Chen Xin's Test

Ning Rongrong ran upstairs, her legs trembling.

She pushed the door open and saw Zhang Mo clearing away the dishes while Yang Wudi leaned against the window, picking his teeth.

"Zhang Mo!"

The two men looked up at the same time.

Ning Rongrong panted, her face flushed red.

"Grandpa Sword said... he said..."

Zhang Mo set down the bowl and looked at her.

"What did he say?"

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath and finished:

"He said you have to take three of his swords."

Yang Wudi froze for a moment, then burst into laughter.

"Three swords? That old man's got guts!" He slapped his thigh. "Taking three strikes from a Titled Douluo—now that's an interesting test!"

Ning Rongrong glared at him, then looked at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo said nothing. He just stood there, looking at her.

She ran over and grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't go," she said. "Grandpa Sword's blade can kill people."

Zhang Mo looked at her. After a few seconds of silence, he asked:

"If he isn't satisfied, will he refuse to let you stay?"

Ning Rongrong froze.

Zhang Mo said, "Take three swords in exchange for you staying. It's a good deal."

Ning Rongrong's eyes reddened.

"Are you stupid?" she shouted. "You could die!"

Zhang Mo reached out and gently patted the top of her head.

"I won't."

Ning Rongrong tilted her head up to look at him, tears welling in her eyes.

Yang Wudi coughed from beside them.

"All right, all right. Enough with the drama," he said. "If that old man wanted to kill someone, one sword yesterday would've been enough. Why wait until today?"

Ning Rongrong froze.

Yang Wudi stood up and walked to the window, looking down at the white-robed figure below.

"He just wants to see whether this kid is worth her staying for," he said. "If he takes the three swords, the old man will accept him. If he can't—"

He paused.

"If he can't, he still won't die. At most, he'll be laid up for a few months."

Ning Rongrong looked at Yang Wudi, then at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo was already heading for the door.

She hurried after him and grabbed his hand.

"I'm going with you."

Zhang Mo turned to look at her.

Her eyes were red, but bright.

"I'll watch from the side," she said. "If you can't take it, I... I'll shield you."

Zhang Mo looked at her for a few seconds, then nodded.

The three of them went downstairs.

Chen Xin was still standing in the alley. Morning light fell on him, his white robe fluttering slightly.

He watched Zhang Mo approach and stop three meters in front of him.

Ning Rongrong stood beside Zhang Mo, still clutching his sleeve.

Chen Xin glanced at her hand, then looked at Zhang Mo.

"Did Rongrong tell you?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

Chen Xin said, "Three swords. If you take them, Rongrong can stay. If you can't—"

He paused and looked at Ning Rongrong.

"If you can't, you can stay too."

Ning Rongrong froze.

Chen Xin said, "I just want to see whether you're worth her staying for."

He reached back and gripped the hilt of his sword.

The Seven Kill Sword left its sheath.

Its slender blade was silver-white as snow. Nine Spirit Rings rose from beneath him, slowly circling his body.

That oppressive feeling returned.

Ning Rongrong's breath caught, and she took a step back.

Zhang Mo didn't retreat.

He looked at Chen Xin and waited.

Chen Xin stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly said:

"First sword."

He didn't move.

But an invisible sword intent had already stabbed toward Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo's pupils contracted slightly.

He couldn't see the sword, but he could feel it. The sword intent was like a needle, aimed straight at the space between his brows.

He tried to dodge, but couldn't.

The sword intent was too fast—so fast he had no time to react.

Boom—

His mind went blank.

By the time he came to, he was kneeling on one knee, sweat covering his forehead.

Ning Rongrong rushed over to help him.

He waved her off and stood up on his own.

A trace of surprise flashed in Chen Xin's eyes as he looked at him.

"Not bad," he said. "To withstand my sword intent without Soul Power is no small feat."

Zhang Mo panted but said nothing.

Chen Xin said, "Second sword."

This time, he really moved.

The Seven Kill Sword swept lightly through the air, and a blast of sword energy howled toward Zhang Mo.

It was so fast it couldn't be seen.

Zhang Mo only had time to turn sideways—

The sword energy grazed his shoulder, slicing through his clothes and leaving a deep gash in the wall behind him.

