Heading to the Central Plains

Winter passed and spring returned. Time flowed swiftly, and the day of the duel Guo Jing and Yang Kang had agreed upon arrived. The Seven Freaks of Jiangnan were to take Guo Jing to the Central Plains to keep the appointment.

Wang Ming also proposed to go along. He had no choice—he didn't know the way and couldn't be bothered to ask for directions himself. Following them was simpler.

Originally, they hadn't wanted to bring Wang Ming, thinking he'd be a burden, but they couldn't bring themselves to refuse, having spent so many years together after all.

Wang Ming didn't really want to travel with them either. Ke Zhen'e's mouth was too foul, and he loved meddling in others' affairs, easily stirring up trouble. But compared to finding his own way to the Central Plains, tolerating Ke Zhen'e was the easier option.

Once in the Central Plains, Wang Ming parted ways with Guo Jing's group. He found a blacksmith and had several weapons forged for himself.

A Tang Saber, a longsword, and a sixty-jin heavy sword. He then ordered a sword case made to hold them all together.

Wang Ming located a waterfall with a swift, turbulent current and planned to train in Dugu Qiubai's Heavy Swordplay.

"Heavy Swordplay."

Wang Ming had spent a long time in the desert analyzing the techniques. This sword art was not complicated.

Its core boiled down to just two things:

First, strength. This hurdle alone eliminated ninety percent of people. Yang Guo's Mysterious Iron Heavy Sword weighed about eighty-one jin—how many could wield it with one hand? Yang Guo's strength came from the gallbladders of Bosi Qu Snakes.

Second, the training method. First, get used to the sword's weight, then practice under a waterfall, then in a mountain torrent, and finally in ocean waves. This was essentially a process of familiarizing oneself with inertia and learning to borrow force.

Wang Ming was confident he could master it on his own, mainly because of the "Indestructible Vajra Body." Though he couldn't yet transform into a golden figure, the strength boost this martial art provided meant he didn't need Bosi Qu Snake gallbladders to meet the requirements for training Heavy Swordplay.

In the mountains, Wang Ming began practicing basic sword techniques with the heavy sword. But as he trained, he found that many moves didn't suit this style of swordsmanship. The simpler the sword stroke, the more fitting it was. Techniques that relied on wrist power were completely useless.

Ordinary swordplay used the wrist and elbow for power, making it nimble and versatile. Heavy Swordplay relied on the arm and the inertia driven by the sword's weight, so it was broad, sweeping, simple, and brutal.

Once familiar with it, Wang Ming pulled out the "Mount Song Swordplay" manual and began cross-referencing it to refine his own Heavy Swordplay. The Songshan Sect used greatswords, which could also be called heavy swords, though not as absurdly heavy as the Mysterious Iron Heavy Sword, nor as heavy as the one Wang Ming had forged.

Still, there was some reference value. He could extract a few variations.

A few days later, Wang Ming entered the waterfall to practice his sword art. Beneath the cascade, he could clearly feel the weight of the water, making it impossible to execute his techniques.

The falling water from a height was the standard answer for Heavy Swordplay. Any move that couldn't be smoothly completed was unsuitable. Any posture where the power didn't flow smoothly needed to be changed.

After a month, Wang Ming had initially mastered Heavy Swordplay, reaching a level comparable to Yang Guo's when he first left the mountain with the Mysterious Iron Heavy Sword to seek revenge.

Only three moves remained from that "Mount Song Swordplay" manual: vertical chop, diagonal slash, and horizontal sweep.

Plus, he added body rotations and somersaults.

At first, Wang Ming hadn't incorporated these into his sword art, and the resulting techniques were quite stiff, inferior even to ordinary swordplay. You had to understand—getting a sixty-jin sword to change direction by leveraging inertia was incredibly difficult.

Wang Ming could do it, but it was a thankless effort. It once brought his progress to a standstill, and he even considered going to the Sword Grave to find the Divine Eagle.

Then one day, he suddenly recalled that the swords used by people in the pre-Qin era were different from those of today's martial artists. In pre-Qin times, swords were made of bronze and were very heavy.

He remembered that in The Legend of Qin, the swordsmen's techniques almost always involved constant aerial spins and somersaults.

He tried it, and it worked wonderfully.

Ordinary swordplay adjusted direction by swinging left and right. Heavy Swordplay, however, simply followed the inertia and spun a full circle.

This not only saved the effort of countering inertia to change direction but also increased the power of the sword strike.

At its current level, Heavy Swordplay could sweep away a crowd of weaklings. Against opponents of the same level, it gave a slight advantage. Against someone stronger, he'd be kneeling immediately. After all, the sword art wasn't perfected yet. Once Wang Ming trained to the ocean wave stage, it should be about right.

Its ultimate form should probably be like the styles of Wei Zhuang and Sheng Qi from The Legend of Qin!

