Hou Niao was shown into the Sword Manor's Outer Residence, in a wealthy district of Jincheng. The surroundings were tranquil and elegant, the layout pleasant, and the Sword Manor was not far away. Of course, his one complaint was that, even now, he still had no idea exactly which area "the Sword Manor" referred to.
The Outer Residence consisted entirely of individual courtyards. This was not extravagance: cultivators placed tremendous importance on personal privacy, and neither their cultivation nor their daily lives could be shared with others. This had nothing to do with realm.
The Dao Path was, in the end, a road one walked alone.
The courtyard was small, but offered enough room to dodge, turn, and practice sword strikes. There were two rooms for cultivation and seated meditation. Clearly, the Quanzhen Sect was very practical in this respect. Beyond meeting a cultivator's basic needs, it provided no other furnishings whatsoever. It could not begin to compare with his accommodations at the Daoist temple in Anhe's Divine Capital.
Here, after all, he was a prospective disciple; in the Divine Capital, he had been a prisoner awaiting punishment. Perhaps this also showed the difference in the two sides' financial resources?
It was already pitch-dark when he moved in. The surrounding courtyards were silent, and no one paid him any attention. He was merely another person hoping to join the sect and obtain cultivation resources.
Hou Niao was very satisfied. Having reached this point, he had done what Daoist Chongling had instructed him to do. All that remained was how to improve himself. That was the only question he needed to consider now.
After finishing his evening practice, he took out the bamboo slip Daoist Wang had given him. This should also have been one of the standard options available once he formally entered the sect. He had merely received it a month early, which hardly counted as breaking the rules.
Upon reaching the Qi Gathering Realm, cultivators could begin to encounter the true methods of the Xiuzhen world. In the Daoist Sect, they could try all manner of elementary Law Techniques. For a Demonic Sect like the Quanzhen Sect, swordsmanship was the main direction.
Of course, this was not absolute. In fact, every Daoist Sect disciple wore a longsword and learned the most basic sword techniques for self-defense. Nor did the Quanzhen Demonic Sect simply disregard Law Techniques; everyone was bound to master a few minor ones. Again, their emphasis differed, but the distinction was not absolute.
Having a primary focus and a secondary one was the true essence of choosing a direction in techniques.
The three sets of sword techniques were [Purging the Central Army Sword], [Thirteen Returning Geese Slashes], and [Cross-Shaped Swift Sword].
He could be considered a master of the saber, and his first impression of these three sword styles was that they were vicious beyond description.
They were nothing at all like Taiji Sword, Bagua Sword, Seven-Star Sword, Swimming Dragon Sword, and other Daoist sword styles that combined practical combat with the nurturing of health. As expected of a Demonic Sect, even its foundational sword techniques shared the same characteristic: killing was their sole purpose.
He was no stranger to swordsmanship. In fact, no cultivator was unfamiliar with swords. Among weapons alone, the sword was the undisputed foremost weapon of the Xiuzhen world. Swords accounted for ninety percent, and all other weapons combined made up the remaining ten percent. That was the reality of the Xiuzhen world.
It could repel enemies and show off one's style. For roaming the Three Mountains and Five Sacred Peaks, there was no choice but to wear a sword. Surely one could not shoulder a mountain-cleaving saber, a great hammer, or a one-legged golden man? What sort of sight would that be!
The sword had become widespread because of its elegance, which suited cultivation well. Yet in the Quanzhen Sect, there was not a trace of elegance to be seen. Instead, they plumbed the depths of its ferocity without limit.
Had they strayed from the path? Or was this the proper way? No one knew.
Hou Niao's skill with the saber was not born of a single-minded devotion to it. It was the inevitable choice for someone from a family of judicial officials. A sword was ill-suited to cowing bandits and vicious criminals; a saber struck greater awe into people's hearts. This was the tradition of official service.
Of course, these so-called traditions applied only to the mortal populace. In the Xiuzhen world, tradition was another matter.
