Fifth Sword Achieved

An aged voice suddenly came from behind him. Mu Bai jolted in alarm—given his cultivation, he had not sensed anyone approaching!

He spun around sharply, one hand already gripping his sword hilt.

An old man with white hair was sitting atop a large boulder by the stream, though no one knew when he had arrived.

The old man wore coarse hemp clothes and held a bamboo staff, watching him with a genial smile.

"Senior is..." Mu Bai remained wary, though he sensed no hostility from the old man.

"This old man is merely a passerby," the elder said with a smile. "I saw that your heart was weighed down with worries, so I spoke to ask."

Mu Bai relaxed somewhat and cupped his hands. "This junior has encountered some difficulties in martial arts and came out to clear my mind."

"Oh?" A sharp gleam flashed through the old man's eyes. "A martial arts problem capable of troubling the Young Master of the Carefree Prince's household must surely be no simple matter."

Mu Bai's heart jolted. "Senior knows me?"

"Among those of your age in the Great Yan Kingdom, who could be a Grandmaster of Martial Arts besides Young Master Mu Bai?" the old man said with a smile. "Though this old man lives in seclusion amid the mountains and forests, I still know a little about the outstanding heroes of the realm."

Mu Bai studied the elder anew. Suddenly, he noticed fine, dense patterns carved into the bamboo staff in the old man's hand. They appeared and vanished beneath the moonlight, seeming to contain some profound martial intent.

"Could Senior also be a practitioner of martial arts?" Mu Bai asked tentatively.

The old man did not answer. He merely rose to his feet and lightly tapped the stream's surface with his bamboo staff.

In an instant, the flowing water froze motionless. The surface became a mirror, reflecting the stars filling the sky.

"This..." Mu Bai's eyes widened. What miraculous power was this!

"Young Master, look." The old man pointed at the reflection in the water. "The river of stars shines brilliantly, yet it is twisted by ripples on the water's surface. Only when the heart is still as water can one reflect the truth."

Mu Bai stood rooted where he was, as though struck by lightning.

The old man's words were like a bowl of enlightenment poured over his head, and the confusion that had plagued him for days suddenly cleared away.

"A heart still as water... reflecting the truth..." Mu Bai murmured, a light gradually blooming in his eyes.

When he came back to himself, the old man had already vanished. Only the stream continued to babble on, as though everything just now had been an illusion.

But Mu Bai knew it had not been an illusion.

He bowed deeply toward the distance. "Thank you, Senior, for your guidance."

He turned and looked into the distance, his eyes no longer clouded by confusion.

The Qinglin Sword gave a soft hum within its sheath, as if responding to its master's rekindled fighting spirit.

Not far away, a stooped old man stood silently beneath a tree, gripping a bamboo staff tightly in his hand.

His gaze rested from afar upon the Qinglin Sword in Mu Bai's hand, and deep nostalgia showed in his eyes.

The old man murmured to himself, "Brother Zhao... he is your successor, isn't he?"

His voice was low and hoarse.

Then his thoughts gradually drifted into the past.

"If Brother Zhao had not risked his life to protect me that day, I would likely have died long ago. I would never have had the chance to join the Spirit Hall and become a Martial Emperor."

Yet time spared no one. The old man had now entered his twilight years as well, and was nearing the end of his life.

But before his final hour arrived, the moment he heard that the Qinglin Sword had appeared in the world once more, he hurried to Great Yan, solely to see the Qinglin Sword one last time before his death.

"To see the Qinglin Sword again before my final hour, and to lend a hand to Brother Zhao's successor—this can be considered the settling of one burden on my heart," the old man said softly, his words carrying a sense of release.

Before his voice had faded, the old man's figure vanished silently from where he stood like a phantom, as though he had never appeared at all.

Only an empty, silent stillness remained beneath the tree.

Moonlight flowed like water over the mountain stream.

Mu Bai held the Qinglin Sword, its tip trembling faintly as it traced streaks of silver through the moonlight.

"Still not enough..." he muttered, beads of sweat glinting on his brow beneath the moon.

