Gaining the Sword

Chapter 10: Obtaining the Sword

Moonlight like water.

The Listening to Waves Courtyard blazed with light, bright as day.

Beneath a plum tree on the western side of the courtyard, a sword flashed again and again.

After more than a dozen flashes, the long sword returned to Chu Zhiyuan's sheath—he had finished executing the Great Avalanche Sword Art.

Immediately, the Yongquan acupoints in the soles of his feet drank like a whale, Primal Qi surging upward to fill his Dantian.

Then he assumed a strange stance beneath the tree: legs slightly bent, left hand drawn in and right hand pressing down, as if embracing something.

This was the Dragon Subduing Stance.

Using the Dragon Subduing Stance to circulate the Dragon Transformation Technique doubled the training effect.

A quarter of an hour later, after the meridians had consumed nearly ninety percent of the energy in his Dantian, he once again activated the Earthly Yuan Art. The Yongquan points at his feet inhaled Primal Qi from the earth like a whale, refilling his Dantian.

Then he continued standing in the Dragon Subduing Stance, circulating the Dragon Transformation Technique.

After an hour, he felt drowsy.

So he activated the Heavenly Yuan Art.

Threads of cool, refreshing energy descended from the heavens, falling into his Baihui Acupoint. His mind felt as if plunged into an icy spring—instantly refreshed, all drowsiness dispelled, like waking from a deep sleep.

Clear-headed and invigorated, he resumed the Dragon Subduing Stance and the Dragon Transformation Technique.

Great Avalanche Sword Art → Earthly Yuan Art → Dragon Transformation Technique → Earthly Yuan Art → Great Avalanche Sword Art → Heavenly Yuan Art.

Round and round, cycle after cycle.

Before he knew it, the first light of dawn crept in.

He had trained all night, yet he was radiant and energetic, without a trace of fatigue.

This single night of relentless training surpassed ten ordinary days of hard practice.

The body possesses an instinct for self-healing and restoring balance—like recovering from injury, or the rebound effect of losing weight.

Most of the time, this is a good thing. But everything has two sides, and sometimes it is not so beneficial.

For a Martial Artist, the ability to heal and restore balance allows recovery from injury, but at the same time, it is the greatest obstacle in cultivation.

It makes the body like a spring or rubber, resisting external changes imposed upon it.

Normal training requires rest—half a day of practice demands half a day of rest.

During that half-day of rest, the body's self-healing and balancing abilities erode most of the gains from training, leaving barely one or two parts out of ten.

But by training nonstop through the night in one continuous push, he suppressed the rebound of the body's self-healing and balancing abilities, preserving far more of his cultivation results.

Breaking through to rebuild—by leveraging the body's self-healing and recovery abilities to strengthen it further—was a kind of "fooling heaven and crossing the sea," a shortcut.

Thus, his single night of uninterrupted cultivation surpassed ten days of ordinary training.

He felt that at this rate, he would master the first layer of the Dragon Transformation Technique in just one month. Then he could begin training the Qi Washing Art and the Dragon Binding Rope.

The Qi Washing Art and the Dragon Binding Rope were intricate but easy to master—no challenge for him. In the end, he would achieve the Jade Lock Golden Pass Technique, break through the Three Passes in one go, and step into the Innate Realm.

As his four maidservants attended to his breakfast, Zou Fang quietly handed him a small booklet, then retreated without a sound.

After finishing his meal, Chu Zhiyuan walked out while flipping through the booklet.

When he finished reading, he handed it directly back to Zou Fang.

Zou Fang gently rubbed her palms together, and the booklet instantly turned to powder, scattering into the soil between the cracks of the blue bricks.

Chu Zhiyuan arrived at the estate's main gate.

The first light of dawn was just breaking; lanterns still glowed. The street was quiet, with distant sounds of bustle drifting over from afar.

Jade Capital was a city that never slept—crowded and lively both day and night.

Guo Chi led eight Xiantian Masters, and Feng Xi silently followed along with them, all guarding Chu Zhiyuan as he walked forward.

Chu Zhiyuan smiled at Feng Xi. "No wonder he's so confident. So this Central Division Master is actually a direct disciple of the White Cloud Sword Palace's Palace Master."

Feng Xi said, "Division Chief Jiang is a personal disciple of Grandmaster Ye Meng Huan. He is destined to become a Grandmaster as well."

"Ah... a Grandmaster's disciple. I suppose I'm also a Grandmaster's disciple," Chu Zhiyuan remarked.

Feng Xi smiled. "Grandmaster Ye has only this one personal disciple. He is the future Palace Master of White Cloud Sword Palace—now he can be called the Young Palace Master."

Chu Zhiyuan nodded.

Chu Qingfeng was responsible for teaching them—the princes and young masters—but his relationship with them was different from that of a master in a martial sect.

In a martial sect, the bond between master and disciple surpasses that of father and son. But Chu Qingfeng's relationship with these princes and young masters was far less intimate.

"Young Master, this servant will go urge them again today."

"No rush." Chu Zhiyuan shook his head. "He's deliberately keeping his distance to avoid suspicion. Besides, pushing too often only invites ridicule and makes us look weak."

Prince Qing's Estate had always been a cold and quiet place, with no visitors calling—all because the situation remained unclear.

After all, he had been sealed away for thirty years, like a convict just released from prison—everyone would be wary, and rash contact might invite trouble. Better to avoid him if possible.

Feng Xi went to request an audience, and the Central Division Master surely knew of it. Saying that a formal visiting card needed to be submitted in advance was both proper procedure and an excuse to refuse.

