White Brow Needles

Zhou Wuji was only entertaining the thought; propriety between men and women forbade him from doing any such thing. Even setting aside this ancient world, sticking one's hand into a girl's mouth would have been an exceedingly intimate gesture even in his previous life. Wuming quickly recovered her senses. With a face full of admiration, she said, "Senior Brother, you truly are a heaven-sent genius! After studying it for just one afternoon, your Tianshu Hand is already perfected!" She held genuine awe for her senior brother's talent. Though she had not poured a great deal of effort into the Tianshu Hand, she had still practiced it for over a decade. Yet Zhou Wuji had surpassed her by leaps and bounds after just a single afternoon. "Hardly perfected. This technique is merely a method for channeling Tianshu true qi, so it wasn't particularly difficult to begin with." Zhou Wuji was modest, but in truth, the Tianshu Hand harmonized closely with the Northern Dipper Celestial Pivot Scripture. With his mastery of the Celestial Pivot Scripture already reaching grand achievement, picking up this technique had been exceptionally easy. Furthermore, his swordsmanship had reached grand achievement, granting him effortless control over every muscle, sinew, and bone in his body. The Tianshu Hand was essentially an art of applying force through the fingers and palms. With these two foundations laid and the primordial profound spirit focusing his cultivation, reaching grand achievement had been effortless. With the Tianshu Hand at grand achievement, his hands had become extraordinarily nimble, bringing immense progress to his hidden weapon techniques. Those dexterous hands even gave a slight boost to his swordsmanship. Zhou Wuji was thoroughly satisfied with this outcome—a small investment yielding swift results and immense practical utility. Wuming, however, seemed even more delighted than Zhou Wuji. She hurried back to her room and returned with a box of White Brow Needles. Zhou Wuji casually picked up one of them. The needle measured barely two inches long and was fine as an ox hair, yet a single needle weighed two qian—roughly twenty times the weight of a sewing needle of comparable size. Evidently, the material used to craft the White Brow Needles was exceptionally dense. That explained why a casual flick from Wuming had driven one clean into a wooden door. "These needles are forged from frost-patterned silver. They're much heavier than ordinary sewing needles, which makes them far easier to channel force through and packs much more power." Wuming placed the box of White Brow Needles into Zhou Wuji's hands. "There are a hundred inside. Keep them for now, Senior Brother. When you run out, just let me know." Frost-patterned silver was quite precious, and grinding it into needles demanded immense time and effort. She actually had only two boxes of White Brow Needles to her name. Zhou Wuji did not stand on ceremony. "Thank you, Junior Sister." With so many White Brow Needles, he had enough to last him a good while. As for their exact power, he would only know after testing them. Still, with his technique and true qi, killing martial artists below the seventh rank should pose little difficulty. As for seventh-rank martial artists, should a White Brow Needle strike their eyes, it would surely inflict catastrophic damage. No matter how formidable a martial artist's Transforming Jin was, the eyes remained vulnerable, and there was no way brain tissue could exert force like muscle. The rogue seventh-rank officer had withstood Yin Thunder partly because the baleful qi surrounding him was so dense. That baleful qi was fused together with his own essence-blood and spirit, completely distinct from the baleful qi of incorporeal baleful ghosts and demonic spirits. Since ancient times, organized armies had always been able to suppress spells and divine abilities with ease precisely for this reason. The imperial court dared to grant leeway to the Buddhist and Daoist sects solely because it wielded massive armies capable of easily subduing them. Zhou Wuji had chosen to cultivate the Tianshu Hand because it was a martial art, fundamentally distinct from spells and divine abilities. Unleashing hidden weapons through the Tianshu Hand enriched his mid-range offensive options and allowed him to dispatch enemies more swiftly and conveniently. Fighting with a sword was actually exceedingly dangerous; a single slip-up could result in being turned upon and killed. Hidden weapons allowed him to attack from mid-to-long range, sparing him from life-and-death clashes in close quarters. Much like using a bow and arrows, the essence lay in pitting length against shortness—the ideal approach to combat. Wuming had not thought through so much; she simply harbored pure admiration for Zhou Wuji's talent and brilliance. Being alongside such a peerless genius filled her with a sense of immense privilege. Moreover, Zhou Wuji was dashing, charming, and humorous. The more Wuming learned about him, the more she grew fond of him. Faced with Wuming's watery, limpid gaze, Zhou Wuji felt as though his self-control was on the verge of slipping. Just then, a knock came from outside. "Senior Brother Wuji, is Junior Sister Wuming with you?" It was Wuye at the door. The hour had grown late, and propriety between men and women demanded discretion. Seeing that Wuming had still not returned, Wuye had no