Supreme Being: The Sword of True Martial Arts

On the second day after becoming an apprentice, before dawn, Lin Yan was dragged out of bed by Su Mochen.

It was a real lift. Su Mochen grabbed him by the back of his collar with one hand and lifted him off the bed like a chick, placing him in the yard. The movement was clean and efficient, taking no more than two breaths.

Lin Yan was completely dazed. Last night, he had been cultivating the first level of the True Martial Seven Intercepts Scripture until late into the night, tossing and turning in bed unable to sleep—for the first time in so many days since he transmigrated, he had the real feeling that "he had truly become a disciple of the True Martial Sect." He finally managed to close his eyes in a daze, but it felt like he hadn't slept for long when a large hand pulled him out of his warm bed.

A gust of morning breeze jolted him awake, and he was fully alert.

"From today onwards, get up at dawn every day to practice your sword." Su Mochen stood in the courtyard, dressed in a blue Taoist robe, his hair casually tied back with a wooden hairpin, holding an inconspicuous longsword in his hand. The morning light had not yet spread over the eastern mountain ridge, and only the two lanterns hanging under the eaves emitted a dim yellow light, casting a long shadow of his. "I will demonstrate the first three forms of the True Martial Seven Swords to you three times. After that, you can practice on your own."

Lin Yan rubbed his sleepy eyes and yawned, "Master, it's not even dawn yet..."

"It'll be too late once it's light." Su Mochen glanced at him, his tone as calm as if he were saying the weather was nice today. "The path of the sword is all about fighting for that sliver of dawn."

These words were spoken casually, but Lin Yan sensed an undeniable authority in them. He had no choice but to brace himself and grip his iron sword tightly. The morning chill seeped up from the bluestone floor, penetrating the thin soles of his shoes and seeping into his bones—more effective than any energizing tonic.

Su Mochen stood with his sword in hand, his aura suddenly changing.

Just moments ago he resembled a gentle, middle-aged scholar, but now he was like a drawn sword, its sharpness fully revealed. Lin Yan's Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart clearly sensed that the surrounding spiritual energy was slowly rotating around Su Mochen, like an invisible vortex. The leaves of the old locust tree in the courtyard stopped rustling, and the flames in the lanterns under the eaves ceased flickering—not because the wind had stopped, but because all the flow of spiritual energy was being drawn by Su Mochen's aura, converging in the same direction.

Lin Yan unconsciously tightened his grip on the sword. Is this the "momentum" of a master of outdoor scenes?

"First move, Cloud Breaker."

A sword thrust out.

Lin Yan felt a blur before his eyes. The sword light seemed to tear through the clouds, arriving in a flash. It wasn't just speed—or rather, it wasn't merely speed. It was momentum. Momentum that could break through all obstacles. Clouds, mountains, the sky—all shattered with a single sword strike.

Where the sword light passed, a faint white trace was left in the air, lingering for a long time. It was not water vapor condensation, but a vacuum rift left by the temporary depletion of spiritual energy under the surge of sword energy. Lin Yan's Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart clearly "saw" that the rift started from the tip of the sword and extended to more than three feet away, like a spatial rift that had been torn open.

"The core of the Cloud-Piercing Style isn't speed, it's determination." Su Mochen sheathed his sword, his tone calm. "Your sword must believe that nothing can stop you. Clouds, mountains, enemies—it's all a matter of one sword strike."

Lin Yan nodded thoughtfully. He recalled the sword strike he used to defeat Yao Qing during the outer sect competition—at that time, he had only accurately found the flaw in Yao Qing's change of move, but lacked that "momentum." If he could integrate that "momentum" into his sword, the power of that strike could be increased by at least 30%.

"The second move, the River-Crossing Move."

Su Mochen drew his sword again.

This sword strike was completely different from the first. It lacked any sharp edge; instead, it resembled an invisible dam, stretching across the heavens and earth. Lin Yan felt the surrounding spiritual energy suddenly stagnate, as if gripped by an invisible hand. It hadn't disappeared, but rather been "intercepted"—the spiritual energy was still there, but no longer flowing, becoming a stagnant pool.

"The Intercepting River Style cuts off the opponent's true energy, cuts off the spiritual energy of heaven and earth, and even cuts off cause and effect and destiny," Su Mochen said slowly. "The core of this style is the word 'intercept.' You need to find the key node in the flow of the opponent's true energy and cut it off with one sword, so that he will run out of strength."

Lin Yan's eyes lit up. This move was a perfect match for his Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart. The Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart could see the flaws in the opponent's true energy circulation, while the Intercepting River Style was a sword technique specifically designed to attack those points. Use the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart to find the point, and use the Intercepting River Style to cut it off—a perfect combo.

"The third form is the renunciation form."

The third sword strike was the most bizarre.

