No Talent, Hard as Climbing to Heaven!

Great Qian, Jiangnan Commandery, outskirts of Azure River County.

The Azure River cut through mountains and cliffs, surging onward in glittering waves.

The twenty-sixth day of the sixth month. The blazing sun was like a furnace, baking the air until it warped.

"Dripping Water Swordsmanship is Hidden Sword Manor's foundational sword art."

"It is also the best touchstone for selecting seeds with talent in the sword path."

"Watch carefully. How much you can comprehend depends on your talent."

More than a hundred young men and women in identical gray clothes and trousers had gathered in the vast training ground.

They silently watched the white-clad instructor demonstrate the swordsmanship before them.

Li Mu stood among them, constantly wiping away sweat as he forced his eyes wide open.

The white-clad instructor was tall, burly, and imposing, standing like a white bear. He looked cumbersome, yet he wielded his sword with the force of a whirlwind, its movements flowing like silk.

Sword shadows danced ahead while sweat poured down here.

Without a towel, Li Mu could only keep wiping himself with his hands.

His coarse gray hemp clothes were already drenched through, clinging to his skin with an irritating itch.

But he could no longer spare any attention for that.

Damn it, I can't understand any of this.

The sword light was a dazzling blur, while the neat bluestone slabs beneath their feet reflected a blinding golden glare.

Cicadas in the trees screamed themselves hoarse.

Li Mu grew increasingly agitated.

He could endure the thick, lingering stench of sweat around him, but he could not accept being so dull when faced with martial arts.

The sword light unleashed by the white-clad instructor suddenly became like a torrential downpour, vast and unstoppable.

Then it became like an unbroken curtain of rain, dense and impenetrable.

Not even half a move is sticking in my head... Could it be that I really have no talent...?

He glanced around.

Most of the sallow, skinny youths around him had blank looks in their eyes, clearly unable to understand either.

Only a handful wore delighted expressions.

Clang!

The sword flashed.

The white-clad instructor abruptly sheathed his sword, his voice like thunder. "Do you all understand?!"

No one dared answer.

Li Mu could barely recall a few movements, but they came in scattered fragments and did not resemble anything coherent.

As though he had expected this, the white-clad instructor smiled faintly.

"Martial training depends most on talent and natural aptitude.

"Nine parts are decreed by Heaven, while one part comes from hard work.

"Without talent and natural aptitude, even taking the first step is as hard as climbing to heaven."

Without talent, hard as climbing to heaven!

Those eight words struck everyone present like heavy blows.

The white-clad instructor stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping across one youthful face after another. It passed over Li Mu without pausing.

He continued, "In a moment, each of you will receive a sword manual. Take it back and study it properly.

"Starting tomorrow, you will work in the mornings and come here at this time in the afternoon to train for one hour.

"Dripping Water Swordsmanship has four levels: beginner, proficient, minor mastery, and major mastery.

"If you reach the beginner level within one month and cultivate the 'Rain Thorn' sword intent, it means you have potential! You may keep coming!

"Otherwise, do not come back. If you do not have that fate, then work obediently."

The white-clad instructor paused, then suddenly smiled.

"If you can reach proficiency within three months and pass the sparring assessment, you can wear clothes like mine!

"You will shed your slave status and become a household retainer!"

"One month to reach the beginner level? Three months to become proficient?"

Li Mu's heart trembled. Of course he wanted to achieve it, but from the look of things, the chances were slim...

Li Mu was not the only one. Most of them let out sighs of despair.

Too many people had failed to understand what they had seen. That meant their talent was lacking. They yearned for success, yet had no confidence.

They were all sword-wiping slaves of Myriad Swords Tower.

If they could not seize this opportunity, how could they ever turn their lives around?

I have nothing but my slave status. What a start... Li Mu took a deep breath.

Three days earlier.

He had been awakened by a cold wind and found himself lying at the gates of Hidden Sword Manor. That was when he realized he had transmigrated.

His lips were cracked, and his abdomen twisted with pain.

The original owner of this body had walked an unknown distance, his feet covered in bloody blisters. With no food or water, he had literally died of exhaustion.

When Li Mu woke, he looked behind him. Darkness stretched in every direction, and wolf howls rose all around.

Gritting his teeth, he crawled in with the crowd, sold himself into slavery, and barely survived.

Parents? Home? They had long been gone.

For the past three years, natural disasters had never ceased, and harsh taxes had never stopped. In many villages, people either died or fled.

In the original owner's memories, the roads of famine were littered with corpses.

Being able to sell oneself and stay alive was already considered fortunate.

In this world, even being a slave was something others envied!

Though Li Mu had only been in Great Qian for a few days, he already knew that its social hierarchy was strict, like a massive net shrouding everyone beneath it.

Take Jiangnan Commandery and Azure River County, for example.

Inside and outside the city were several intertwined powers: the authorities, aristocratic families, mountain bandits, wealthy gentry... They controlled every trade and industry along the Azure River.

There was no need to speak of distant matters.

Hidden Sword Manor was a colossal force that had stood outside Azure River City for thirty years, firmly controlling the monopoly on forging swords and weapons.

Its walls stood more than ten feet high, guarded and patrolled day and night. It was practically a small city.

And Hidden Sword Manor bore the surname Ye.

Martial arts flourished in Great Qian. The Grand Manor Lord, Ye Ying, ranked among the top five experts in all of Azure River County.

With disciples recruited and household retainers trained, its foundations were unimaginably deep.

No passerby even dared casually beat a dog belonging to Hidden Sword Manor to death.

The Ye family had been squeezed out of the inner city in its early years, but it had now become the most dazzling of the rising aristocratic families.

Strength was the foundation of survival in this world.

