Dusk-colored mist drifted around the manor.
Lin Sheng carried the Black Sword and slowly made his way along the right side of the carriage road.
Every so often, his feet crunched over gravel and dried grass roots.
Leaves rustled in the wind on both sides of the road.
Lin Sheng glanced to either side. Dark woods stretched away in both directions, their black branches swaying as if something might rush out of the darkness at any moment.
Straight ahead, a lone lamppost stood at a Y-shaped fork in the road. A black oil lamp swayed from it.
Beneath the lamp, two shriveled, blackened corpses leaned back-to-back against the post, their heads lolling.
They wore dark clothes, and their faces were impossible to make out. Only their tangled white hair, like a clump of weeds, showed above them.
Lin Sheng paused, then approached slowly with his sword in hand.
The area around the lamppost was deserted. The wind howled.
The closer he got, the more inexplicably lonely he felt. It was like standing alone in the middle of an empty soccer field, with nothing around him.
"We're at least four or five hundred meters from the manor. I shouldn't run into the monster that killed me again, right?"
Lin Sheng knew his own limits. That monster's speed and strength were far beyond anything he could match.
Though he had gained some of Ravel's memories, his actual strength was still poor.
For one thing, his physical condition hadn't changed. His strength and speed were still the same as before.
For another, he had only gained fragments of Ravel's memories. He had learned just one thrusting technique, the most basic of all the fundamental moves.
"By Ravel's standards, I probably wouldn't even qualify as a proper trainee warrior." Lin Sheng smiled bitterly to himself.
But the thought that killing monsters might earn him more memory fragments filled him with anticipation.
Sword in hand, he cautiously inched closer.
He stopped less than a meter from the corpses.
Lin Sheng prodded one corpse's arm with the tip of his sword.
Thump.
The corpse toppled to the ground, and its head rolled off its neck. A dagger hidden in its arms was revealed.
"Dead for good?" Lin Sheng narrowed his eyes and nudged the dagger with his sword tip.
The dagger clattered out and dropped into the muddy ground nearby.
Hiss.
Suddenly, a familiar hissing sound came from Lin Sheng's right.
His eyes widened. He immediately turned toward the sound.
In the darkness, a monster with a Black Sword growing from its right arm limped slowly toward him.
A white headscarf was wrapped around its head, with spots of blood seeping through. Its exposed neck and arms were covered in festering pustules.
"Again." Lin Sheng tightened his grip on the Black Sword and focused on his opponent.
With Ravel's incomplete memories, he thought he could try facing the monster head-on this time.
"Surprise attacks won't solve anything. Sooner or later, I'll have to face this kind of situation." Lin Sheng steadied himself, gripped the sword with both hands, and slowly raised it beside his ear.
Hiss.
The Rotten Swordsman drew closer and closer.
Lin Sheng focused harder with every step it took.
Whoosh.
A gust of wind swept past.
In an instant, Lin Sheng swung down. The Black Sword cut through the night with a sharp whistle, slashing straight at the Rotten Swordsman's neck.
If the blow landed, it would be an instant kill. The Rotten Swordsman was strong and skilled with a sword, but its body was rotten and incredibly fragile. Once hit, it would be done for.
The Rotten Swordsman didn't just sit there and take it. It raised its Black Sword in an arc, knocking against Lin Sheng's blade.
Clang.
Lin Sheng's sword was knocked outward, but Ravel's combat memories kicked in.
He leaned to the right with the momentum, dodging the Rotten Swordsman's follow-up slash.
"Die!"
Lin Sheng gripped his sword with both hands and brought it down in a slashing follow-through, aiming to cut through the opponent's wrist.
Clang.
Another dull impact. The Rotten Swordsman blocked the strike again with the guard of its Black Sword.
They both stepped back.
Less than a second later, Lin Sheng lunged forward again. The Black Sword in his hand moved like a Black Snake, thrusting straight toward the Rotten Swordsman's chest.
Clang.
The move was blocked again.
Lin Sheng stepped back twice more.
The two faced each other once again, weapons raised.
That was the nature of Naxi Swordsmanship, an ancient sword art: timing, angle, speed, distance—all of it mattered. When both fighters were evenly matched in these respects, the fight ended up like this.
The repeated clashes rang out into the distance. Faint hissing sounds seemed to be drawing nearer from far away.
Lin Sheng kept fighting the Rotten Swordsman for a while longer. This opponent was nothing like Ravel.
Its attacks weren't very aggressive, but its defense was excellent. It had accurately blocked every one of Lin Sheng's attacks.
Huff. Huff. Huff.
Lin Sheng panted heavily. He was nearing his limit.
Even after several weeks of regular training, he was still, at heart, a high school student who rarely exercised.
Being able to hold his own against the Rotten Swordsman for this long was already remarkable.
Every time their Black Swords clashed, his arms went numb. He had to use all his strength just to keep the sword from being knocked out of his hands.
The Rotten Swordsman, on the other hand, wielded its sword with just one hand.
That meant there was a significant gap between them in strength, too.
"Now that's a fight!" Lin Sheng felt sweat trickling down his forehead and temples. His body was like a sputtering machine on the verge of breaking down, desperately gulping in fresh air.
By now, this dream felt almost indistinguishable from reality.
He could even feel the cold wind brushing against his skin, raising goose bumps.
"I have to finish this quickly! Otherwise, I'll have to retreat!" Having made up his mind, Lin Sheng watched the Rotten Swordsman closely while scanning the ground around him with the corner of his eye.
Soon, a crude plan took shape.
He lunged at it again, thrusting the Black Sword straight toward its chest.
The Rotten Swordsman swiftly blocked and counterattacked. They traded blows, gradually shifting their positions, until they reached a darker patch of ground.
Pfft!
Suddenly, Lin Sheng stepped back, turned, and ran.
The Rotten Swordsman froze for a moment, then immediately caught on and gave chase. But it didn't see the pointed stone sticking up from the ground in its path.
With a thump, the Rotten Swordsman tripped and lost its balance. It was just starting to recover when it saw a Black Sword bearing down on its head.
At some point, Lin Sheng had turned around. Gripping the Black Sword tightly with both hands, he brought it down with a savage slash.
Pfft!
In the darkness, the Rotten Swordsman's head was like a watermelon. The Black Sword sank into it, cutting a third of the way through before getting stuck.
Lin Sheng put all his strength into pressing down, but he still couldn't split the opponent in two.
"Everything they show us is a lie!" he gasped, drenched in sweat.
"People's skulls are so much harder than the rest of the body. Those scenes where one light swing splits someone in two are a complete joke."
He had used every ounce of his strength just to cut through a third of the way. He already felt that was an incredible strike.
The angle, strength, and speed had all been flawless. The Black Sword itself was exceptionally sharp, too.
And yet this was all he had to show for it.
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