Stones from Other Hills Can Polish Jade

The wrestling techniques were far more effective than Du Chengfeng had expected.

At first, Du Chengfeng had thought the wrestling techniques he had gained from that axe's memories were nothing more than a simple sport. After all, in this world where everyone could carry weapons when they went out, unarmed throws and takedowns seemed rather useless.

I mean, while he was still looking for a chance to grab hold of his opponent, the other side would already be swinging a blade at him. A blade was longer than an arm—wouldn't he be certain to get cut?

But to Du Chengfeng's surprise, the answer was: not necessarily.

Even among wrestlers, there were those above and below.

An ordinary wrestler naturally could not stand against weapons. Whether a sharp edge chopped or stabbed, even a mere scratch would draw blood from a body of flesh.

But Du Chengfeng's wrestling techniques came from the two brothers, Hexi Xuan and Hexi Qing.

He knew Hexi Xuan. Though Du Chengfeng had cut down that armored Hu general with a single stroke, the man's broad shoulders, powerful waist, and imposing frame beneath iron armor—as well as the savage strength of his axe blow that had shattered the fort gate—had left a deep impression on him. Such a powerfully built warrior was naturally a master in the wrestling ring; who knew how many heroes he had sent flying with his raw strength?

But stronger still was Hexi Qing.

He was a humanoid monster who had been able to wield a great axe and kill a giant bear in childhood, his understanding of timing and force already honed to perfection. If the infinitely strong Hexi Xuan was an insurmountable mountain in the wrestling ring, then his elder brother Hexi Qing was the vast sky, higher and farther than any mountain.

In those memories, Hexi Xuan would seek out his elder brother for wrestling matches in his spare time. Yet that mountain no one could climb in the wrestling ring had never lasted into a second round.

Hexi Qing was strong.

"If Hexi Qing had faced that thrown spear just now, what would have happened?"

Du Chengfeng could not help sinking into thought.

A moment later, he had his answer.

If it had been Hexi Qing, the first thrown spear would never have hit the ground.

At a distance of merely three zhang, Yang Sanlang standing at the gate would have been killed within a single breath by the spear he himself had thrown.

Yet if it had been Du Chengfeng, without relying on that great saber, even with identical techniques and nearly identical reactions and experience, he still could not counterattack in an instant. He had even let Yang Sanlang use all five of his thrown spears.

That was the gap.

The gap between himself and Hexi Qing.

"What a... monster."

Thinking of this, Du Chengfeng could not help sighing.

Could an ordinary man like him truly possess the strength to fight a humanoid monster who had slain a giant bear while still young?

Perhaps he could.

"Perhaps it can be done."

With that thought, Du Chengfeng raised his head and looked at the pile of weapons in the courtyard.

More than two hundred weapons taken from the Hu.

Over sixty weapons from the young and able-bodied men of Yang Family Fort.

One Yang Clan Heirloom Saber.

And at his feet, a two-handed great axe engraved with ancient patterns.

This was all he had at present. The experience and wisdom attached to more than two hundred and sixty weapons—people said three cobblers with their wits combined could match Zhuge Liang. Then, after gathering these two hundred and sixty-odd portions of wisdom, could he fight Hexi Qing?

Du Chengfeng did not know, but he wanted to try.

To protect this hard-won life of his.

And so, he did not sleep all night.

The next morning, Yang Xuan brought several clansmen to knock on the gate of Du Chengfeng's small courtyard. Those young clansmen carried gifts, several large chests packed to the brim.

They had clearly come to apologize. Yang Xuan had already learned what Yang Sanlang had done the previous night. Faced with the trouble caused by his troublesome nephew, he could only send someone to carry Yang Sanlang back first, then bring gifts to offer an apology.

Even if he had to throw away his old face, he had to smooth this matter over.

Yang Xuan had made up his mind.

But when he pushed open the battered gate of the small courtyard, ready to speak the polished words he had prepared through half the night, the words that leapt to his lips caught in his throat.

Because he saw blades.

Blades covering the ground.

The rising morning sun shone upon those keen edges. The sunlight should have been warm, yet after reflecting off the blades, it held only a chilling gloom.

For a time, Yang Xuan and the Yang Clan members did not even dare open their eyes.

Though these blades were merely planted at an angle in the ground alongside the spears and lances, the weapons still seemed ready to swing into motion the next instant, hacking them apart and piercing them through.

But in the blink of an eye, that terror of weapons pressed against their bodies vanished.

As though it had all been an illusion.

"This is..."

The Yang Clan members carrying the gifts could not help turning to look at Yang Xuan.

They all knew very well that what they had felt just now had been no illusion.

"Do not panic. These weapons have all been sharpened."

Shaking his head, Yang Xuan instinctively picked up a curved saber planted not far from his feet.

The crudely made saber glinted with cold light, as though it would kill and spill blood the next instant. Yet when Yang Xuan held it in his hand, he felt no urge to take life.

A blade was a blade, nothing more than a piece of sharpened iron. It lay quietly in his hand now, as though it had fallen asleep.

"He is someone who can command the baleful aura of weapons..."

Yang Xuan carefully planted the curved saber back into the ground, not daring to touch it any more than necessary.

At that moment, Yang Xuan became even more certain that his decision had been correct. Though it might damage the Yang Clan's face, compared to a powerful man capable of commanding the baleful aura of weapons, that vague and intangible face was the least important thing.

He had to find a way to make the man stay in Yang Family Fort. Even if they truly had to worship him as an ancestor, it would not matter.

"Prepare more gifts, and hurry. These offerings are too meager... What are you staring at me for? You do not know how much to bring? Then bring them with the attitude of making ancestral sacrifices!"

After giving these instructions to the young clansmen beside him, Yang Xuan stepped forward respectfully.

Though he had said they should show the attitude of making ancestral sacrifices, the closer he drew to that battered main hall, the stronger the subtle reverence in his heart became.

Especially when he pushed open the broken door of the hall before him, he even had the illusion that he was opening the gates of the ancestral shrine.

And the figure sitting beside the grinding stone inside the hall, in his daze, seemed to take on a trace of the Yang Clan's ancestors.

Until the other man spoke.

"Damn it, how am I supposed to grind this thing?"

Cursing under his breath, Du Chengfeng tossed the mace in his hand aside.

Then he raised his head and looked at Yang Xuan at the door.

"You came at just the right time."

As he spoke, Du Chengfeng raised a hand and pointed at the weapons scattered all over the courtyard.

"Too few. There are still too few of these things."

"More. I need more."

Thanks to Dreams of Writing for the recommendation vote, and thanks everyone for your encouragement and support. Thank you all.