Chen Xin's Trial

Ning Rongrong's legs were trembling as she ran upstairs.

She pushed open the door to see Zhang Mo clearing the table while Yang Wudi leaned against the window, picking his teeth.

"Zhang Mo!"

Both men looked up at the same time.

Ning Rongrong panted, her face flushed bright red.

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

Zhang Mo set down the bowls and looked at her.

"Said what?"

Ning Rongrong took a deep breath and finished her sentence:

"He said you have to take three strikes from him."

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

"Three strikes? That old man is quite something!" He slapped his thigh. "Taking three strikes from a Title Douluo—now that's an interesting test!"

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

Zhang Mo didn't speak; he just stood there, watching her.

She ran over and grabbed his sleeve.

"Don't go," she said. "Grandpa Sword's sword... it kills people."

Zhang Mo looked at her, silent for a few seconds, then asked:

"If he isn't satisfied, does that mean he won't let you stay?"

Ning Rongrong was stunned.

Zhang Mo said, "Three strikes in exchange for you staying. That's a good deal."

Ning Rongrong's eyes turned red.

"Are you stupid!" she shouted. "You'll die!"

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

"I won't."

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

Yang Wudi coughed from the side.

"Alright, alright, enough with the drama," he said. "If that old man wanted to kill, one strike yesterday would have been enough. Why wait until today?"

Ning Rongrong froze.

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

"He wants to test if this kid is worth it," he said. "If he takes the three strikes, he'll accept him. If he can't—"

He paused.

"He won't die even if he fails. He'll just be bedridden for a few months."

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

Zhang Mo was already walking toward the door.

She chased after him and grabbed his hand.

"I'm going with you."

Zhang Mo looked back at her.

Her eyes were red, but they were bright.

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

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

The three of them went downstairs.

In the alley, Chen Xin was still standing there. The morning light shone upon him, his white robes fluttering slightly.

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

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

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

"Did Rongrong tell you?"

Zhang Mo nodded.

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

He paused, looking at Ning Rongrong.

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

Ning Rongrong was stunned.

Chen Xin said, "I merely wanted to see if you are worth her staying for."

He reached out and gripped the hilt of the sword on his back.

The Seven Kill Sword left its sheath.

The blade was slender, silver-white as snow. Nine Spirit Rings rose from beneath his feet, revolving slowly around him.

That oppressive sensation returned.

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

Zhang Mo did not retreat.

He watched Chen Xin, waiting.

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

"First Sword."

He did not move.

But an invisible sword intent had already pierced toward him.

Zhang Mo's pupils constricted slightly.

He could not see the sword, but he could feel it. That sword intent was like a needle, stabbing straight at the center of his brow.

He wanted to dodge, but he could not.

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

BOOM—

His mind went blank.

When he regained his senses, he found himself kneeling on one knee, his forehead covered in sweat.

Ning Rongrong rushed over, trying to help him up.

He waved his hand and stood up on his own.

Chen Xin looked at him, a flicker of surprise flashing in his eyes.

"Not bad," he said. "To withstand my sword intent without any Spirit Power is no simple feat."

Zhang Mo panted, saying nothing.

Chen Xin said, "Second Sword."

This time, he truly moved.

With a light flick of the Seven Kill Sword, a streak of sword qi whistled forth.

The sword qi was too fast; it was invisible to the naked eye.

Zhang Mo only had time to turn his body—

The sword qi grazed his shoulder, tearing his clothes and leaving a deep mark on the wall behind him.

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

Ning Rongrong panicked and rushed forward to stand in front of him.

"Grandpa Sword! That's enough!"

Chen Xin looked at her, remaining silent.

Zhang Mo reached out and pulled her behind him.

"There is one more sword."

Ning Rongrong looked back at him, tears streaming down her face.

"You're insane!"

Zhang Mo ignored her and looked at Chen Xin.

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

The smile was brief, but genuine.

"Good," he said. "Third Sword."

He raised the Seven Kill Sword.

This time, the blade began to glow. Nine Spirit Rings lit up simultaneously, and the powerful surge of Spirit Power caused the surrounding air to solidify.

Ning Rongrong's expression changed.

She had seen this move before.

The seventh Spirit Skill of the Seven Kill Sword—Seven Kill True Body.

Grandpa Sword was playing for real.

She wanted to rush forward, but was held back by Yang Wudi.

"Don't go," Yang Wudi said, "let him carry it himself."

Ning Rongrong struggled, but she could not break free.

She could only watch that sword descend toward Zhang Mo.

The sword aura was like a rainbow.

Zhang Mo stood where he was, not dodging.

It was not that he did not want to dodge, but that he could not.

The pressure was too intense, so strong that he could not even move a muscle.

He could only watch that sword aura draw closer and closer—

Then, he raised his right hand.

The spirit bone on his right arm erupted with blinding golden light.