He looked down at his shoulder. Blood seeped out, staining his clothes red.

Ning Rongrong panicked and rushed forward, standing in front of him.

"Grandpa Sword! That's enough!"

Chen Xin looked at her but said nothing.

Zhang Mo reached out and pulled her behind him.

"There's still one sword."

Ning Rongrong turned to look at him, tears streaming down her face.

"Are you crazy?"

Zhang Mo ignored her and looked at Chen Xin.

Chen Xin stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled.

It was a brief smile, but a genuine one.

"Good," he said. "Third sword."

He raised the Seven Kill Sword.

This time, light shimmered across the blade. All nine Spirit Rings shone at once, and the powerful surge of Soul Power made the air around them freeze.

Ning Rongrong's expression changed.

She had seen this sword before.

The Seven Kill Sword's Seventh Soul Skill—Seven Kill True Body.

Grandpa Sword was getting serious.

She tried to rush forward, but Yang Wudi held her back.

"Don't go," Yang Wudi said. "Let him bear it himself."

Ning Rongrong struggled, but couldn't break free.

All she could do was watch as the sword came down toward Zhang Mo.

The sword energy blazed like a rainbow.

Zhang Mo stood where he was, not dodging.

It wasn't that he didn't want to dodge. He couldn't.

The pressure was too powerful, so strong that he couldn't move a muscle.

All he could do was watch the sword energy draw closer and closer—

Then he raised his right hand.

The Spirit Bone in his right arm burst into blinding golden light.

Triple Strength—Mammoth Power!

He punched toward the sword energy.

Boom—

The crash made everyone's ears ring.

Dust billowed through the alley, obscuring everything.

Ning Rongrong broke free of Yang Wudi and rushed into the dust.

She saw Zhang Mo lying on the ground, covered in blood, his right hand mangled.

She dropped to her knees and lifted him into her arms.

"Zhang Mo! Zhang Mo, wake up!"

Zhang Mo didn't respond.

Her tears dripped onto his face, mingling with the blood as they ran down.

Footsteps sounded behind her.

Chen Xin walked over and looked down at them.

He looked at Zhang Mo's right hand, the shattered Spirit Bone, and the traces of blood.

Then he suddenly said:

"He took it."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him, her face streaked with tears.

Chen Xin crouched and held a hand beneath Zhang Mo's nose.

"He's alive," he said. "He just passed out."

He stood and looked at Ning Rongrong.

"Rongrong, this fellow's got guts."

Ning Rongrong froze.

Chen Xin said, "I used only one-tenth of my strength for the third sword. By rights, no one below Soul Douluo should've been able to stay standing. Not only did he stay on his feet, he met the sword with his fist."

He paused.

"Worth it."

Ning Rongrong's tears welled up again.

She held Zhang Mo and cried, then suddenly laughed.

She laughed, then cried again.

Yang Wudi walked over and looked down at Zhang Mo, then at Chen Xin.

"Old man," he said, "those three swords of yours were pretty ruthless."

Chen Xin glanced at him.

"Clan Chief of the Breaking Clan, I'll pay you back for that broken spear of yours."

Yang Wudi froze, then laughed.

"No need," he said. "I'll fix it myself."

Chen Xin nodded and turned to leave.

After a few steps, he stopped and said without looking back:

"When he wakes up, tell him—I accept him."

Then he left.

The alley was left with only Ning Rongrong holding Zhang Mo and Yang Wudi standing beside them.

Sunlight fell upon them both.

Zhang Mo's brows twitched, and he slowly opened his eyes.

He saw Ning Rongrong's face, streaked with tears.

"Why are you crying?" he rasped. "I caught it."

Ning Rongrong froze for a moment, then slapped him on the chest.

"You scared me to death!"

Zhang Mo grimaced in pain, but the corners of his mouth were lifted.

Yang Wudi watched from the side and rolled his eyes.

"All right, all right," he said. "We can talk when we get back. What kind of look is it, lying on the ground like that?"

He bent down, hoisted Zhang Mo over his shoulder, and carried him inside.

Ning Rongrong followed behind, holding Zhang Mo's dangling hand.

