The Storm Gathers Before the Rain

"Forty-eight thousand one hundred and eighty swords."

"Forty-eight thousand one hundred and eighty-one swords."

Lu Wu-bing drew his sword, sheathed it, and thrust forward with meticulous precision.

His clothes, soaked and dried repeatedly, were as if washed. A suspicious puddle of water on the bluestone floor slowly spread outwards.

Not far away, a plump cat with black fur and white paws rhythmically swiped its right paw, emitting a series of chirping sounds from its throat.

"Meow, meow..."

Sunlight fell upon the man and the cat, casting long shadows.

There was an indescribable harmony to the scene.

"If it doesn't kill you, then push yourself to the limit."

Lu Wu-bing thought to himself. In his past life, he was a workhorse, toiling his entire existence. He had never feared anyone... Moreover, he now possessed the "Heaven Rewards Diligence" destiny. After some experimentation, he discovered that effort always yielded results.

Workers don't fear hardship or exhaustion.

They only fear a lack of hope, only fear that all their efforts will be in vain.

"Still need one thousand eight hundred and nineteen more swords. Almost there, soon I'll reach fifty thousand swords. With the first stance of the thrusting sword, I'll go from proficient to master... Every drop of sweat can be exchanged for progress. This feeling is truly captivating."

Lu Wu-bing sighed deeply, thinking, I just hope it's not too late.

A fleeting sense of urgency flashed through his mind, but he forcefully dispelled it, concentrating fully on ensuring every sword strike was delivered with complete force.

As the sun reached its zenith, with the fifty-thousandth thrust, the sword tip pierced the air with a sharp whistle. Lu Wu-bing's entire body suddenly trembled.

At this moment, he felt an electric current passing through his muscles and bones. His pores flared, and his strength flowed through him, unhindered. The sword in his hand no longer felt like just a sword; it felt like an extension of his arm, its blade like his own skin, capable of sensing the gentleness of the spring breeze.

His mind was suddenly flooded with knowledge about thrusting swords, from angles and power to the optimal rhythm of exertion and the relationship between lightness, heaviness, speed, and slowness.

His understanding of the thrust attack seemed to have advanced by over a decade of practice.

He tentatively thrust again and found it incredibly smooth and comfortable. There was almost no loss of power as his intent translated into the sword's movement, concentrating force at the tip, slicing through the air like a whistling arrow.

Compared to the proficient level of my previous thrusts, the speed has more than doubled.

With the same meager internal energy and the same physical condition, the difference was immense simply due to the understanding and application of this sword technique.

Compared to this, the sword techniques practiced by my predecessor were merely superficial.

Lu Wu-bing felt a slight sense of peace.

He looked down at the bare skin of his left shoulder. The purplish-blue palm print there seemed to have faded even more, and it barely hurt anymore.

This body was just over sixteen years old. His father, Lu Changfeng, a practitioner of healing the sick and saving the injured, had great aspirations. The phrase he often uttered was, "May all the world's people be free from illness; I'd rather have my medicines gather dust on the shelves."

Because of this ambition, he named his son "Wu-bing" (meaning "no illness") and managed the family's Hall of Returning Spring exceptionally well. Not only did they have a large pharmacy covering several acres in the fertile land of Jiangzhou, but they also opened numerous branches across the seventy-six prefectures, establishing a considerable enterprise.

With such a foundation, Lu Wu-bing should have been able to simply enjoy the good life he had fortunately obtained.

However, fate is unpredictable. Six days ago, he was attacked while on an outing outside the city and "almost" lost his life... This led to him, a transmigrator, taking over.

"Young master, young master, Master Du and Master Lin have been found..."

A shout echoed from a distance.

A young girl in a green dress and jacket ran over in a panic.

This was Feicui, his personal maid.

"Where?"

"They're lying in the front courtyard."

The young girl burst into tears.

Six days ago, after Lu Wu-bing was attacked and fled back to the Lu family, the two security instructors immediately led some men to pursue the attackers, but they lost contact.

Now that they had been found, it was clear they had met a grim fate.

