Wooden Sword Hides Edge, Wuchen's Fake Injury Breaks Scheme

The morning light slanted across the bluestone slabs of the training grounds, illuminating cracks. I stood at the edge of the platform, holding a wooden sword horizontally, my palms slightly warm. The Heaven-Slaying Origin accumulated last night was still circulating slowly through my meridians, like a dormant snake, coiling close to my skin. The System operated silently, its protective meridian barrier already attached to my skin, just waiting for the Demonic Blood to make contact.

Three gongs sounded, and the crowd stirred.

Ji Hantian walked down from the high platform at a leisurely pace, his Purple Gold Python Pattern Robe fluttering in the wind. He closed his fan and held it in his hand, a smile on his lips. With each step he took, whispers erupted from the surrounding clansmen. Some sneered, some shook their heads, but most were waiting to witness a madman's folly.

"Cousin," he stopped three steps away, his gaze falling on the wooden sword in my hand. "Are you scared? Afraid to even touch a weapon?"

I didn't reply, merely raised the wooden sword slightly, its tip pointed at his brow.

He narrowed his eyes and suddenly burst into laughter. "Good! Since you wish to pay respects to our ancestors, I shall fulfill your wish!" Before his voice faded, the Frost-Breaking Sword was drawn, a flash of cold light, and it slashed directly at my left shoulder.

I dodged to the side, but the hem of my robe was grazed by the sword's edge. In that instant, my fingertips trembled almost imperceptibly—the Demonic Blood had seeped into the fabric, crawling along the fibers, pricking my skin like fine needles.

The Pseudo-Primordial Body reacted immediately. A faint golden halo circulated beneath my skin, sealing the blood poison on the outer layer. Simultaneously, the Heaven-Slaying Origin automatically extracted Battle Intent Fragments, condensing them into a counter-pulling force that quietly locked onto that wisp of evil blood.

I took two steps back, staggering, and let out a low growl, my eyes turning red.

"Ah!" someone in the crowd shrieked.

"He's been hit!"

"Look at his eyes, they're already bleeding!"

A flicker of triumph flashed in Ji Hantian's eyes. He advanced again, sword raised. "A waste is still a waste. You didn't even dare touch my sword, and now you've run right into it?" His voice suddenly rose. "After today, who will dare call you the young master of the Direct Lineage?"

I gritted my teeth, my body trembling slightly, as if I were battling the poison spreading wildly within me. In reality, my consciousness was clear, and every fluctuation of Spiritual Power was precisely controlled. I knew what he was waiting for—for me to lose control, to attack myself, or to beg for mercy. As long as I showed the slightest sign of abnormality, the Elders would strip me of my title on the spot, or even imprison me in the dungeons under the guise of "madness."

But I couldn't let them succeed.

Nor could I let him walk away unscathed.

Just as he closed in and raised his sword again, I suddenly looked up. The redness in my eyes had not faded, but a hint of coldness had been added. I spun the wooden sword, like a willow branch swaying in the wind, and lightly brushed across the wrist of the hand holding his sword.

The movement was extremely light, almost without a sound.

But the moment the sword's edge left my skin, the protective Spirit Pattern on his wrist snapped. A thin line of blood appeared, seeping out and dripping down his palm, falling precisely into the groove of the Frost-Breaking Sword.

That was precisely where the Demonic Blood had deeply permeated.

Time seemed to freeze for a breath.

Then, Ji Hantian's expression changed drastically. He abruptly let go, and the Frost-Breaking Sword clattered to the ground. He stumbled back, clutching his arm, veins bulging on his forehead.

"What's going on?!" he roared.

No one answered.

Because everyone saw it—black patterns were rapidly spreading on his exposed forearm, coiling upwards like living things. Where they passed, his skin darkened, his veins bulged, and something seemed to writhe beneath the surface.

"The Demonic Blood... it's backfired?" an Elder exclaimed.

"Impossible!" Ji Hantian roared, forcefully channeling his Spiritual Power to suppress it. But the more he circulated his energy, the faster the black patterns spread. His pupils began to dilate, his breathing grew rapid, and his legs trembled uncontrollably.

"Save me! Give me the antidote quickly!" He turned to an attendant by the platform, reaching out to grab him, but then jerked his hand back violently. His entire right arm spasmed, his knuckles twisting and deforming as if being pulled by an invisible force.

"He's going to become a puppet!" another Elder cried out. "Seal the area! No one is allowed to approach!"

Two guards rushed onto the platform, hoisting the swaying Ji Hantian and dragging him towards a side courtyard. He struggled the entire way, babbling incoherently, "It wasn't me... it was Ji Wuchen! He touched my sword! He must have tampered with it..."

His voice faded, eventually disappearing at the end of the corridor.