From what he had seen and heard these past few days, Li Mu had come to understand that truth deeply.

Being assigned to Sword-Wiping Tower was already a stroke of good fortune.

If he had been assigned to mine ore in the mining district or haul iron in Forging Sword Tower, working day and night in places that consumed brute strength...

This frail body would never have endured it!

The food given to slaves was only enough to keep them from dying.

Two meals of gruel a day and two coarse buns. Pickled vegetables and minced meat were only available on festivals, or when the overseer was in a good mood.

And whenever the overseer was in a bad mood or took a dislike to someone, a single word was enough to have them sent to the mines.

Having my fate completely in someone else's hands really gives me no sense of security...

No matter what, he had to find a way to learn this swordsmanship.

Li Mu's gaze slowly hardened.

He did not seek peerless martial arts. He only wanted stability.

Breaking free from slave status and becoming a household retainer was the first step he had to take.

"Woodenhead, here. You have to return it in a month."

The bald youth standing in front of Li Mu turned around and stuffed a sword manual into his hands.

Li Mu glanced at it. Dripping Water Swordsmanship was written on the cover, and the paper was somewhat worn.

Some of the writing had already blurred. It was impossible to tell how many people had thumbed through it before.

Everyone else had one in their hands as well.

"Woodenhead, how much did you understand when you watched the sword demonstration just now?"

The little bald youth's Dharma name was Hui Zhen. He lived across from Li Mu, so the two were fairly familiar with each other.

He had heard that Hui Zhen had once been a little monk at a remote temple. Later, mountain bandits had burned the temple down, killing his master. Hui Zhen had escaped by luck.

The Buddha had not manifested to save the suffering, so Hui Zhen could only cast aside his monk's robes and kneel to become a slave.

"Eight of my nine openings are clear," Li Mu said with a bitter laugh.

Hui Zhen fingered a string of charred prayer beads and sighed softly. "Looks like neither of us has much talent for swordsmanship, but the instructor only gave us one month..."

"Let's go back to work first."

Li Mu suppressed the anxiety in his heart and merged into the crowd returning to Myriad Swords Tower.

...Myriad Swords Tower.

The nine-story building had more than a hundred black iron sword racks on every floor. The swords stored on them came in all styles: ancient swords, famous swords, battle swords...

Tens of thousands of sharp metal swords converged into a chilling sword intent that shook the soul.

The lights in the tower never went out, and footsteps never ceased.

Some people lit lamps, some carried swords to new positions, some took swords down to wipe them, and some hauled cart after cart of sword cases in for handover.

On the seventh floor, before sword rack number ninety-six.

A bronze oil lamp cast mottled sword shadows, stretching the youth's shadow long across the ground.

Li Mu sat cross-legged on the floor, using a piece of brown chamois cloth dipped in spirit spring water to wipe a flexible sword.

The cloth passed over the sword's ridge, wiping away rust spots and accumulated dust.

It revealed the two ancient engraved characters: "Qingfu."

"Qingfu Sword. Three feet two inches long, weighing seven catties and four liang. The blade was forged from fused cold iron and spirit bronze, giving it a flexible yet resilient texture..."

Li Mu softly recited the information on the sword. It came from the Hidden Sword Catalogue, a required text for sword-wiping slaves before beginning work.

The original owner had attended elementary schooling in his village and was naturally clever, knowing quite a few characters. This saved Li Mu a great deal of trouble.

Unlike some sword-wiping slaves who had never learned to read and had to ask others for guidance.

Li Mu knew the procedures well, and his movements were practiced. The blade gradually took on a cold, clear sheen.

The patterns on it became incomparably distinct, and even the tiny dust trapped within the engraved letters was gone.

The areas soaked in spirit spring water also dried completely, leaving behind no trace of water stains.

Li Mu nodded slightly, satisfaction showing on his face as he sheathed the sword.

"Seventy-eight... Almost there."

Wiping one hundred swords every day was his work.

He pressed his fingerprint onto the maintenance record beneath the sword hilt.

Then he took out the next sword from the rack and repeated the wiping process.

By the time the sunset at the window had nearly faded, three bells rang out, and Li Mu had just finished his work.

The tower erupted into a stampede as a group of sword-wiping slaves raced toward the shed eight hundred paces away.

They squeezed into the crowd and collected their thin porridge and buns.

Li Mu found a corner and sat down.

He pulled the sword manual from his chest.

He ate while reading. Before long, he furrowed his brow.

Why were the words and moves in this sword manual as hard as these coarse buns?

I refuse to believe this. Li Mu steeled himself.

...Seven days later.

The sunset beyond the window slowly sank.

Li Mu sat cross-legged before a sword rack, forcefully wiping a heavy sword in his arms, his expression extremely gloomy.

So many days had passed.

Yet he had not even mastered the first move, "Dripping Water Pierces Stone"!

He had tried every method and even sought advice from those who had grasped it quickly.

But sword practice was not something one could learn just because someone gave a few pointers.

I really have no talent.

Even when I ask others for advice, I can barely understand them.

Without talent, was it truly impossible?

Li Mu felt lost.

He mechanically completed the process, sheathed the sword, and finished his hundred swords for the day.

This was also the thousandth sword he had wiped.

Yet his heart was filled with anxiety, and he felt no joy whatsoever.

As he considered what to do in the future and prepared to rise—

—Hummm!!!

A roaring sword cry suddenly erupted from the depths of Li Mu's mind.

Then, a vast and ethereal voice abruptly rang beside his ears:

'The Great Dao is fifty; Heaven's workings reveal forty-nine, while one escapes...'

'Observe a thousand swords, and only then know the vessel...'

A talisman shaped like a tiny sword slowly emerged.