The Human Race's Heavenly Court possessed many technologies, primarily derived from research and fusion with various sci-fi worlds in the Void Sea.
Logically, by drinking this vial of gene potion, Fang Ming should have gained five thousand years of lifespan, breaking free from the one-hundred-year limit.
He should also have acquired the strength to contend with cultivators of Qi Refining to Spirit Manifestation.
However, by the time Fang Ming had finished drinking it all, there was no discernible medicinal effect.
Fang Ming then lost faith in sci-fi products.
"Sci-fi, gene potions, they only exist in science fiction novels, not in the real world."
"On my previous life's Earth, I never saw scientists develop gene potions, so this kind of sci-fi knowledge is useless in the God Realm."
"Supernatural power is useless, and once scientific technology surpasses the 21st century, more accurately, surpasses 2022, it cannot be utilized."
"Both the supernatural and sci-fi sides are illusions."
"Earth's scientific and technological advancements from the 21st century and earlier are real."
Fang Ming looked around and pondered. He realized that in the God Realm, it should be possible to develop all the scientific and technological advancements of real-world Earth.
Tanks, airplanes, and other scientific products could be manufactured.
However, 21st-century Earth technology did not include the capability to hand-craft tanks and airplanes.
Therefore, to develop such technologies, he would need to find a large group of local inhabitants and recruit a vast number of workers to build them... Fang Ming currently lacked the conditions for this.
Science is a collective endeavor; it cannot be mastered by an individual.
Moreover, this God Realm also possessed supernatural powers, with beings known as "gods."
Clearly, pursuing the path of the supernatural was a more reasonable choice.
Fang Ming's current sole consideration was how to strengthen himself as an individual.
"When all supernatural powers are useless."
"I can only rely on Earth's martial arts."
"Baji Quan, Wing Chun, Taekwondo..."
Fang Ming did not choose traditional Chinese martial arts.
More accurately, even if Fang Ming chose traditional Chinese martial arts, it would not be the kind depicted in those martial arts novels.
Look at how exaggerated those martial arts novels are.
Ming Jin, An Jin, Hua Jin.
Ming Jin grants a thousand jin of immense strength, and a martial arts master of An Jin can stop a moving van on the street.
A single punch can kill an old ox, and they can tear apart tigers and leopards.
Martial arts masters of Hua Jin are even more formidable.
Hua Jin penetrates the marrow, making them immune to bullets, unafraid of even gunfire.
Beyond the realm of Hua Jin are Dan Jin, Gang Jin, and finally, breaking the void and seeing the divine without decay.
Reaching the state of seeing the divine without decay means that even if a nuclear bomb were to strike, they would sense it beforehand and be able to escape early.
In summary, even nuclear bombs cannot destroy the ultimate masters of traditional Chinese martial arts.
Are these real-world martial arts masters?
Do you truly believe that martial arts masters practice in remote mountains, disdaining to appear in the mortal world?
"An Jin alone can tear apart tigers and leopards and kill an old ox with a punch. What's the difference between this and those anti-Japanese dramas where characters rip apart devils with their bare hands?"
"It's peculiar that ripping apart devils is mocked, yet martial arts novels are considered factual."
"This is quite interesting."
Countless martial arts from Earth flashed through Fang Ming's mind.
He transformed his billions of years of cultivation experience into his own unique martial art.
The experience from billions of years of supernatural power cultivation was now unusable.
But Fang Ming, who appeared to be fourteen years old but had actually lived for trillions of years, could still distill the most suitable killing techniques for himself from Earth's various martial arts and assassination arts, even if they couldn't surpass 21st-century Earth's capabilities.
Although he was a mortal.
Fang Ming, after practicing this killing art for billions of years, had reached the pinnacle of mortal combat.
Even a small fraction of the experience of a billion-year-old monster could be useful.
"However, the pinnacle of mortals is still just the pinnacle of mortals; it's impossible to achieve breaking the void and seeing the divine without decay."
"Martial arts novels are, after all, unscientific."
The pinnacle of mortals refers to reaching the peak in killing techniques.
But Fang Ming's own strength was still that of a fourteen-year-old boy, and moreover, a boy with a frail physique.
Fang Ming had to utilize peak mortal killing techniques within the limitations of this mortal body.
Constrained by the hardware, if he were surrounded by more than fifty people, all willing to sacrifice their lives to fight him to the death, Fang Ming would still be defeated.
Of course, this refers to a group with morale at its peak, willing to fight to the last man. If their morale was low, like street thugs, even killing a few would be enough to scare off nearly a hundred people.
In mortal combat, the outcome is influenced not only by the numerical ratio but also by morale, equipment quality, terrain... there are many factors to consider.
For instance, the issue of equipment... from a mortal's perspective, having a weapon is definitely better than not having one.
Fang Ming unarmed is absolutely inferior to Fang Ming wielding a sword.
Fang Ming walked around. The forest was filled with enormous trees, some so large that several adults would be needed to encircle them.
As for the smaller trees...
Looking at a tree with a diameter of only about a bowl's width, Fang Ming's eyes flashed, and he brought his palm down in a chop.
This palm strike landed on a weak point of the tree, following its grain, and caused the trunk to shake, dislodging numerous leaves from above.
Fang Ming stared intently at the notch he had created.
Then.
He turned and left, not lingering.
He had initially thought that the Four Swords of Zhu Xian were now less useful than plastic and clearly unsuitable for combat. He needed a weapon to significantly increase his combat effectiveness and deal with the beasts in the forest.
Fang Ming did not want to face a wolf pack and engage in unarmed combat.
That would be almost a death sentence.
Therefore, Fang Ming needed a weapon. In this forest, if he could craft a wooden sword, regardless of how effective it might be, it would still be better than fighting unarmed.
Fang Ming was looking for trees specifically to craft a wooden sword.
However, with Fang Ming's current strength, even though he understood the structure of trees perfectly and knew how best to chop them, his strength as a fourteen-year-old boy, without any tools, was insufficient to chop down a tree even when targeting weak points and following the grain.
Without an axe, how could he shape wood?
Even Fang Ming could not solve this problem at this moment.
Therefore, the idea of crafting a wooden sword was completely out of the question.
"Damn it, it's so difficult to even make a wooden sword now..."
Fang Ming frowned.
It wasn't just the issue of the wooden sword.
He was also feeling hungry.
His stomach rumbled.
As a mortal without supernatural powers, he naturally needed to eat.