Undercurrents

"Again!"

Chu Ning grabbed the second broken blade. The blade was inscribed with the opening stance of the "Mountain Severing Style." Before the blade light even arrived, he had already seen the trajectory of the move. He slanted the rusted blade upwards.

Puff!

The instant the blade's edge pierced the phantom's heart, a massive amount of cultivation memories flooded his mind: the tedium of swinging his blade a hundred thousand times in the rain, the danger of sparring with Ranked Martial Artists, the searing pain of his meridians being torn apart by lightning energy.

"So that's how it is."

Lightning patterns surged in Chu Ning's eyes. The rusted blade, like a viper's tongue, instantly shattered the third broken blade.

Blade light swept across the desolate land like a tidal wave.

By the time the seventh thousand broken blade shattered, Chu Ning's blade momentum had already conjured a thunderous storm. Every move had been tempered through countless trials, and every inch of his muscle remembered how to break through an opponent's guard with minimal cost.

The last broken blade transformed into a red-faced martial artist, the Start of Winter Blade in his hand completely intact. Chu Ning, bathed in blood, his right arm's bone exposed, grinned. "Finally, the real opponent."

The moment the two blades clashed, the desolate land collapsed.

"The opening is here!"

He suddenly spun and shifted his steps. The rusted blade, at an unbelievable angle, stabbed three inches below the red-faced martial artist's armpit—the exact weak point that had been corroded by poison powder back then.

Boom—

The instant his consciousness returned to the medicinal pool, Chu Ning in reality abruptly opened his eyes.

Only three breaths had passed in the outside world, yet he had endured three years of arduous training in the Blade Tomb!

Chu Yun's hand, holding the medicine bowl, trembled in the morning light. The brown medicinal soup reflected the panic in her eyes.

"Brother Ning," she looked at the new scorch mark on her brother's back, which was still oozing blood. "This scar..."

"It's from tempering my body," Chu Ning pulled on his coarse cloth shirt.

A crisp copper bell rang outside. An old man selling baked cakes pushed his cart past. A smile bloomed on Chu Yun's pale face. "More punctual than the cooking smoke at noon in the village."

Chu Ning's hand paused as he scooped the porridge.

Half a month ago, he had finally brought his sister to the county town and settled her into a warm, small courtyard. Although the courtyard was simple, with only one main room and a tiny kitchen, it was infinitely better than the dilapidated thatched hut in their village.

After settling his sister, Chu Ning plunged headfirst into his cultivation.

Every morning, he would go to the Thunderclap Martial Hall to practice the Thunderclap Saber Art. In the afternoon, he would practice archery and movement techniques alone in the mountains and forests outside the city. At night, he would sit in meditation to temper his blood and qi, consolidating what he learned during the day. Day after day, his cultivation never ceased.

In half a month of arduous training, Chu Ning not only gained a deeper understanding of the Thunderclap Saber Art but also reached a state of mastery in archery. Now, he could steadily shoot a leaf a hundred paces away while galloping, and his movement techniques were as nimble as a ghost's, even allowing him to glide silently through the forest floor covered in dead leaves.

But just as he thought everything was developing in a positive direction, a horrifying event entered his view.

In the southeast corner of the county town, hungry beggars were curled up by the wall, and ragged children chased stray dogs on the muddy streets.

Chu Ning had originally come here to buy some coarse cloth clothing, but he inadvertently overheard some unsettling rumors.

"Did you hear? Several more children have gone missing recently."

"Yeah, there were two last month, and three more this month. The authorities aren't doing anything, not even a trace."

"Bah, those corrupt officials wouldn't care about the lives of these poor people."

A few poorly dressed old men sat together, discussing in low voices.

Chu Ning frowned, a faint sense of unease stirring in his heart.

He recalled the rumors he had heard a few days ago: someone was secretly abducting children, and the ultimate fate of these children was to be crippled and left to beg on the streets.

"Life Harvesting and Mutilation..."

Chu Ning gritted his teeth, killing intent surging in his eyes.

These people dared to commit such heinous acts; he absolutely could not stand idly by!

He wanted to find out what force was behind these people and then eradicate them completely!

"Tanghulu—"

The joyous shouts of children suddenly changed tone. Chu Ning's pupils contracted sharply. Three disheveled little beggars rolled out from the alley entrance. The smallest one's right leg was bent at a grotesque angle, and maggots crawled in the festering wound.

"Please, sir, spare some food..." The older boy held up a chipped pottery bowl, revealing old scars crisscrossed with whip marks on his sleeve.