There was no sword light, no sword wind, and not even a fluctuation of true energy. But Lin Yan's Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart clearly perceived that this sword strike was not "cutting" a physical object, but rather "intention." An invisible sword intent extended from the tip of Su Mochen's sword, silently sweeping across the courtyard. A thin branch of the old locust tree fell in response—not severed by sword energy, but rather its existence was "erased" by the sword intent. The cut was as smooth as a mirror, without a single burr.

Lin Yan felt a chill run down his spine. If this sword were to strike a person, no visible wounds would be left, but their consciousness would be completely annihilated.

Su Mochen sheathed his sword and turned to look at Lin Yan: "Did you understand?"

Lin Yan was silent for a moment before slowly speaking: "The Cloud-Breaking Style emphasizes 'momentum,' the River-Severing Style emphasizes 'interception,' and the Thought-Severing Style emphasizes 'intention.' Each of the three styles has its own emphasis, but their foundation is all true qi. The purer the true qi, the greater the power of the three styles."

A hint of surprise flashed in Su Mochen's eyes: "You can say all this after only reading it once?"

"This disciple is just guessing," Lin Yan scratched his head and chuckled. Actually, it wasn't just guessing; the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart had translated the sword intent fluctuations he sensed into words. The burst of spiritual energy during the Cloud-Piercing Style sword strike, the stagnation of spiritual energy during the River-Intercepting Style sword strike, and the extension of mental power during the Thought-Severing Style sword strike—all these subtle changes were clearly visible under the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart.

"It's not a wild guess, you're about 70% right." Su Mochen nodded, his tone tinged with approval. "Your sword sense is indeed exceptionally gifted, no wonder you were able to defeat Yao Qing in the minor competition with your Qi Accumulation Mastery. However, sword sense is innate, but swordsmanship is cultivated. Don't rely too much on talent."

"Disciple understands."

"Go practice." Su Mochen waved his hand, turned, and walked into the house. "I'll check in three days. You should at least have mastered the first three moves. If you can't—"

He paused for a moment, but continued walking.

"What will happen if you fail to train?" Lin Yan asked cautiously.

Su Mochen's figure disappeared through the door, leaving only one sentence: "You're not allowed to eat until you've mastered the skill."

"..." Lin Yan stood in the courtyard, sword in hand, a bitter expression on his face. He stared at the closed door and muttered softly, "Master, are you serious?"

There was no response from inside the door.

Lin Yan took a deep breath and began practicing his swordsmanship.

On the first day, he memorized all the moves of the first three forms, using the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart to perceive the flow of true energy and the techniques for exerting force in each form. The Cloud-Piercing Form requires true energy to rotate rapidly in the dantian and then explode instantly, like a spring compressed to its limit suddenly releasing. Lin Yan tried more than ten times, and finally found that "explosion point" on the seventeenth time—when the true energy rotates to a certain critical value, it will naturally surge outward, and the sword strike at this moment will have the greatest power. Too early, and the true energy rotation is insufficient, resulting in insufficient explosive power; too late, and the true energy begins to flow back, which will weaken the sword's momentum.

The River-Intercepting Style requires true qi to form layers of "dams" within the meridians, intercepting the opponent's true qi. This is far more difficult than the Cloud-Breaking Style, as it demands extremely precise control over true qi. Lin Yan, aided by his sword sense, gradually constructed these "dams." From one to three, from three to five, each additional "dam" strengthened the interception. By nightfall, he had been able to construct five "dams," which, while not yet fully stable, were already taking shape.

The most complex technique is the "Severing Thoughts" technique. It requires integrating mental energy into the sword, controlling it with intention rather than force. Lin Yan tried dozens of times, succeeding only two or three times. Each time he succeeded, he felt as if his consciousness had left his body and attached itself to the sword. The sword was him, and he was the sword. The feeling was wondrous—like an invisible tendril extending from his body, resting on the sword, and every tremor of the sword could be clearly transmitted back to his mind.

The next day, Lin Yan achieved minor mastery of the Breaking Clouds Style. He could complete the entire process of rotating, compressing, and exploding his true energy within a single breath, increasing his sword speed by 50%. He also made progress in the Intercepting River Style, with his five "dams" now stable and capable of being constructed simultaneously in a single strike. However, the Severing Thoughts Style remained inconsistent, with a success rate of less than 10%. Sometimes, he would practice dozens of times without succeeding even once; other times, a flash of inspiration would allow him to unleash his sword intent three or four times in a row.

Lin Yan didn't give up, practicing again and again. He swung the iron sword tens of thousands of times, blisters forming on his hands, which would burst, scab over, and then burst again. His clothes were soaked with sweat, clinging to his body, chilling him to the touch in the wind. But he was oblivious—in his fully activated state of the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart, he could clearly perceive the progress of each strike. Even the slightest improvement was magnified into a clearly visible change. This feeling was addictive.

On the morning of the third day, when Su Mochen opened the door, Lin Yan was sitting on the stone steps in the courtyard, leaning against the trunk of the old locust tree, still holding an iron sword in his hand, asleep.

