Chapter 602: Chapter 602

Amos left, carrying Cassius's warning with him. The Black Ops Agency, the official supernatural arm of the Hongli Federation, would be intimidated for a while and dare not stir. By the time the Golem Sect had spread its influence, any move the Black Ops Agency tried would be too late, and trouble would probably never arise...

Of course, the Black Ops Agency's influence in the Covert Martial Arts world was negligible. Its base lay in the broader supernatural community outside the martial scene, which is where it truly operated.

Had the Golem Sect aimed to sweep the supernatural community instead of the martial world, the Black Ops Agency would have fought them tooth and nail, even if their all-out resistance turned out to be a kitten's swat. Still, that would have been another story entirely.

To be honest, Cassius believed that once the martial world was conquered, more than half the planet's supernatural strength would be his to command. The rest of the supernatural factions looked paltry to him. They were hardly worth his attention, so he chose to let the Black Ops Agency keep its tiny patch of soil. They only needed to sit tight on their turf and not snatch food with idle hands. That, in his view, was the proper road the Black Ops Agency ought to take.

Starting in early November, the Golem Sect underwent an unprecedented upheaval, inside and out. Disciples scattered across the Eastern Covert Martial Arts community were recalled to retrain in the far deadlier Six Southern Dipper Volumes and Golem Heart Codex. A feverish wave of cultivation swept through the order from top to bottom.

The lowest recruits and the loftiest elders felt it alike. They soon tasted the benefits, as switching styles became an addictive obsession. Each of the thirteen manuals Cassius had engraved with Qi radiated a strange Qi field. Mere reading ushered novices through the initial steps, and the more they trained, the more they craved, as though high on the art itself.

Perhaps because this version was etched with Dominator Fist Qi, the manuals surpassed their time-travel predecessors. Elders at the combat artist realm reported that the urge to train soon eclipsed hunger, sex, even sleep. It became their foremost desire.

They thought of training at every moment, while eating, drinking, or under the lamp at midnight. On the surface, it resembled a devil-possession.

However, Cassius explained that the Six Southern Dipper Volumes and Golem Heart Codex were meant to be addictive at entry level so they could spread among the masses. Once a practitioner rose past a certain tier, the craving would wane and control of one's self would return. The arts were not demonic.

By then, the student would know the art's worth and, strength in hand, would train diligently without the carrot of addiction, surviving the dull plateau.

This mattered for modern folk bedazzled by ever-changing technology, as laziness and fear of hardship forever blocked the road to strength. Only pleasure and addiction could perfectly counter those stones. No iron will was required; all they needed was to enjoy it!

For example, if training martial arts felt better than making love, most people would chase it like maniacs. Facts proved Cassius right, as the Golem Sect went mad throughout November. Its members did nothing but drill or sleep.

Whole businesses and nearly a hundred bases were left almost unattended. Cassius had to step in himself, dampening the manuals' addictive pull to strike a balance. In any case, endless toil round the clock was unsustainable. People had to rest, or they would become machines and nothing more.

At noon on November 16, the Golem Sect shifted into high gear to carry out Cassius's orders. Rank-and-file disciples fanned across the Six Eastern Counties, founding branch martial halls and training centres, shouting slogans—"Forge the body, revere martial arts, practise joyously day and night!"—while charging several fees that were several times below rival sects. It was an irresistible lure.

They were quickly flooded with fight enthusiasts, supplying fresh blood and propping up every new martial hall. Anyone who felt the thrill of Covert Martial Arts training under the Golem Sect became a disciple almost at once and many dragged friends, family, colleagues, even bosses along for a taste of joyful fistwork.

Naturally, disciples were vetted for talent and physique. Some received only simplified combat moves for health. Only true disciples could study the authentic Six Southern Dipper Volumes and Golem Heart Codex and feel that soaring rush.

The threshold did not cool demand. Instead, it fed the flame. Crowds flocked in as rival martial halls saw business plunge, and challengers from other sects were toppled one after another by Golem Sect fighters, making the new martial halls famous and formidable.

Certain local sects, beaten openly, tried dirty tricks through criminal deals or bureaucratic ties. However, the underworld hires simply vanished. The official route also went silent, as though higher authorities had warned civil servants not to meddle with the Golem Sect's affairs.

In short, the Golem Sect swept the Eastern Covert Martial Arts world at frightening speed. Every sect felt a jolt. Something was off; a seismic shift unseen for centuries was about to erupt.

Inside the main manor of the Cloud Dog Fist in East Sea City, eight sects had gathered in a broad council hall covered by a tea-coloured glass roof.

