Chapter Fourteen: Taking a Stand

Zhuo Bufan reached out and touched the zither strings, making a few slight adjustments before he began to play. The music flowed gently, clear and bright, like a mountain spring, babbling along a stream. The crowd was utterly absorbed in the melody; the entire square fell silent, all other sounds fading away.

Suddenly, the tune quickened, resembling the rapid turning of river waters. It surged like a waterfall, plunging from the heights, then broadened as a hundred rivers converged into the sea, hidden currents roiling beneath. The hearts of the listeners shifted with the music, as if they were a lone boat upon the vast ocean, tossed and turned, unable to control their course, simply drifting with the waves, bobbing up and down. Even the spiritual energy within their bodies responded, surging and churning.

For the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, Zhuo played on, until the melody abruptly calmed, the endless sea dissolving into countless gentle brooks. The hearts of the listeners settled with it; looking back on what had just passed, it felt as insubstantial as clouds and smoke, as if ages had turned in an instant, leaving behind the poignant sense that all things are fleeting, the great Dao merciless.

The music grew softer, fainter, until it was almost inaudible. When the song finally ended, most of the servant disciples in the crowd were still lost in their reverie. Some among them, those at the peak of the second level of Qi Refinement, even sensed the bottleneck that had long troubled them begin to loosen ever so slightly. They all fell silent, quietly savoring the subtle mysteries of the music.

As everyone remained immersed, a clear, piercing sword cry suddenly rang out from the high platform. Liang Yan looked up to see Zhuo Bufan’s longsword at his waist fly from its scabbard, hovering in midair, trembling incessantly, as if unable to restrain its thirst for battle.

“There it is, that’s Senior Brother Zhuo’s Dingguang Sword!”

“Senior Brother Zhuo is the only sword cultivator among the outer disciples—a genius unseen in a hundred years.”

“Exactly. Sword cultivation is the hardest and most demanding of all paths. There are very few sword cultivators left these days, but it’s said that if one succeeds, their power can shake the heavens and shatter the earth.”

“That’s right. Sword cultivators are famed as the strongest in offense, but their path is the most perilous. Of all the outer disciples, only Senior Brother Zhuo is worthy of the title.”

With the Dingguang Sword revealed, excitement erupted among the crowd below the platform. Hearing the discussions around him, Liang Yan narrowed his eyes, gazing at the treasured sword on the stage. The talk of sword cultivators filled him with a burning passion, his longing for that path growing ever stronger.

Standing on the high platform, Zhuo Bufan formed a sword seal. The Dingguang Sword shot forward, slashing through the air above. Though it was only a strike through empty space, everyone felt a chill of killing intent rush toward them, raising goosebumps and pounding hearts.

But in the next instant, Zhuo withdrew his seal; the Dingguang Sword spiraled back and slid into its scabbard, the murderous aura dissipating into nothingness. Zhuo Bufan rose, saluted the crowd, and leapt from the platform, landing on the mountain path and heading down the mountain.

Everyone knew that the teaching assembly had thus come to an end. They began forming into small groups to descend the mountain together. Some of the female disciples gathered in chattering clusters, animated and excited.

Only Liang Yan remained seated on his mat, deeply shaken by Zhuo Bufan’s sword strike. He silently reviewed every detail of the attack. If that sword had been aimed at him, even if he used his full strength and the “Muddled Arts,” he would have had no way to evade it. He puzzled over it for a long time, unable to find any means of countering it, yet his desire to learn the ways of the sword only intensified.

He sat alone for a while longer. When he finally came to his senses, there was no one left around him. With a quiet sigh, Liang Yan rose and made his way down Mount Xuanyi along the mountain path.

Halfway down, he suddenly heard the sounds of a heated argument from a bamboo grove beside the path. Amid the commotion, a familiar voice caught his ear, and Liang Yan frowned, following the noise into the grove.

He had not gone far before he saw two groups facing off. One group, consisting of only two people, turned out to be Sun Qianli and Li Dali—the voice he recognized was Li Dali’s. The other group had three members, and by their attire, they were servant disciples of the Pill Division. Liang Yan’s glance swiftly took in the scene: the youth with a dark face in the center was at the third level of Qi Refinement, while the other two were at the second level.

At this moment, the dark-faced youth spoke. “Li Dali, have I not made myself clear enough? I told you to take a good look at yourself before you dream of competing with my cousin for a woman.”

Li Dali’s eyes were bloodshot. “Tell me—where have you taken Yang Wei?”

The dark-faced youth snickered. “Where? Naturally, we’ve taken her somewhere she can have a good time.”

Sun Qianli, his face full of indignation, said, “Miss Yang and Li Dali have known each other since childhood, betrothed from a young age, bound by deep affection. We are all fellow disciples here—why must you come between them?”

“Bah! Who says we’re fellow disciples?” The dark-faced youth jabbed a finger in Li Dali’s face. “You two are forever stuck at the first level of Qi Refinement—useless trash! And that Yang Wei—if she truly cared for you, why did she end up in my cousin’s bed last night?”

“Impossible!” Li Dali howled in rage, then charged at the dark-faced youth.

“Oh? The bull’s grown bold, has he?” The youth showed no sign of panic, but only laughed. His companion raised a spiritual tool and struck Li Dali hard. Li Dali staggered, spat blood, and collapsed to his knees, supporting himself on the ground, gasping for breath.

“Ha! Trash is trash—completely useless,” the dark-faced youth jeered, joined by the laughter of his two Pill Division companions.