His clothes were covered in sweat and dust, his hair was disheveled, and there were a few small bloodstains on his face from the wind of the sword. The iron sword was held across his lap, his right hand still gripping the sword, his knuckles slightly white.

Su Mochen stood at the doorway, watching him for a while. The morning light streamed in from the eastern mountain ridge, illuminating Lin Yan and turning his messy hair a golden-brown. His breathing was even, but his brows were slightly furrowed, as if he were still practicing swordsmanship in his dream.

"stand up."

Lin Yan jolted awake, nearly tumbling down the stone steps. He rubbed his eyes, saw Su Mochen standing before him, and quickly stood up, frantically brushing the dirt off his clothes: "Master!"

"How's your training going?" Su Mochen asked indifferently.

Lin Yan grinned: "Breaking Cloud Style, minor mastery of River Cutting Style, Severing Thoughts Style... barely entered the basics. I tried dozens of times, and only succeeded three times. But in those three successful attempts, I felt—the sword is myself, and I am the sword."

A glint flashed in Su Mochen's eyes: "Use the 'Severing Thoughts' attack on me."

Lin Yan was taken aback: "Attack you? Master, you're an outdoor filming crew—"

"Enough talk, draw your sword."

Lin Yan gritted his teeth, gripped the iron sword tightly, and focused his mind on the blade. He used the "Severing Thoughts" technique, controlling the sword with his will. He condensed his spiritual energy into a single line, extending it along the blade. This time, he didn't consciously control it, but allowed his consciousness to naturally "flow" onto the sword, like water flowing down a riverbed, rather than being pushed by his hand.

Draw your sword.

This sword strike lacked the sharp edge of a cloud-piercing strike, and the stagnation of a river-cutting strike; it was as bland as drawing a line in the air. But Su Mochen's eyes changed.

He extended a finger and gently touched the tip of the sword.

"Smack."

The sword's momentum dissipated, and Lin Yan took three steps back, his arm numb. The sword vibrated and hummed, the remaining force traveling up the hilt, making his tiger's mouth ache.

But there was a faint white mark on Su Mochen's finger.

"You've mastered the first three forms of the 'Severing Thoughts' technique." Su Mochen withdrew his fingers, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Three days to master the first three forms. Twice as fast as I expected. Your swordsmanship talent is indeed remarkable."

Lin Yan grinned, a hint of youthful smugness in his smile: "Then, can this disciple eat now?"

Su Mochen looked at him and remained silent for a moment.

"Wash your face first."

Lin Yan looked down at himself—his clothes were covered in sweat and dirt, his hands had several cuts, and his face was burning. He gave an embarrassed smile, turned around, and ran to fetch water.

Su Mochen watched his retreating figure, a slight smile playing on his lips. This young disciple was talented, quick-witted, and while his personality was lively, he wasn't frivolous and was willing to endure hardship. He was a promising talent.

"Perhaps in a few years, the Zhenwu Sect will have one more exterior observer," he muttered to himself, then turned and went back into the house.

Over the next seven days, Lin Yan practiced the first level of the True Martial Seven Intercepts Scripture, "Intercepting Qi into Subtlety," while also refining the first three forms of the True Martial Seven Swords.

The Seven Intercepts of True Martial Arts truly lives up to its reputation as the core technique of the sect leader's lineage. The first level, "Intercepting Qi to the Subtle," focuses on how to precisely control true qi, minimizing its loss while simultaneously enhancing its explosive power. Lin Yan's previously optimized qi circulation path perfectly aligns with the core idea of ​​"Intercepting Qi to the Subtle"—both aim to improve efficiency by shortening the qi circulation path and reducing losses along the way.

With the mental techniques of the first three forms combined, the progress of "Intercepting Qi to the Subtle" far exceeded expectations. Through continuous purification and compression, the true qi became increasingly condensed and sharp. The cultivation level of Qi Accumulation was also steadily improving, approaching the perfection of Qi Accumulation.

Lin Yan's daily life became extremely regular. He would get up at dawn and practice swordsmanship for an hour; eat at dawn and meditate to cultivate "intercepting qi into the subtle" after the meal; practice swordsmanship for another hour at noon; study the annotations of "True Martial Seven Intercepting Scripture" in the afternoon and ponder the mysteries of the circulation of true qi; practice for another hour in the evening; and meditate at night, integrating the insights gained during the day into his cultivation.

Su Mochen would occasionally come to the courtyard to take a look, but he never offered any guidance. Lin Yan knew that this wasn't because his master was indifferent, but because he wanted Lin Yan to figure it out himself. On the path of swordsmanship, some things cannot be taught; one must discover them for oneself.

On the seventh night, Lin Yan sat cross-legged on the bed, his internal energy circulating like a tide.

He could feel that the bottleneck to perfecting his Qi accumulation was right in front of him, like a thin membrane that could be easily pierced. His true Qi surged through his meridians, each cycle more powerful than the last. The Qi ball in his dantian had been compressed to its limit, like a tightly packed pill with fine cracks on its surface, ready to explode at any moment.

