Awakening to the Sword

Zhou Heng could not help but feel a chill run down his spine.

He walked to the edge of the pool and looked down, but all he saw was utter blackness. Unwilling to give up, he extended his right hand into the water. An icy chill swept over him, making his blood seem as though it were about to freeze solid.

At his touch, ripples immediately spread across the pool, and the shadows moving along the mountain wall swayed with them.

That was enough to prove that the shadows were indeed being cast up from the bottom of the water.

Zhou Heng hurriedly withdrew his hand, his brow furrowing even deeper.

This water was actually so cold! Merely touching it had nearly frozen him stiff. If his whole body were submerged in it, would he not freeze to death in an instant? What was strange was that water this cold had not frozen over!

Yet someone could actually walk beneath the water as though treading on solid ground. How utterly inconceivable was that? And even if they did not freeze to death, after so much time, would they not have suffocated?

His body was filled with an adventurous spirit, and driven by curiosity, he truly wanted to dive headfirst into the pool and swim down to see what lay beneath. But reason told him that would be pure suicide!

Zhou Heng feared no danger, but that did not mean he was tired of living.

The figure kept moving, its steps graceful and unrestrained, as though they carried an exceedingly peculiar rhythm. Zhou Heng found himself unable to look away, studying it intently and continuously pondering its movements. By the time he came to his senses, he was already moving along with the figure.

Bang!

His foot caught on something, and he took a solid tumble.

When the figure performed the footwork, it looked as graceful as an immortal's dance. But when Zhou Heng tried to copy it, it was neither fish nor fowl. He moved like a drunkard who could not even walk straight, and actually tripped himself.

Zhou Heng sprang to his feet like a fish leaping from water. Looking at the figure still swaying on the mountain wall, he could not help wondering whether, if he used the Heaven-Soaring Nine Styles, he could strike the figure on the wall.

This footwork seemed to carry a spiritual air—there one moment before his eyes, the next suddenly behind him—utterly impossible to grasp!

He had to learn it!

Zhou Heng set aside the doubts in his heart and focused solely on the figure, staring fixedly at the footwork beneath its feet. Forward and back, left and right, leaping, turning, shifting—it was all perfectly timed, wondrous beyond words!

He continuously deduced its transformations, comprehending its mysteries bit by bit.

Every additional glance brought another measure of insight. Zhou Heng was beside himself with joy, a foolish grin repeatedly spreading across his face as his expressions changed endlessly.

Without realizing it, the first ray of morning sunlight shone into the valley, and the figure on the mountain wall immediately vanished.

Zhou Heng could not help feeling bereft, like a child whose beloved toy had been snatched away, filled with reluctance. But the next instant, he felt aching pain in his waist and legs. He dropped onto the ground, feeling as though every bone in his body had fallen apart.

Practicing the Mysterious Footwork for one night had exhausted him to this extent?

Zhou Heng looked at the azure sky as an overwhelming wave of drowsiness washed over him. He soon closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he woke, he felt ravenously hungry. He hurriedly climbed up and left the valley in search of food.

This cave was simply too long. Nearly two hours later, he finally emerged, so hungry that stars danced before his eyes. It felt as though he could swallow an entire cow, head to tail, without leaving a scrap!

After catching a wild rabbit, Zhou Heng hurried to a river to clean it, then built a fire and roasted it. Only after wolfing it down did he pat his stomach, a satisfied expression appearing on his face.

He continued hunting, catching seven wild rabbits and a mountain goat. Then he chopped a great pile of firewood and carried it back to Absolute Valley in several trips—he planned to live in the valley for a while.

After working busily all day, Zhou Heng finally had time to stop and rest briefly. Then he began pondering the Nine Cloud-Surpassing Swords and the marvelous footwork he had seen the night before.

Swordsmanship and footwork seemed entirely unrelated, yet Zhou Heng felt there was a thread of common meaning between them. Comparing and verifying them against each other constantly brought him flashes of sudden enlightenment.

"This footwork is incomparably mystical. If I could use the Nine Cloud-Surpassing Swords while stepping through such footwork, who under heaven could possibly evade me?"

Zhou Heng's heart brimmed with anticipation.

Moonlight descended, and his heart rose and fell with unease. If the figure on the mountain wall did not appear again, all his hopes would come to nothing.

At midnight, the Black Broken Sword released its abundant energy on schedule. Zhou Heng hurriedly sat cross-legged, intending to absorb this benefit first. Nearly twenty minutes later, he stopped. The instant he opened his eyes, he saw the walking figure appear once more on the mountain wall.

It was here!

He was wildly delighted, but forcibly suppressed it and concentrated on memorizing that wondrous footwork.

Complex, profound, endlessly changing!

Zhou Heng could not help secretly rejoicing. If he had not spent the past month and more painstakingly cultivating the Heaven-Soaring Nine Styles, he likely would not have been able to remember such profound footwork. The figure was not actively teaching him, and it moved incredibly fast; a single blink could make him miss a crucial transformation.

Without Zhou Heng noticing at all, the east turned white with dawn again. Soon sunlight spilled down, and the figure immediately disappeared.

Tired! Exhausted beyond measure!

Zhou Heng dropped to the ground, feeling as though his eyelids weighed a thousand mountains, and immediately fell into a deep sleep.

