Chapter 15

"When did this guy get in!?"

Lin Sheng stiffened all over, his back against the door and both hands gripping the sword hilt. A chill crept through him.

"No, wait! This is another one!"

He quickly realized that this Rotten Swordsman wasn't the same one as before.

Something had taken a bite out of the right arm that held its sword, leaving a large chunk of flesh missing. The distinguishing feature was obvious.

"This is bad."

He didn't want to die again.

He didn't want to go through those days of feeling dazed and miserable, with no energy for anything.

Hiss, hiss.

The thing drew closer and closer.

Lin Sheng could even clearly see the dense clusters of pustules bulging on its neck.

They looked like tiny blisters, swollen and packed together.

Lin Sheng gripped the hilt tightly, every muscle tensed as he stared at the thing.

Whoosh!

Suddenly, the Rotten Swordsman lunged forward. The blade on its right arm swept out in a swift, black arc, stabbing toward Lin Sheng's chest.

Aaah!!!

Lin Sheng screamed inwardly, raising his sword with both hands and swinging it forward.

The blade came crashing down from above, trying to block the attack.

Unfortunately, the two swords missed each other completely, each heading for its target.

Shhk!

Lin Sheng felt a sharp pain in his chest. His hands instantly went weak, and his sword, carried by its momentum, slammed into the Rotten Swordsman's left shoulder.

Thump.

The blade only chopped off a few scraps of skin and flesh.

Lin Sheng lowered his head in a daze and saw that his chest had already been pierced.

The black blade had sunk deep into his left chest, draining all his strength in an instant.

"Dead again."

His vision went black, and he lost consciousness.

After who knew how long, Lin Sheng slowly opened his eyes, still groggy.

He was still lying on his back in his own bed.

The sky outside was pale gray, and dawn was nearly breaking. The faint sound of a rooster crowing drifted over from somewhere in the distance.

"Dead again."

Lin Sheng reached out and touched the spot over his heart. A faint ache still lingered there.

"It felt just like I'd really been stabbed."

He slowly sat up in bed. The underwear he'd changed into only yesterday was soaked through again.

He got out of bed, quickly found a fresh set, and took it to the bathroom. There, he swiftly wiped the sweat from his body with hot water.

Then he changed into the clean underwear.

"I can't go on like this. I have to think of something." Lin Sheng sat down at his desk, pulled open the drawer again, and took out his translation notes to look them over.

The notes, written in Chinese characters, were neat and orderly. He figured no one else in this world could understand this writing.

It was the best way to keep them secret.

"I looked up some information online before, too. Those few diagrams and written explanations about swordsmanship seem to make sense. They're not just nonsense someone made up.

"But I've never learned any of this so-called swordsmanship. There's no way I dreamed up this information myself. It must have come from somewhere else!"

Lin Sheng was now a hundred percent certain.

"That dream is full of danger. Someone ordinary like me, with no way to protect myself, would be easy prey in there. Even fighting for my life, I could barely injure a crippled monster."

His gaze lingered on the notes and diagrams before him.

"To figure out the secret of the dream, I have to go out and explore. I need to record the information in these books while also exploring the area.

"But to go outside, I need to be able to protect myself at the very least! I can't even beat a crippled monster right now. I need to think of something."

Lin Sheng fell silent, but soon he had a plan.

"Since I have information about swordsmanship, I should first look around for a place where I can learn it. That way, I can verify whether this information is real and improve my ability to protect myself. After all, I had a Cross Sword in the dream."

Lin Sheng steadied himself and made up his mind.

Before his parents got up, he quickly ate breakfast and headed to school.

After his morning classes, Lin Sheng couldn't wait to leave campus and wander around Huaisha City.

The internet wasn't very advanced in those days. If you wanted to find a place to learn something, you had to look around yourself.

That went double for something as rare as a European longsword.

Fortunately, although Huaisha City, where Lin Sheng lived, was a small city, it was also a port with plenty of foreign trade. Many foreigners often came and went, which had also given rise to a whole range of related businesses.

Lin Sheng went straight to Foreigner Street, near the coast of Huaisha City.

It was an area where foreigners often came to live, shop, and spend their time.

Before long, he found what he was looking for.

And he found more than one place. There were three in all.

Two private clubs and one association.

The two private clubs charged such exorbitant membership fees that Lin Sheng ruled them out immediately.

That left only one club.

"It's a little run-down, but it's bound to be cheap."

Lin Sheng stood halfway down a quiet side street and looked up at a shop on the second floor.

An inconspicuous wooden sign hung there, bearing several lines of small text: Tengchong Fencing Club, Black Mud Street Neighborhood Office, Black Mud Street Carrier Pigeon Association.

The three lines were crammed together. It was obvious that all three organizations shared the same sign.

Below it was a grimy, battered stairwell. The wooden steps creaked under the feet of people going up and down.

Two shifty-looking young thugs squatted beside the stairwell, smoking and seemingly chatting.

Lin Sheng glanced down at his school uniform. He tightened his grip on his backpack and headed for the stairwell.

He went up the wooden stairs one step at a time until he reached the second floor.

On the wall, Lin Sheng saw three arrows drawn in red chalk, each pointing in a different direction.

The arrow for the Tengchong Fencing Club pointed to the right.

Following it, he turned into the second-floor corridor.

After walking a dozen or so meters, he stopped outside an open office.

A sign hung on the office door: Tengchong Fencing Hall.

The room was empty except for three long black desks pushed together to form one large table in a corner. Three people sat around it, each busy with something.

Knock, knock, knock.

Lin Sheng knocked on the door.

"Hello, is this the Tengchong Fencing Club?"

A young woman sitting closest to the door turned to look at him.

"You are?"

"I want to learn traditional Naxi Swordsmanship. Do you teach it here?" Lin Sheng asked.

"If you want to learn Naxi Swordsmanship, you've come to the right place." The young woman smiled. "We're the most professional nonprofit club for enthusiasts in all of Huaisha City."

"An enthusiasts' club?"

"It's just a club formed by people who share an interest," the young woman explained.

"Come in and have a chat. Not many people are interested in learning Naxi Swordsmanship these days. Boxing and mixed martial arts are more popular—combat sports that are more convenient.

"Traditional swordsmanship like Naxi Swordsmanship, which has been passed down since ancient times, requires you to get your own sword, which is quite a hassle. It's not very practical, either. Unless you're really passionate about it, it's hard to stick with the training."

The young woman smiled and pulled out a chair for Lin Sheng.

They sat down, and Lin Sheng looked around.

The office walls hadn't even been plastered. They were just bare concrete.

The chair beneath him wobbled, its joints a little loose.