Chapter 27: The Sword-Bearing Acolyte

Liang Yan had crippled Yuan Ba; outside the arena, Yuan Shan and the others were trembling with fear, barely daring to breathe, none brave enough to help Yuan Ba. Liang Yan leapt out of the crater, swept his gaze coldly over them, and said, “If I ever hear of anyone daring to bully Li Dali again…”

He hadn’t finished speaking when Yuan Shan and his companions hurriedly nodded like pecking chicks, smiling ingratiatingly. “Senior Brother Liang’s cultivation is extraordinary, his talent unmatched. We were blind to his greatness before; how could we dare act up again? We only hope Senior Brother Liang will forgive our mistakes…”

Liang Yan couldn’t be bothered to waste words with them. Waving his hand, he said, “If you don’t bother me, I won’t go looking for you.”

Yuan Shan, as if pardoned by heaven, knelt and banged his head three times, then, with his two companions, carried the unconscious Yuan Ba away in haste.

Liang Yan watched them leave, when a cough sounded behind him. Turning, he saw the gray-robed senior brother who had served as witness.

Expressionless, the senior brother asked, “What cultivation method do you practice? I don’t recall any such technique among the three veins and four paths.”

Liang Yan smiled. “It’s a secret art passed down by an elder in the sect; as for the name, it’s not fit for casual mention.”

The gray-robed senior nodded. “So it’s your fortune. But do you know, on this Martial Stage, most duels are to the death? Once on the platform, life and death are left to fate. Why did you spare him?”

Liang Yan was taken aback, instinctively replying, “I’ve destroyed his core; his path to immortality is severed. Isn’t that punishment enough?”

The senior shook his head, a half-smile on his lips. “The cultivation world is rife with secret arts and countless unorthodox techniques. How do you know there’s no way to restore a destroyed core?”

Liang Yan was stunned, and heard him continue, “In the world of immortality, the strong devour the weak; only strength commands respect. Mercy to your enemy is cruelty to those you cherish. Calamity may come upon you one day.” With these words, he finished recording the duel and departed down the mountain, leaving Liang Yan standing lost in thought.

At that moment, Li Dali and Yang Wei approached. Li Dali bowed respectfully. “I never realized Senior Brother Liang possessed such cultivation. To think I shamelessly called you brother before—I am truly embarrassed.”

Liang Yan smiled softly. “No need for such words. We are friends in earnest; why care about these things?”

Li Dali, moved, pulled Yang Wei and together they bowed deeply to Liang Yan.

“It is thanks to Brother Liang’s help that Yang Wei escaped her suffering. We are endlessly grateful; if you ever need anything, just ask.”

Liang Yan accepted their thanks openly, then pulled Li Dali up and said, “No need for words. From now on, we remain brothers of the Array Vein labor office.”

Li Dali’s eyes grew moist. He was not skilled with words, but he would remember this kindness forever. Without another word, he led Yang Wei down the mountain.

With Li Dali’s troubles resolved, peace returned to the Array Vein labor office. Liang Yan continued his busy days—running errands, studying arrays, cultivating, playing chess, and assisting Senior Brother Zhuo in alchemy.

After reaching the fifth layer of Qi Refining, his progress slowed, no longer advancing in leaps and bounds, but returning to the sluggish pace of old.

The Array Vein’s library had been nearly scoured by him in recent years; only some obscure array texts remained unread. The last pages of certain books were covered in dense notes, all signed “The Mad Scholar’s Ramblings.”

Though he still hadn’t bested Rotten Wood in chess, he gradually began to see through some of his moves, able to hold his own for a few exchanges.

Two more months passed in this manner. One morning, Liang Yan was carrying ten bundles of spirit wood along the apricot grove path when he spotted someone standing at a fork ahead.

The newcomer wore white, lips red and teeth gleaming, eyebrows and eyes like a painting, her hair long and loose behind her—a figure out of a dream.

She smiled brightly at Liang Yan.

Liang Yan’s heart skipped, and he blurted, “Senior Sister Tang!”

“Haha, good boy, junior brother!”

Liang Yan blushed, thinking, “I’m your junior brother, not your little brother. Why speak so oddly?” He’d learned her full name, Tang Diexian, from Rotten Wood, and felt quite fond of her, for it was through her that he’d gained the opportunity to break through to the third layer of Qi Refining.

Tang Diexian saw his blush and giggled. “How is it that in just one year, my junior brother’s skin has grown thinner? By the way, without my guidance at chess this past year, has your skill deteriorated?”

Liang Yan retorted, “Simple enough! Let’s play a game and see who’s better!”

“Forget it, forget it. I didn’t come for chess this time—I have other matters!”

“Oh?” Liang Yan asked, puzzled. “Do you need my help?”

“Help… I suppose you could call it help. But for you, it’s a great opportunity!”

“Then tell me, what sort of great opportunity is it?”