When he woke, it was already afternoon. He hastily ate something, then once again devoted his time to studying the Heaven-Soaring Nine Styles and the footwork. His insights continued to deepen, and every gain brought fresh delight.

At midnight, after Zhou Heng refined the benefits granted by the Black Sword, he saw the figure on the mountain wall just as expected.

His life became monotonous once more. He slept in the morning, studied swordsmanship and footwork in the afternoon and evening, cultivated for a while late at night, then observed the Mysterious Figure's Mysterious Footwork. Only when he ran out of food did he leave the valley.

Fortunately, he now spent little time cultivating his technique, so his consumption of food greatly decreased. Otherwise, he could have eaten ten days' worth of provisions in a single day!

Although he did not cultivate for much time, the benefits the Black Broken Sword gave him each time were astonishingly immense. His cultivation still surged every day, and after more than ten days, he reached the peak of the Fourth Layer of Body Refining.

In just a little over two hours, Zhou Heng completed the breakthrough of this minor realm and stepped into the Fifth Layer of Body Refining!

He had already grown somewhat numb to his nearly monstrous rate of advancement. After a brief moment of joy, he threw himself back into researching swordsmanship and footwork, so engrossed that he was nearly possessed.

Another twenty days later, he broke through again and reached the Sixth Layer of Body Refining, catching up to—and even surpassing—most of the younger generation of the Zhou Family. What delighted him even more was that the Black Broken Sword had been quietly transforming his body all along. Though the changes were minute, after two months, he could still sense them.

His thoughts had become quicker, his eyesight sharper, and his memory better!

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Within the valley, Zhou Heng's figure drifted gracefully. Beneath his feet was footwork beyond the power of words to describe, as though he had merged with heaven and earth itself. Clearly he was right there, yet he always gave others the illusion that they could not see him.

"After more than a month, I have finally mastered the complete circulation of this footwork!"

"However, any movement technique needs the corresponding circulation route of True Essence Power in order to unleash its full might. That is beyond me! Even so, this footwork remains incomparably profound and has greatly improved my ability to protect myself!"

"Though I stole it by secretly learning it, I should still give it a name. I will call it... the Flying Cloud Steps!"

Now, when Zhou Heng performed the Flying Cloud Steps, he no longer ended up with an aching waist and sore legs every time he stopped, as though each bone in his body were about to fall apart.

Just like the Heaven-Soaring Nine Styles, at first he had seemed to be fighting against heaven and earth, making every step extraordinarily strenuous. But now he had merged with the natural order of the world. Naturally, he could move as he pleased, without the slightest restraint.

"I have fully grasped the form of the Flying Cloud Steps, but its spiritual essence can only be understood after obtaining the corresponding art formula. There is nothing I can do about that!"

"There is no longer any reason to remain here. It is already the twelfth month, with only twenty-two days left until year's end. It is about time to return!"

"It is already late today, so I will stay here one more night and leave first thing tomorrow morning!"

Having made up his mind, Zhou Heng did not continue studying the Flying Cloud Steps after dinner. Instead, he practiced the Heaven-Soaring Nine Styles—over the past month and more, he had spent most of his time on the Flying Cloud Steps.

His longsword danced, scattering streams of silver light like a soaring dragon in the heavens, profound to the utmost.

Yet Zhou Heng was never satisfied. Even now, his mastery of the First Form of Heaven-Soaring remained only at the level of form. He had never been able to grasp its spiritual essence.

This frustrated him greatly.

Unlike the Flying Cloud Steps, which he had learned by secretly imitating, the Cloud-Soaring Nine Styles had been properly imparted to him by the Black Sword. Though there was no conventional art formula, it had been directly fused into his blood, flesh, and body. It should have been easier to master.

Was he really that stupid?

Zhou Heng stood with his sword held horizontally, thinking carefully. He only felt that he lacked a single opportunity, leaving him forever wandering at the outskirts, unable to truly comprehend the mysteries of the Heaven-Soaring Nine Styles.

He closed his eyes and thought quietly. That final kick at the threshold seemed right before him, yet he agonized over not knowing how to deliver it.

He stood motionless like a stone statue.

After a long while, an icy chill touched his face. Zhou Heng abruptly opened his eyes and saw that thick white snow had begun falling from the sky. Every flake was as large as a goose feather, making the entire night sky incomparably magnificent.

It was already the bitter heart of winter!

The snow fell heavily, and before long the valley was blanketed in silver white. Zhou Heng did not move. As the heavy snow drifted down, he too became a snowman, merging with all of heaven and earth.

Silver-clad and white-robed, a world of pure white!

Looking at that pure white expanse, Zhou Heng felt his thoughts soar into the boundless starry sky. He looked down upon this world, imagining that vast and magnificent scene. Boundless heroic spirit suddenly rose within him, and his blood surged through his body.

Hum!

The Black Broken Sword within his Dantian trembled softly, as though in response.

This was the opportunity he had been waiting for!

Zhou Heng threw back his head and laughed. His body suddenly moved, and his sword rose!

A miraculous scene unfolded. Every snowflake falling through the air suddenly froze in place, as though an invisible giant hand controlled everything!

First Form of Heaven-Soaring!

The longsword swept out, like the birth of the cosmos, filled with indescribable profundity. It was also like the chanting of the Great Dao, with all things answering in harmony!

At last, this sword strike possessed spirit!