Sword God from Beyond the Heavens? Arrogant and Ignorant!

"Ah?"

Hearing Huang Rong's proposal, Master Mo was first stunned, then glanced at the black-clad swordsman beside her—arms cradling a longsword, a bamboo hat hiding everything below his nose, exuding an air of unfathomable coldness—and his mind went blank:

He wants me to fight this swordsman who clearly doesn't look easy to mess with?

How have I offended Miss Huang?

After a long pause, he finally asked cautiously:

"With... with real swords?"

Huang Rong smiled faintly:

"We're here to spar, not to kill. Of course we'll use wooden swords."

Wooden swords, then.

Master Mo breathed a sigh of relief, but still felt uneasy:

"Miss Huang, with my meager skills, how dare I spar with this... um, Swordsman Lu? You see..."

"Relax. This Brother Lu of mine will only use your school's Maiden of Yue Swordplay."

Huang Rong fanned herself with the stack of banknotes, her voice crisp:

"And he'll suppress his power to match yours."

Only my school's Maiden of Yue Swordplay?

And suppress his power to match mine?

Then what's there to fear!

Master Mo's spirits lifted. He glanced at the stack of notes—a full hundred strings—and said in a low voice:

"Then as Miss Huang says. Brother Lu, I await your instruction!"

Lu Chen said nothing, maintaining his cold swordsman persona. He gave a slight nod, handed his real sword to Huang Rong, picked up a practice wooden sword from the training hall, and stood facing Master Mo seven paces apart on the practice ground.

Master Mo, placing himself in the inferior position and eager to win those hundred strings, naturally wouldn't yield the initiative. With a low shout:

"Swordsman Lu, forgive my offense!"

He moved his feet, darting forward in quick steps to close with Lu Chen, raised his wooden sword, and launched into his most practiced and proud technique—a chain of three strikes aimed at Lu Chen.

Though Master Mo's martial arts didn't meet Huang Rong's standards, being able to open a school and earn a living in a prefectural city meant he had real skill. At the very least, in a one-on-one fight against any of the Four Devils of the Yellow River, he had a fair chance of winning.

But skill at that level, in the eyes of Lu Chen—who had been tempered by Huang Rong's relentless beatings and could now hold his own for three hundred moves against her full force—was far too lacking.

Facing Master Mo's chain of three strikes, Lu Chen didn't rush to act. He stepped back, easily dodging the first strike, then leaned his upper body slightly to evade the second. With a flick of his wrist, he slashed his wooden sword diagonally, and with a sharp crack, effortlessly intercepted the third.

Master Mo hadn't expected to defeat this unfathomable bamboo-hat swordsman in one move. Unfazed by the easy neutralization of his opening strikes, he shifted his feet quickly, circled to Lu Chen's left side, and thrust his sword at his ribs.

Lu Chen casually parried, deflecting Master Mo's wooden sword with ease. Master Mo changed his technique again, his wooden sword whistling as he stabbed seven times in rapid succession, covering Lu Chen's upper body. Lu Chen remained unmoved, batting and blocking with his wooden sword, turning aside every strike.

Though he had continuously neutralized Master Mo's offense, he hadn't launched a counterattack yet, still observing and probing Master Mo's skill.

Master Mo, however, thought he had Lu Chen on the defensive. Growing bolder with each exchange, he grunted and shouted, unleashing all thirty-six moves of the Maiden of Yue Swordplay one by one, fighting with exhilarating abandon.

After probing for a while, Lu Chen had a clear picture.

In terms of pure Maiden of Yue Swordplay mastery, this Master Mo was considerably better than Rong'er—after all, he'd practiced it for years, and it was his bread and butter.

But in every other aspect, he was utterly unremarkable. His overall strength was far below Rong'er's.

With that settled, Lu Chen saw no point in dragging things out. His defensive sword style suddenly shifted. First, he used the same chain of three strikes Master Mo had employed, easily breaking through his offense and forcing him to switch to defense, retreating step by step. Then Lu Chen sidestepped to Master Mo's left and slashed at his ribs.

The moves were exactly the same as what Master Mo had used, but the speed, precision, timing, and even an elusive aura of momentum far surpassed Master Mo's, sending a cold sweat down his back. He strained with all his might to barely block the strike.

But Lu Chen followed up with a chain of thrusts, again identical to Master Mo's earlier technique.

This time, Master Mo couldn't hold out. He barely managed to block the first two strikes, but the third was beyond his rhythm. Lu Chen bypassed his guard, and the tip of his wooden sword lightly tapped Master Mo's chest.

"You yield."