Slung over Yang Wudi's shoulder, Zhang Mo's head pointed downward, and blood was still dripping.

But the corners of his mouth were still lifted.

Because he had heard Chen Xin's final words.

"I acknowledge you."

By the time Zhang Mo woke up, it was already dark.

He opened his eyes and saw a familiar ceiling. The living room lights were off; only the streetlights outside shone through the window, bathing everything in a dim yellow glow.

His right hand hurt terribly. He looked down. His whole hand was wrapped in bandages like a rice dumpling, and even the slightest movement sent stabbing pain through him.

He tried moving his fingers.

He could still move them.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're awake?"

The voice came from beside him.

He turned his head and saw Ning Rongrong sitting in a chair beside him, holding a bowl. Her eyes were red.

"What time is it?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"After nine in the evening." Ning Rongrong set the bowl down and leaned closer to look at him. "You were unconscious for almost twelve hours."

Zhang Mo gave a quiet "Mm" and tried to sit up.

Ning Rongrong held him down.

"Don't move. Yang Wudi said the bones in your hand are cracked. You need to stay lying down."

Zhang Mo lay back and stared at the ceiling.

After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly asked:

"Where's Grandpa Sword?"

Ning Rongrong froze for a moment, then said:

"Outside."

Zhang Mo turned to look at her.

Ning Rongrong lowered her head and said softly:

"He's been downstairs the whole time. He hasn't left."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"Help me sit up."

Ning Rongrong panicked. "No! Your hand—"

"Help me sit up."

Ning Rongrong looked into his eyes, seeming to want to say something, but in the end she only bit her lip and carefully helped him sit up.

Zhang Mo leaned against the headboard and took a few breaths.

"Let him come up," he said.

Ning Rongrong froze.

Zhang Mo looked at her.

"He's been waiting all day."

Ning Rongrong's eyes reddened again.

She stood up, walked to the window, pushed it open, and called down:

"Grandpa Sword—come up—"

Footsteps sounded from downstairs.

A little while later, the door opened.

Chen Xin walked in and stood by the doorway, looking at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo looked back at him.

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

Chen Xin suddenly smiled.

It was a faint smile, but a genuine one.

"Not bad," he said. "You're not dead."

"I won't die that easily," Zhang Mo replied.

Chen Xin walked over and sat down beside the bed.

He looked at Zhang Mo's right hand, at the huge bundle of bandages.

"That punch," he said, "I never expected that."

Zhang Mo said nothing.

Chen Xin continued, "With your strength, taking one of my sword strikes head-on and surviving was already a blessing. But you didn't just take it—you even hit back with your fist."

He paused.

"In my hundred-plus years, I've never met anyone like you."

"Couldn't be helped," Zhang Mo said. "If I didn't hit back, I'd die."

Chen Xin paused, then laughed.

"Interesting."

Ning Rongrong stood nearby, looking from one to the other, unsure what to say.

Yang Wudi poked his head out from the inner room, took a look, then ducked back in.

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Chen Xin suddenly said:

"Rongrong, step outside for a moment."

Ning Rongrong froze.

"I want to talk to this kid."

Ning Rongrong looked at him, then at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo nodded.

She shuffled out reluctantly and stood by the doorway without going far.

Chen Xin watched the door close, then turned back to Zhang Mo.

"That system of yours," he said, "let me have a look."

Zhang Mo froze for a moment, then activated his Boundary Eye. A purple screen of light unfurled before them.

Chen Xin stared at the glowing words for a long time.

"Boundary Eye... Life Bond... Slaughter Harvest..." he murmured. "This thing doesn't seem like something a human could create."

"It probably came from the Divine Realm," Zhang Mo said.

Chen Xin nodded.

"Rongrong told me about it," he said. "The two worlds collided, and having children was supposed to slow it down."

He looked at Zhang Mo.

"Do you know what that means?"

"I do."

"She might never be able to go back."

Zhang Mo fell silent for a few seconds, then said:

"I know."

Chen Xin fixed his gaze on him, his eyes sharp.

"You know that, and you still let her stay?"

"She chose it herself," Zhang Mo said.

Chen Xin froze.

