After a night had passed, and the neighboring household's big rooster had finished its cock-a-doodle-doo, Xiang Yang finally rose, yawning and stretching. He patted his slightly numb face and went to wash up.
This night had been of tremendous significance to Xiang Yang, no less than the day he had transmigrated and been reborn. It was precisely this night that had freed the once anxious, fearful Xiang Yang from his confusion.
The appearance of the Wordless Book gave Xiang Yang the confidence to gain a foothold and survive in this unfamiliar world. The missions issued by the heavenly book filled him with drive for the time being, so he would not waste his days away for lack of a goal.
Undoing the door bolt, he was met by a gust of cool wind that made his still-groggy head shiver at once. He pulled his mourning clothes tighter around himself, glanced at the dim, gloomy sky, then went to the water vat in the courtyard to wash up, splashing water over his face while surveying his surroundings.
This was a small farmhouse courtyard. The black earth was overgrown with weeds. The chicken coop and duck pen on the left stood empty; clearly, no poultry had been raised there for a long time, and several stone locks for training arm strength had merely been left inside. On the right was a well, with a wooden bucket and a thick hemp rope beside it for drawing water in daily life.
On the eastern side of the courtyard stood the mourning hall. It had also once been where the Xiang family received guests, essentially serving as the sitting room. There were two rooms on either side, belonging respectively to Xiang Da Niu and Xiang Yang.
Near Xiang Yang's room was the kitchen. Before Xiang Yang turned ten, Xiang Da Niu had cooked for him. After he turned ten, it became Xiang Yang's territory. Though the three daily meals were simple fare, Xiang Yang's considerable talent for cooking had still allowed him to make something special of them.
The wooden fenced hut on the right, far from Xiang Da Niu's room, was the latrine. Its outer walls were covered in sandalwood shavings, which effectively dispelled odors and muffled sound.
"Not bad, not bad. It can't exactly be called four bare walls. At least compared to those predecessors who transmigrated only to sleep rough on the streets, I'm already living at a moderately prosperous level."
After wiping his face with the white towel over his shoulder and brushing his teeth with a willow twig dipped in salt water, Xiang Yang returned to the mourning hall and picked up the cold steamed buns Aunt Wu had left behind last night. They were cold and hard, but his stomach was empty. In three strokes and two swipes, he wolfed down three large buns.
After eating, Xiang Yang smacked his lips, his eyes revealing a trace of melancholy. His former life might have been a little bland, but at least he had eaten and drunk well. Every now and then, he could go out for skewers, eat a bucket of KFC wings, and drink a few sips of soda—what bliss. But now?
Yet when Xiang Yang's gaze fell on the Wild Goose Feather Saber leaning against the brick wall to the left, he no longer felt life was so bitter. Sabers and swords, like firearms and cannons, were every man's yearning. Galloping on horseback, singing wildly, laughing proudly through the martial world; wielding a three-foot blade to sweep away injustice and uphold righteousness—what man did not dream of such a life?
And now, he had such an opportunity. Not to mention that countless divine arts and peerless techniques awaited his cultivation in the future. Compared with the pleasures of the mouth and stomach, this was the life he wanted.
He stretched out his right leg and flicked his foot. The Wild Goose Feather Saber by the wall flew straight toward Xiang Yang's chest. He caught it with his left hand and smoothly drew it with his right. A crisp clang echoed through the empty hall. To Xiang Yang's ears, it was so pleasing, three parts more beautiful even than celestial music and wondrous words.
The long saber in his hand differed from the thick-backed standard-issue official sabers of the Anyuan County yamen. It was three and a half feet long, with a narrow blade and a smooth, even edge. Merely brushing it lightly gave him a chilling sense of sharpness, as though bristles rose on his skin and blades pressed against his back. Even though Xiang Yang knew nothing of sabers and had never practiced martial arts, he could tell this was absolutely a fine weapon.
In Xiang Yang's memories, the Wild Goose Feather Saber had been a parting gift from the benefactor who had promoted Xiang Da Niu. From then on, Xiang Da Niu had never let it leave his side, treasuring it like a priceless jewel.
"Though the original Wild Goose Feather Saber was sharp, it never had this kind of texture. Uncle Li must have used precious Iron Essence and spent many days reforging it in the furnace to produce such an effect. This gift is far too heavy."
