The Memorial

Time flew by. Through the morning songs of the Baruo Birds at dawn and the distant, lingering chimes from the temple in the evening, Jia Ruo had been studying under Yi for twenty-three days.

Why twenty-three days?

Because today, Yi sensed that the vines on the mountain needed clearing again.

"Master, let me come with you. I've never been up the mountain before."

Jia Ruo asked Yi.

"Sure."

The two of them walked side by side along the mountain path, heading toward the summit.

The mountain felt eerie. Thick vines lay everywhere along both sides of the path, twisting wildly across the ground.

And as far as Jia Ruo could sense, the magical elements throughout the mountain were incredibly sparse. Although magical elements from the surrounding area kept flowing in, it was as if something swallowed them all up, rendering them useless.

An hour later, Jia Ruo and Yi reached the mountaintop.

In a fairly level clearing, Jia Ruo saw ruins scattered everywhere, their tangled vines especially thick.

Jia Ruo followed Yi through the ruins and into a graveyard. He saw rows of neat graves, each with a sword planted atop it like a tombstone.

Starting with the first grave, Yi began touching the hilt of the sword above it.

"May the memories of those who came before live forever in the Wuji."

"May their names be remembered by all."

"May they rest in peace."

Jia Ruo asked no questions. Standing beside Yi with his hands clasped, he repeated Yi's words.

Yi always seemed calm and unruffled, but Jia Ruo knew he concealed a deep sorrow, especially here in his homeland.

And so the two of them slowly made their way among the graves.

Until they reached the last three.

A hammer lay atop one of the graves, while the other two had swords with golden scabbards planted above them.

"Master Doran, I've found another person who can wield You Meng, but it's a shame you can't study it anymore."

"I praise your dedication to the art of forging."

"Ima, Ibe..."

"May your wisdom continue to guide me."

Yi bowed to the ground.

Jia Ruo's throat was already raw, but he bowed just the same.

"May the memories of those who came before live forever in the Wuji."

"May their names be remembered by all."

"May they rest in peace."

The sky had grown dim. Jia Ruo and Yi had gone without food or water since morning.

Yi opened his bundle, took out his helmet, and put it on. Then he handed the bundle to Jia Ruo.

"There's some fruit and nuts inside. Have a little."

Jia Ruo didn't refuse. He was already famished and parched.

As for Yi, he drew his ringed sword, and his figure blurred out of sight.

Yi flashed through the air. The surrounding vines instantly shattered, and the vines in the distance began to wither as well.

Jia Ruo blinked, and Yi's figure had reappeared, standing just as before, his sword already sheathed.

What incredible skill!

Jia Ruo forgot to chew. Could this be Alpha Strike?

He estimated that it would take about ten thousand of him to wear the Sword Saint down—or make his sword go blunt.

Yi took the bundle back, removed his helmet and put it inside, then took out a crumpled scroll and added a number to it with a reed pen: 23.

"Let's go." Yi packed up the bundle and turned to head down the mountain.

Jia Ruo hurried after him.

"Master, Master, when will I be able to move as fast as you?"

"I'm not your master yet." Yi's voice remained as calm as ever.

"Then when will I start learning sword techniques?"

"Tomorrow, then."

"What? Isn't that a little hasty? I was just asking. We can stick to your plan."

"You have good aptitude. You're ready to start learning the basic sword forms."

"Really? Master, does that mean I'm a martial arts prodigy? Then you have to take me on as your disciple. Otherwise, it'll be a huge loss for our Wuji Sect."

As Jia Ruo kept chattering, the gloomy mood that had lasted all day gradually lifted.

Even with his throat terribly hoarse, he still couldn't stop talking.

"Master, did you know that in my original world, there was a classic called Journey to the West? There was a monk in it whose eldest disciple was a monkey named Wukong, just like your clever disciple Wukong."

"But his second disciple was no good—he was slick-tongued, lazy, greedy, and lecherous."

Yi smiled and teased him—a rare thing for him. "Doesn't that sound a lot like you?"

"Hehe, Master, you obviously want to take me on as your disciple. No need to hint around. Why not just do it now—today?"

Yi shook his head and said nothing.

Night had fully fallen by the time Jia Ruo and Yi returned to the foot of the mountain.

Neeko noticed how unusually cheerful Jia Ruo seemed and asked, "What's up? Did your Sword Saint Master agree to take you on as his disciple?"

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. I'm starting sword training tomorrow."

"Neeko, once I've mastered it, I'll help you kill every last one of those bastards who destroyed your home," Jia Ruo added, even though he was still a beginner and had never spilled human blood.

"No, Neeko doesn't like fighting and killing." Neeko shook her head.

"It's just... why did they destroy the Wu Wei Clan? Neeko doesn't understand. We Wu Wei never bothered anyone..."

Seeing tears creep into Neeko's voice, Jia Ruo hurriedly changed the subject. "Neeko, get me some water, quick. Listen to my voice—I haven't had a drink all day."

Then he pretended to tease her. "Why don't we go bathe in the river together?"

"Just go by yourself! You're all sweaty and smelly. Neeko doesn't want to."

With that, she tried to push Jia Ruo outside. He reached around to tickle her ribs, and the two of them immediately began horsing around.

Yi watched the two of them playing in the shabby little hut. Warmth shone in his smile. He slowly closed his eyes and began to meditate.