But he didn't rush in.

He recalled Su Mochen's words: "If the foundation is not solid, the ground will shake. Although the Qi Accumulation stage is the lowest realm, it determines how far you can go in the future. Many geniuses stop at the Outer Realm because their foundation is unstable during the Qi Accumulation stage."

"Then let's compress it a little more." Lin Yan gritted his teeth, compressed his true energy to the limit, and then continued to compress it.

The true energy in his dantian had been compressed to its limit, like a spring pushed to its limit, ready to rebound at any moment. Stinging pains emanated from his meridians, as if they were about to burst, and each heartbeat intensified the feeling of expansion. But Lin Yan didn't stop—he trusted the perception of the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart; the meridians' limits were far from being reached. He could "see" every minute detail of the inner walls of his meridians, the flow of true energy between those patterns, and the absorption and feedback of true energy by the acupoints.

We can still bet. Bet another point.

Bet another point.

Bet one more point—

"boom!"

A muffled thud resounded from the dantian, and the compressed true qi rebounded violently, surging through the body's meridians like a burst dam. But this time, it wasn't out of control; rather, guided by the "Intercepting Qi into Subtlety," it rearranged itself in a completely new way. The true qi originated from the dantian, rushing out along the meridians, then swirling at each acupoint, carrying the spiritual energy stored within back into the body. This back and forth formed a complete cycle.

The true energy was purer and more condensed, and its quantity was 30% greater than before. Moreover, each strand of true energy was more "obedient" than before—with a thought from Lin Yan, the true energy could be precisely circulated to the designated location without the slightest error.

Fully charged.

Lin Yan opened his eyes, a glint of light flashing within them. That light vanished in an instant, disappearing back into the depths of his pupils. He clenched his fist, feeling a surge of power within him—not the inflated, superficial kind, but a steady, effortless power. With a casual thrust of his sword, the wind from the blade nearly extinguished the oil lamp on the table, the flame flickering violently before regaining its footing. The degree of the flame's sway was exactly thirty percent of the force of his sword strike—indicating that the loss of his true energy had been reduced to an extremely low level by the "Intercepting Qi to the Subtle."

"The Qi accumulation is complete, it's done." He let out a long breath, a smile appearing on his lips. "And it's not just ordinary Qi accumulation, it's Qi accumulation with a purity far exceeding that of ordinary people."

He stood up and stretched his limbs. His joints cracked and popped, like parched land finally receiving rain. He walked to the window, opened it, and the night breeze blew in, carrying the fresh scent of the pine forest behind the mountain. The night sky was filled with countless stars, and the Milky Way stretched across the horizon like a spilled salt jar.

"The next step is the enlightenment period." Lin Yan looked at the stars in the night sky and muttered to himself, "But there's no rush. Let's polish it for a few more days and solidify the foundation to the point where it can't be solidified any further."

He recalled what Su Mochen had said: the nine orifices of the Awakening Stage require extremely precise control to open each one. These are the eye orifice, ear orifice, nose orifice, mouth orifice, limb orifice, genital orifice, and finally, the ancestral orifice between the eyebrows. Only when all nine orifices are opened can the Awakening Stage be considered complete. And the depth of cultivation of the ancestral orifice between the eyebrows directly determines how far one can go in the future.

"Su Mochen said that many geniuses stop at the Outer Realm because their foundation in the Ancestral Aperture between their eyebrows is not deep enough." Lin Yan recalled Su Mochen's teachings. "The Ancestral Aperture between the eyebrows is the gateway connecting the inner and outer worlds. The deeper the foundation, the more stable the bridge between heaven and earth will be in the future."

He decided to spend at least three more days refining his skills to thoroughly solidify his foundation before considering attempting to break through to the Enlightenment stage.

The next morning, Lin Yan went to find Su Mochen.

Su Mochen was drinking tea in the courtyard. A bamboo chair, a stone table, a pot of tea, and wisps of morning mist. He sat there, his aura blending seamlessly with the old locust tree in the courtyard, the moss on the stone steps, and the old lantern hanging under the eaves, as if he had always been a part of this courtyard. The aroma of tea rose gently, turning into pale golden threads in the morning light, twining around his fingertips.

Seeing Lin Yan enter, he glanced at Lin Yan and nodded slightly: "You've reached the peak of Qi accumulation? Your foundation is quite solid."

Lin Yan was secretly astonished. Su Mochen's glance just now had no fluctuation of true energy; it was purely his eyesight—the eyesight of an outer realm expert. To be able to see through the depth of his cultivation and even the solidity of his foundation at a glance without using true energy meant that Su Mochen's eyesight had reached an extremely high level.

"Master has such discerning eyes," Lin Yan said with a grin, flattering him.

"Stop flattering me." Su Mochen put down his teacup. "Speak, what is it?"

Lin Yan put away his smile and said seriously, "Master, this disciple wants to go down the mountain to gain experience."

