After the Battle

"Fine swordsmanship. If Zhào Yù had not misjudged it, Junior Brother Duàn's final strike was one of Martial Uncle Bái's exquisite moves from Songshan Swordplay, Eternal Dragon. Its spectacle was boundless, its martial might overwhelming. Impressive, impressive."

Zhào Yù watched Duàn Yì pick up the wooden sword from the arena and return it to the bronze cauldron. Without changing expression, he lavished praise upon him, as though he had not been the one who had just slyly prompted Ruan Dong. His skin was indeed thick.

Moreover, since he had not lowered his voice, all the Golden Cauldron Sect disciples heard him clearly.

Ruan Dong's swordsmanship had been lacking just now, and after being defeated by Duàn Yì, he had left in shame and fury.

Quite a few Golden Cauldron Sect disciples had yet to get their fill and had not dispersed. Instead, they heatedly discussed the subtleties of the sword duel, pondering and analyzing them.

Duàn Yì's final sword strike in particular surpassed his earlier basic swordsmanship by more than tenfold, leaving the disciples entranced. Had he used such an exquisite sword technique from the start, Ruan Dong would likely have lost long ago.

Now that Zhào Yù had pointed it out, many finally realized that it was one of Bái Xī Wén's supreme arts, Songshan Swordplay. No wonder it possessed such power.

Duàn Yì showed no sign of anything unusual. After stepping down from the arena, he merely waved his hand modestly.

"Senior Brother Zhào overpraises me. I have only practiced swordsmanship for around ten days. My swordsmanship is shallow and my foundation insufficient. Of Songshan Swordplay, only this one move, Eternal Dragon, is barely passable. I still have much to learn and improve. I truly do not deserve such lavish praise. I am ashamed, ashamed."

The moment those words left his mouth, the entire place fell silent. Quite a few Golden Cauldron Sect disciples looked at Duàn Yì's calm expression and wished they could slap his face a few times to vent the hatred in their hearts.

In ten days, he had attained such progress and mastery. Did that not make them look stupid as pigs? No, strictly speaking, they might not even measure up to pigs.

Even Zhào Yù's face twitched. He gave a dry laugh, unsure how to respond.

Thinking back to when he had first practiced martial arts, after ten days he had only just memorized the meridians and acupoints. As for external arts, he had known nothing at all. Could the gap between people truly be this great?

"Junior Brother Duàn, you are being too modest. To possess such attainment after merely ten days—if we speak only of talent in swordsmanship, there are likely very few beneath heaven who can compare with you.

"I only hope that you will guard against arrogance and impatience, study diligently and train bitterly in the future, and not allow your talent to be buried."

Leng Qingmei wore an elegant plain gauze dress. Each of her hands held a Ten Refinements Sword, yet it did not seem out of place. Though her junior brother Ruan Dong had suffered a crushing defeat and lost much face, she greatly admired Duàn Yì, her eyes brimming with praise.

The Great Xia was vast, and martial arts flourished. Geniuses emerged one after another. There were certainly those like Duàn Yì, even those who had displayed greater talent than Duàn Yì, but talent did not represent future achievement.

As Leng Qingmei understood it, Broken Sword Hut of Great Xia had once possessed a disciple who practiced the sword for three days and reached Great Accomplishment in seven. Within a mere month, he learned and mastered all twenty-three first-rate sword arts, earning the title of Sword Wisdom of the age.

In terms of talent upon the path of the sword, he far surpassed Duàn Yì. For a time, he had been regarded as the future sword myth of Great Xia's martial world, someone who would add further luster to Broken Sword Hut. There were even rumors that Broken Sword Hut had already chosen him as its future sect master.

Yet in the years that followed, that man indulged in pleasure and became obsessed with other pursuits, especially the art of flower arrangement. He neglected his swordsmanship cultivation, and in the end became no more than a somewhat famous swordsman, eventually dying in the conflicts of the martial world. It was tragic and lamentable.

Thinking carefully, if he had persevered to the end, cultivated diligently, and achieved Great Accomplishment in the sword, who could have harmed even a hair on his head?

Duàn Yì possessed talent, and he had just defeated Ruan Dong, who had trained for three years, through swordsmanship. Leng Qingmei feared that a moment's pride would cause him to waste his talent, so while praising him, she also offered her advice. It was a gesture of sincere goodwill.

"I will remember Senior Sister Leng's words in my heart and never dare forget them. I also hope Senior Sister will guide me more often in the future."

Among the people he had newly met, Zhào Yù was honey-mouthed but dagger-hearted, deep-minded, and seemed to have designs on Duàn Yì. Ruan Dong, meanwhile, was arrogant and conceited, with no understanding of when to advance or retreat, making him even more disagreeable.

Only Leng Qingmei was gentle and tranquil, poised and gracious, and her goodwill was genuine. Duàn Yì accepted it humbly, and his attitude toward her naturally became somewhat closer.

Yet this provoked Helan Yue'er, who had been waiting for Duàn Yì to come speak with her.

She had originally craned her neck in anticipation, only to see Duàn Yì cup his hands toward Leng Qingmei in thanks. The man was incomparably handsome, the woman delicate and beautiful; they made a pair of matched jade. Sourness flooded her heart, and she felt so wronged that she wanted to find a place and burst into tears.

