Chapter Fifty: The Second Son’s Path Unfolds

A month and a half after Liu Tian revealed everything, Liu Zhengde had officially assumed his post as City Lord.

Liu Yun—or rather, he should now be called Liu Zhengyun—had also officially taken a position in the Navy, though none of this had much to do with Liu Tian himself.

As long as Bai Cinan remained alive, as long as Liu Zhengde and his associates did not provoke universal outrage, nothing of consequence would happen.

Especially after the release of Blue Dream Studio’s new film, Bai Cinan’s fame soared to unprecedented heights across the world.

Perhaps to create momentum, the film was not only named directly after Bai Cinan, being called The Cinan Way, but was also lavishly distributed for free around the globe.

The movie, The Cinan Way, chronicled Bai Cinan’s entire life—from birth, through his growth, until his campaign against the Crimson Cloud Empire. Liu Tian even glimpsed Tiandao making a cameo appearance.

Though Tiandao appeared with a different face and his apparent age constantly shifted, subtle gestures revealed that it was indeed Tiandao himself, not an actor.

Who knows how Bai Cinan persuaded his master to participate.

It might have seemed difficult, but perhaps it was easier in practice—after all, Tiandao was a master who deeply doted on his disciple.

Especially after fully embracing his “goldfish” transformation, this trait was even more pronounced; as long as Bai Cinan acted a little spoiled, Tiandao would likely agree to anything.

Still, there was an oddity: with their current appearances, for Bai Cinan to act coy with Tiandao...

Imagining such a scene was so bizarre that Liu Tian shuddered involuntarily whenever it crossed his mind, a chill running down his spine.

This new film propelled Blue Dream Studio to an unprecedented peak—after all, not every film could invite the Emperor of the Crimson Cloud Empire and all the civil and military officials to appear, nor could just any production boast two generations of number-one martial artists and a legion of breakthrough fighters in cameo roles.

Thanks to this, the names Tiandao and Bai Cinan were now known worldwide, and a new fervor for secret martial arts swept the globe.

After all, the real reason for practicing martial arts was to become stronger; all that talk of defending the nation or improving health was just secondary.

Most people took up martial arts for the day when they could do as they pleased—lofty ideals were rare indeed.

That was why, when the First World War broke out and people saw that secret martial arts were no match for guns, that years of training could not compare to the pull of a trigger, the martial arts faded from the global stage.

Yet now, with Bai Cinan’s undeniable display of single-handed might against armies, a new wave of martial arts training surged up naturally.

But this time, people merely regarded secret martial arts as a preliminary stage before cultivating demon martial arts; first master the secret arts, then undergo targeted genetic modification—this had become the consensus for most.

A new title gradually settled upon Bai Cinan over the course of the month—the Mightiest Creature on Earth!

A man who could face armies alone, who could suppress an entire nation by himself—naturally, Bai Cinan deserved every accolade.

Such is the privilege of the strong!

Bai Cinan had become an unprecedented superstar across the globe. If he hadn’t vanished without a trace after the film’s release, and if no one could find his home, there’s no telling what crazed fans might have done.

And so, as time flowed on, Liu Tian’s training of his younger cousin and his cousin’s friends had moved far beyond the basics and bloodletting; the end was in sight.

“Don’t be afraid—charge straight at me! Head for this special bicycle!” Liu Tian shouted from atop the bike, “Remember your training! Don’t be scared! Abandon your fear and come at me!”

“Master Tian, please, don’t!” came the cries.

On the wide lawn, Liu Wenqian and the others ran about pleading for mercy, with no intention of facing danger head-on.

After more than a month of grueling training—thanks to a strong foundation, abundant resources, and the rapid growth of youth—their spirits and physiques were worlds apart from a month and a half before.

The greatest change was in Li Hua. Formerly 160 centimeters tall and weighing as much, he’d now grown nearly ten centimeters and shed the excess weight, with a lean, muscular physique clearly visible.

The others, too, were energetic and quick to react. Even as Liu Tian increased the bike’s speed, they deftly dodged, narrowly avoiding disaster each time.

Of course, this was partly because Liu Tian was holding back and never using his full strength, but it also spoke to their solid, continually honed fundamentals.

By now, they had practiced the Flowing Dragon Step to perfection. If they stopped training, their skills might decline, eventually reverting to ordinary people.

But for now, relying on their mastery of movement, dodging was relatively easy.

“I’m heading back this afternoon!” Liu Tian called out, picking up speed as the wind whipped past. His words, though quiet, carried clearly to their ears. “So don’t think you can escape by running away.”

“Either destroy this bicycle, or spend the rest of your summer in a hospital bed… It’s not my problem!” he added with a mischievous grin. “Warm-up’s over. Time to speed up.”

Before they could prepare, Liu Tian truly accelerated. With his current abilities, he could drive the bicycle at the speed of a jeep—and with even greater agility.

Once he got serious, it took only half a minute to corner the isolated Liu Wenqian with nowhere to run.

“Brother Tian, you can’t be this ruthless—it’s the last day! Can’t you let us relax a bit?” Liu Wenqian didn’t give up hope, knowing that even if he lay down, Liu Tian would ride right over him without hesitation.

After so many days together, he knew his cousin and master well—when Liu Tian was in the mood, he cared little for others’ feelings.

Luckily, considering their age, Liu Tian had refrained from mounting steel spikes on the bike.

He was confident he could control the bike perfectly even with spikes, and the clear, immediate danger might have spurred even faster growth in his students.

But with this being the final day, there was no need to push them to the brink.

So Liu Tian abandoned the idea. He simply rode a bike made entirely of alloy, and even avoided ramming them head-on, skimming by with just a graze.

Yet even this seemed a bit too much for them.

Before long, the teenagers were covered in scrapes from the metal, their specially made white martial arts uniforms stained with dirt, grass, and splotches of red.

“This isn’t working!” Liu Wenqian shouted, conferring loudly with the others. “Even though Brother Tian’s tires have been reinforced and can only take two bullets, if we blow out his tires, this trial is over!”

“Or you could attack me—I don’t mind,” Liu Tian called out, unconcerned by their plotting. With a laugh, he sideswiped Bai He to the ground with a gentle nudge and, with a dragon’s tail sweep, used the bike’s steel frame to unleash a soft-force technique, sending Liu Wenqian—who had been drawing a pistol from his waist—crashing down, pinning the gun beneath the tire with a slight shift.

But Liu Wenqian was determined. Seeing his gun lost, he seized the moment as Liu Tian’s speed dropped, grabbing the bike’s tire with all his might.

Why not go for Liu Tian himself?

Because he knew that if he tried, he’d be sent flying before he could even touch his cousin. So he went for the furthest possible target—the tire, his last resort.

Even so, he could barely hold on for a second, because the gap between him and Liu Tian was just that vast.

But a second was all they needed!

The instant Liu Tian’s speed slowed, three gunshots rang out, followed by a continuous barrage. In less than two seconds, the others emptied their magazines.