Lu Chen withdrew his wooden sword the moment it touched, twirled it into a flourish, held it inverted, and saluted Master Mo with a cupped fist.

Master Mo returned the salute with a dejected expression:

"Swordsman Lu is skilled. I concede defeat."

His disappointment wasn't over losing the spar, but over the hundred strings of prize money.

Huang Rong giggled, unsurprised by the outcome:

"As agreed, these ten strings are yours, Master Mo!"

She counted out ten strings of banknotes, handed them to Master Mo, then said, "Farewell," and swaggered off with Lu Chen, fanning herself.

Though Master Mo hadn't won the hundred strings, the ten were some consolation. He stroked the notes, calling out thanks to Huang Rong's retreating back, silently hoping Miss Huang would come again—often.

But that hope was destined to fail.

Miss Huang had already decided to sweep through all the martial arts schools in the prefectural city today, then leave tomorrow to seek out other martial artists for real combat training.

The rest of the day.

Huang Rong took Lu Chen to every martial arts school in the city, luring each master into sparring with the promise of prize money.

Lu Chen's cultivation was shallow, but his recovery was swift, so this continuous string of challenges was something he could sustain. By the end of the day, he had successfully fought his way through every martial arts school in the prefectural city, experiencing sword techniques, blade methods, fist and footwork, staff and spear arts, and all manner of other skills.

Among these civilian martial arts schools, there were no experts who had made a name for themselves in the jianghu—most of them didn't even reach the level of the "Four Devils of the Yellow River"—but the variety of weapons and unarmed techniques still broadened Lu Chen's horizons, greatly increasing his practical experience in dealing with different opponents. By drawing parallels from one to another, he even gained some slight improvement in his own swordsmanship.

Having won every challenge that day, Huang Rong was naturally in excellent spirits. After returning, she prepared a lavish meal to reward Lu Chen.

Just as the two were happily eating and chatting at the stone table in the courtyard, a figure in blue robes slowly walked into the alley where their small courtyard was located.

The figure was tall and lean, clad in a plain blue cloth robe, with an expression so strange it was almost eerie. Apart from his eyeballs, his mouth, nose, and cheeks all gave a stiff, wood-and-stone-like sensation.

His steps were neither fast nor slow, and when his feet landed, they made no sound at all, leaving not even a single footprint behind, as if he were a weightless, drifting shadow.

His purpose was also clear. Spotting a large tree with a canopy like an umbrella in the distance, he headed straight for it, soon arriving before a small courtyard.

That large tree was inside the courtyard.

The blue-robed man clasped his hands behind his back, halted outside the courtyard gate, and listened quietly for a while. When he heard the lively, crisp voice of a young girl within, his stiff face showed no expression, but a look of relieved satisfaction flickered in his eyes.

But soon, he also heard a young male voice.

When he heard that male voice actually calling out "Rong'er," the blue-robed man's gaze instantly turned sharp, and even a trace of killing intent faintly flashed within it.

Yet he did not act immediately. He continued standing outside the courtyard, listening intently.

Then he heard the girl say:

"Lu Chen, from now on, we'll be traveling around to challenge famous experts everywhere. If you can keep winning streak after streak, you might just make a name for yourself in the jianghu. Have you thought about what your epithet should be?"

That brat's name is Lu Chen?

Hmph, a name so inauspicious—no ship at sea would ever let him board.

At that moment, the young male voice replied:

"I've only just begun my practical training. Isn't it a bit early to be thinking about an epithet?"

The girl giggled and said:

"Not early at all! If you think of one now, then when you win battle after battle and someone asks, 'Sir, just who are you?' you can announce your title on the spot and make your name known!"

"Uh, well, I'm not really good at coming up with epithets. How about you pick one for me, Rong'er?"

He called her Rong'er again!

This kid already has a death wish!

"Let me think... Hmm, that one sword technique of yours is astonishingly powerful, and combined with your origins, how about calling you 'Heavenly Outer Sword God'?"

One sword technique, astonishingly powerful?

How powerful could it be?

And "Heavenly Outer Sword God"...

Rong'er, this girl, has really been spoiled too much, daring to give someone such an arrogant and domineering epithet. Truly knows no bounds.

"That title... well, it does sound pretty good, but I'm not worthy of it yet."

A cold sneer surfaced in the blue-robed man's eyes:

Not worthy yet, meaning he will be worthy in the future?

Another one who knows no bounds!

"Alright, calling yourself that now really is a bit too arrogant, huh? It'd be asking for a beating. Let me think again..."

Before the girl could come up with a new epithet, the blue-robed man's figure moved, as if stirred by a gentle breeze. In an instant, he floated up and landed atop the courtyard wall.