Gifting the Blade "Cold Ripple"

Just after Minor Snow, the sky over Linhai County was a clear gray-blue. Nearly noon, the sun barely managed to dispel some of the chill, but a thin layer of white frost still clung to the bluestone slabs of the inner courtyard, Listening Waves Court.

Chen Yuan stood bare-chested in the yard. In his hand, he held an old-fashioned long saber in its scabbard. The scabbard was simple and dark cyan, like a frozen river in deep winter, cold to the touch.

The hilt was made of sunken wood from a cold pool, its grain fine and delicate. Holding it brought a faint sense of calm—it had been delivered that morning by Second Senior Brother Zhang Zhenshan.

At the time, Zhang Zhenshan stood with hands clasped behind his back, his expression solemn: "This saber is named 'Cold Ripple.' It was forged by the master himself in his early years, by the cold river of the northern lands, after he witnessed ice cracking, rivers opening, and flowing water solidifying into blades."

"Today, it is granted to you. I hope you will not fail this saber, nor the master's expectations, and pass down the foundation of our Blackwater Martial Hall—the Cold River Spirit Blade Manual."

His gaze swept over Chen Yuan as he continued: "Our Blackwater Martial Hall's saber techniques are no ordinary hacking and slashing. Their soul lies in the 'Cold River' conception—resilience hidden in solitude, killing intent veiled in fluidity."

"The master once said that those who practice this saber art must endure loneliness and guard their true heart, so that among countless saber forms, they may find that thread of freezing, all-piercing, bitter-cold sharpness."

"The master's talent in the saber path is extraordinary. When he moves, there is no need for deliberation; his saber momentum naturally embodies the intent of a lone river's cold current. Where his saber intent reaches, it can stagnate blood and qi, freeze the mind and spirit—its power is boundless."

Zhang Zhenshan's tone was filled with reverence: "Even Senior Brother Song Yun, whose talent is outstanding among his peers, has admitted that he has not fully grasped the mysteries of this manual. Yet even so, relying on this saber art, he achieved excellent results in the prefectural examinations, ranking among the top martial elites, earning great fame for our Blackwater Martial Hall."

"Now, seeking his own breakthrough, Senior Brother has temporarily set aside the confines of the Cold River Spirit Blade Manual to focus on refining a more personal style—the Wave-Cleaving Saber Technique—intending to forge his own path."

With that, Zhang Zhenshan slowly drew the "Cold Ripple Saber."

The blade left the scabbard without a sound, only a faint blue cold light flowing along its edge, as if a segment of an intensely cold river had been condensed into steel. The temperature in the air seemed to drop a few degrees.

"Watch closely—this is the opening stance of the Cold River Spirit Blade Manual, 'Cold River Reflects the Moon'!" As Zhang Zhenshan's voice fell, his blade moved. His body sank slightly, the single saber held horizontally before him, the edge angled slightly outward.

The movement appeared simple, yet it exuded an unyielding, solitary-peak-facing-snow resilience, as if no storm could shake him—standing firm in the cold river, utterly still.

Then the saber momentum shifted abruptly. The long blade no longer blocked rigidly but traced winding, encircling arcs, like the undercurrents of a cold river—flowing around rocks, slipping through gaps. The saber light was dense and fluid, revealing a cold, adaptive cunning that used softness to overcome hardness and sought openings to advance.

Finally, the long-accumulated blade edge burst forth, slashing diagonally downward! The saber wind was fierce, carrying a decisive momentum of charging forward, breaking through ten thousand waves—like a lone boat bravely forging ahead through raging billows, as if to cleave heaven and earth open!

After the demonstration, Zhang Zhenshan sheathed his saber and stood, his breath steady: "This stance is the foundational form of the Cold River Spirit Blade Manual. It contains the mental states of solitude, fluidity, and decisiveness. You must carefully comprehend it, merging your blood and qi force into the saber moves, not merely imitating the shape."

Chen Yuan watched, his mind stirred. He felt that the conception contained within the saber light was far more exquisite than the moves themselves.

He took the "Cold Ripple Saber." It was heavy in his hand. The cold touch and the blue saber light seemed to resonate directly with the blood and qi force flowing beneath his skin.

He followed the example, slowly executing "Cold River Reflects the Moon."

At first, it was a bit awkward, but soon, the Tide Tablet rippled faintly, a cool sensation aiding him in steadying his mind and adjusting his force.

He felt his own blood and qi take on a hint of coldness, becoming more condensed. The toughness of his skin subtly increased under the guidance of the saber intent.

At this moment, Chen Yuan was recalling the saber moves Zhang Zhenshan had taught that morning. He held his breath and focused his mind. Blood and qi force rose from his dantian, flowed through specific meridians into his right arm, then reached his fingers and palm, slowly infusing the blade.

"Shing—"

A soft ring, the long saber slid half an inch from its scabbard. The edge gleamed with a faint blue cold light in the crisp air. On the blade, fine, wave-like forging patterns were faintly visible.

Chen Yuan sank slightly, then suddenly exerted force. The blade edge halted an instant before touching the wooden training dummy, but the condensed force penetrated the dummy's body. A cut an inch deep was clearly imprinted, its edges smooth, without a single burr.