He was no stranger to the sword. The difference between the two weapons lay merely in their centers of gravity and the emphasis of their use. A saber master could certainly wield a sword, and a grandmaster of the sword could naturally handle a saber. There was no fundamental difference.
Unless he switched to a long spear-then he would have to start from scratch. He secretly counted himself fortunate that the Quanzhen Sect was not the Demonic Body Sect. Had he needed to switch to great spears, forks, or staves, he really would have worried himself to death.
Below Profound Connection, mastery of weapons was extremely important. At that stage, cultivators could not yet use Law Techniques without restriction. Their Law Power was limited and their methods meager, so they needed weapons to fill the gaps in combat. The lower their realm, the more this held true.
For instance, at Hou Niao's current Qi Gathering stage, he would fight mainly with weapons, occasionally squeezing out a Law Technique. Upon reaching Grain Avoidance or Bridge Linking, perhaps he would rely mainly on Law Techniques, with an occasional move to cleave Mount Hua with brute force?
Something like that.
His sword had been a gift from those gentlemen in Jiangyou. It was no divine weapon, merely a superior specimen among mundane arms. That bookworm had praised it to the skies and even composed a poem, making it sound like something found only in heaven, never on earth. Did he take Hou Niao for a fool?
And all that about burying it underground! Wine naturally mellowed underground; a sword buried underground was bound to rust. A truly fine sword had to incorporate rare, special materials found only in the Xiuzhen world. That put it in another price bracket altogether, and those paupers in Jiangyou would never part with that much money.
The only thing about this sword that satisfied him was its weight. It was a heavy sword, which suited someone accustomed to the weight of a saber. He could not get used to anything too light; it always felt as though he were holding a stalk of straw.
He did not rush to practice the moves. Moves were something only raw beginners placed great importance on. They were not the point.
The point was the straight thrust, the downward chop, the rising reverse cut... Once one had performed these basic motions thousands upon thousands of times each day and mastered them, studying moves was merely adding flowers to brocade.
An opponent was not a block of wood. Would they really let him follow a routine, move by move? Everything required adapting to the situation. Having achieved some success with the saber, he had plenty of experience in this regard and needed no one to teach him.
For him, the greatest difficulty lay in attaching the faint spiritual power within his body to the sword. This was the greatest distinction between a cultivator's sword and a mortal's.
Spiritual power at the Qi Gathering Realm was difficult to control. His dantian was empty, and all that spiritual energy went toward nourishing his flesh, blood, and bones. Drawing upon it was no easy matter, and he needed to keep adapting to it.
He still needed to break through the Qi Gathering stage as soon as possible. Otherwise, if he encountered danger outside, his strength would be cause for concern. He knew very well that his future opponents could no longer be ordinary mortals. His opponents had changed.
After a little initial awkwardness, he quickly familiarized himself with the sword's cuts and thrusts. This was the advantage of someone who regularly handled sabers and swords. All that remained was a matter of proficiency-nothing more than diligent practice.
But he could not yet swing his sword thousands upon thousands of times with Gang Qi accompanying every stroke. After barely a hundred swings, his Inner Qi was exhausted. This was the gap in his reserves. Nor could he project Sword Qi from the longsword-not even an inch. All he could do was keep Gang Qi circulating within the weapon, making it sharper and sturdier.
Everything had to begin with the fundamentals.
He also knew that, with strength like his, his neighbors would probably see him as someone who had stumbled into a stroke of luck. Thus, he rarely went out and never dropped in on anyone. This world was very snobbish. Why go out looking for discomfort?
For several days in succession, he spent most of his time improving himself in that little courtyard, paying no attention to this new city as he worked hard to build his initial foundation.
He was twenty-three already. Time truly was pressing. Otherwise, what would he have to face the winds and storms ahead?
...Through heaven and earth's windblown dust, a three-foot sword; through the years of rivers and lakes, a single poem. From this day forth, young Hou turned away from the road home; the splendor lay amid a time of turmoil.