Xiang Yang flicked the saber's spine with his forefinger, his heart moved. Uncle Li was only an ordinary blacksmith. To reforge the Wild Goose Feather Saber to such a state, he must have poured out his heart and blood. Money was precious, but it could not outweigh this weighty friendship.
Seeing that it was still early and that there was some time before others came to pay respects to Xiang Da Niu, Xiang Yang's interest was stirred. Carrying the Wild Goose Feather Saber, he went out into the small courtyard and began to swing it.
When ordinary people wielded sabers, they naturally just flailed around blindly, relying on arm strength. One slash left, one slash right, one slash up, one slash down—basically just chop, chop, chop, with no other patterns to speak of.
But Xiang Yang wielded his saber differently. He exerted force through his waist and abdomen, kept his wrists nimble, his back straight, and his stance firm. He looked as though he truly knew what he was doing. More importantly, beyond chopping and slashing, his saber work included diagonal upward cuts, direct thrusts, horizontal blocks, level slices, and other basic saber techniques.
This set of saber techniques had naturally been passed down by Xiang Da Niu. It had also been a gift from the An Yuan County Magistrate back then. Its name was unknown, and it merely contained some basics of saber training. The eight saber methods—sweeping, chopping, deflecting, slicing, skimming, pressing, slashing, and thrusting—were all included. For a peasant who could not recognize a single word, it was just enough. Anything more complicated, and Xiang Da Niu likely would not have been able to learn it.
But after swinging the saber like this, Xiang Yang realized that he had still underestimated this body. It was by no means the body of a frail youth unable to truss a chicken. On the contrary, after Xiang Da Niu's training since childhood, its foundations were fairly solid, sparing Xiang Yang from having to start from scratch.
"Sure enough, my basic saber techniques came from Father, and Father practiced this set of saber techniques for more than ten years. His mastery and refinement surpassed mine, and his strength was far greater as well.
Let alone killing two insignificant bandits—given the sharpness of the Wild Goose Feather Saber, even if there had been another eight or ten of them, he could have killed them all. How could he have been cut down so easily? Hu Qiang must have done it. There's no mistake."
Xiang Yang had not been born with divine strength, nor had he cultivated internal energy. Relying solely on brute force to perform the basic saber techniques, he was already somewhat out of breath after only a few minutes, with a fine sheen of sweat appearing on his forehead. He slowly sheathed his saber, stood where he was, and pressed a hand to his lower abdomen as he slowly inhaled and exhaled, calming his roiling blood and qi. At the same time, an unmelting frost filled his eyes.
Apart from its three leaders, Black Wind Mountain Stronghold was made up of ordinary mountain folk. They might have been somewhat stronger from farm work, but they had absolutely never undergone systematic martial arts training.
Xiang Da Niu was different. Though the saber technique the An Yuan County Magistrate had given him back then was basic and crude, crude as it was, it was still a martial art. Xiang Da Niu had practiced it tirelessly for more than ten years. Fighting bandits who knew only brute strength, he had almost no chance of being killed. Only a powerful man born with divine strength like Hu Qiang could break skill with force.
"Hu Qiang was merely the blade that killed him. Someone else held the hilt. That person must have known Father very well, allowing him to borrow a blade to kill. Perhaps that person was even in league with Hu Qiang. Otherwise, sending only a few bandits would never have been enough to kill Father."
Sheathing the saber, Xiang Yang stood in the center of the courtyard, lost in thought for a long time without moving. In truth, he had already harbored suspicions after the heavenly book issued its three missions last night. This morning, after familiarizing himself with this body's strength and saber techniques, his guesses had been further confirmed.
Ever since his beloved wife had died in childbirth, Xiang Da Niu had devoted himself to raising Xiang Yang. He had rarely made enemies, and there were not even many people who knew him well, let alone those aware of Xiang Da Niu's strength.
"The An Yuan County Magistrate, Captain Wang, and the dozen or so constables who worked with Father—all of them could be the murderer. I have plenty to investigate."
Though he thought this, Xiang Yang did not find it difficult. Having a range of targets was far better than fishing for a needle in the sea.
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