Second Miss Fang's cheeks flushed. She dipped into a graceful curtsy to Chu Fan, then turned and walked away.
They had crossed paths several times at the Fang Family's porridge stall. Chu Fan recognized her, though she might no longer remember him.
Chu Fan dared not linger. He hurried on and soon reached the thatched hut near the Seven Star Gang's porridge stall.
Several long lines had already formed outside the hut, a dark mass of people.
Chu Fan looked up. Ink-black clouds churned across the sky.
By the look of it, a downpour was inevitable.
He prayed silently that the rain would hold off a little longer.
Nine out of ten people in line were youngsters of twelve or thirteen.
Chu Fan and the few others on the older side stood out among them like cranes in a flock of chickens.
At the head of the lines stood a gaunt, middle-aged man.
He gripped a wine gourd in his left hand. With his right, he pinched and pressed the youths waiting before him, occasionally giving them a light pat, his manner perfectly at ease.
Chu Fan had come here a month ago, so he knew the man was Cao Feng, the Seven Star Gang's Chief Instructor.
Cao Feng looked withered and seemed a drunkard who lived for wine, but whenever his eyes opened, they flashed so fiercely that hearts quailed and no one dared draw a full breath.
Rumor had it that he had been the Old Gang Leader's right-hand man, and that his martial skill surpassed even that of the gang's hall masters.
Chu Fan had no idea what those hall masters could do, but he had seen a woman attending Cao Feng fling a burly man thirty feet with a mere lift of her hand!
The martial arts of this world seemed to hold a Transcendent Force. How could he not long for it?
Cao Feng was now examining the youths' aptitude for martial arts by feeling their bones.
That was how gangs like the Seven Star Gang differed from ordinary martial arts schools.
At an ordinary school, anyone could begin training, regardless of aptitude, so long as they paid the fees.
The Seven Star Gang charged nothing, but if someone's aptitude was too poor, they could not even cross its threshold.
A month ago, Chu Fan had undergone Cao Feng's bone examination himself.
But he had been turned away for being older and having unremarkable aptitude.
Now, as he watched the line inch forward, tension crept into his heart.
His Chopping Wood Saber Technique might have reached the very limit of Perfection, but it was still a street trick, not true martial arts.
He had no idea whether mastering it would help him in today's examination.
In the next line, a dark-skinned youth with a longbow on his back raised a hand toward Chu Fan. "Brother, aren't you a little old to start learning martial arts?"
At seventeen, Chu Fan was already being called old. He could only smile helplessly. "You look even older than I—"
The dark-skinned youth waved both hands. "No, no, you must be older. I'm a mountain hunter, out in the wind and sun year-round. That's why I look old. I only just turned seventeen—"
"Silence! Who gave you leave to chatter here?"
At the sharp rebuke, a woman in Black Martial Attire came striding over.
She appeared to be around twenty. Her brows were like distant mountains brushed with dark ink, and the corners of her eyes tilted slightly upward. A cold pool seemed to lie deep within those eyes, their gaze both cool and keen.
A long saber hung at her waist, bound with purple shark silk. An ancient bronze beast head adorned its sheath, and a scarlet tassel hung from its hilt. Worn at an angle against her cool-toned clothes, it gave her a bold, cutting air. One glance told him she was not to be crossed.
She was the woman who had flung a man thirty feet with one hand.
Had Chu Fan not seen it himself, he never would have believed that such a delicate-looking woman possessed such terrifying strength!
Her cold gaze swept over them. Chu Fan and the youth with the bow both stiffened and fell silent.
Time slipped away like sand through his fingers, leaving no trace—
Of those in line around Chu Fan's age, every one was eliminated except the youth with the bow.
The young hunter was older too, but years of hunting had given him tough sinews and bones since childhood. He had a solid foundation for martial arts and even earned a few words of praise from Cao Feng!
At long last, Chu Fan's turn came—
Cao Feng took a deep swig from his wine gourd, felt the bones in Chu Fan's body, and patted his shoulder twice. "Boy, you look about eighteen."
"I won't be eighteen for another four months, Instructor," Chu Fan replied respectfully, his heart tightening.
"Average aptitude, and on the older side." Cao Feng shook his head.
He was about to turn away when he looked back. "Wait. You look familiar—did you come here last month?"
Chu Fan hurriedly smiled. "Instructor, your eyes are like torches. Nothing escapes them!"
Cao Feng's eyes widened. "Outrageous! You dare waste my time? Qingxue, throw this boy out!"