I stood in place, my wooden sword hanging down, gently blowing dust from its tip.

The area below the platform was silent.

After a moment, someone finally spoke in a low voice, "He... won?"

"With a wooden sword, he broke the Frost-Breaking?"

"But he was the one hit earlier... how is he fine?"

The attendants surrounded me, bombarding me with questions about my condition. Someone handed me a wet wipe, telling me to wipe the sweat from my face. Someone else reminded me to go to the Ancestral Hall to burn incense and offer sacrifices to the ancestors, to prove my innocence.

I agreed to everything, my tone calm, as if I were just a young master with wasted meridians who had luckily escaped.

Only after the crowd had dispersed somewhat did I slowly raise my hand, my fingertips brushing over the hem of my left shoulder that had been grazed by the sword. There was a small tear there, its edges slightly blackened—the Demonic Blood had indeed invaded my body, but it had been stripped away by the System the moment it made contact and converted into a new wisp of Heaven-Slaying Origin.

This body had not been the same as it was three years ago, helpless to be slaughtered.

It had been hiding its edge for a long time, just waiting for this moment, for the enemy to push themselves into an abyss with their own hands.

***

Afu hid in the back row of the crowd, his hands tightly gripping the hem of his clothes, his face pale. He had watched Ji Hantian fall, and he had also seen the young master's seemingly weak but unshakeable figure.

"It's over, it's over..." he muttered to himself. "He killed someone, he actually killed someone..."

He dared not look any further, turned, and squeezed through the crowd, running towards his residence with his head down. He bumped into several people along the way but didn't stop. Once inside his room, the first thing he did was rummage through drawers and cabinets, taking out all the copper coins he had saved for three years and stuffing them into a small bundle.

"I have to go... I must go..." he mumbled as he packed. "If the young master is held accountable, I won't escape either... I might be interrogated tomorrow..."

He took out his wine gourd again, hesitated for a moment, then stuffed it into the bundle.

Just as he tied the knot, footsteps sounded outside the door.

He stiffened, turning sharply. Seeing Hongxiu peeking in, he quickly waved his hands. "Don't come in! I'm leaving!"

Hongxiu frowned. "Leaving? Where to?"

"It's to save my life!" Afu lowered his voice. "Young Master actually made a move today! He used a wooden sword to cut Brother Hantian's hand, and that guy went crazy on the spot, rolling on the ground with black energy surrounding him. He was about to be crippled! This isn't a spar, this is intentional crippling! If the Great Elder investigates, we'll all be buried with him!"

Hongxiu didn't panic upon hearing this; instead, she smiled. "Are you stupid? Do you think that move was just a casual slash?"

"Wasn't it?"

"Didn't you see blood on Brother Hantian's sword? That's Demonic Gu Blood. If you touch it, you'll go mad. But your Young Master? He didn't even touch the sword, though his clothes were torn by it, and he's completely fine." She stepped closer and lowered her voice. "What does that tell you? It means he knew this would happen, which is why he brought a wooden sword."

Afu froze. "You mean... he did it on purpose?"

"What else?" Hongxiu snorted. "Do you really think your Young Master has been a good-for-nothing all these years? He's clearer-headed than anyone. This strike wasn't to win; it was to make Ji Hantian suffer the consequences of his own actions."

Afu stood stunned, the bundle in his hands slowly slipping down.

"Then... I don't need to run anymore?"

"Run?" Hongxiu glanced at him. "If you run now, you'll look truly suspicious. Stay put and serve your master well. You might even get a reward."

She turned and left, leaving Afu standing dumbfounded in the room. After a long while, he murmured, "So... Young Master has been waiting for this day..."

***

Most of the training grounds had been cleared, with only a few stewards still examining the bloodstains left on the ground. I stood alone by the edge of the platform, watching the direction Ji Hantian was dragged away.

The wind stirred a fallen leaf, which spiraled down and landed beside the Frost-Breaking Sword.

The sword lay quietly on the ground, its blade chillingly cold, a trace of dark red bloodstain still lingering in its groove. It had once slain Demon Kings and been sealed in the Ancestral Hall, yet now it had become a tool for framing and slander, and finally, due to its owner's greed and ruthlessness, it had backfired on him.

Truly filthy.

I stepped forward, bent down, and picked up the wooden sword, my fingertips lightly caressing its blade.

A bell chimed in the distance, the Pure Heart Bell signaling that noon had passed.

I turned to leave, but suddenly felt a tug at my sleeve—the torn corner of my robe, caught by the wind, had snagged on an iron nail at the edge of the platform. The sound of tearing fabric was faint but clearly audible.

Looking down, I saw that beneath the tear, my skin was completely unharmed. Only a very fine golden thread flashed for a moment in the sunlight before disappearing.