Each elder was in a grave mood, all silent over their documents. It took a long while before someone broke the hush. It was an elder of the Cloud Dog Fist.

"Gentlemen, the Golem Sect has begun to accelerate. In just half a month, their martial halls in hundreds of cities across the six counties have gutted our base. Reports show nearly fifty percent of new fight devotees have flowed into Golem Sect, and our Eastern Nine Sects have seen a sixty-percent plunge in promising recruits..."

"This is no longer a competition. This is a rout... Won't the federation step in?" The elder's voice quivered with anger, the moustache beneath his nose bristling.

"They won't," said a bald powerhouse in a black uniform. "Remember the Evil Eye Fist exchange tournament? The Golem Sect crashed it and dazzled. They were supported by the Black Ops Agency, the mouthpiece of the government..."

"They're partners, not one body," the white-bearded elder argued. "Won't the Black Ops Agency fear losing the leash if the Golem Sect keeps growing ? Or is the Golem Sect simply the Black Ops Agency's lapdog?"

"Most likely," another elder answered. "Many sects wanted to harass the Golem Sect, yet local officials were warned from their higher ups: hands off."

He recalled visiting a former disciple who now worked in public office for help. The man had just shaken his head. When asked why the government favoured the Golem Sect, the official looked pained, as though he dared not explain.

In the end, nothing had come of it.

Silence returned until, minutes later, someone spoke.

"Surely you all planted moles in their martial halls," the white-bearded Cloud Dog Fist elder said, sweeping the room. "Any news? We're in one boat, so no secrets now."

Yet every elder shook his head, brows knotted, looking both bitter and embarrassed.

"Sigh..." The elder exhaled. "So all of you are faring no better than we are."

The Eastern Nine Sects, being major sects, had reacted instantly by sending spies and instructing disciples to steal techniques and everything imaginable, hoping for intel to turn the tide or, at worst, a long-term mole gaining the sect's trust.

However, no one had expected what happened. Every spy, including even regular disciples sent by the nine sects, defected. They vanished without a trace like cows into the sea, unable to be contacted. It left the sects baffled.

Only one scrap of news came back. It was a note from a Cloud Dog Fist inner disciple who had been raised by the sect since youth. He was even in line to vie for the rank of core disciple. By loyalty, he had ranked the highest among all spies.

On his third day inside a Golem Sect martial hall, he sent this message: "I'm sorry, Master. I’m truly sorry for fifteen years of your nurturing at Cloud Dog Fist and for your hopes... I entered the Golem Sect with the mission burning in mind. I was ever vigilant on day one and day two. Today, the sect chose me as fresh blood and I touched it... It felt so good! So incredibly good! In a single morning, I became an idiot who can no longer live without it... Forgive me, Master, forgive me!"

The crumpled note was written in a crooked scrawl. Dried splashes of drool and tears stained it, as though the writer had undergone something incomprehensible. Getting that last word out must have taxed all his willpower.

Naturally, after sending it, the once-loyal disciple also vanished.

"What on earth is that thing that makes people feel so good?" The Cloud Dog Fist elder banged the table and shook his head with a sigh.

Footsteps sounded outside. A rapid knock followed, and a Cloud Dog Fist elite entered.

"Elders, news! The Golem Sect will hold a Federal Combat Championship in Baichuan City on December 1! Invitations have gone out to every fighting sect nationwide..."

"What!?" Elders leaped to their feet in agitation.

Someone cried, "Isn't that just the eastern exchange tournament but larger? They mean to stage an oversized copy and brazenly invite the whole federation? Does the Golem Sect's master not fear ridicule? They're a brand-new sect! Now they're rushing into a national tournament?!" Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novęlfire.net

Elders shook heads, frowned and fretted. If the Eastern Nine Sects refused to change, the Golem Sect would roll right over them! Only the sect that best adapted to its environment could stand atop the pyramid.

A figure in a black overcoat stood on a jagged rock along the boundless eastern coast of the Hongli Federation. The briny wind tousled his blond hair, revealing a handsome, ice-cold face that hid a savage dominance. His chest rose and fell, as if each breath moved the waves on the sea. Faint power seeped from him.

After a century on the Eternal Archipelago, how was the battle between Pale Origin and Flaming Sun Holy Fist? Cassius had to visit the ancient ruins to take a look. While at it, he might as well erase the Ripple Order. Any unruly supernatural faction drawing power from dark creatures deserved to vanish.

"If all goes well, I should be back in half a day." Cassius streaked away like a waterbird, racing toward the Eternal Archipelago.