Su Mochen remained silent for a moment. The morning breeze swept through the courtyard, fluttering his clothes, rustling the leaves of the old locust tree, and stirring the rising steam from his teacup. He picked up the teacup and took another sip, as if pondering something, or perhaps waiting for Lin Yan to finish explaining his reasons.

"Even someone at the peak of Qi cultivation is just a nobody in the martial world. If faced with real danger, they won't even have a chance to escape," he said slowly. "Are you sure you want to go down the mountain now?"

"This disciple seeks an opportunity to break through the Enlightenment stage through training," Lin Yan said earnestly. "Cultivating solely on the mountain, working in isolation, can easily lead one astray. Master has also seen through my swordsmanship—it is precise enough, but lacks 'momentum.' The Cloud-Breaking Style requires 'momentum,' and 'momentum' is not something that can be trained, but rather something that can be earned through combat. Only in real battles, in the face of life and death, can one cultivate that determination to 'break through with a single sword.'"

He paused, then added, "Moreover, a disciple's sword sense can only truly come into play in combat. Sparring within the sect is ultimately lacking."

Su Mochen glanced at him. It was a calm glance, but Lin Yan felt as if his very being had been seen through. It wasn't the kind of seeing through him by his inner energy, but a pure, seasoned gaze—a master of the outer realms who had lived for over a hundred years looking at a teenager as if he were looking at an open book.

The silence lasted for about ten breaths.

Then Su Mochen took out a jade talisman and a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve and handed them to him.

"A communication talisman. You can contact me if you encounter danger. After you crush it, I can sense your location." He pointed to the thumb-sized jade talisman, its surface engraved with fine patterns, and it felt slightly warm in his hand. "However, this thing has a distance limit; it's useless beyond a thousand miles. Use it wisely."

He then pointed to the small porcelain bottle: "This bottle contains three healing pills. They can be life-saving in critical moments. They're not some kind of miracle pill, but they're enough to deal with ordinary internal and external injuries."

Lin Yan uncorked the bottle and took a sniff. A slightly bitter medicinal fragrance filled his nostrils, and just smelling it made him feel a bit of the stuffiness in his chest dissipate.

Su Mochen took another jade pendant from his waist and handed it to Lin Yan. This pendant was a full size larger than the previous one, with a warm, lustrous texture and a faint spiritual light flowing within it. Holding it in his hand, he could feel a warm aura seeping into his meridians along his palm. "A protective jade pendant, capable of blocking one fatal attack. The one I gave you before was too low-grade, so I'm giving you this one instead. Remember, it can only be used once. After that, it's just an ordinary jade pendant; keep it as a keepsake."

Lin Yan accepted the three items, feeling a warm glow in his heart. This master, though cold on the outside, was kind on the inside. He said "Complete Qi Accumulation is mediocre," but in reality, he gave her all the life-saving methods he could.

"Thank you, Master."

"After you go down the mountain, avoid causing trouble, but don't be afraid of trouble either," Su Mochen instructed, his tone unusually serious. "Disciples of the True Martial Sect must not disgrace others in public. Running away when you can't win isn't shameful; bullying others after winning is. Understand?"

"Disciple understands."

"There's one more thing." Su Mochen's tone suddenly turned serious, and his voice lowered a few decibels. "The martial world has been quite turbulent lately. Remnants of the Demonic Sect are causing trouble everywhere, and the relationship between the Six Sword-wielding Sects is also somewhat delicate. When you travel the martial world, be careful and don't easily trust anyone. Especially those who are particularly enthusiastic towards you—there's no such thing as a free lunch in the martial world."

Lin Yan nodded: "This disciple has remembered."

He turned to leave, but Su Mochen called him back.

"etc."

"Is there anything else, Master?"

Su Mochen took out a piece of paper from his pocket, on which was drawn a simple map. The ink was fresh, as if it had just been drawn; the lines were simple, but the key locations were clearly marked. "This is a map of Jiangzhou City. There's a Zhenwu Sect stronghold in the city. You can go there for help if you encounter trouble." He handed the map to Lin Yan. "The person in charge of the stronghold is surnamed Sun. He's an elder of the sect, at the peak of Qi cultivation, and has lived in Jiangzhou for decades. He's very reliable. Just tell him my name when you get there."

Lin Yan took the map, carefully folded it, and put it away close to his body along with the communication talisman, pills, and jade pendant.

Then he took two steps back and bowed deeply to Su Mochen.

The bow was slow and earnest. As he bent over, he felt the communication talisman in his arms getting slightly warm, as if his master's gaze was still on him.

Su Mochen didn't speak, but simply picked up his teacup and softly hummed in agreement.

Lin Yan straightened up, turned, and walked out of the courtyard. The moment he stepped out the gate, he heard a very soft sigh behind him, which was then carried away by the wind. He paused, but didn't turn back.

The mountain path winds its way up, with 999 stone steps stretching from the mountain gate to the foot of the mountain. Morning light filters through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the ground like scattered gold. A mountain breeze rises from the valley floor, carrying the fragrance of pine trees and the mist from a distant waterfall.