Then she saw Duàn Yì walk over to her, thanking her with a faint smile as he retrieved the Ten Refinements Sword from her hand. His manner was warm and gentle, and she immediately felt much better, even becoming happy again as she thought,

Duàn Yì gave the Ten Refinements Sword to me for safekeeping instead of Sister Leng. It seems he is still closer to me.

A little girl's worries came quickly and went quickly. At this moment, she was already thinking about where she should go play with Duàn Yì next.

Because Duàn Yì had teased her earlier and promised her one thing, she wanted him to spend more time playing with her and relieving her boredom.

Duàn Yì did not know that Helan Yue'er's thoughts were so complicated. After retrieving the Ten Refinements Sword, he stood quietly to one side, his eyes unfocused, wholly absorbed in reliving his exchange with Ruan Dong.

Every move and stance replayed before his eyes like lantern slides. The more he savored them, the more he felt he had gained. Swordsmanship that had once felt flavorless in his hands now became vivid and lively. He sensed that when he practiced the sword again in the future, he would achieve twice the result with half the effort.

Most crucially, Duàn Yì had tested the fact that his martial arts were no longer something ordinary people could match. At the very least, an inner disciple of the Golden Cauldron Sect like Ruan Dong would absolutely not be his opponent, even if he used internal energy.

This showed that he already possessed a certain level of strength today.

At its root, this was much like the principle pursued by the Sword Sect of Mount Hua Sect in the Jin lineage: once swordsmanship was accomplished, even if one's internal energy was mediocre, one could still defeat the enemy and claim victory.

Put another way, in terms of modern combat sports, although strength was one criterion of judgment, so long as it had not reached the point where sheer force could break through ten thousand techniques, fighting skill was equally important—perhaps even more so.

Just now, he had deliberately tested his swordsmanship. He first met his opponent with basic swordsmanship, possessing more than enough to defend himself and victory already within sight. This showed that his foundation was solid, far from ordinary.

Once Songshan Swordplay emerged afterward, it directly secured the chance of victory, displaying the might of his swordsmanship.

Though he placed great importance on swordsmanship, he did not neglect internal energy either.

He never interrupted his morning and evening breathing exercises. Within the Tower of Hidden Martial Arts, he also used his illusory body to experiment, seeking more efficient methods of cultivating qi, and had achieved considerable results.

His Ice True Qi had now been nurtured and strengthened. It was not yet profound due only to the shortness of time, but it would not hold him back in battle.

Even if today's fight had not been purely a contest of swords, Duàn Yì was fully confident he could defeat Ruan Dong. Perhaps the process would have been even shorter—three moves? Five moves? He did not know.

In short, with the Tower of Hidden Martial Arts, not only was his future boundless, he also possessed a certain degree of strength in the present.

Here, everyone discussed the battle with great enthusiasm. As the man of the hour, Duàn Yì received enormous attention.

Elsewhere, Ruan Dong ran wildly toward the deserted mountain paths, swift as the wind beneath his feet, the gloom and resentment in his heart tangled into an inextricable knot with no outlet.

With a thud, Ruan Dong dropped to both knees beneath a towering tree over twenty feet high. His right hand clenched into a fist as he slammed it against the trunk again and again, not feeling any pain.

Tears and snot streamed down his face. His eyes were crimson as fire, and he resembled a wild beast poised to devour someone. Over and over, he repeated only one sentence: "Why?"

Yes, why?

He had been born into wealth and status, apprenticed to the Golden Cauldron Sect's vice sect master, and had practiced martial arts for three years. He could be considered diligent and hardworking, yet he had lost to someone who had practiced martial arts for barely ten days. Was this a dream?

No, it was not.

He recalled the course of his exchange with Duàn Yì:

That swordsmanship had been so pure that no matter what he did, he could never cultivate it. As for that final strike, like wind and thunder converging while a black dragon soared into the sky, even after racking his brains he could not think of a way to block it.

Then he thought of how gifted his opponent was, how he would only grow stronger in the future. If Ruan Dong wanted to turn things around, it would likely be harder than climbing to heaven. Despair welled up within him all the more.

Beyond that, Ruan Dong thought of how, after this battle, he would become the laughingstock of the entire Golden Cauldron Sect, a topic of conversation over tea and meals. A vicious resentment rose within him.

He wished he could immediately slaughter every person on the mountain, leaving everyone who knew of this matter unable to speak of it ever again.

But in the very end, he could only hide here and lick his wounds alone, using anger and tears to vent the stifling frustration and unwillingness in his heart.

Just then, Ruan Dong heard a rustling sound ahead. Puzzled, he pushed aside the weeds and came face-to-face with a familiar figure looking at him mockingly. It was one of the people who had watched the duel beneath the arena.

His fury shot straight to the crown of his head, and he roared,

"You, an outer disciple, dare mock me? Are you looking for death?"

The next moment, the Golden Cauldron Sect outer disciple whom he had always looked down upon sneered and struck. Both palms swept out, like a great net descending over him, light and nimble as swimming fish and flying birds.

Had Ruan Dong held a sword, he might have been able to resist with his swordsmanship.

But when he left just now, he had left the Ten Refinements Sword in Leng Qingmei's hands without retrieving it. He specialized in swordsmanship, and empty-handed, his martial arts were greatly diminished.

Moreover, this man's attack had far exceeded Ruan Dong's expectations. Caught completely off guard, he was seized at once. His vital acupoints were sealed, leaving him utterly unable to resist.

He could only stare at that man in panic and terror. How did he dare? What did he want?