Even Sword Douluo Gets Hit

Even Sword Douluo Gets Hit

The moment Chen Xin sat down, Grand Dao Internet Cafe became so quiet it hardly seemed like an internet cafe. Even Ma Hongjun stopped rubbing his hands together. Everyone knew who he was: Chen Xin of the Seven Killing Sword, a Titled Douluo ranked among the best. Tang San had died, Xiao Wu had died, Yan had died, and Ma Hongjun had died. At most, everyone had laughed a little. They were young people entering the game for the first time; getting taught a lesson by Little Demons was nothing shameful.

But Chen Xin was different. If even he got pinned down and beaten by the Little Demons of Black Wind Mountain, then this game was getting far too bold. Ning Rongrong stood beside Ning Fengzhi, her fingers clutching her sleeve. She wanted to watch, yet did not quite dare to. Lin Chuan pushed the registration plaque forward.

"Standard experience. Billed by the hour. The shop rules remain the same. Dying in the game will not harm reality."

Chen Xin nodded.

"Begin."

The spectator screen lit up.

The old path of Black Wind Mountain. A slope of shattered stones, weeds whipping wildly in the wind. On-screen, Chen Xin had lost his white robes and sword, as well as the overwhelming presence of a Titled Douluo that made people struggle to breathe. Coarse clothes. A broken wooden stick. His hair was still white, and his back remained straight. Yet seeing him like this made everyone in the shop feel uneasy. They had seen what Chen Xin was like outside.

Even without drawing his sword, merely standing there made him seem like a blade hidden in its sheath. Everyone knew that sheath held an edge. But the Chen Xin on the screen had no edge at all. The wooden stick in his hand was even bent at one end. Ma Hongjun muttered softly.

"If that were me, I'd definitely curse first."

Oscar looked at him from beside him.

"And after you curse, the Little Demons won't Scratch you?"

"Probably not."

Ma Hongjun shrank his neck.

"But I'd feel better after cursing."

Ning Rongrong did not laugh.

She stared at the screen, not daring to blink. The next moment, a notification popped up beside it.

[High-level Soul Master detected.]

[Synchronization suppression intensified.]

[Martial Soul, Spirit Rings, Soul Power, physical strength, and projected will have all been locked.]

[Please complete the trial with your current identity.]

Yan's eyelids twitched.

"Even physical strength is locked?"

He had been suppressed before too. But at least he had retained his own body. With this, even the bodily instincts Chen Xin had cultivated over decades had been drastically weakened. Yue Guan stood in the corner, smiling faintly.

"Interesting."

The first Little Demon sprang out from below the slope. Chen Xin struck with startling speed. The wooden stick swept horizontally. That blow looked far too much like a sword strike. If he had been holding the Seven Killing Sword, that Little Demon would not even have had the right to pounce at him. But he was not holding a sword. He held a wooden stick. It was light and unsteady, its landing point vague. There was no blade, nor any sword aura. The Little Demon ducked low and slipped past, the stick grazing its back fur.

The next instant, claws raked across Chen Xin's arm. His health bar dropped by a chunk.

"Hiss."

A chorus of sharp breaths rose in the shop. Ning Rongrong's face went pale at once.

"Grandpa Sword!"

Chen Xin did not turn back.

His second strike rose.

It was still a sword technique.

A throat strike.

In the past, that move would have been flawlessly clean. But the Little Demon tilted its head, and its claws came down again. Chen Xin took another hit on the shoulder. Yue Guan finally laughed aloud.

"A Sword Douluo using a wooden stick really is something new."

The words were not particularly harsh.

Yet they sounded grating in the shop. Ning Rongrong abruptly turned around.

"Senior Chrysanthemum Douluo."

Her voice was quiet.

But she bit down hard on the word "Senior." Yue Guan's smile did not change.

"What? Does the little girl feel sorry for him?"

Ning Rongrong opened her mouth, ready to retort. Ning Fengzhi gently lifted a hand and stopped her.

"Watch the screen."

Ning Rongrong bit her lip and turned back. She understood what her father meant. In this shop, arguing was useless. The screen would speak for itself. The young Soul Masters watching all looked at the screen differently now. So even a Titled Douluo, stripped of his Martial Soul and Soul Power, could be forced back by Scratch from the Little Demons. Just as that thought emerged, Chen Xin on the screen suddenly stopped. The third time he raised his hand, his wrist did not immediately slash down. Ning Fengzhi understood. Chen Xin was restraining himself. Restraining the sword path he had walked all his life. A wooden stick was not a sword.