“Did you know that every three years, us outer sect disciples must descend the mountain for training? This year happens to be my first time. And you, Liang Yan of the Array Vein labor office, have the honor of being chosen as my sword servant for this journey!”

With a crash, Liang Yan’s spirit wood tumbled to the ground. His eyes widened in disbelief. “Is this your so-called great opportunity?”

Tang Diexian rolled her eyes and scolded, “Isn’t it? You’re lucky to accompany me down the mountain and broaden your horizons. Many would beg for this chance. If not for the dull servant in my cave, I wouldn’t have come looking for you.”

Liang Yan replied, annoyed, “Then go find your servant. Such an important task—I’m afraid I’m not up to it.”

Tang Diexian quickly said, “Come on, good junior brother! You’ve reached the first layer of Qi Refining, weak as you are, but you can still help me. This is my first time carrying out a mission down the mountain. Would you let me face it alone? If I fail, who knows… I might die out there, become a lonely ghost, pitiful and tragic…” Her eyes glistened, as if about to cry.

“Alright, alright!” Liang Yan waved his hand. “You win. I’ll help you.”

“Haha! You said it yourself—I didn’t force you!”

Liang Yan looked up; Tang Diexian’s eyes were sly, lips curled in a mischievous smile, no trace of tears left. His heart sank—his lifelong pride, undone by this woman.

But the words were spoken; it was too late to take them back. He said, “A true man keeps his word. I, Liang Yan, won’t go back on it!”

“Haha, wonderful! Truly my good junior brother, my sword servant!” Tang Diexian clapped and laughed, emphasizing the word “servant.”

Liang Yan rolled his eyes, purposely changing the subject. “What mission are you undertaking for your training?”

Tang Diexian’s smile faded. She grew serious. “Our Yixing Pavilion is Zhao Kingdom’s top sect. Many spirit mines are under our jurisdiction, and we station disciples at each. But smaller mines in the branches can’t always have cultivators; we usually assign skilled secular martial artists to guard them. One such branch near Yongle Town has recently lost contact with the sect, and no spirit stones have been submitted. My mission is to investigate.”

“I see.” Liang Yan nodded. With Tang Diexian at the fifth layer of Qi Refining, such a secular mission shouldn’t pose much risk. Since he’d agreed, he’d go along.

As he pondered, Tang Diexian giggled and tossed him something.

Liang Yan caught it reflexively—a precious sword, its scabbard inlaid with multicolored gems, ornate and beautiful, the hilt adorned with floral patterns, full of grace.

“Take care of this, junior brother. This is the Hundred Flowers Sword. Once we leave the sect, you’re my sword servant.” She made a face and walked off cheerfully, leaving Liang Yan standing, sword in arms, speechless.

Seven days later.

Luling River was a famed waterway in Zhao Kingdom, its waters crystal clear, cliffs on either side home to strange cypresses, mountains tall and streams lovely, the scenery dazzling. The river’s waters were calm all year, never stirred by waves, so boats glided as if on land—a marvel.

At this moment, two wooden boats drifted on the river.

One was seven or eight zhang long, about three zhang wide, with purple curtains at both ends, the lintels decorated with gems—a striking sight.

The other was much smaller, barely two zhang long, painted jet black.

Suddenly, music echoed from the elegant boat—a zither, its notes lingering, gentle and smooth, sometimes tender as water, sometimes softly plaintive, enchanting listeners.

The solo lasted some time, when suddenly a flute sounded from the black boat—its tone angry and bold, passionate and unrestrained, turning harsh and piercing, as if protesting the world’s injustices.

The zither was disrupted by the flute, soon unable to continue, leaving only the flute to play on the vast river.

After about the time of burning a stick of incense, a voice called from the boat: “Who is playing the flute? Alone on this great river—why not join us for a chat?” The voice was melodious, neither warm nor cold.

The flute stopped abruptly; silence settled over the water. Then a figure leaped from the black boat, landing on the river.

He walked on water as if on solid ground, quickly reaching the elegant boat. With a light tap of his toe, he soared up and landed on deck.

The newcomer wore a green robe, a dragon-patterned sword at his waist, features handsome if unkempt, beard unshaven, eyes tinged with melancholy.

Any martial arts master present would nod in approval—so young, yet his skill was remarkable. That ripple-walking technique was top-tier lightness skill. He covered several miles on water, yet his breath was steady—a sign of deep internal strength, clearly a formidable figure of the martial world.

The man approached, drew aside the cabin curtain, and glanced inside. A square table stood with a vermilion zither atop, incense burning, its fragrance dreamlike.

Behind the table sat a white-robed woman, her beauty clear, eyes bright as stars. Behind her stood a gray-robed youth, about sixteen or seventeen, arms folded, holding a lavish sword, lips curled as if unwilling.

The visitor clasped his hands in greeting. “I am Chen Zhuo’an. Was it the lady who invited me aboard?”

The white-robed woman glanced at him, replying with a touch of annoyance, “Other than us two master and servant, who else is here?”