"Rong'er! This is the scholar who taught me to read and write, Mr. Wang."

Guo Jing introduced Wang Ming to Huang Rong. Wang Ming looked at the girl before him—fifteen or sixteen, skin fairer than snow, exquisitely beautiful, with a face of stunning grace.

Huang Rong was, so far, the most beautiful woman Wang Ming had seen across these three worlds. If this had been the first world he'd transmigrated to, Wang Ming would definitely have tried to steal her from Guo Jing.

But aside from his first life, this body of his was now forty years old. He couldn't bring himself to make a move on such a young girl! Besides, Guo Jing had shown him kindness—he couldn't do such a thing.

Wang Ming had originally come down the mountain to buy some daily necessities in town, but he ran into Guo Jing. Guo Jing was too enthusiastic, and Wang Ming couldn't refuse, so he let himself be dragged here, saying the scholar was treating him to a meal.

"Rong'er! Greet the scholar." Huang Rong set down her work and came over to pay her respects to Wang Ming.

Huang Rong was actually quite polite and respected teachers and their teachings. Unfortunately, she had to deal with Ke Zhen'e, who opened his mouth to call her a girl and closed it to talk about her engagement to Yang Tiexin's family. No wonder Huang Rong clashed with him.

"Mm. You're a friend Jing'er made in the Central Plains, right? No need for formalities. I'm not so particular—just be at ease."

"Mm, Scholar, you and Brother Jing catch up first! Rong'er will go prepare the meal."

"Alright, go ahead. Don't worry about me."

Wang Ming was led by Guo Jing into a side room. He saw an old man sitting at the table, dressed in patched, tattered clothes. Though the clothes were worn, they were clean.

The old man glanced at Wang Ming, taking in his scholar's robe and the longsword at his waist, then lost interest. He went back to eating the snacks Huang Rong had prepared for him. Jianghu folk and scholars walked different paths and had nothing in common—each looked down on the other.

Wang Ming respectfully greeted him, "May I ask if you are the Beggar's Sect Leader, Hong Qi, Chief Hong?"

Wang Ming already knew the plot, and he noticed the slovenly old man was missing a finger on one hand, so naturally he confirmed the man's identity.

Hong Qi, still eating, replied casually, "Oh! Didn't expect a scholar like you to know this Old Beggar. Not bad!"

Wang Ming answered, "How could This Humble One not know the name of one of the Five Greats?"

The honest Guo Jing suddenly cut in, "What are the Five Greats?"

The Seven Freaks of Jiangnan were too concerned with face to ever tell him about such things.

The circles he'd moved in since arriving in the Central Plains were too low-level, and no one ever brought up the Five Greats. Huang Rong deliberately kept her identity hidden, so of course she wouldn't mention it. Hong Qi wasn't thick-skinned enough to brag about himself, so naturally Guo Jing remained in the dark.

"The Five Greats are the five most skilled martial artists in the world today. Eastern Heretic—Peach Blossom Island's Lord Huang Yaoshi. He knows astronomy above, geography below, the five elements and eight trigrams, strange gates and hidden formations, qin, chess, calligraphy, and painting—even farming, irrigation, economics, and military strategy. There's nothing he doesn't know, nothing he hasn't mastered. You could call him a complete genius. His signature techniques are the Blue Sea Tide Song and Finger Flicking Divine Skill.

"Western Venom is the Villa Lord of White Camel Mountain Villa in the Western Regions, Ouyang Feng. He excels at poison and snake control. His signature techniques are the Toad Skill and Spirit Snake Staff Technique.

"Southern Emperor is Dali Kingdom's emperor, Duan Zhixing. His signature technique is the One Yang Finger.

"Northern Beggar is the Beggar's Sect leader—the senior right in front of you. His Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms and Dog Beating Staff are used with supernatural skill.

"Central Divine is Quanzhen Sect's founder, Wang Chongyang. His signature technique is the Innate Skill." Wang Ming saw Hong Qigong's expression and instantly understood, immediately giving Guo Jing the rundown.

"I didn't expect Senior Qi to be so formidable," Guo Jing said.

Hong Qigong ate his pastries as if nothing was wrong, showing little emotional fluctuation on the surface, but inwardly he felt a trace of pride.

Before long, Huang Rong brought the dishes out. Wang Ming wasn't particularly interested at first.

What delicacies could people from ancient times produce?

So many seasonings hadn't even been imported from foreign lands.

But after tasting them, he had to admit they were delicious.

Wang Ming couldn't help but admire Huang Laoxie inwardly.

No need to overthink it—Huang Laoxie must have used other ingredients to substitute for later-era seasonings.

No wonder Hong Qigong couldn't bear to leave.

After the meal, Hong Qigong pulled Guo Jing outside the courtyard and began teaching him a new martial art. Once the lesson was done, he had Guo Jing practicing on a tree.

