Chapter 63

Chapter 63: The Extra Blade Techniques

The guiding sect elder tested her with a few more questions but learned nothing, then allowed Rong Shu to leave.

Only after she entered the valley did Rong Shu’s face show a trace of doubt.

Before accepting this assignment, Rong Shu had known that taking it would draw eyes. She had not expected that even the sect elder guarding the forbidden ground would try, overtly and covertly, to pry something from her.

The forbidden valley. The crazed man kept there. The blade marks on the cliff face. Rong Shu could not shake the sense that some earthshaking secret lurked behind it all.

It was a secret for which she, as she was now, had no right to qualify.

As she rinsed rice and set the pot to boil, Rong Shu thought in the back of her mind: [The valley has a warding formation. Even that old man who watches outside the valley cannot come and go as he pleases. If I practice the blade here, as long as the madman doesn’t see me and fly into a rage that alerts outsiders, it should be safe.]

She had stayed in the forbidden valley for half a month. Though Rong Shu spent most of her time inside, half a month of observing had made her gradually notice that whether it was the sect elders doing the inspections or the old man outside the valley, all of them held a deep dread of this place.

So deep that when they approached the valley, they did not channel spiritual qi and certainly did not fly through the air.

[But the back mountain: ordinary disciples cannot enter, yet elders with real authority can come and go freely. There is no warding formation there. If someone is watching, then practicing blade work or alchemy on the back mountain will absolutely expose me.]

As for alchemy, Rong Shu possessed a Fire Spiritual Root and had been to Scarlet Sun City, with chances to contact the Alchemists’ Branch there. Even if she were discovered, it would not arouse too much suspicion.

All the same, she had better not practice the blade on the back mountain anymore.

Thinking of the blade scars on the cliff and the assignment’s many restrictions regarding “blades,” Rong Shu felt that if she exposed herself as a blade cultivator, things might spiral into consequences beyond her control.

[For the next half month I’ll practice the blade inside the valley; on the back mountain I’ll sit in meditation to cultivate, refine pills, and practice spell arts.]

To be safe, Rong Shu adjusted her cultivation schedule. Then she ran through the plan again in her head to see if there was any fault.

[The hunchbacked uncle saw me practicing the blade once. I should find a chance to make it clear—without saying so directly—that I am practicing the sword, not the blade. Hints, not declarations.]

[The wooden blade is destroyed. I’ve cleaned away every trace after each blade session.]

[…]

When the rice finished cooking, Rong Shu, as usual, carried the meal to the madman.

She had lived in the valley for half a month. In the first few days the madman would still sometimes rush up to her to ask the same questions over and over, but for the last ten days or so he had not come looking for her at all.

Rong Shu did not know why he had changed, but she was happy to see it.

She set the bowl down and called softly to the man with his back to her: “Respected senior, please eat. I am going to cultivate now.”

Though they were the only two people in the valley and the madman was not going to respond, Rong Shu still greeted him every day, treating him as if he were a normal person.

After she walked away, something happened she did not see: the blankness in the madman’s eyes shifted ever so slightly.

Stiffly twisting his neck, he looked at the iron bowl not far away.

Atop the white rice lay a palm-sized slab of braised pork belly, glossy and tender, enticing at a glance.

A moment later, the sound of a slow swallow rose in the quiet.

By noon, when Rong Shu returned to cook again, she found the iron bowl empty.

No large grains of rice had fallen to the ground nearby. The pork belly had vanished without a trace. Only a smear of gravy clung to the inner wall of the bowl.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She turned on instinct, searching for the madman, but he was not there; who knew where he had run off to.

She gathered up the bowl and flicked a cleansing spell into it, and the bowl became spotless inside and out.

Even after she finished preparing lunch, the madman still had not appeared. Unwilling to delay her blade practice, she set the filled iron bowl back in its usual place and went to train.

Almost the moment she left, the madman appeared from some corner she had not noticed. He glanced at the bowl on the ground, walked over, grabbed a handful of rice, and stuffed it into his mouth.

Elsewhere, Rong Shu continued practicing beside the cliff with the blade marks.

But as she trained, she realized the cliff seemed to have gained a few blade forms she had not practiced before.

Rong Shu blinked, stunned. [Huh?]

[Could I have missed these moves before?]

Once could be coincidence. Yet on the second day, when Rong Shu returned, she found several more unfamiliar blade scars on the rock face.

She fell silent.

Then, eyes bright, she picked up a twig and began to practice the new moves.

These freshly carved blade marks were simpler and easier to comprehend than the original ones. In half a day Rong Shu could already execute them proficiently.

On the third day, the fourth, the fifth, the sixth…

Every day Rong Shu discovered new blade scars on the cliff. The blade forms progressed from shallow to deep. Soundless and wordless as they were, Rong Shu could almost see a master of the blade standing at her side, guiding her hand to hand through the gate.

She began to form a vague guess. But since the day before, she had not seen the madman again.

He still ate three meals a day.

The blade marks on the cliff continued to increase by a dozen or so each day.

After a few days, understanding that he was deliberately avoiding her, Rong Shu stopped dwelling on it. She trained when it was time to train, and cooked when it was time to cook.

On the evening of the seventh day, Rong Shu found an opportunity to “happen upon” the hunchbacked uncle while he was strolling the fields in the back mountain’s Hundred Herb Garden, a Spirit Sword in her hand.

Waving the Spirit Sword in her right hand when she saw him, she called out: “Uncle, good evening.”

He grunted in reply: “Mm.”

Noticing the Spirit Sword in Rong Shu’s hand, as if she had been practicing the sword, the hunchbacked uncle could not help muttering inwardly: [Little girl, so young and already lacking perseverance. Practiced the blade before, now she’s switched to the sword.]

He reminded her as he passed: “Don’t forget to tend the spiritual fields.”

She nodded: “I won’t forget.”

Because of their private arrangement, the hunchbacked uncle turned a blind eye to Rong Shu squeezing in cultivation during the assignment, so long as nothing happened to the fields.

On the eighth night, the ninth night, the tenth night, Rong Shu kept “running into” the hunchbacked uncle in the Hundred Herb Garden, a Spirit Sword or a newly whittled wooden sword in hand.

At first, the hunchbacked uncle thought: [So the little girl’s switched to sword training.]

A few days later, seeing Rong Shu again, he thought with a snort: [Oh? The little girl is at the sword again.]