Chapter 178
Chapter 178: Breakthrough in the Forbidden Ground Blade Technique
Rong Shu first went to the nearest inner peaks to look for Lin Dao.
When she arrived outside Lin Dao’s residence, she found the warding formation still active, and a scatter of dead leaves lay before the door. In the past, the place had always been spotless inside and out. [Could senior brother also be away from the sect?]
She stopped a passing male disciple to ask: “Senior brother, may I ask where the senior brother Lin Dao who lives here has gone?”
“Lin Dao?” The male disciple was taken aback, then understood and replied: “Him… I rarely see him. He keeps to himself. When the disciplinary squad came by earlier, they could not find him either.”
“Thank you, senior brother.”
After the disciple left, Rong Shu turned back to Lin Dao’s residence and considered: [Senior brother is not in the inner peaks? Perhaps he is not even within the sect?] Lin Dao had always been mysterious. Rong Shu only wondered for a moment, then chose not to pursue it.
Since she could not meet senior brother, Rong Shu decided to head straight for the Forbidden Ground Valley.
Just as she rode her Red-crowned Cinnabar Crane away from the inner peaks, she suddenly felt a hair-raising chill of dread. She frowned and murmured: “Hm?” Then she muttered to herself: “Why did the Exotic Flame stir?” She suppressed the Exotic Flame that was yearning to flit out and, without revealing anything, scanned her surroundings, but found nothing. [An illusion?] She scratched her head and continued on her way.
In a hidden corner, a drifting afterimage slipped away.
It floated and floated until it reached a certain dwelling on Limitless Peak. After entering the house, the afterimage slowly gained clarity, then dropped to one knee before Yun Wu Ya, who was reading a book: “Young Valley Master, I saw a familiar face.”
Yun Wu Ya narrowed his cold eyes and closed the book: “What?”
The remnant soul prompted: “Does Young Valley Master still remember how your subordinate ended up like this?”
Yun Wu Ya’s right hand tightened into a fist as he said, low and hard: “You mean that Foundation Establishment male cultivator with a feigned cultivation?”
Only two people had ever shamed him so thoroughly. The first was the Divine Transformation Stage man he met in the peach grove. The second was the Foundation Establishment male cultivator he encountered in Cloud Link City. The appearance of those two had struck Yun Wu Ya to the core and taught him that there is always someone stronger.
That did not mean he would concede and accept being beneath them. [One day, I will trample both beneath my feet.]
The remnant soul shook his head: “Not him, but the Qi Refining fourth-layer girl he protected. Your subordinate just saw her.”
“So be it.” Though a little disappointed, Yun Wu Ya quickly smoothed it over and said evenly: “If that man was willing to expose his cultivation to protect her, she must be important to him. Moreover, that girl has seen my true face; she cannot be allowed to live.”
His gaze turned vicious. He had finally infiltrated Heaven’s Evolution Sect and come this close to Limitless Peak. It was an unexpected boon. He would never allow anyone to sabotage his long-term plan to lie low.
“Where is that girl now?”
“Judging by the direction she left, she seems to be heading toward the sect’s back mountain. Who knows how many old monsters are hidden there. Young Valley Master, we should wait until she comes out, then make our move.”
Yun Wu Ya gave a soft, derisive breath: “Is she not a personal disciple of Limitless Peak? Since she has returned, she will certainly come to Limitless Peak. We can simply lie in wait. Seize her, force out the identity of that male cultivator, then kill her at once.”
“As you command.”
While the two spoke, another voice sounded from outside the room: “Young Valley Master.”
“Enter,” said Yun Wu Ya.
He flicked a glance to the remnant soul, who took the hint and hid himself immediately. A thin, frail-looking man pushed the door open and entered. He looked like a delicate scholar. Dropping to one knee before Yun Wu Ya, he took from his storage pouch a pulsing cluster of violet Exotic Flame. The flame was sealed beneath a transparent spherical glass globe and could not escape.