Triple Strength—Mammoth Power!

He punched toward the sword aura.

BOOM—

The deafening roar made one's ears go numb.

Dust billowed in the alley, obscuring everything from sight.

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

She saw Zhang Mo lying on the ground, covered in blood, his right hand a mangled mess of flesh and bone.

She knelt down and lifted him up.

"Zhang Mo! Zhang Mo, wake up!"

Zhang Mo did not respond.

Her tears dripped onto his face, mixing with the blood and streaming down.

Footsteps sounded from behind.

Chen Xin walked over and looked down at them.

He looked at Zhang Mo's right hand, at the shattered spirit bone, and at the bloodstains.

Then, he suddenly said:

"He caught it."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him, her face covered in tears.

Chen Xin crouched down and reached out to check Zhang Mo's breathing.

"He's still alive," he said, "just fainted."

He stood up and looked at Ning Rongrong.

"Rongrong, this kid isn't bad."

Ning Rongrong was stunned.

Chen Xin said, "For the Third Sword, I used one-tenth of my power. By all accounts, no one below the level of a Soul Douluo should be able to remain standing. Not only did he stand, but he also took the sword head-on with his fist."

He paused.

"It was worth it."

Ning Rongrong's tears welled up again.

She held Zhang Mo, crying and crying, until she suddenly laughed.

Laughing and laughing, she cried again.

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

"Old man," he said, "your three swords were ruthless enough."

Chen Xin glanced at him.

"Patriarch of the Breaking Clan, I will compensate you for that broken spear of yours."

Yang Wudi was taken aback, then smiled.

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

Chen Xin nodded and turned to walk away.

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

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

He left.

In the alley, only Ning Rongrong remained, holding Zhang Mo, with Yang Wudi standing to the side.

Sunlight shone down, bathing the two of them in its glow.

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

He saw Ning Rongrong's face, covered in tears.

"What are you crying for?" he said hoarsely. "I caught it."

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

"You scared me to death!"

Zhang Mo winced in pain, but the corners of his mouth curled upward.

Yang Wudi watched from the side and rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright," he said. "Let's talk about it back inside. Lying on the ground like this is a disgrace."

He bent down, hoisted Zhang Mo onto his shoulder, and walked toward the building.

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

Zhang Mo was being carried head-down, and blood was still dripping.

Yet, the corners of his mouth remained curled upward.

Because he had heard Chen Xin's final words.

"I acknowledge you."

When Zhang Mo woke up, it was already dark.

He opened his eyes and saw the familiar ceiling. The lights in the living room were off, and only the streetlamp light filtering in from outside dyed everything a dim yellow.

His right hand ached severely. He looked down and saw his entire hand wrapped in gauze like a rice dumpling; it throbbed with piercing pain whenever he moved.

He tried to wiggle his fingers.

They could still move.

He let out a sigh of relief.

"Awake?"

The voice came from nearby.

He turned his head and saw Ning Rongrong sitting on a chair beside him, holding a bowl, her eyes rimmed with red.

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

"A little past nine in the evening." Ning Rongrong set the bowl down and leaned in to look at him. "You've been unconscious for nearly twelve hours."

Zhang Mo grunted and tried to sit up.

Ning Rongrong pressed him back down.

"Don't move. Yang Wudi said your hand is fractured; you need to lie down."

Zhang Mo lay back and stared at the ceiling.

After a few seconds of silence, he suddenly asked:

"Where is your Grandpa Sword?"

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment, then said:

"Outside."

Zhang Mo turned to look at her.

Ning Rongrong lowered her head and whispered:

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

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

"Help me up."

Ning Rongrong grew anxious: "No! Your hand—"

"Help me up."

Ning Rongrong looked into his eyes, wanting 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 caught his breath.

"Let him come up," he said.

Ning Rongrong froze.

Zhang Mo looked at her.

"He's been waiting all day."

Ning Rongrong's eyes turned red again.

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

"Grandpa Sword—come on up—"

A series of footsteps echoed from downstairs.

A moment later, the door was pushed open.

Chen Xin walked in, stood at the threshold, and looked at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo looked back at him.

The two stared at each other for a few seconds.

Chen Xin suddenly smiled.

The smile was faint, but genuine.

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

Zhang Mo said, "I couldn't die even if I wanted to."

Chen Xin walked over and sat down by the bedside.

He looked at Zhang Mo's right hand, at the large bundle of gauze.

"That punch," he said, "I didn't expect it."

Zhang Mo didn't speak.

Chen Xin said, "Given your strength, surviving a direct hit from my sword is already a stroke of luck. Not only did you take it, but you punched back."

He paused.

"I have lived for over a hundred years, and I have never seen anyone like you."

Zhang Mo said, "I had no choice. If I didn't fight, I would have died."

Chen Xin was stunned for a moment, then laughed.

