After Qin Huaiying heard about her daughter's experience,
she paced back and forth around the room in excitement.
She even quickly accepted the fact that Ouyang Lan, Lu Wu-bing, and Ji Wenxiu had joined forces to kill Peaceful Axe Song Zhong and Yin-Yang Monk Deng Yuan.
She thought that Lu Wu-bing's swordsmanship was fast enough to wound Blood Butterfly.
Then if the three of them had fought desperately together, killing that vile monk who could not even grace the stage was hardly anything strange.
"Such breathtaking talent—I almost wish I could teach him the sword myself. Xiaolan, what do you think of Mother going to Orchid Fragrance Courtyard to pass on the Seven Kill Sword to him?"
"Mother..."
Ouyang Lan was stunned.
Are you trying to steal Father's disciple?
I do not mind.
But when Father comes back, let us see how you face him.
"No, no. Every mountain has its rules. Advanced sword arts must ultimately wait until Wu-bing masters the foundational sword arts himself and passes the Three Gates of the Sword before they can be taught. It would not be right for us to break the rules we set ourselves."
Seeing the look in her daughter's eyes,
even Qin Huaiying, a worldly and clear-minded woman who had weathered countless storms of life, could not help but blush.
Senior Brother probably would not blame me, would he?
This was all for the prosperity of the Celestial Star Sect, so that Senior Brother Bi of the Violet Sun Sect would not bask alone in the limelight.
If the masters could not compare,
then letting the disciples surpass him by a notch would still be a fine thing.
The eldest disciple, Yue Lingfeng, was certainly strong, but among the younger disciples of the Violet Sun Sect and Bright Moon Sect, it was not as though no one could match him.
But such absurdly overwhelming combat strength as Wu-bing's—she had not merely never seen it; she had never even heard of it.
He had only entered the sect a little over ten days ago.
What kind of concept was that?
"No, since he could train a single sword move to the Greater Mastery Realm by himself, achieving what ordinary geniuses could only reach after more than twenty years of bitter cultivation, there must be something exceedingly unique about him.
"If I forcefully guide him now, I fear I may mislead the disciple and achieve the opposite of what I intend..."
"Right. The Celestial Star Sect's cultivation arts can only be passed down once one meets the requirements, but the Dragon Tendon Tiger Bone Fist that that Daoist grandfather taught Mother back when I was still a young maiden carries no such restrictions."
"But that is a fist art."
Ouyang Lan swallowed, tilted her head, and thought it over. She realized that her mother's words really did make some sense.
It was quite suitable for her junior brother to practice this fist art.
More importantly, he had obtained a Golden Thread Armor cultivation art from Chen San-yang, chief of Chaoyang Stronghold. That art focused on tempering flesh and skin, while the Dragon Tendon Tiger Bone Fist specialized in transforming the tendons and forging the bones. It trained one's sinews to be like dragons and one's bones as sturdy as tigers, greatly increasing divine strength until none under heaven could rival it.
What a coincidence.
"What is wrong with a fist art? With Wu-bing's comprehension, whether it is fist arts or sword arts, cultivating them will be simple as anything.
"Internal force must accumulate day after day; there is no way to increase it too quickly. What he lacks now is foundation.
"If internal cultivation falls short, external arts will make up for it... Train his tendons and bones until they are powerful, make his strength tyrannical.
"With his swordsmanship realm to support it, challenging those above his level will be as easy as eating and drinking."
The more Qin Huaiying spoke, the more sense it made to her.
"Yes, that is what we shall do."
Qin Huaiying clenched her right hand into a fist and heavily struck it against her left palm. Smiling, she said, "Xiaolan, hurry and nurse your injuries. When you seek out your junior brother to practice swordsmanship, you may as well drop a few hints and have him challenge the Three Gates of the Sword as soon as possible.
"Even if he only clears one gate, Mother will be overjoyed... I can reward him and teach him this external fist art."
"Mother has thought it through thoroughly."
With one turn of her mind came one idea.
No wonder Mother's reputation in the martial world was terrifyingly great, even somewhat greater than Father's.
Her methods of handling people and affairs were seasoned and polished.
Even if one did not know what she was thinking, one would only find it perfectly natural.
When a newly initiated disciple showed promise, how could his master's wife possibly give him no welcoming gift?
If she was happy, she could make an exception and reward him.
That could only be considered cherishing talent.
It would not count as breaking the rules; rather, it would show that she knew how to nurture disciples. The other brothers would only envy him and would not secretly grow resentful.
Who told them they could not clear the Sword Gate Trial so swiftly?
Brilliant.
Truly brilliant.