The copper coins left a damp, cold sweat stain on his palm, and Chu Ning's crouching posture suddenly froze.

The small cinnabar mole behind the boy's ear was glaringly red. Yesterday, when he passed the county yamen, the reward poster with the grain merchant's young son's portrait had fluttered in the wind.

"Brother..." The boy's Adam's apple bobbed beneath the dirt, and the chipped pottery bowl hit the bluestone with a crisp sound.

This sound overlapped with a memory: before his father's coffin, the debt collector's kicked-over pottery jar had shattered into crescent-shaped shards, piercing his numb knees.

The rusted blade trembled in its sheath, Chu Ning's knuckles turning white from the force.

He could clearly see the new wounds layered upon old ones beneath the boy's tattered clothes. The direction of the whip marks was similar to the trajectory of the short whip that the scar-faced man had used when he kicked down the door that year.

"Hot baked cakes—"

The calls of the old cake vendor, carrying sparks, splashed over. Chu Ning's peripheral vision caught the scorch marks left by the iron tongs on the bluestone.

The boy suddenly trembled violently, pus and blood seeping from his bent leg bone.

Chu Ning's hand, which was reaching out to pay, abruptly flipped. Three copper coins turned into streaks of light and shot towards the baked cake stall.

"Brother Ning, want to have some Yangchun noodles?" he asked, smiling as he offered money.

Hope flared in the boy's eyes, but he trembled, startled by a cough from behind him. Chu Ning glanced over. The old man selling flatbread was stirring the coals with iron tongs, sparks splashing onto the bluestone slabs, branding a distorted character for "king."

"It's going to rain," the old man suddenly looked up, his murky right eye flashing a strange gray-white. "It's best for a distinguished guest not to be tainted by bad luck."

He feigned turning away, but a hidden force within his sleeve shattered the wine skin at his waist. The moment the strong liquor spilled, lightning patterns surged from his palm into the ground, following the cracks in the blue bricks straight towards the old man's feet!

Sizzle—

The charcoal fire exploded upwards three zhang. The iron tongs the old man threw out as he retreated transformed into venomous snakes. Chu Ning spun and slashed. Before the snake's head even hit the ground, it burst into poisonous mist, causing the surrounding civilians to stiffen and fall like puppets.

"A fine move, Lightning Strike Piercing the Acupoints!" The old man tore off his human-skin mask, revealing half a face scorched by fire, a ghastly mask. "Too bad you can't save these..."

His voice cut off abruptly.

Chu Ning's blade tip was already at his Adam's apple. "Life Harvesting and Mutilation, utterly inhumane."

"Humanity?" The masked man suddenly grinned, his mouth tearing open to his ears. "Is Deacon Chu trying to be a saint?"

The Adam's apple under the blade tip bobbed, emitting a hoarse laugh. "When Deacon Chu was breaking people's fingers at the martial hall, did you ever consider the word 'humanity'?"

"If you want to be a saint, I'll make you Yama!" The masked man's single eye blazed with manic gray light. Three puppet strings coated in pus and blood suddenly shot from his sleeve, coiling around the little beggar's neck like venomous snakes as he retreated rapidly.

By the time Chu Ning's rusty blade shattered the puppet strings, the masked man had already darted ten zhang away.

Three children hung from his waist like rag dolls. The broken-legged girl's wounds plowed dark red furrows on the ground.

The closer they got to the City God Temple, the stronger the stench of decay became, mixed with the fishy smell of rust and pus.

Several figures gathered in the temple. One of them held an account book, recording something.

"The harvest is good this time. Five more healthy children. The master's quota is almost met."

"Hmph. Anyway, no one cares about these poor devils' children. We can make another profit by crippling them and throwing them onto the street."

"There's been a lot of talk in the city recently, so we need to be careful."

Chu Ning coldly watched everything in the temple, his palm slowly tightening around the hilt of the saber at his waist.

"...Please, don't cut my tongue."

The little girl's whimper was cut off by the sound of wind breaking.

Chu Ning flashed and pressed himself against the temple wall. The rusty saber reflected the scene inside the hall: over twenty pairs of eyeballs were piled on the altar, shining with a pearl-like luster in gold-inlaid porcelain bowls.

"The Matriarch most loves listening to blind people sing Lotus Blossom Ballads," the scarred manager said, using a hook knife to pry open the little girl's jaw. The blade tip traced along the root of her tongue. "You have to leave half the tongue, so the crying sounds are pathetic enough."