless power filled his limbs, allowing his strides to lengthen further.

Without even appearing to strain, he was covering five feet in a single step!

He felt a surge of excitement, knowing he was finally on the right track.

Yet, deep down, he sensed that his Plow Heaven Stride was still missing a vital component.

He glanced toward Die Yue, who remained lounging on the green stone.

Her expression was one of blatant disdain, her eyes filled with a cynical, brooding light.

I’ve mastered the coordination of the breath and the movement, Su Zimo thought. Why does she still look at me with such contempt?

Fueled by a spark of irritation, he circled the green stone, deliberately performing the Plow Heaven Stride with increased intensity right before her.

After a moment, Die Yue let out a scoff. “Do you intend to train yourself into a common ox? This stride is meant to plow the Heavens, not the dirt beneath your feet!”

Su Zimo froze in his tracks, startled.

Die Yue drifted down from the stone and began walking toward the exit. She spoke coldly, “Only when you grasp the profound intent of ‘plowing the heaven’ will you truly master the soul of this footwork.”

Suddenly, Su Zimo understood what he lacked.

Every step should be powerful enough to carve a trench through the sky itself!

Such a feat required immense boldness and an indomitable spirit.

While his technique was polished, he lacked that raw, domineering will. Without it, he was no better than a farm animal tilling the soil.

“Plow the heaven... plow the heaven...”

As he meditated on the concept, the truth began to dawn on him.

Outside in the courtyard, a faint smile played on Die Yue’s lips, her harsh demeanor having vanished the moment she left Su Zimo’s sight.

“To reach this stage in only a day and a night... his talent seems slightly superior to mine at that age,” she whispered.

Her soft words lingered for a moment under the peach blossoms before being carried away by the wind.

...

For the next month, Su Zimo dedicated nearly every waking hour to the Plow Heaven Stride within the cultivation field. He labored to internalize the intent of “plowing the heaven,” gaining a profound mastery over the movement.

During his occasional trips to buy livestock, he picked up fragments of local gossip.

Success always attracts a crowd. The Shen family of Ping Yang Town, once unremarkable, was now flourishing. Numerous martial arts experts had flocked to serve them.

Everyone believed the Shen family’s ascent was inevitable. With Shen Mengqi’s future in cultivation, even a brief visit from her would ensure her family’s prosperity for generations. The martial experts hoped that by serving now, they might eventually earn a place—even as servants—within an immortal Sect.

In contrast, the Su family was besieged by hardship.

Historically, Ping Yang Town was dominated by the Zhao, Lee, and Yang families. The Su family had only recently risen to power. Because Su Hong was a Connate Expert and Su Zimo held scholarly status, a fragile peace had existed between the four powers.

Now, however, Su Zimo’s titles had been stripped, reducing him to a lowly commoner. Furthermore, he had slighted an immortal. Sensing weakness, the other three families were eager to dismantle the Su family’s business interests, leading to frequent skirmishes and disputes.

Su Zimo, however, remained unbothered by these developments.

Uncle Zheng was managing the household, supported by Liu Yu and other Postnatal Experts. More importantly, his elder brother was currently away. Once he returned, his ruthless and efficient methods would easily crush any dissent.

...

One day, Die Yue approached Su Zimo. “I will now teach you the remaining two styles. After that, you will practice all three in unison.”

She paused briefly before adding, “Most techniques within The Mystic Classic of the Twelve Demon Kings of the Great Wilderness are designed for slaughter. These next two styles are purely for killing. Do not forget that.”

“The second style: Bovine’s Moon-gazing.”

Die Yue stepped forward, assuming the Plow Heaven Stride. She leaned her weight forward, her arms suddenly sweeping out from her midsection. Her fists were clenched, her index fingers slightly hooked and raised. She made a sharp, upward jabbing motion.

In that instant, Die Yue seemed to vanish. In her place stood a terrifying bovine demon, thrusting its massive horns toward the sky!

Her arms were the horns, and the raised joints of her fingers were the lethal tips.

“The Plow Heaven Stride provides the momentum for Bovine’s Moon-gazing. From that stance, channel power through your core and waist while driving your fists forward. You must master both the forward charge and the upward goring motion...”

Su Zimo listened with rapt attention as she broke down the mechanics.

Even with her guidance, his initial attempts were met with Die Yue’s corrective kicks. She watched him with a stony face, striking him the moment his form wavered.

Another day passed in a flash.

Exhausted and hungry, Su Zimo went to slaughter a cow, preparing a large pot of beef stew.

While the meat simmered, Die Yue picked up the discarded cow tongue. “Take your knife and try to stab me,” she said.

“What?” Su Zimo blinked, confused by the request.

Die Yue explained, “I am teaching you the third style. It cannot be demonstrated through form alone; you must feel the moment of transition for yourself.”

Knowing that he couldn't possibly hurt her regardless of how hard he tried, Su Zimo complied.

He gripped his knife and lunged toward her shoulder, his eyes fixed on her every movement.

With an aloof expression, Die Yue raised the soft, limp cow tongue and tapped it lightly against the incoming blade.

Snap!

A sharp, brittle sound echoed, leaving Su Zimo speechless.

The cow tongue remained completely unharmed, but Su Zimo was left holding nothing but a hilt. The steel blade had shattered into a shower of fragments on the ground!

Having slaughtered the animal himself, Su Zimo knew the tongue was just ordinary flesh. It shouldn't have been able to withstand a sharp blade, let alone destroy it.

Furthermore, he hadn't felt any massive impact. If she had used brute force, the hilt would have been ripped from his hand. Instead, the blade simply disintegrated.

An ordinary cow tongue had shattered a steel knife.

If that strike had landed on a human body, would they have been turned to dust?

“The third style is Bovine-tongued Saber. The name is simple, but it holds the essence of the technique,” Die Yue stated. “You asked when your skin tempering would reach initial success. I will tell you now: when your palms possess the same power as this cow tongue, you will have achieved it.”