Lin Yan walked slowly. Every now and then, he would look back. The Zhenwu Mountains appeared and disappeared in the morning mist, with the eaves of several palaces piercing through the clouds like celestial pavilions. The highest peak was the Taixu Peak of Xuan Yang Zhenren, shrouded in clouds and mist all year round, its summit invisible.

When he reached the three hundredth stone step, he encountered a person.

Zhang Ce.

Wearing faded gray outer disciple robes and carrying an old bundle, he sat on a blue stone beside the stone steps, as if waiting for someone. A sword lay across his lap—the same standard iron sword as Lin Yan's, but the scabbard was wiped clean, showing that its owner cherished it.

Upon seeing Lin Yan, he stood up and hung his sword back at his waist: "Senior Brother Lin."

"Senior Brother Zhang?" Lin Yan asked, somewhat surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'll wait for you." Zhang Ce's tone was as calm as ever. "I'm also going down the mountain to gain experience."

Lin Yan was taken aback for a moment, then smiled. He thought he would be coming down the mountain alone, but he hadn't expected to have a companion. "When did you arrive?"

"Half an hour earlier than you."

"Then why didn't you leave first?"

Zhang Ce glanced at him, his eyes seeming to say, "Is that even a question?": "Let's go together, so we can look out for each other."

Lin Yan felt a warmth in her heart. This Zhang Ce didn't talk much, but he was very reliable.

"Have you fully charged up your energy?" Lin Yan asked.

"I broke through last night." Zhang Ce nodded. "A day later than you."

Lin Yan recalled what Zhang Ce had said during the outer sect competition: "Your sword sense is very strong; you can see the shortcomings in my sword moves, but I can also see the intentions behind your sword moves." This person has a sharp eye and an extremely solid foundation. He has always kept a low profile in the outer sect, but his strength is definitely not weak. To be able to reach the Qi Accumulation Perfection stage through pure hard work without any cheat codes is a talent in itself.

"Want to go together?"

"it is good."

The two descended the mountain side by side. Zhang Ce was a man of few words, and Lin Yan didn't try to start a conversation. They walked silently down the remaining six hundred-odd stone steps, with only the sound of their footsteps and the mountain wind echoing in their ears.

By the time we reached the foot of the mountain, the sun was already high in the sky. The official road stretched forward in the morning light, the leaves of the poplar trees on both sides rustling in the wind like countless green hands clapping. In the distant fields, early risers had already begun their work, the sounds of hoes hitting the ground and shouts to their livestock mingling and drifting on the wind.

Lin Yan glanced back at the mountain gate that had disappeared into the clouds. The Zhenwu Mountains had become a gray silhouette, with only the highest point of Taixu Peak showing a corner of its eaves, like a needle piercing through the clouds.

"Let's go," he said.

Zhang Ce nodded.

The two set off on the official road, heading towards Jiangzhou.

After walking for about an hour, Lin Yan suddenly stopped.

"etc."

Zhang Ce's hand was already on the hilt of his sword, his gaze quickly sweeping around: "What's wrong?"

Lin Yan remained silent. His Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart detected an extremely faint aura—about fifty feet behind him, in the woods at the bend of the official road. The aura was well concealed, almost blending into the surrounding trees, grass, and rocks. If it weren't for the passive sword sense amplification of the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart, he would have had no chance of detecting it. The intensity of the aura was integrated with the surrounding spiritual energy, as if someone was deliberately using some kind of concealment technique.

Someone is following them.

Moreover, that person's cultivation level was at least at the Enlightenment stage or above.

"It's nothing, keep going," Lin Yan said casually, but he subtly adjusted his pace, blocking Zhang Ce on his right. His left hand quietly rested on the hilt of his sword, his thumb gently pushing open the guard, loosening the blade by half an inch.

After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, the aura maintained a fixed distance, neither approaching nor moving away. Lin Yan quickened his pace, and the aura quickened its pace as well; Lin Yan slowed his pace, and the aura slowed its pace as well. It seemed to be monitoring, not intercepting.

"Interesting," Lin Yan thought to himself. They weren't here to ambush him—if they were, they would have done it in a more secluded place, not by following him from a distance on the main road. It seemed more like…observation.

He recalled what Zhao Ping had told him at the Demon Tomb—the relationship between the secular and Daoist branches within the True Martial Sect was very delicate. The three major secular families were quite concerned about the status of the sect leader's grand-disciple, and there were voices of discontent in the shadows. Lin Yan was a disciple accepted by Su Mochen through an exception, and also the sect leader's grand-disciple; in the eyes of the secular branches, this was the Daoist branch "stealing" him. He had defeated Yao Qing in the outer sect competition, causing the Yao family to lose face, and they would definitely remember this.

Could the person following them be related to the common people?

Another hour passed before the aura finally disappeared. It didn't vanish suddenly, but rather receded slowly, as if it had completed its observation task for the day.