An ordinary body could not support a Titled Douluo's fighting style either. Chen Xin retreated half a step. The Little Demon pounced and missed. His heel stepped on loose stone, making his body sway. Instead of forcing himself steady, he borrowed that swaying momentum and swung the wooden stick upward from below. Bang! It struck the Little Demon behind the knee, knocking its body sideways. Chen Xin did not go for its throat. He thrust the stick forward, drove it into the creature's chest, rammed it with his shoulder, then followed up with another blow.

The first Little Demon fell. The shop fell silent for half a breath. It was only a Little Demon, the most ordinary kind on Black Wind Mountain's old path. Yet when it fell, those who had wanted to laugh could not laugh anymore. Tang San said quietly, "He isn't using sword techniques anymore." Grandmaster's eyes lit up.

"That's right. He's learning again."

"Learning again?"

Ma Hongjun froze.

"Even Sword Douluo has to learn again?"

Grandmaster watched the screen without looking away.

"The stronger a person is, the harder it is for him to learn again."

"Why?"

"Because they've won too many times."

Grandmaster's voice was very soft.

"After winning too much, they come to believe their way must be right. But the cruelest part of this game is that it takes that way from you first, then asks what you have left."

Ma Hongjun shuddered. He suddenly thought of his fire. If one day his fire was taken away too, leaving him as nothing but a fat man with a wooden stick, what would he have left? The thought had barely surfaced before he hurriedly shook his head. What bad luck. But Chen Xin on the screen was already doing exactly that. Chen Xin lowered his head and looked at the wooden stick.

The second Little Demon appeared. This time, he did not rush to attack. He watched its shoulders. Its knees. The brief pause before its feet stepped onto the loose stones. The Little Demon pounced. Chen Xin sidestepped, swept the stick at its wrist, slammed his shoulder into it, then brought the stick down from behind. His health bar only fell a little. The third and fourth Little Demons came one after another. Did Chen Xin look miserable? He did. Once, his wooden stick was knocked aside, and he even rolled through the mud, dust clinging to his white hair. But every time he rolled, his next strike became a little more accurate.

Every time he took a Scratch, his next retreat became a little steadier. The smile on Yue Guan's face slowly faded. Yan fell silent as well. Ning Rongrong's grip on her sleeve loosened slightly. The system offered no grand notification in the corner of the screen. No "Sword Douluo Has Successfully Adapted." No "A Strong Expert Has Attained Enlightenment." There was only Chen Xin's health bar, and one Little Demon corpse after another.

Yet the more they watched, the quieter the shop became. They saw Chen Xin get hit by Scratch. They also saw that next time, he would no longer be hit by Scratch in the same place. That was more frightening than clearing the field with one ultimate move. They could not learn to clear the field with an ultimate move. But everyone could understand the changes Chen Xin had earned, blow by blow. And because they understood, it hurt even more. Ning Rongrong finally understood. The game had not spared Grandpa Sword's pride. But the less it did, the more clearly it showed what the Sword Douluo truly had left after losing the Seven Killing Sword. On another spectator screen nearby, Shrek's four-person cooperative trial continued.

The Incense Lamp swayed violently in Ning Rongrong's hand. On-screen, Tang San suddenly stopped walking. Xiao Wu asked, "Why did you stop?" Tang San stared at the grass ahead.

"Listen to the wind."

The sounds of wind from the two screens blended together. No one in the shop laughed anymore. Lin Chuan leaned behind the counter, silently watching both screens. On one side, a Titled Douluo was being forced to learn how to use a wooden stick from the beginning. On the other, Shrek's four were beginning to learn how to listen to a lamp. Grand Dao Internet Cafe's night session was livelier than the daytime. But the liveliest thing was not the noise. It was the thoughts beginning to emerge in everyone's hearts. Assault-type Soul Masters wondered whether they could survive without Soul Power.

Support-type Soul Masters wondered where they should stand if no one protected them. Fire type Soul Masters wondered whether fire could still be called fire if it could not be freely unleashed. Lin Chuan glanced at the time plaque. The billing for tonight was secure. Meanwhile, Chen Xin on the screen had already gripped his wooden stick and headed toward the next stretch of mountain road. Ning Fengzhi suddenly said softly, "Uncle Sword has not lost out in this round." Ning Rongrong paused.

"But Grandpa Sword hasn't even reached the White-Clothed Scholar yet."

Ning Fengzhi watched the screen.

"Who says you have to meet the White-Clothed Scholar for it to count as gaining something?"

The places where Chen Xin had been hit by Scratch from the Little Demons were still bleeding. Yet his steps were far steadier than when he had first entered. Ning Rongrong slowly understood. Sometimes, what truly mattered was not how far you got. It was that the next time you walked the same road, you would no longer fall in the same way.