Li Qingxue, the woman in Black Martial Attire, stepped forward. With a casual reach of her right hand, she seized Chu Fan's shoulder.
"Hiss!"
Pain shot through Chu Fan's shoulder. He sucked in a breath. It felt as though an iron claw had clamped down on him, leaving his whole body numb and unable to move!
Was this the difference between a martial artist and an ordinary man?
With one light grip, she seemed ready to crush his shoulder bone!
"Instructor, wait!" Chu Fan cried. "I've practiced a saber technique!"
"A saber technique?" Cao Feng paused.
When he had felt Chu Fan's bones, he had already checked his Blood Qi. He had sensed no sign at all that the youth had trained in martial arts.
Cao Feng waved a hand.
Li Qingxue immediately released Chu Fan's shoulder.
Chu Fan grimaced and rubbed the numb spot.
Li Qingxue looked only two or three years older than him, but twenty or thirty of him might not be enough to defeat her.
And she would need only one hand.
"Qingxue, get him a saber," Cao Feng said.
Li Qingxue drew the saber at her waist and handed it to Chu Fan.
Its blade was narrow and gently curved, shaped like a willow leaf.
Forged of cold iron, its edge gleamed blue in the dim light, like a blade of frost formed on a late-autumn night. Before it touched skin, its chill seemed to pierce the soul.
A smooth curve ran along its spine from tip to guard, like the lonely outline of a willow branch beneath the moon. Beneath that supple line lay an edge that would not yield.
Chu Fan took the saber. The instant his fingers touched the hilt, his vision swam.
Several clear lines of text suddenly appeared in his mind:
[Cold Moon Solitary Shadow Saber discovered. Refining it requires 20 Spiritual Essence. Current Spiritual Essence insufficient; refinement unavailable.] [Refining this saber grants the unique saber technique "Seven Stars Bead Cut."]
So Spiritual Essence can do more than help martial arts reach Break Limit. It has a use as wondrous as this!
Chu Fan was both startled and delighted.
In his daze, a flood of strange impressions surged through his mind.
A life between heaven and earth was but a traveler's brief stop.
People left shadows in their wake, geese left cries in their flight. Though years ran through one's fingers like sand, some carved marks upon the world that would never fade, using flesh and blood as ink.
Sages wrote books and set forth their teachings, carrying a thousand years of learning upon bamboo and silk, their ink still fragrant today:
Heroes passed on their skills, leaving a flame to burn through the Jianghu. Seas could turn to fields, yet those sparks would one day become a wildfire.
This saber, too, was such a vessel. It held every moment of Li Qingxue's training in the Seven Stars Bead Cut.
Countless strange, dazzling fragments flashed through Chu Fan's mind: Li Qingxue training beneath a peach tree, practicing monotonous cuts deep into the night—
The chaotic images whirled like a revolving lantern.
Then the scattered fragments drew together like silk threads being combed straight. Slowly they took recognizable shape, unfurling through his mind as words, light, shadow, and a shudder that sank into his bones.
But he lacked the Spiritual Essence to refine the Cold Moon Solitary Shadow Saber. Those words and images were like flowers in a mirror, the moon reflected in water. Just as they began to solidify, they vanished, leaving him unable to grasp a thing.
"Hey. What are you staring at?"
Li Qingxue's cool voice pulled Chu Fan from his daze. "I told you to show us a saber technique. Why are you standing there like a statue?"
Chu Fan jolted back to himself and took a deep breath, forcing down the storm in his heart. With a turn of his wrist, he began the Chopping Wood Saber Technique.
He raised and lowered the saber, slicing, shaving, cutting, chopping, and thrusting. Every move was ordinary chopping work, the sort seen anywhere in the streets, plain and without flourish.
Quite a few onlookers curled their lips in mockery. Others began to snicker under their breath.
"Hm?"
Beside him, Cao Feng's bleary eyes opened a fraction, and a soft sound of surprise escaped him.
Chu Fan's swings appeared to follow no pattern, and his footwork seemed scattered. Yet each cut flowed into the next like drifting clouds and running water, without the slightest hitch.
The speed of each stroke, the steadiness of each descent, the precision of its placement, the ruthlessness of its force—this crude-looking Chopping Wood Saber Technique held the very fundamentals of saber training!
Even Li Qingxue, watching coldly from the side, lifted her fine brows. A flash of surprise she could not conceal crossed her clear eyes.
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