“Young Valley Master, this is the Exotic Flame you ordered your subordinate to seek in the Scorchfire Secret Realm. Its grade is excellent. Its power is three times stronger than ordinary flame, with a certain chance to trigger fivefold flame potency.”
If Rong Shu had been here, she would have been shocked to recognize this scholarly man as none other than Song Xuan, who had entered the secret realm alongside her.
“Very good.” Yun Wu Ya took the Exotic Flame: “Originally, with the secret realm opening, I should have gone as well. But I must remain here to keep my cover; I cannot leave even half a step. You did well.”
Song Xuan bowed deeply and said with deference: “To serve the Young Valley Master is your subordinate’s honor.”
“Since you are here, stay by my side for the time being.”
“Yes.”
…
Elsewhere, in the Forbidden Ground Valley, Rong Shu carried bundles of various delicacies in both hands, then called out into the empty gorge: “Senior?”
Only echoes answered her.
“Senior, I came to see you.” She raised the packed dishes for emphasis, then took a wooden table and two wooden chairs from her storage pouch. Setting the food on the table, she also brought out several flasks of wine. “I bought lots of good food from outside, and wine too. I asked around at several places. They all swore their wine was unmatched, so I bought them all. I have not tasted them yet, so I do not know if they are any good.”
She sat down, picked up a flask, pulled the stopper, and was about to pour herself a cup when someone rapped her lightly on the back of the head. In the next instant, her vision blurred and the flask vanished from her hand.
A disheveled madman appeared before her holding that same flask. He tilted back his head, took a gulp, then, unexpectedly coherent, said: “Little one, you must not drink; drinking will keep you from growing tall.”
Unlike his usual babble, his words were even, steady, and orderly.
“Senior!” Rong Shu brightened, but when she heard the last thing he said, her little face fell as she protested: “It is you knocking my head that will keep me from growing tall.”
The madman smiled and took another drink. Seeing that he liked wine, Rong Shu immediately grabbed a fresh flask, trotted over, and held it up to him as she spoke in a well-behaved tone: “Senior, I feel I practice the first three forms every day and know them well, but something seems missing.”
“Practice,” the madman tossed out, then strode to one of the wooden chairs and sat.
Rong Shu at once drew her twin blades and ran through the blade art before him. When she finished, she looked at him a little nervously. It was her first time formally demonstrating the blade art before him, and she could not help being tense.
The madman did not comment; he asked instead: “You call that a blade?”
“Eh? Isn’t it?” Rong Shu looked at the twin blades in her hands, puzzled.
Setting his empty flask on the table, the madman said: “A blade takes the oblique path, avoids clashing head-on, and does not drive forward against hardness. You have turned a grand, sweeping saber, with its vast, surging momentum, into an assassin’s dagger. It has gained a touch of steadiness and ruthlessness, but lost the most vital thing: a domineering blade presence.”
Rong Shu pressed her lips together: “Then… have I been practicing wrong? Am I unsuited to practice the blade after all, and should use daggers instead?”
The madman shook his head: “The boy who chose the cross-blade for you was not wrong. You do have talent, and you are still best suited to wield the twin blades. The key lies in your mindset.” He tore open an oiled paper packet to reveal fragrant roast goose, ripped off a leg, and ate in big bites while continuing his instruction: “To glimpse the whole through a narrow tube, to see the vast through the small. Your style is too steady. Taken too far, steadiness is cowardice. A blade-wielder without the boldness to swallow the world whole will never grasp the true meaning of the blade.”
He fixed her with a look and asked: “Will you spend your life timid and tiptoeing, or will you, with thunderous means, joyously wipe out all evil spirits and demons? Which do you choose?”
“Senior, your lesson is just, but…” Rong Shu looked at the twin blades in her hands, and her gaze gradually firmed as she raised her head: “I want both.”
The madman paused, expression caught mid-shift. Rong Shu went on: “The thrill of Blood Splashes Five Steps, I want it. The unfathomable calm of finishing the deed and traveling a thousand miles without leaving a trace, I want that too.” Adults make choices; little ones want it all.