choice but to fetch her. Before Zhou Wuji could reply, Wuming hurriedly answered. With a hint of reluctance, she said to him, "Senior Brother, I'll come find you again tomorrow." Zhou Wuji saw Wuming to the door and let out a sigh of relief. This was for the best; he could now focus entirely on studying the White Brow Needles. From his bundle, he retrieved two lamellar plates he had picked up off the rogue soldiers. The solid-steel plates were rectangular, like written slips of bamboo, each weighing just under five qian. They were likely from the breastplate, the thickest and heaviest among the thousands of scales making up the lamellar armor. Placing a plate on the table, Zhou Wuji crooked his finger and flicked a needle. Propelled by the combined force of his fingers and true qi, the White Brow Needle flashed into a speck of cold light, pinning the plate firmly to the thick wooden tabletop. Zhou Wuji pulled the needle out. The tip showed only minute wear, nothing of real consequence. He was pleasantly surprised; the frost-patterned silver White Brow Needle was far sturdier than he had anticipated. By this measure of force, it would easily pierce bone within ten paces. In actual combat, it would pose a considerable threat even to a seventh-rank martial artist. Recognizing the great potential of the White Brow Needles, Zhou Wuji decided to invest further. He committed two destiny patterns worth over two liang each, converting them into primordial profound spirit to directly advance his Tianshu Hand. As purple light unfolded, Zhou Wuji once more entered a state of single-minded cultivation. Decades of arduous cultivation compressed into an instant allowed him to master every variation of the Tianshu Hand, elevating it to consummate perfection. Zhou Wuji opened his eyes. Guided by his hearing, he sensed several mosquitoes buzzing erratically near the window. Reaching into the wooden box, his exceedingly dexterous fingers plucked out five White Brow Needles. His hand barely moved; relying purely on the force of his fingers, he loosed five needles in rapid succession. They pinned five mosquitoes dead with pinpoint accuracy without piercing through the paper window. Zhou Wuji walked over, flicked his sleeve, and retrieved the five needles. At the perfection stage, the Tianshu Hand made him extraordinarily nimble, capable of exerting force in myriad ways—including hurling hidden weapons and forming hand seals. Every movement and variation involving the hands had become effortless for him. In fact, as long as his mind could conceive a motion, his hands could execute it in step. People often said the brain understood while the hands lagged behind; now, his hands were sharper than his mind... Zhou Wuji felt quite pleased with this. Such dexterous hands elevated every combat technique tied to handwork by a whole tier. As for feats like Eagle Hand, they were now child's play. However, many finger and palm martial arts required corresponding true qi to support them as well as specialized methods to temper the palms; dexterity alone was not enough. Zhou Wuji struck out into empty air. A surge of true qi blasted through his palm, coalescing into palm force of immense weight that carried straight through eight feet before dissipating outward, setting off a buzzing hum in the room. Only because his Tianshu Hand had reached perfection could he unleash true qi through palm techniques so swiftly and efficiently. Releasing true qi through the Seven Stars Sword was, after all, constrained by the shape and form of the blade; while sufficiently keen, it lacked the direct, sweeping heft of a palm strike. That said, unleashing true qi via palm strikes consumed too much energy; he could manage at most three to five strikes in succession before running dry. From a practical standpoint, it fell far short of the efficiency and utility of sword and hidden weapons. Zhou Wuji had no idea when the experts from the lower abbey would arrive. Given the sluggish pace of message transmission in this era, it would take five to seven days at best, and far longer if things went poorly... Zhang Xinhu was brimming with murderous intent; having failed to engineer his death this time, there would surely be a follow-up. Truth be told, Zhang Xinhu's audacity had exceeded his expectations! Zhou Wuji had rushed to cultivate the Tianshu Hand precisely because he had felt Zhang Xinhu's madness, forcing him to rapidly bolster his means of self-preservation. Yet this was still far from enough. Having unblocked the sixth acupoint, the Yuheng acupoint, Zhou Wuji's left nostril had gained the ability of qi discernment. Qi discernment was not the smelling of physical odors, but the perception of auras and qi—including true qi, baleful qi, spiritual qi, evil qi, and other complex atmospheric shifts. When he had crossed paths with Zhang Xinhu that afternoon, Zhou Wuji had caught the violent yet formidable aura clinging to the man. Through that sensory impression, Zhou Wuji could tell Zhang Xinhu was exceptionally strong—far stronger than the seventh-rank martial artist he had killed the previous night, and far surpassing Chief Banner Officer Wu Di. A truly terrifying individual! Zhou Wuji now wanted nothing more than to return to Canglong Temple as soon as possible, venture deep into the Siming Mountains, and wipe out the demons, monsters, and ghosts his master had left behind to swiftly boost his cultivation...