Outwardly, she was completely convinced. Then she turned and went to bathe and change, washing away her fatigue and preparing to recover from her injuries sooner with her mother's help.
Yet inwardly, Ouyang Lan quietly wiped away a cold sweat.
I finally managed to fool Mother.
Junior Brother has never cultivated the Yuanling Swordplay Manual, nor has he ever used it.
As long as Junior Sister Wenxiu says nothing and I say nothing, no one in the world will know.
This matter was, in truth, a great hidden danger.
But Ouyang Lan believed that with her junior brother's intelligence and talent, he would solve this problem someday.
However, once even the slightest whisper spread that he cultivated the wicked demonic sword art known as the Yuanling Swordplay Manual, he might be hunted down and slain by the righteous martial world.
Even the head of a sect might not necessarily be able to bear such a risk.
With her junior brother's frail body, it was better to forget it.
Thinking of how Lu Wu-bing had opened his mouth and swallowed that bloody shadowy mist while wielding his sword that day, Ouyang Lan shuddered and did not dare think any further.
"One hundred ninety-five thousand three hundred sword strikes."
"One hundred ninety-five thousand three hundred and one sword strikes..."
After settling down,
Lu Wu-bing's main task was practicing the sword.
Aside from occasionally interacting with his Seventh Senior Sister, who was mad with training, he went to the dining hall at Gazing Sky Cliff on time to eat.
Speaking of which, the dining hall's food was not very good.
It could only fill one's stomach, while its flavor was so bland that even birds would not bother stealing it.
There was not much difference between the meals of direct disciples and ordinary disciples. Every day, direct disciples merely received an extra bowl of medicinal food to replenish qi and blood; there was nothing else.
After Lu Wu-bing came up the mountain, he was like a drop of water melting into a river. He acted as if he could not see the finger-pointing of the others.
He occasionally chatted with his fellow disciples about everyday family matters, but he never said much.
He made a point of being quiet and honest.
Most of the time, he hid in his courtyard, quietly cultivating White Rainbow Pierces the Sun.
He firmly believed that his path of cultivation was absolutely correct.
His current advantage was a single sword move at the Greater Mastery Realm.
If he wanted to go farther, the only choice was to magnify that advantage without limit.
The mountain seemed safe for now, but he had not forgotten the reminder given that day by his Second Martial Uncle, Subduing Dragon Sword, and his Third Martial Uncle, Greedy Wolf Without Shadow Li Feiying.
His father and mother were unharmed and living below the mountain in Mingyang City, temporarily safe and sound.
But they would not remain safe forever.
Perhaps the enemy was waiting for an opportunity.
He might be fine hiding on the mountain, but once he went down, he would be watched by the Eastern Sea Sword Sect.
Then there was Lin Qiu-yan, that flower-picking thief, and Bao Xiang Mituo Xiao Shan.
The former had been castrated.
The latter had lost his junior brother...
These were blood-deep enmities.
If it were him, and he learned where his enemy was... failing to take revenge would make food hard to swallow and sleep impossible to find.
How could he possibly let them off easily?
Faced with such a situation, with his current movement technique and internal cultivation, he had absolutely no confidence in protecting himself in the short term.
Then his only hope was to make his swordsmanship stronger, and stronger still.
Especially this thrusting sword move.
After Greater Mastery came Perfection.
Senior Sister Xiaolan had once casually mentioned that swordsmanship at the Greater Mastery Realm was common enough among first-rate experts... But even a top third-rank expert would need to exhaust a lifetime's accumulation to bring swordsmanship to Greater Mastery.
To go a step further was basically impossible.
Whether saber arts, sword arts, spear arts, or fist arts,
any skill that sought Perfection required spirit and intent to become one, and intent and moves to become one.
Put plainly, the Perfection Realm was not merely a technique; it involved the heart and will.
Generally speaking, only after breaking through first-rate martial mastery and reaching the transcendent rank could one glimpse a trace of artistic conception.
To truly cultivate martial arts to Perfection, one would most likely need to wait until breaking through to the Innate Realm and forming one's martial artistic conception.
Use intent to lead qi, use qi to command moves.
Only then could one's moves reach Perfection.
When a move emerged, the spirit would transform and give birth to wonders, transcending the ordinary.
"Junior Brother, when will you take another step forward?"
Within the rustling bamboo grove, Lu Wu-bing seemed to hear Senior Sister Xiaolan ask with a sweet smile.
"Today. It will be today."
He settled his heart and cast aside every stray thought.
Enduring the soreness in his arms, he thrust forward again and again.
The sword blade tore through the wind.
It gave off faint hissing sounds.
The night rain was cool.
Darkness gave way to light, until the red sun rose in the east.
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