She worried for a heartbeat that the senior would mock her for daydreaming. Instead, the madman laughed: “Hahahaha.” Then he said, “Girl, blade cultivators are born as if tied to rashness. Under heaven, there are few—no, perhaps none—among blade cultivators who think as you do.”
The laughter left his eyes, replaced by a gravity hard to name: “Perhaps you are dreaming foolishly. Or perhaps… you are opening a new style of blade work.”
Rong Shu blinked: “So, senior, you mean…”
He shifted the edge of the matter and chided her: “For now, you still must address your problem: your blade presence is not domineering enough. If you have one degree less spirit and courage than your foe, you will falter, grow hesitant, and easily fall behind.”
Rong Shu cupped her hands: “This junior will remember.”
Waving her off, the madman gnawed the roast goose neck: “Now, practice the first three forms again. Set aside your cautious habits for the moment. Go find your blade’s audacity.”
“Yes.”
Rong Shu returned to the sect and resumed her two-point routine. By day she went to the Forbidden Ground Valley to practice the blade. By night she returned to the cultivation room to meditate. Now and then, she would pass the inner peaks to see whether senior brother Lin Dao had returned. After several fruitless tries, she used the Nine Palace Mirror to send him a message stating that she was back at Heaven’s Evolution Sect.
Each day upon arriving in the valley, she first practiced the blade art three times. During rests she sat cross-legged with her chin propped on both hands, turning over the madman’s reminder. [How can I hide the edge without losing the edge? I chose the blade at the start for its greater power. Whether sword or dagger, in raw force they fall a little short. Greater force kills the enemy faster. But too much commotion alerts the enemy in advance, puts them on guard, and ruins any chance at a one-strike kill.]
Her thoughts clicked into place. Her eyes brightened and she clapped once: [Right. I cannot weaken the killing edge just to hide killing intent. Against higher cultivation, sheer pressure can make the weaker unable to resist and be slain with ease. In fights of the same realm, it comes down to whose finishing move is subtler and faster, harsher, truer. But when fighting across realms… if I want to challenge a beast stronger than myself, I must wait for it to relax, be utterly cautious myself, use the environment to hide my body and bury my killing intent, draw close…]
She sprang to her feet. After a moment’s thought, she took up a single broad blade. [I command wind; the edge can be hidden in a breeze. I command shadow; killing intent can be concealed beneath the dark. Let the omnipresent wind and the ever-present shadow sheath my blade, without diminishing the blade’s own domineering bite.]
From single blade she returned to twin blades. Rong Shu threw herself wholly into practice. [How to hide the edge without losing the edge.] If once was not enough, she practiced ten times, a hundred, a thousand.
From blue sky and white clouds to sinking dusk. From bright stars and moon to the first gray of dawn. One day, two days, three days…
The madman noticed the change in her. He watched silently a few times, smiled to himself, then turned away to drink and eat meat.
Half a month flashed by. On the fifteenth day, Rong Shu, rare for her, did not rush to practice. Instead she went to find the madman, who was in the midst of tearing loose a roast goose leg. Hugging her twin blades, she sidled up and asked: “Senior, do these blade forms have names?”
“How would I know?” He gave her a sidelong glance and kept eating unhurriedly.
Rong Shu’s eyes rounded and she blurted: “Aren’t these all carved—” Halfway through, she realized she had misspoken, cut herself off, and let her eyes dart about before scooting closer. Seeing he wanted a drink, she hurried to pour him wine and coaxed: “Senior, I just want to know whether these forms have some domineering names.”
Her mouth pouted slightly as she added: “Otherwise, when I fight and use the blade, other people can rattle off all sorts of imposingly formidable sword and blade names… I cannot very well shout ‘Nameless Blade Technique, First Form,’ right?”
The madman chuckled and countered: “You, a girl who prefers stabbing from behind and prays the enemy has no chance to react, would you really announce it and remind your foe?”
“I was only giving an example,” Rong Shu said with innocent candor.
He downed a bowl of wine, then continued chewing the goose leg: “If you want an imposingly formidable name, then choose one yourself.”
“Ah? I should choose it myself?”