"Force follows the saber, intent unites with strength... So this is the true way to exert force in the Skin-Tempering realm." Chen Yuan sheathed the saber and gently exhaled a mouthful of turbid breath. The white vapor hung in the cold air, not dispersing.

Though far from Zhang Zhenshan's chilling presence, it had already taken on the rough form of a lone boat steadying a cold river.

"Little junior brother, not bad insight." Praise came from the courtyard entrance.

A familiar voice came from the gate. Chen Yuan withdrew his fist and turned, only to see Zhang Zhenshan had arrived without him noticing.

"Second Senior Brother, this is..." Chen Yuan quickly threw on an outer robe.

"To touch the threshold of conception on your first practice—truly, you have an affinity with the master's saber art! Practice diligently, and your future achievements will be limitless." Zhang Zhenshan smiled as he approached, his gaze sweeping over the cut on the wooden dummy. He nodded.

Zhang Zhenshan patted his shoulder and pointed behind him: "The master heard you were returning to your village today to fetch your family, so he specially had the hall prepare this carriage. Old Zhou the driver is a veteran of the hall—capable, familiar with the roads. He'll take you there and back."

Chen Yuan looked over. There was a carriage of dark wood trimmed with copper, its body polished clean. The edges of the green cloth curtains were embroidered with fine wave patterns. Two chestnut-red horses were tethered to the shafts, their backs covered with dark saddles embroidered with the "Blackwater Martial Hall" pattern. Beside them stood a driver in clean blue short clothes, standing respectfully with hands down. When he saw Chen Yuan looking, he nodded slightly in greeting.

Zhang Zhenshan walked over and patted the carriage door with a smile. The copper rings clinked crisply: "These horses were picked from the prefectural horse farm—steady on their feet, smooth on the road. Won't jostle the elderly or children. Old Zhou the driver is an old hand at the hall, knows the way, and has some basic martial arts skills. He can help look after things on the road."

As he spoke, he lifted one side of the curtain, revealing the soft cushions inside and two gold-painted lacquer boxes: "The left box has dried seafood from the hall's kitchen—dried fish and mussels, the fattest ones picked out, for your parents to try."

"The right box has body-strengthening pills from the pharmacy, to ward off the coastal dampness, just right for your grandparents. There are also two bolts of Suzhou silk for your mother and sister to make new clothes, and a box of fine pastries from the county's 'Eight Treasures Studio.'"

Chen Yuan looked at the neatly stacked dried goods in the lacquer boxes, then touched the soft carriage cushions. His heart trembled with warmth.

He hadn't expected that Master Zhao Canghai would not only remember the apprenticeship ceremony but also consider every detail of his family's travel. "Thank you, Master, and thank you, Second Senior Brother, for your trouble." He bowed deeply, his tone full of gratitude.

"We're family—no need for such formalities." Zhang Zhenshan waved his hand, then pulled a neatly folded banknote and a slip of paper from his bosom.

"Take this hundred-tael banknote for some pocket money for your family on the road. You can buy some candied fruit and little trinkets for Xiao Li when you get to the county. The paper has the address of the 'Anhe Inn.' The master has already spoken to them—the owner will keep three superior rooms with a courtyard, so the elderly will be comfortable."

Chen Yuan was about to decline, saying "the allowance is enough," when Zhang Zhenshan pressed his wrist: "Take it. It's the master's goodwill—now that you're a direct disciple, your family should share in the honor. Don't let the elders think you're being mistreated at the hall."

He turned to Old Zhou the driver and instructed: "Old Zhou, keep an eye on the road. After crossing the stone bridge west of the city, near that tidal flat, some fishermen have reported seeing iron-claw crabs lately. If you do run into any, steer clear first and let the little junior brother handle it. Don't let the elders get startled."

"Don't worry, Instructor Zhang. I understand." Old Zhou replied respectfully, then said to Chen Yuan, "Young master, the pastries you bought yesterday, I've already loaded them onto the carriage. They're all in the back compartment, safely stowed."

Chen Yuan then noticed the back compartment door was slightly ajar. Inside, the items he had purchased yesterday were neatly arranged, even the sesame candy he bought for Xiao Li was wrapped in oil paper and placed in a ventilated bamboo basket.

He said no more, carefully stowing the banknote and paper, then checked the Cold Ripple at his waist—the green cord wrapped around the hilt was tied tight. This was the weapon personally bestowed by the master. Bringing it home would also reassure his family.

"Then we're off." Chen Yuan bid farewell to Zhang Zhenshan, lifted the curtain to let Old Zhou board first and drive the horses, while he himself sat on the side seat by the shaft.

The carriage slowly rolled out of Listening Waves Court, the wheels grinding over the inner courtyard's bluestone path with a steady rumble. Passing the outer courtyard, several disciples who had been up early practicing stopped their movements and greeted him with smiles. Their gazes on the carriage were full of envy but not a trace of jealousy—Chen Yuan's slaying of the arrowbone fish and being accepted as a direct disciple by the hall master had already spread throughout the hall. Everyone knew he deserved this treatment.