"Interesting."

Ning Rongrong stood to the side, looking from one to the other, not knowing what to say.

Yang Wudi poked his head out from the inner room, took a glance, and then retreated.

The room was quiet for a few seconds.

Chen Xin suddenly said:

"Rongrong, go outside for a moment."

Ning Rongrong froze.

"I need to have a word with this kid."

Ning Rongrong looked at him, then at Zhang Mo.

Zhang Mo nodded.

She walked out hesitantly, standing by the door without going far.

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

"That system of yours," he said, "let me see it."

Zhang Mo was taken aback, then activated the Boundary Eye. A purple light screen unfolded before them.

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

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

Zhang Mo said, "It should be from the God Realm."

Chen Xin nodded.

"Rongrong told me," he said, "that when two worlds collide, they must rely on bearing children to delay the end."

He looked at Zhang Mo.

"Do you know what this means?"

Zhang Mo said, "I do."

Chen Xin said, "She might never be able to go back."

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

"I know."

Chen Xin stared at him, his gaze sharp.

"You know, yet you let her stay?"

Zhang Mo said, "It was her own choice."

Chen Xin was stunned.

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

Chen Xin fell silent.

For a long, long time.

Then, he sighed.

"That girl Ning Rongrong has had a mind of her own since she was small," he said. "Once she sets her heart on something, ten oxen couldn't pull her back."

He looked at Zhang Mo.

"She has set her heart on you."

Zhang Mo did not speak.

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

"I have lived for so many years and seen many people," he said. "The greedy, the cowardly, the ruthless, the foolish. You are the first of your kind I have ever seen."

He turned around to face Zhang Mo.

"I do not know if you are worth Ning Rongrong staying for. But I do know that she chose this herself."

He walked back to the bedside and stood still.

"From today on, I acknowledge you."

Zhang Mo looked at him.

Chen Xin said, "It is not because you took my three sword strikes. It is 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 walk out.

He stopped at the door, and without looking back, said:

"Old Bone will be here in a couple of days. You will have to pass his test yourself."

He pushed the door open and left.

From outside the door came Ning Rongrong's voice:

"Grandpa Sword!"

"Hmm?"

"Are... are you leaving?"

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

The sound of footsteps gradually faded away.

Ning Rongrong pushed the door open and entered, her eyes red-rimmed.

She ran to the bedside and looked at Zhang Mo.

"What did he say?"

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

Ning Rongrong froze.

Then she smiled.

As she laughed, tears fell.

She lunged forward and hugged him.

"Are you in pain?"

Zhang Mo said, "I am."

She quickly let go and looked at his right hand.

"Then why did you let him come up!"

Zhang Mo said, "He had been waiting all day."

Ning Rongrong stared at him for a long time.

Then she lowered her head and whispered:

"Zhang Mo."

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

Zhang Mo was stunned for a moment.

She looked up, her eyes shining brightly.

"Thank you for taking those three sword strikes."

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

"It was only right."

Ning Rongrong smiled.

She stood up, walked to the doorway, and called out:

"Yang Wudi—Zhang Mo is awake—"

A commotion came from the inner room, and Yang Wudi rushed out, throwing on his clothes.

"Awake? Let me see."

He leaned in, staring at Zhang Mo's right hand for a few seconds.

"Not bad," he said. "The bone isn't broken, just cracked. It'll heal in a few days."

Zhang Mo nodded.

Yang Wudi stretched his back and let out a yawn.

"Alright, I'm going back to sleep." He walked toward the inner room, then turned back at the doorway. "Oh, right. That Strength Boost Right Arm Bone of yours shattered. A pity."

Zhang Mo looked down 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 watched him.

"Does it hurt?"

Zhang Mo said, "It's alright."

She reached out and lightly touched the edge of the gauze.

"I'll change your dressing."

Zhang Mo nodded.

She carefully unwrapped the gauze, revealing the red and swollen right hand beneath. The skin was torn, and the bone was vaguely visible.

Her eyes turned red again.

But she bit her lip, not letting the tears fall.

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

Her movements were very light, so light it was as if she were afraid of breaking something.

Zhang Mo looked at the top of her head.

She was looking down, applying the medicine with great focus. The stray hairs on her forehead hung down, obscuring half of her face.

He suddenly said:

"Rongrong."

"Hm?"

"When my hand is healed, I'll teach you how to practice the sword."

Ning Rongrong looked up at him.

He looked at her, his eyes very calm.

"You can't just take that Fish Gut Sword for nothing."

Ning Rongrong was stunned for a moment, then she smiled.

That smile was more beautiful than the moonlight outside the window.

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

Zhang Mo nodded.

Outside the window, moonlight spilled in, shining upon the two of them.

The clamor of the night market drifted from afar, and occasionally a vehicle drove by.

Everything was the same as usual.

But some things had already changed.