Prince Qing's Estate was a prince's residence; under normal circumstances, exceptions could be made to jump the queue—that was the privilege of the imperial clan.

For an ordinary official, even if they didn't want to meet, they'd have to. But this Central Division Master had enough confidence to refuse outright.

If he sent Feng Xi again, it would come across as pestering. Even if he barely managed to see the Central Division Master, it would still cost Prince Qing's Estate face.

Face sometimes didn't matter much, but other times it mattered greatly—especially for a prince's estate, where it represented dignity, status, and reputation.

If their reputation soured, they would be completely isolated, making their circumstances even harder than they already were.

In the morning light, only two people stood motionless in the Violet Sun Stance on the training ground.

One was burly and robust, the other tall and straight.

The sun had just risen, and the purple qi came from the east—the best time to cultivate the Lesser Violet Sun Technique.

Chu Zhiyuan approached the two, clasped his fists, and smiled: "Ninth Brother, Tenth Brother, you're up early."

The two opened their eyes, clasped their fists, and called out, "Fourth Brother."

Chu Zhiyuan could tell that this "Fourth Brother" was sincere, no longer reluctant.

Such was the way of the world—the strong were honored.

He smiled and said, "Ninth Brother, Tenth Brother, do you know the Central Division Master of the Town Martial Division?"

"Division Chief Jiang?" Chu Zhiting nodded. "Fourth Brother hasn't met this Division Chief Jiang yet, has he?"

"Unfortunately, I've never had the chance."

"This Division Chief Jiang is the sole personal disciple of Grandmaster Ye Meng Huan, destined to become a Grandmaster himself."

"Ninth Brother has met him?"

"Twice. A decent person, quite amiable."

"Heh!"

The two turned their heads.

Chu Zhichuan's handsome face was just finishing its smirk.

"Tenth Son, what are you laughing at?"

"I'm laughing at Ninth Brother's naivety." Chu Zhichuan sneered. "Amiable? You actually think Jiang Qiuge is amiable? Hah!"

Chu Zhiting frowned.

Chu Zhichuan snorted. "This Division Chief Jiang is extremely arrogant, never once taking us seriously. That so-called amiability is just a mask he wears."

Chu Zhiting said, "Tenth Brother, you're too harsh. Judge by deeds, not intentions—no matter what he thinks, just look at what he does."

"His arrogance is obvious at a single glance, Ninth Brother, you're pretty dense!" Chu Zhichuan sneered again. "So what if he's the future Palace Lord of White Cloud Sword Palace? So what if he's a Grandmaster? What's there to be proud of? We are the Imperial Grandfather's direct grandsons, of the Chu bloodline!"

Chu Zhiting shook his head. "A Grandmaster has the right to be proud."

Chu Zhiyuan said, "Tenth Brother, aside from his arrogance, what is Division Chief Jiang's character like?"

"...No real flaws. Arrogant, hypocritical, but he disguises it well—nothing to pick at." Chu Zhichuan snorted.

Chu Zhiyuan slowly nodded.

If that was the case, then this Division Chief Jiang would probably agree to see him, not outright refuse to give Prince Qing's Estate face, and would maintain surface respect.

As the three talked, others gradually arrived. After exchanging greetings, they took their stances and began practicing the Lesser Violet Sun Technique.

The last to arrive was the Eighteenth Prince, Chu Mingxuan, with a saber on his left waist and a sword on his right.

He walked up to Chu Zhiyuan, unfastened the long sword from his waist—scabbard and all—and tossed it over. "Fourth Son, it's yours!"

"Thank you, Eighteenth Uncle."

Chu Zhiyuan caught it with a smile and looked down to examine the long sword.

The Dark Green Scabbard was covered in vine-like patterns, as if countless tendrils were wrapped around it, exuding an ancient, weathered aura.

The Silver Hilt bore faint Cloud Patterns, silver light flowing through it, hinting at quiet elegance.

He slowly drew the sword. The blade was bright as autumn water, with wisps of cold light flickering along the edge, a chill rapidly spreading outward.

Chu Zhiyuan formed a sword seal with his left hand and gently traced it along the blade, feeling its coldness, hardness, and flexibility. Strangely, he sensed a deep calm—his mind seemed to settle swiftly, his heart and spirit at peace.

Chu Zhiyuan raised an eyebrow.

This was a bit unusual.

A sharp blade in hand stirs the urge to kill.

That was both the nature of the weapon and the nature of man—when weapon and wielder aligned, it stirred the violent impulses deep within.

But touching this blade did the opposite.

For a Martial Artist, once they began to fight, adrenaline surged, making them excited and their blood boil.

This situation has both advantages and disadvantages.

The advantage is that such heightened excitement brings fearlessness, numbness to pain, and reckless abandon.

The disadvantage is that the mind inevitably loses its cool and rationality, acting mostly on instinct—not thinking before doing, but letting the body race ahead of the brain.

This sword can calm the heart and settle the spirit; its wielder can maintain composure and clear thinking amid the slaughter. For that alone, it deserves the name of a fine blade.

He looked up and laughed: "A fine sword!"

Chu Mingxuan said, "I've never figured out what secrets this sword holds—you study it yourself, Fourth Son."

Chu Zhiyuan nodded slowly.

Even if no other mysteries could be uncovered, the mere fact that it could calm the heart and settle the spirit already made it an exceedingly rare blade.

He formed a sword gesture with his left hand and stroked the blade several times before reluctantly returning it to its sheath.

There were too many people around now, hardly the time for a careful study. He could take his time examining it once he returned to the prince's residence.