"I told her she could go back if she wanted to," Zhang Mo said. "She said she wanted to stay."

Chen Xin fell silent.

For a long, long time.

Then he sighed.

"That girl Rongrong always knew her own mind," he said. "Once she's made up her mind, not even ten oxen can drag her back."

He looked at Zhang Mo.

"She chose you."

Zhang Mo said nothing.

Chen Xin stood up, walked to the window, and gazed out at the night.

"I've met plenty of people in my many years," he said. "The greedy, the cowardly, the ruthless, the foolish. You're the first of your kind I've ever met."

He turned around and looked at Zhang Mo.

"I don't know if you're worth Rongrong giving up her chance to return. But I know she chose this herself."

He walked back to the bed and stopped.

"From this day on, I acknowledge you."

Zhang Mo looked at him.

Chen Xin said, "Not because you took three of my sword strikes. It's because you let her choose for herself."

He reached out and patted Zhang Mo on the shoulder.

"Treat her well."

Zhang Mo was silent for a few seconds, then said:

"I will."

Chen Xin nodded and turned to leave.

When he reached the door, he stopped and said without turning around:

"Old Bone will be coming in a couple of days. You'll have to get past him yourself."

He opened the door and went out.

Ning Rongrong's voice came from outside the door:

"Grandpa Sword!"

"Hmm?"

"Are you... are you leaving?"

"I'm not leaving. I'll be staying nearby. If that kid bullies you, come find me anytime."

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.

Ning Rongrong pushed the door open and came in, her eyes red.

She ran to the bed and looked at Zhang Mo.

"What did he say?"

"He told me to treat you well," Zhang Mo said.

Ning Rongrong froze.

Then she smiled.

As she smiled, tears rolled down her cheeks.

She threw herself at him and hugged him.

"Does it hurt?"

"Yes," Zhang Mo said.

She quickly let go and looked at his right hand.

"Then why did you ask him to come up?"

"He'd been waiting all day," Zhang Mo said.

Ning Rongrong stared at him for a long time.

Then she lowered her head and said softly:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Zhang Mo froze for a moment.

She lifted her head, her eyes shining.

"Thank you for taking those three sword strikes."

Zhang Mo fell silent for a few seconds, then said:

"It was the least I could do."

Ning Rongrong smiled.

She stood up, walked to the door, and called outside:

"Yang Wudi—Zhang Mo's awake—"

There was a commotion in the inner room, and Yang Wudi rushed out, pulling on his clothes.

"He's awake? Let me take a look."

He leaned over and stared at Zhang Mo's right hand for a few seconds.

"Not bad," he said. "The bone isn't broken, just cracked. A few days of rest and it'll be fine."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi stretched and yawned.

"Good, then I'm going back to sleep." He headed into the inner room, then turned back at the doorway. "Oh, right. Your Spirit Bone shattered. What a pity."

Zhang Mo lowered his head and looked at his right hand.

That Strength Boost Right Arm Bone had indeed shattered.

But for some reason, he didn't feel it was a pity.

Ning Rongrong sat down beside him and looked at him.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not too bad," Zhang Mo said.

She reached out and gently touched the edge of the bandage.

"I'll change your dressing."

Zhang Mo nodded.

She carefully unwound the bandage, revealing his swollen, reddened right hand. The flesh was torn open, and bone showed faintly beneath.

Her eyes reddened again.

But she bit her lip and didn't let the tears fall.

She picked up the ointment Yang Wudi had left behind and applied it bit by bit.

Her touch was so gentle, as if she were afraid of breaking something.

Zhang Mo looked at the top of her head.

She kept her head lowered, applying the ointment with great care. Wisps of hair fell over her forehead, veiling half her face.

Suddenly, he said:

"Rongrong."

"Hmm?"

"Once my hand's better, I'll teach you swordsmanship."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him.

He met her gaze, his eyes calm.

"You can't let that Fish Gut Sword go to waste."

Ning Rongrong froze for a moment, then smiled.

That smile was lovelier than the moonlight outside the window.

"Okay," she said. "You promised."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Outside, moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating them both.

The clamor of the night market drifted from far away, and a car passed by now and then.

Everything was just as it had always been.

But some things had changed.