From the old man's disappearance until now, he had practiced his swordsmanship beside this stream for a full three hours.

Mu Bai drew a deep breath and raised his sword once more.

This time, he drove his inner force to its utmost limit, and the Qinglin Sword emitted a faint hum.

His sword moves flowed without end, beginning with the first form of the Lightness Sword Style, "Gentle Breeze Arrives," and continuing all the way to the fourth form, "Clouds Roll, Clouds Unfurl."

The instant he completed the fourth form, Mu Bai did not withdraw his momentum. Instead, he forcibly twisted the sword's force, attempting to link it to the Fifth Sword, "Tornado Rain Strike," which he had yet to fully comprehend.

True qi surged through his meridians like raging waves, while the light upon the Qinglin Sword grew ever brighter.

"Ah!" Mu Bai let out a long shout. Wherever his sword pointed, the stream was actually split apart by an invisible force, forming a brief trench in the water.

But this was far from the true "Tornado Rain Strike"—it was merely a sword stroke with the shape but none of the substance.

"Still wrong..." Mu Bai panted as he dropped to one knee, driving the Qinglin Sword into the mud by the stream to support himself.

His clothes had long since been soaked through with sweat, clinging tightly to his body.

He raised his head to the sky. The moon had already slanted westward.

Mu Bai knew there was little time left.

Tomorrow was the final day agreed upon with Langya Xing. The day after would be the day of their decisive battle.

"Still waters run deep..." Mu Bai recalled the mysterious old man's words. He closed his eyes and felt the cool night breeze brush across his face.

The anxiety that had plagued him for days seemed to disperse bit by bit with the night wind.

When he opened his eyes again, they were utterly clear.

Mu Bai slowly rose to his feet and drew the Qinglin Sword. Rather than rushing to make a move, he let the sword tip hang naturally, his entire being entering an ethereal state.

The brook murmured, insects chirped, and the night wind drifted softly—all sounds entered his ears with crystal clarity.

Mu Bai felt as though he had merged with heaven and earth. The internal energy within him began to flow of its own accord, no longer meeting the slightest obstruction.

"So that's how it is..." The corners of Mu Bai's lips curled up slightly. "Tornado Rain Strike isn't a technique forced into motion. It is a realm where heart and sword become one, and sword and heaven become one."

He slowly raised the Qinglin Sword. His movement appeared casual, yet it contained an indescribable rhythm.

The sword tip cut through the air, leaving behind a faint trail of light.

"Now!"

Mu Bai suddenly thrust straight ahead. The strike looked incomparably simple, without a single flashy movement.

Yet just as the momentum of the sword was about to fade, dazzling light suddenly burst from the tip of the Qinglin Sword.

"Boom!"

With a tremendous blast, the middle of the brook seemed to have been struck by an invisible giant hammer. A hole more than a zhang wide exploded across the water's surface, and countless streams of water shot skyward, forming a spectacular column that glimmered silver beneath the moonlight.

Spray scattered in every direction, falling like a torrential downpour and soaking Mu Bai through.

Mu Bai stood where he was, maintaining his sword-thrusting posture, his eyes filled with incredulous delight.

A moment later, he released the hilt and fell backward onto the grass by the stream, laughing loudly.

"Hahaha! I did it! I finally did it!"

The Qinglin Sword fell beside him, its blade still retaining a faint glow.

Mu Bai let the icy stream water drench his entire body, yet he felt freer than ever before.

The pressure and anxiety of the past many days were all released at this moment.

"Langya Xing, just wait..." Mu Bai gazed at the bright moon overhead, battle intent flickering in his eyes. "Our duel won't disappoint you."

The river gradually calmed. Mu Bai lay on the sodden grass, feeling the true qi circulating endlessly within him.

The Fifth Sword of the Lightness Sword Style, "Tornado Rain Strike," had finally been mastered. Though he had only just glimpsed its threshold, it was already enough to give him the strength to fight Langya Xing.

Only when the moon sank westward and the east began to pale like a fish's belly did Mu Bai rise, pick up the Qinglin Sword, and turn toward the city.