Chapter Thirty: The Tidal Tempering Technique

Yuanjiang No. 1 High School lacked equipment for testing spiritual strength—such devices were sophisticated and costly. As a result, one’s spiritual cultivation could not be measured precisely in daily life. Yet, in certain situations, it was possible to judge another’s spiritual state.

For example, during classes dedicated to spiritual refinement, teachers had a keen understanding of their students’ progress. Those whose spiritual strength had not reached a meditative level found it impossible to maintain a pure heart and steadfast intentions. They were easily influenced by the teacher’s own spiritual force, often revealing embarrassing weaknesses.

This was why Yang Yankun began sending students out of the classroom. Usually, he would ease his own spiritual pressure during lessons, patiently guiding students who had yet to achieve meditative focus—leading them from shallow to deep, layer by layer, fulfilling his teaching role.

But this time, because the session was an assessment for subject specialization, he had no reason to be gentle. He adopted the strictest possible standards. The test was a direct confrontation, measuring the strength of each student’s spiritual force.

“Let’s go. I think Old Yang is serious this time... If you don’t want to disgrace yourself, it’s better to just watch from outside,” Sun Kai said, gathering his textbooks and exercises. His gaze was dull as he glanced at his classmates, as if facing a formidable foe, then turned to call out to Xiao Nan.

“I’ll stay. I’d like to give it a try,” Xiao Nan replied, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Was this a betrayal of their group? If Sun Kai discovered that Xiao Nan had broken through his spiritual realm, would it make him sad?

“You’re stubborn—refusing to learn from experience, insisting on testing your luck like Guo Xiaosan. You’ll see soon enough,” Sun Kai said helplessly, packing his things and leaving the classroom in haste.

Around thirty others left with him, all fully aware of their own shortcomings and unwilling to even attempt the trial. They had resolved to switch to the humanities, losing faith in the martial arts division.

The students who remained, numbering just over fifty, included many who clung to hope, unwilling to give up—a last desperate attempt.

Guo Sanyuan was among them.

His eyes gleamed, a flush spread across his face, and his thin, sharply cut cheeks revealed clenched teeth. He was secretly gritting his teeth with determination.

Who said talent was necessary for success? I will defy fate and change my destiny...

Xiao Nan seemed to hear these thoughts, feeling a pang of sympathy. Just days earlier, he had been one of them.

...

Yang Yankun’s voice was flat, returning to its icy tone. The scar on his brow seemed to radiate a faint murderous aura.

At this moment, his role was not that of a teacher, but an examiner.

Silently, two middle-aged men entered the classroom from the back, carrying stools. They settled quietly at the rear, upright and solemn, holding pens and paper—ready to supervise and record.

“This is your final warning: for this assessment, I will use the Five Aggregates Heart Refinement method, invoking the Seven Emotions and Six Desires. If you can’t endure, leave now. This is an exam, not a game; very different from our usual classes,” Yang Yankun declared coldly. “Don’t blame me for being harsh or denying you opportunities—it’s simply unavoidable.

Even if I let you pass today, you’d fail the college entrance exam later. Why waste your time? If you can’t resist even the slightest mental influence, how can you survive on the battlefield? One surge of killing intent and your hands and feet go limp—you’d be marching to your death.”

Xiao Nan’s heart stirred at these words. The martial arts of this world had evolved far beyond what he’d known in his previous life. From mental strength to vital energy to combat techniques, the theoretical foundations were complete.

He had to admit—thirty years of crisis and thirty years of development had produced extraordinary achievements from the world’s brightest minds.

Science could send ships to space. Martial studies could, perhaps, make the human body soar as well.

The power of presence was real—Xiao Nan knew it well. Battle-hardened warriors, when facing recruits or civilians, possessed overwhelming psychological dominance. Sometimes, a mere glance could sap all will to resist, leaving others defenseless.

Even in everyday life, this was evident.

An ordinary person, unless possessed of a strong will, would panic and scream upon seeing an armed criminal—or collapse, unable to fight back. Encountering a tiger or lion, they would feel cold dread, limbs trembling.

In his previous life, some theorized this was the suppression of life’s magnetic field—a guess, far from proven.

Here, from Yang Yankun’s words, it was clear: all such phenomena were the effect of spiritual force.

Strong vital energy strengthens the mind; a strong heart makes a strong person. So simple, yet profound.

...

A pair of callused hands lit the Soul-Nourishing Incense.

A thin blue smoke rose from the podium, swirling and expanding. As it drifted above Yang Yankun’s head, ripples spread, gradually enveloping the entire classroom.

Breathing in the scent, Xiao Nan felt his mind clear, his mood tranquil. It was as if he’d entered a mountain meadow, full of birdsong and flowers, his body and spirit intoxicated.

What a remarkable incense—his spirit felt cleansed, as if washed by water, comfortable beyond compare.

A surge of pleasurable relaxation swept through him, making it hard to suppress a sigh of delight.

Xiao Nan steadied himself, surveying his classmates’ faces, noting how everyone unconsciously wore an expression of blissful intoxication. He became alert, focusing his attention.

“Stillness follows focus; tranquility follows stillness; merge all thoughts into one, concentrate on the self, until all boundaries fade... body and mind united, forgetting Heaven and Earth, my heart and yours…”

Xiao Nan recognized the passage—professional martial arts knowledge, part of the spiritual doctrine. He remembered it well; the homeroom teacher had recited it countless times.

Its recital now was not important—the purpose was not to guide meditation, but to launch an assault.

As the words entered their ears, a tidal wave of spiritual energy crashed down, transforming into a raging torrent.

Without warning, it struck directly at every heart in the room.

The remaining students shuddered, faces contorted with pain—some even baring their teeth and grimacing.

Break their courage first; nothing beats attacking the mind.

A surge rippled before Xiao Nan’s eyes. With each wave, sadness welled up within him—its source unclear. Was it the abandonment by his parents in his previous life, or the disappointments of this one? Perhaps it was that night, stepping into the rain, never looking back.

Then he saw his mother, Tan Qiuyi, sick and aged; he saw little Xiao Bei wailing as she was struck down by a long blade—the sorrow was overwhelming.

His nose tingled, nearly bringing him to tears.

At that moment, cries erupted in the classroom—

The sound of chairs and desks crashing, the agonized wails filled the air.

They had all succumbed.

Xiao Nan’s heart grew tense; he pictured a bright moon and starry sky, banishing all stray thoughts and forcibly guarding his mind.

Wave after wave of spiritual force battered the room, but Xiao Nan gradually found himself unaffected.

He adapted to the pressure and refinement.

In fact, with each sweep of the spiritual tide, his mind grew sharper, his blood surged—

“However harsh it seems, Yang’s actions are fundamentally spiritual refinement, not pure assault. If you withstand it, you benefit.

This time, Xiao Nan did not retreat into the bronze mirror’s sanctuary, but faced the pressure head-on.

He soon discovered its advantages.

Under its influence, his mind grew clearer, his spiritual strength more resilient.

He realized these attacking waves were in fact the ‘Tidal Refinement Method,’ an advanced practice of ‘Will-Body Tempering.’ Far superior to the basic techniques he had fumbled through days earlier, and much more efficient—undoubtedly the teacher’s unique skill.”