Chapter Forty-Three: Mastery of the Navy's Six Styles! [Second Update]

[Third update will be before 11 p.m.]

“Young man, how about a piece of meat? Just give me a piece of meat, and I’ll tell you where I’ve hidden my treasure.”

The frigid hell had not been filled with such a mouthwatering aroma for countless years; the enticing scent of roasted meat tugged at the nerves of every pirate on this level. Earlier, they saw the youth slay a wolf and drag it into the cell, and before long, the smell of roasting meat wafted out. How could they not realize that he was feasting inside?

In this place, just getting a bite of cold, dry bread was a luxury, let alone actual meat. The smell of roasted wolf was the most tempting fragrance they had ever encountered.

Shu Mingyuan paid their requests no mind. In his eyes, these people would soon serve as his own cash machines for justice points. He was not like the ancient lawmen who fed prisoners a splendid last meal before execution.

His food was wolf meat, and for water, he drank melted snow. For this meal, Shu Mingyuan devoured nearly half a military wolf before finally feeling full.

After eating his fill, he meditated for half an hour, then began practicing the Navy Six Styles he had stealthily learned.

Though he had grasped their fundamentals, there was still a considerable gap before he could use them proficiently. For now, his use of the Six Styles was clumsy at best.

The Finger Pistol involved channeling all one’s strength into a single finger, hardening it to the toughness of steel and striking with the force of a bullet—enough to pierce walls, let alone flesh.

At its peak, the Finger Pistol could turn all ten fingers into deadly weapons, and with the advanced “Air Snap,” one could fire a true projectile of compressed air, like a bullet; the upgraded “Fire Snap,” using friction with the air, would launch a flaming air bullet, tripling the destructive power.

Iron Body focused all strength into flesh and skin, granting a momentary hardness comparable to refined steel, but its flaw was obvious: it turned its user into a stationary target. With Haki, Iron Body became largely redundant.

Shave and Moonwalk, however, were formidable martial arts, versatile and highly practical. Whether in combat or using Moonwalk’s temporary midair suspension, both were skills he desperately needed.

But these two demanded immense technical precision. For Shave, one needed to stomp the ground at least ten times in an instant—not something that could be achieved with mere practice. It required bodily coordination, even an instinctive reaction, for the body to adapt to such movement.

Otherwise, if he could only use Shave occasionally under conscious control, it would be impossible to manage in real combat—there would be no room for conscious thought. The body needed to form a sort of muscle memory, executing the move perfectly as soon as the mind willed it.

As for Moonwalk’s advanced form, Water Walk, it used explosive foot strength to move swiftly through water, rivaling the speed of a merfolk.

Paper Art, meanwhile, required total relaxation of the body, letting go of all strength, and, by sensing subtle air currents caused by the opponent’s movements, dodging incoming attacks. But now that he possessed the Sharingan, he could see every attack trajectory clearly, making the technique unnecessary.

After careful consideration, he decided to focus on Finger Pistol, Moonwalk, and Shave. Whether or not he had Haki, these would be invaluable supplementary abilities.

Within the prison, Shu Mingyuan relentlessly honed these three techniques, barely resting. When hungry, he hunted wolves, roasted their meat; when thirsty, he scooped up handfuls of snow to eat.

“Finger Pistol!”

Ten days later, his Finger Pistol had finally reached mastery. The three walls were riddled with holes of all sizes. Over those ten days, he had fired the technique tens, even hundreds of thousands of times. The walls were stained scarlet with blood; every joint in his fingers had fractured and the flesh had been worn away.

But thanks to such brutal training, his progress was remarkable. With strength infused, his entire finger gleamed with a metallic sheen like Iron Body. A single jab would pierce the hard wall with ease, smooth and effortless.

He believed that even steel could be pierced halfway through by his current finger strength. All ten fingers were the same, and he had even begun to experiment with the “Air Snap,” perfectly unleashing its power within ten meters.

He had truly internalized the Finger Pistol, one of the Navy Six Styles, though the legendary “Fire Snap” was still out of reach.

Gazing at his fingers, Shu Mingyuan let out a long breath. Each night, his injured fingers were swiftly healed by his healing spell, and each recovery left them tougher than before.

He stepped outside the cell to practice Shave. Each day, after pushing Finger Pistol to its limits, he would switch to training Shave. Within ten days, he could stomp out ten steps in an instant, the explosive power making him much faster than Shadow Dance Leaf. Each time, the ice beneath his feet would shatter into a crater.

After using Shave, he could not always control his landing; sometimes he crashed into the prison walls, at other times he ended up dozens of meters away from his intended location. And this was with conscious effort—if he lost focus, he could not guarantee success.

In a real fight, this would be a fatal flaw.

“Shave!”

The ice exploded, and Shu Mingyuan’s figure vanished, reappearing dozens of meters away—though he had only intended to shift a few meters. The gap was enormous. He tried again and managed only nine steps; the force was not enough to propel him, and the attempt failed.

“It seems I still need more practice.”

He understood the cause: he had not trained enough for his body to adapt. He could not yet control his movement or stop in time at high speed. To master Shave, there was no shortcut but diligent, relentless practice.

Another month and a half passed. Shu Mingyuan’s figure now flickered across the icy surface in all directions. He had fully mastered Shave, one of the Six Styles. Now, he could stomp eighteen times in an instant, more than doubling his original speed, and could pinpoint his landing with accuracy.

Within a few meters, he could reach any spot in an instant; within thirty meters, there was only minor deviation—insignificant compared to his near-invisible movement. His body had perfectly memorized the technique's rhythm. With a thought, his feet would execute Shave instinctively, the force under complete, flawless control.

Now, using Shave no longer shattered vast swathes of ice—only a single crack appeared beneath his foot, and a close look would reveal the ice below had turned to powder.

After mastering Shave, he spent just three days on Moonwalk and quickly grasped the technique of brief movement in the air. Since Moonwalk was performed atop air, not solid ground, it required even greater explosive force than Shave.

Fortunately, with the Sharingan, he had become a learning monster of unparalleled talent. In less than two months, he had fully mastered the three most essential Navy Six Styles, and could use the other three with ease as well.

On this day, his physique finally reached a score of 1100.

ps: [Seeing so many of you recommend and support the novel, I am truly grateful. Here is the second update! Special thanks to Shadow Rhyme, First Meeting, My Dark Side, Lies Never Hold Up, Melancholy, Expeditionary Force, and Scarlet Lips Xiao Wen for your recommendations! Please continue to collect, tip, and vote!]