First and Fifteenth

"Since ancient times, who has escaped death? The moment I became a martial artist, I resolved to dedicate everything to Great Xia—including my life! If my death allows Great Xia to gain a stronger martial artist and grants its people a greater measure of peace and security, then I will have died a worthy death."

Zhu Ping'an smiled faintly, as if he had long since seen through life and death.

"Oh? Is that so?"

Old Yin bared his gums in a sinister grin. He raised a finger, and the nail suddenly lengthened, turning into a blood-red venomous needle aimed straight for Zhu Ping'an's pitch-black pupil.

A fierce killing intent engulfed Zhu Ping'an, plunging him into an icy abyss.

As Old Yin's finger was about to pierce his eyeball and bore through his skull, Zhu Ping'an still didn't move. He simply stood there, calmly watching Old Yin.

At the critical moment, Old Yin's finger stopped—right in front of Zhu Ping'an's pupil. One millimeter forward, and his eye would have been skewered.

"Hahaha! Interesting! It's been a long time since I've seen such an interesting young man!"

Old Yin withdrew his hand and burst into laughter, the gaps in his gums making the sound whistle slightly.

Zhu Ping'an's taut nerves finally relaxed. Though he looked as steady as an old dog on the surface, he was practically about to wet his pants.

"Little Lin, since this sword has chosen the kid, and he has the courage to die for Great Xia, why not just give him your sword?" Old Yin spoke up.

"Huh... Huh?!"

Mayor Lin Zhao finally snapped out of it, his resentful gaze sweeping over Zhu Ping'an and Old Yin.

"Old Yin, I see it now. You weren't asking me to kill him—you were scheming to take my sword for him."

"How is that scheming? It's just fate at work. Old Yin didn't lie to you—if you don't kill this kid, the sword won't acknowledge anyone else as its master." Old Yang chimed in with a chuckle.

"Fine, fine, give it to him then. At least I won't have to chase after that damn sword all day. No wonder it flew to Qingcheng High School that day." Lin Zhao pinched his nose in resignation. This trip had clearly been a loss on all fronts.

"Kid, you're lucky." Old Yin cackled, releasing his grip on the sword. It immediately flew toward Zhu Ping'an, stabbing into the ground beside him.

"Three seniors, this is too precious. Please take it back..." Zhu Ping'an's throat went dry.

"Keep it. As you said, if this sword helps Great Xia gain a stronger martial artist, then it's worth the price." Old Yang wore a gentle smile.

Seeing this, Zhu Ping'an stopped refusing. He took a deep breath and pulled the sword from the ground.

Last time at Qingcheng High School, he'd only caught a glimpse. Now he had time to examine it closely.

The blade was long, radiating a sharp, biting cold that seemed capable of cutting anyone who got too close. There were no patterns on the blade itself, only the two characters Kunwu carved in a flowing, dragon-like script on the hilt.

"Little Ping'an, take this too." Lin Zhao, suppressing his heartache, tossed a martial skill manual to Zhu Ping'an. "I got this when I found the Kunwu Sword. It only works with the Kunwu Sword. With these, you'd better score well on the College Entrance Examination and bring glory to Qingcheng..."

The moment Zhu Ping'an caught the manual, his gaze was instantly drawn to it.

"Immortal Devil Sword Technique?"

"Immortal Devil Sword Technique, cultivating both light and darkness. At its peak, immortal and devil become one. A single slash can sever all heavens and reincarnations..."

Zhu Ping'an was mesmerized, frozen in place like a statue. But after reading for a full half hour, he couldn't understand a thing. How could immortal and devil, light and darkness—two completely opposing attributes—be fused together?

"So hard... What grade is this martial skill?" Zhu Ping'an frowned.

"Hehe, if this old man isn't mistaken, cultivating the Immortal Devil Sword Technique requires two swords—one immortal sword and one devil sword. The Kunwu is likely the immortal sword." Old Yin spoke in a sinister tone beside him.

Old Yin's words cleared Zhu Ping'an's mind. Right! With two swords, one for immortal cultivation and one for devil, when both reach their peak, the swords unite—immortal and devil as one!

He looked up at Old Yin and Old Yang. One was eerie and ghostly, the other warm and gentle—weren't they the embodiment of two opposing attributes?

Zhu Ping'an's intuition told him that if Old Yin and Old Yang were willing to teach him, he could quickly grasp the basics of the Immortal Devil Sword Technique.

His heart pounded wildly. Taking a deep breath, he dropped to his knees before Old Yin and Old Yang with a thud.

"Student Zhu Ping'an humbly begs to become your disciples! I implore you to accept me!"

Old Yin and Old Yang exchanged a glance, amusement flickering in their eyes.

"Kid, you're quick-witted." Old Yang said with a smile. "You can come to us with any questions from now on, but we can't take you as disciples. Taking a master isn't like having a schoolteacher—a martial artist can only have one master in a lifetime. After the College Entrance Examination, when you go to a bigger city, you'll meet far stronger martial artists. Taking two old bones like us as masters, you'll regret it."

"I will never regret it!" Zhu Ping'an began kowtowing, performing the full three-kowtow, nine-bow ceremony of apprenticeship.

But just as his head was about to hit the ground, an irresistible force lifted him back up.

"I told you, you don't need to take us as masters." Old Yang said gently.

Zhu Ping'an pursed his lips and didn't argue further, but in his heart, he had already acknowledged Old Yin and Old Yang as his teachers.

They had given him treasures and guided him—that was already the substance of a master-disciple bond.

"I've looked at the Immortal Devil Sword Technique too. It won't be easy to get started. First, pick a basic sword technique from the Martial Skill Pavilion so you have something to use during the College Entrance Examination. Then have Old Yin take you to the Armory Pavilion to pick a sword to serve as the devil sword." Old Yang laid out the path ahead in a few words.

"Understood, Teacher Yang." Zhu Ping'an nodded, then selected a first-grade, mid-tier sword technique called the Nine Mountain Divine Sword.

Martial skills were ranked from first to ninth grade, each grade divided into low, mid, and high tiers. With half a month left until the College Entrance Examination, a first-grade mid-tier technique was just right.

Next, he went to the Armory Pavilion to pick a weapon. He eventually settled on a short sword, only two feet long.

Old Yin curiously asked why he chose such a short sword. Zhu Ping'an just smiled and said nothing—he already had an idea in mind.

Looking at the long sword in one hand and the short sword in the other, Zhu Ping'an's grin was harder to suppress than an AK.

"You little rascal." Old Yin rubbed his chin with interest. "Since both swords belong to you now, give them new names."

Hearing this, Zhu Ping'an's lips curled into a harmless, innocent smile.

"The long one is called First Day. The short one... let's call it Fifteenth Day."

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