Hong Qigong carried his wine gourd over to Wang Ming.

"You carry a sword with you. Do you know martial arts?" Hong Qigong found a spot and sat down.

"A little."

"What's 'a little'? You scholars are never straightforward. Rong'er, go spar with him."

"Forgive my rudeness, sir." Though Huang Rong's expression showed great reluctance to fight, her hands showed no restraint at all.

Facing Huang Rong's sudden palm strike, Wang Ming showed no panic. With a gentle flick of his right hand, he neutralized her attack.

Huang Rong turned back to find Wang Ming's finger just an inch from her throat. She instantly understood she had lost—and that the gap in their martial arts was vast. She conceded immediately and withdrew, though judging by her expression, she was already scheming about something.

Hong Qigong, still seated, wore an expression that said he'd expected this all along. He had known from Wang Ming's breathing earlier that the man possessed superior internal cultivation, which was why he'd had Huang Rong test him.

"Not bad. Mind sparring with this Old Beggar?"

"Since Chief Hong has the interest, This Humble One naturally obliges."

Hong Qigong set down his wine gourd, lifted his Dog Beating Staff, and struck at Wang Ming.

Wang Ming actually wanted to exchange blows with Hong Qigong too, to understand where his martial arts stood in this world.

Right from the start, Wang Ming used the Five Peaks Swordplay. All kinds of exquisite sword techniques truly dazzled Hong Qigong—this was the most complex and varied sword style he had seen in his entire life. At times the sword aura was stern and imposing, at others nimble and unpredictable. You'd observe it as dense and meticulous, then in a blink it became dangerously strange, then suddenly heavy and steady.

After about fifty moves, Hong Qigong stopped purely competing in technique refinement.

In the world of Xiao Aoshi, martial arts techniques grew wildly. In terms of refinement, they were no worse than the Dog Beating Staff.

Hong Qigong simply cheated, using his powerful internal energy to break through Wang Ming's sword techniques.

[Illusion Sword]

Wang Ming used [Illusion Sword] to once again match Hong Qigong, closing the gap.

"Fine swordplay. Try my palm technique—Dragon Ascending to Heaven."

Hong Qigong realized he couldn't gain an advantage by playing with technique against Wang Ming, so he switched to the fierce [Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms].

Wang Ming thrust his longsword into the ground, raised his own hand, and met Hong Qigong's palm. In an instant, his face was covered in purple haze.

"Purple Haze Divine Skill."

The moment they touched, Wang Ming felt a fiercely overbearing internal force surge toward him. He knew immediately that [Purple Haze Divine Skill] and [Eighteen Dragon Subduing Palms] were not on the same level.

So he sidestepped one palm strike and immediately returned one of his own.

"This technique is interesting—bone-chillingly cold, able to form ice from nothing. But it's too damaging to the internal organs."

Wang Ming was using "Ice True Qi," one of the few attribute-based techniques in Jin Yong's world.

This technique could be used to cultivate internal energy. The internal force it produced was bitterly cold, with astonishing killing power, but it was extremely harmful to the body. It could also be used by training only the true qi conversion pathways as an attack method, though the power was less than the former—but it reduced the strain on the body.

Hong Qigong was indeed knowledgeable. This technique truly harmed the body. Though "Ice True Qi" was unique, once Hong Qigong grew familiar with it, Wang Ming began to lose ground again.

Wang Ming used the true qi of [Indestructible Vajra Body] and forced Hong Qigong back several steps in an instant.

"Not bad internal energy. You took my six layers of power. Try my seven."

"What! Only six?" Wang Ming was shocked.

Once Hong Qigong used seven layers of power, the [Indestructible Vajra Body] internal energy was no longer enough—he could barely defend.

"Eight layers."

Wang Ming was knocked back seven or eight steps in an instant, and he knew there was no need to keep fighting.

"Not bad, not bad. Work at it a few more years, and you might even have a shot at contending in the Mount Hua Sword Debate." Hong Qi was in a good mood after that satisfying bout.

"I wouldn't dare presume!" Wang Ming replied modestly.

The truth was, he could have kept fighting, but there was no point.

Wang Ming hadn't used his full strength. For instance: the "Nine Swords of Dugu."

This battle had no stake in any interests, so there was no reason to go all out.

Those were his trump cards, and the fewer people who knew about them, the better.

Wang Ming had never learned martial arts for the sake of dueling and challenging others, but rather to prolong his life and protect himself.

The reason he agreed to spar with Hong Qi was that the man had decent character—there was no risk of being ambushed or killed, and even if he lost, his life wouldn't be in danger.

Wang Ming wasn't surprised by this outcome. What truly puzzled him was why the [Indestructible Vajra Body] was progressing at such an agonizingly slow pace.

The technique was formidable, but Wang Ming was still far from mastering it and turning into a golden figure. The fact that he could hold his own this well already spoke volumes about the skill's power.