Upon arriving at the front courtyard, they saw two corpses laid out to one side. Their bodies were slightly bloated, and several men resembling constables were squatting on the ground examining the wounds.

"That's right, the wounds are very similar to those of the people who died a few days ago, with jagged tearing marks. Furthermore, the bones around the wounds have become soft, which is also consistent with the characteristics of the Surging Wave Force attack..."

A constable's face was grave as he shook his head, stopping himself from saying more.

"Eastern Sea Sword Sect?" Lu Changfeng's usually gentle face was now contorted with rage, veins bulging on his forehead, clearly furious.

The black-clad constable sighed, "It should be them. The sect leader of the Eastern Sea Sword Sect, Gu Dongting, has seven outstanding disciples, known as the Seven Swords of the Eastern Sea... The fifth disciple, Lu Zhongkui, who wields the Life-Severing Sword, uses a serrated broadsword.

If it were just a coincidence of weapons, it would be one thing, or it could be an imitation. But to possess the Surging Wave Force as well, it can only be him."

"As expected, the group of bandits who robbed the medicinal supplies at Ten Mile Slope and killed the caravan guards that day are likely connected to the Eastern Sea Sect."

The black-clad constable looked troubled. After a moment's thought, he said, "Old Master Lu, although I don't know what grievances your family has with the Eastern Sea Sword Sect, their arrival bodes ill. I urge you to make preparations early."

These were words of seasoned prudence.

Under normal circumstances, as a constable, he would not say such things.

Grievances of the martial world are settled in the martial world.

Those martial artists who move with such grace and speed, who knows what formidable skills they truly possess? As a constable, I'm just earning a living. It doesn't seem realistic to risk my life for other people's affairs.

If it weren't for the Lu family of the Hall of Returning Spring, who are kind-hearted, have an excellent reputation, and have always maintained good relations, they might have just brushed us off. Why would they go to such lengths for us?

"Head Constable Li, thank you for your trouble." Lu Changfeng clearly knew the man's way of doing things. He clasped his hands and said, "Please help us find the murderer. I will surely reward you handsomely in the future..."

Before he could finish, a servant came running, stumbling, "Master, the back garden... it's... it's had an accident..."

A flicker of horror flashed in Lu Changfeng's eyes. His long sword was already drawn, and with a few leaps, he rushed towards the back garden.

Lu Wu-bing and the others also hurried over. As soon as they reached the back garden, they saw the flower trees in full bloom, with over a dozen chickens and two black dogs lying dead in the gaps between the trees.

Besides the bodies of the chickens and dogs, more than ten servants and cooks were running around in fear.

"Meow..."

The cat beside him suddenly let out a sharp, piercing cry.

Lu Wu-bing's heart tightened.

He caught a glint of cold light in the corner of his eye.

A sharp whistle came from the left, the blade aimed directly at his ear.

His entire body's hair stood on end. In this moment, his body moved faster than his thoughts.

He stepped back with his left foot, simultaneously drawing his sword with his right hand.

Like wind on water, like the moon in the sky.

Smooth and natural.

His sword had already pierced the throat of the sword-wielding attacker.

"Gurgle..."

The attacker, dressed as a servant with black smudges on his face, stared with wide, disbelieving eyes, making gurgling sounds.

He seemed completely taken aback that the young master of the Hall of Returning Spring, rumored to be useless and only knowing some shoddy swordsmanship, could unleash such a fierce and swift sword technique.

"You brat, I underestimated you."

From the shadows of the flower trees, a hunched figure in black rose up. He was about to pounce on Lu Changfeng, wrapped in a gust of wind, but halfway there, his body twisted, and with a roar, he changed direction and lunged at Lu Wu-bing.

Before he even arrived, the air was filled with flashing green light. Sword light overlapped, and with a single strike, three phantom images appeared, slashing towards Lu Wu-bing's neck.

The sword's edge was serrated and menacing.

Lu Wu-bing forcefully suppressed the slight discomfort of killing someone for the first time. Just as he sheathed his sword, he felt a strong wind hit his face, making it hard to breathe.

He only had time to raise his sword hilt, blocking at his neck.

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