Lin Yan breathed a sigh of relief, but his vigilance rose. He didn't tell Zhang Ce about it—not because he didn't trust him, but because there was no need to make Zhang Ce nervous. Zhang Ce's cultivation level was similar to his, and knowing too much would only expose a weakness when facing an opponent at the Qi Opening stage.

"Senior Brother Lin," Zhang Ce suddenly spoke up, "was someone following us just now?"

Lin Yan paused in his steps: "You felt it too?"

Zhang Ce shook his head: "No. But your gait changed—starting from the fifty-third step, you shifted your weight to one foot, and your right hand moved half an inch closer to the sword hilt. It wasn't until after walking about six li that you shifted your weight back."

Lin Yan remained silent for a long while. This person's observational skills were simply terrifying. He didn't have his eyesight or hearing abilities activated, nor did he possess the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart; he discerned the changes in Lin Yan's gait purely through his eyesight.

"Someone is following us, their cultivation level is above the Opening Stage," Lin Yan said truthfully. "But they left after following us for an hour. It should be surveillance, not an ambush. I suspect it's related to a secular branch."

Zhang Ce nodded, not pressing further. He knew Lin Yan's identity within the Zhenwu Sect—the sect leader's grand-disciple, and Su Mochen's nominal disciple. It wasn't surprising that someone like him was being targeted.

"What are you planning to do?" Zhang Ce asked.

"Let's get to Jiangzhou first. They won't dare to cause trouble in the Zhenwu Sect's stronghold." Lin Yan touched the communication talisman in his pocket. "Besides, I have a life-saving method given to me by my master. If we really encounter danger, I should be able to hold out until rescue."

Zhang Ce grunted in response and said nothing more. But Lin Yan noticed that his position had quietly shifted half a step to Lin Yan's left—the direction where the follower had been.

The two continued on their journey.

Jiangzhou City was larger than Lin Yan had imagined.

The city wall, three zhang high, with its blue bricks and gray tiles, gleamed heavily in the afternoon sun. Above the city gate were the two large characters "Jiangzhou," written with vigorous strokes, faintly reminiscent of sword energy. People came and went at the city gate: peddlers carrying loads, bodyguards with swords, and merchants on horseback in an endless stream. Several wanted posters from the Six Doors were pasted on both sides of the city gate. Lin Yan glanced at them; the portraits were crude, but the rewards were considerable—the highest reward for a notorious bandit was eight hundred taels of silver.

"Eight hundred taels." Lin Yan clicked his tongue twice, then turned to Zhang Ce and said, "That's enough to eat braised beef for a lifetime."

Zhang Ce thought about it seriously: "I don't eat beef."

Lin Yan: "..."

The city gate guards stopped the two, and Lin Yan showed them his token as an inner disciple of the Zhenwu Sect. The guards glanced at it and immediately let them pass, even eagerly pointing out the way: "The Zhenwu Sect's stronghold is in Willow Lane in the west of the city. Gentlemen, just walk straight along this main street, turn right after two intersections, and you'll arrive. There's a big willow tree at the entrance of Willow Lane; it's easy to spot."

Lin Yan thanked him and walked into the city side by side with Zhang Ce.

The prosperity of Jiangzhou City far exceeded his expectations. Shops lined both sides of the street, wine flags fluttering in the breeze. The clanging of blacksmiths' hammers, the storytelling from teahouses, and the shouts of vendors mingled together. Among the passersby, there were quite a few martial artists carrying swords and knives, and occasionally a few sect disciples in uniform. A burly man carrying a large sword walked past Lin Yan, the strong smell of alcohol and sweat on him almost knocking him over.

"This place is much more lively than the foot of Zhenwu Mountain," Zhang Ce rarely spoke up.

"After all, this is Jiangzhou," Lin Yan said. "It's the heart of the Great Jin Dynasty, a hub for both land and water transportation, attracting people from all walks of life."

Following the guard's directions, the two found Willow Lane—sure enough, there stood a large willow tree at the lane entrance, its trunk requiring two people to encircle it, its branches cascading down like a green waterfall. Deep within the lane was an inconspicuous courtyard, with gray walls and black tiles, and a secret mark of the Zhenwu Sect hanging above the doorway—a blue brick engraved with a tortoise and snake pattern. It was almost unnoticeable unless one looked closely.

Lin Yan stepped forward and knocked on the door. Three long knocks followed by two short knocks were the secret signal that Steward Sun had given him beforehand.

A moment later, the courtyard gate opened a crack, revealing a wrinkled old face. The old man squinted at Lin Yan and Zhang Ce, his gaze lingering for a moment on Lin Yan's token before his wrinkles smoothed out: "So it's Young Master Lin and Young Master Zhang. Elder Su sent word a few days ago that you were going down the mountain for training, and I've been waiting for you. Please come in."

The courtyard wasn't large, with three main rooms and an old locust tree that shaded half of it. The tree trunk was as thick as two people could hug, its bark cracked, its age unknown. Under the tree was a stone table and several stone benches, and on the table sat an unfinished game of chess.