Sun Qianli clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, but he dared not intervene.

The dark-faced youth glanced at Sun Qianli with disdain and sneered, “I’ll be blunt. You two—and that Yang Wei—are all destined to be stuck at the first level of Qi Refinement for life. My cousin is heaven’s chosen; he’s only twenty-three and already at the fifth level. He barely even notices you exist!”

“As for Yang Wei, hmph, my cousin just found her pretty and wanted a plaything. It’s laughable that she thought he’d marry her and make her his Dao companion. A useless girl stuck at the first level—my cousin only uses her as a furnace for his cultivation!”

“Beast!” Li Dali, eyes wide with fury, struggled to his feet and swung a fist at the youth. But wounded as he was, his punch had no force. The dark-faced youth let it land without flinching, not moving an inch, and then burst out laughing.

Seeing his punch fail, Li Dali spat a mouthful of phlegm. This time, caught off guard at such close range, the dark-faced youth dodged hastily, but some of it still landed on his sleeve.

“Looking for death!” Roaring with rage, the dark-faced youth clenched his fist and aimed straight for Li Dali’s skull. As a body cultivator at the third level of Qi Refinement, if that punch landed, even nine lives would not save Li Dali.

At this critical moment, a hand shot out from the side, pulling Li Dali back in a flash. The dark-faced youth’s expression changed as he looked over to see a young man in grey standing in front of Li Dali—tall, thin, and just into his teens, with a formation diagram embroidered on his robe.

The dark-faced youth frowned, wondering when the Formation Division had gained another servant disciple.

“I am Yuan Shan. And who are you, daring to meddle in my affairs for Li Dali’s sake?”

Liang Yan replied coldly, “We are all fellow disciples—why must you go so far?”

Yuan Shan, still unsure of Liang Yan’s background, probed, “May I ask which elder of your family serves in our sect?”

Liang Yan sneered, “No need for your inquiries. I am a rogue cultivator who joined the Formation Division as a servant disciple. I stepped in simply because I could not stomach your behavior.”

At this, Yuan Shan burst out laughing. “So, a rootless stray, daring to play the hero at the mere first level of Qi Refinement. I’ll deal with you today!”

Liang Yan, with the Heaven’s Secret Pearl hidden on him, did not deliberately conceal his cultivation. Still, to low-level cultivators, his true strength was inscrutable—they took him for a beginner at the first level.

With a roar, Yuan Shan exploded forward, aiming a punch at Liang Yan. Liang Yan raised his right hand to meet it head-on, staggering back five steps. He was inwardly shocked: despite the body refinement he had gained from the old monk, he could not match this man’s strength.

What Liang Yan did not know was that Yuan Shan was even more astonished. As a pure body cultivator, he had invested all his resources in tempering his physique; usually, anyone at the same level fell easily to his close combat. Yet this youth, apparently of lower cultivation, had taken his punch head-on.

“So, you’re at the peak of the second level—hiding your strength, eh?” Yuan Shan barked. Facing someone above his own level, Liang Yan could no longer keep his cultivation hidden.

Before he could catch his breath, Yuan Shan attacked again, pressing in close. The other two Pill Division disciples unleashed their spiritual tools as well, flanking Liang Yan from left and right.

Liang Yan thought to himself: if I use the Muddled Arts, I should be able to handle these three. But with so many people around, and given that the Muddled Arts was a secret technique passed down by the old monk, it would not be wise to reveal it. Moreover, he carried precious treasures on his person—if he attracted the attention of any schemers, it would only spell disaster. With no better option, he decided to rely on brute strength and stall for time.

Very soon, Liang Yan found himself hard-pressed, in grave danger. The longer he fought, the more anxious he became. Suddenly, inspiration struck: he remembered the Threefold Earth Array he had read about in the library. This array had a core, three array flags, and when formed, the flags would clash to unleash the latent power of earth to resist enemies.

A wild idea took root: since all things with spirit can be arrayed, why not use people as the flags? Acting at once, he made himself the core, the three Pill Division disciples the flags, and drew on their spiritual power to sketch the array in the air.

At first, Yuan Shan found it easy. But as the fight wore on, he grew alarmed. The three of them should have been able to subdue Liang Yan in short order, and indeed, Liang Yan seemed barely able to hold on at first. Yet soon, Yuan Shan noticed their teamwork unraveling: sometimes, the left disciple’s spiritual tool blocked the attack from the right, forcing his companion to halt; sometimes, Yuan Shan’s own punch would inexplicably collide with his ally’s weapon, neutralizing Liang Yan’s defense. Their efforts stymied one another, and they could not muster even half their strength.

Yuan Shan had no idea they had been drawn into Liang Yan’s Threefold Earth Array, the three of them now his array flags. Liang Yan, as the core, commanded the field like a general his troops, orchestrating the clash of the three array flags. Naturally, they were no match for him.

The longer the fight, the more at ease Liang Yan became, his understanding of formations deepening. Yuan Shan’s face turned ashen. Gritting his teeth, he reached for a pouch at his waist.

At that moment, a clear sword cry rang out. A streak of sword light tore through the air, splitting the combatants in two. A figure descended from the sky, landing in the midst of the group—a man in a pale robe and scholar’s cap, a faint smile on his lips, glancing meaningfully at Yuan Shan’s storage pouch.

Startled, Yuan Shan let go of the pouch at once, clasped his fists, and bowed respectfully. “Greetings, Senior Brother Zhuo.”