Steward Sun welcomed the two into the main hall, served them tea, and then busied himself arranging their accommodations. Lin Yan stayed in the east wing, and Zhang Ce stayed in the west wing, separated by a courtyard.

After settling in, Steward Sun prepared a meal—braised beef, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, a steamed river fish, and a pot of rice wine. Lin Yan, who had been eating simple meals within the sect for seven days, was delighted to see this feast.

During the meal, Lin Yan inquired about news from the martial arts world.

Steward Sun stroked his gray beard and thought for a moment: "The six sword-wielding sects have been quite quiet lately. However, I heard that something seems to have happened at Shaolin Temple, and the prestigious sects such as the Sword Washing Pavilion, the Flower Washing Sword Sect, and the Hidden Sword Pavilion have all sent disciples there."

Lin Yan's heart skipped a beat. This matched the timeline of the original story—disciples from various sects gathered at Shaolin Temple, marking the beginning of the cycle of reincarnation.

"What is it?" he asked.

"I don't know," Old Manager Sun shook his head.

He then inquired about the situation in the city—where there were blacksmiths who could repair swords, where to find reliable elixirs, and whether there were any figures in the city one should not mess with. Old Steward Sun answered each question, and finally added, "Young Master Lin, Young Master Zhang, it's best to keep a low profile when you're out and about. Jiangzhou may seem peaceful, but it's not without its troubles. A few days ago, there was a midnight brawl in the east of the city, and two rogue cultivators died."

After leaving the main hall, Zhang Ce returned to his room. Lin Yan stood in the courtyard and looked up at the old locust tree. The branches and leaves of the locust tree swayed gently in the night breeze, and moonlight filtered through the leaves, scattering like shards of silver on the ground.

He touched the communication talisman and protective jade pendant in his pocket, and suddenly smiled. Transmigration, the outer sect competition, becoming an apprentice, achieving Qi cultivation perfection, descending the mountain—everything went more smoothly than expected. But the real test was yet to begin.

He remembered that in the original story, Meng Qi was pulled into the cycle of reincarnation in a meditation room at Shaolin Temple. As for himself, he was currently in Jiangzhou—the methods of the Lord of the Six Paths of Reincarnation could pull people across thousands of miles in the blink of an eye.

"I need to be prepared," he muttered to himself, turning and going back to his room.

I stayed at the Jiangzhou outpost for three days.

Lin Yan gets up at dawn every day and practices his sword in the courtyard. There's a clearing under the old locust tree, just enough for him to practice the first three moves of the True Martial Seven Swords. Sometimes Zhang Ce will bring a stool and sit beside him to watch, and sometimes he'll draw his sword and spar with him. Both of them are at the peak of their internal energy cultivation, but their styles are completely different—Lin Yan's sword is precise and tricky, each strike aimed at the opponent's most vulnerable spot; Zhang Ce's sword is simple and solid, each move as if measured with a ruler, without the slightest excess.

After three matches, Lin Yan won two and drew one. Zhang Ce wasn't upset about losing, only saying, "Your sword is too fast. And every strike landed in the gaps between my moves, as if you knew in advance how I was going to change my stance."

Lin Yan smiled but didn't explain.

During the day, he would wander around the city, gathering information. The teahouses and taverns in Jiangzhou City were the best places to get the latest news; for a few copper coins, one could buy a pot of tea and sit for an afternoon, listening to the passing martial arts practitioners chat about their affairs. He gleaned quite a bit of useful information—remnants of the Demonic Sect had been active in the Southern Frontier recently; and it was said that Master Chonghe of the Pure Yang Sect had gone into seclusion.

I also heard a lot of useless things—such as a brothel's top courtesan being redeemed by a swordsman, and two rogue cultivators getting into a fight outside the city over some trivial matter, resulting in them both falling into the river.

At night, he meditated and practiced "Intercepting Qi into Subtlety," gradually solidifying the foundation for perfecting his Qi accumulation. The true Qi in his dantian became increasingly condensed, like an iron ingot being repeatedly forged, with impurities being expelled little by little, leaving only refined steel.

On the fourth night, Lin Yan returned to his room after finishing his sword practice. He washed his face, sat cross-legged on the bed, and prepared to circulate his inner energy for cultivation—

Suddenly, a violent wave of dizziness struck.

It wasn't the hazy dizziness of waking from a dream, but a dizziness as if an invisible giant hand were gripping him and pulling him out from the depths of his soul. His consciousness felt like it was being ripped from his body by something, and he lost all feeling in his limbs. Only the Myriad Manifestations Sword Heart was still operating instinctively, frantically sensing everything around him—but there was nothing around him, only an endless expanse of darkness.

He tried to resist, to grasp the iron sword by the bedside, but his fingers wouldn't obey him. The force was too powerful, overwhelming his consciousness like a tidal wave.

It's black in front of you.