Chapter 63

(Second update is late, I went out for a bit, but I feel this chapter is quite good. This is the feeling I want to convey in the martial world. Please give me recommendations and add to your favorites.)

Ding!

The tip of the finger collided with the sword, producing a metallic sound.

The swordsman was momentarily stunned, then saw a forefinger enlarge before his eyes. The red aura was like a sunrise, piercing through the darkness and dispelling the miasma, illuminating the four corners of the world.

Puff!

A splash of blood, Su Qinen retracted his hand, watching the black-clothed figure collapse like mud.

Boom!

Behind him, the ground exploded, and a blue-tipped blade followed, touching the edge of his clothes.

Whoosh!

In the next instant, the masked man's eyes were blank, as the blade, coated with deadly poison, pierced through the young man's back, shattering his figure like a broken mirror.

"Looking for me?"

A voice came from behind, and the assassin suddenly turned, only to see the same forefinger, its tip glowing red like a sunrise, filling the entire world.

Puff!

Another splash of blood, Su Qinen didn't even look, his arm moving like a phantom, four half-inch-long blood-tinged finger beams tearing through the air, piercing the four cardinal directions, and sinking into the ground.

After a few breaths, blood gushed from the holes in the ground. Su Qinen stomped his foot, and the surrounding soil exploded, revealing four more black-clothed, masked figures.

Without removing their masks, Su Qinen understood that these were not ordinary martial artists but trained assassins. From their attack angles and the simplicity of their sword and knife techniques, it was clear that they were not showy but deadly, aimed at vital points. Whether from the Buddhist, Daoist, or Confucian schools, or even the demonic path, no one would teach such techniques to their young disciples. These were not the way of the great path.

The only comparable ones were soldiers in the army, but their techniques were honed through countless battles on the ever-changing battlefield. Compared to them, these assassins lacked the intensity and the instinct of those who walked the edge of life and death.

"If I hadn't obtained the 'Mihun Dafa' and cultivated this mental power, today's assassination attempt would have cost me blood to avoid," Su Qinen's eyes flashed with cold light. It seemed that the news from Wudang Mountain had not yet fully spread. Just six assassins at the seventh layer of 'Benzhima Jing' was not simple, and the next time would be even more difficult.

...

At the foot of Wudang Mountain.

In front of the Sword Unbinding Stone, Su Qinen looked at the long knife covered in rust. He asked the two disciples on duty but received no definitive explanation. They only knew that the knife had been there for about two thousand years, and over the past two thousand years, even the most accomplished spirit masters of Wudang had tried to pull it out, but no one had succeeded.

Su Qinen always had a strange feeling. Looking at the long knife, he sensed with his mental power that it seemed to house an ancient soul in its sealed state.

Night fell.

In the Qingyang Palace, Su Qinen sat alone by a campfire. Qing Yu and Qing Ye had not yet returned. The palace was now cold and empty, with only him there.

He thought back to his life in Chang'an, where the nobles gathered, and his father, as an eighth-rank official, was merely a weapons repository compiler, living in constant fear and treading on thin ice. The political arena, unlike the bloody battlefield of the northern border, often killed people invisibly. Throughout history, no one could escape it.

His father, Su Wangsheng, had once sighed, recalling the years of hard study to bring glory to the family, to achieve "a swift horse and a happy heart in the spring breeze, seeing all the flowers of Chang'an in a day." Once he entered that world, he instead yearned for a simple life, for the days when he and his family were poor but peaceful. The braised pork during the holidays was especially sweet, and life, though hard, was clear and tranquil.

Now, Su Qinen thought back to last year's Winter Solstice. As the holiday approached, his mother, Lady Su, began rolling out the dough for dumplings. The family gathered around the table, with no servants, and they made the dumplings themselves. On Winter Solstice, the pot was full of dumplings, and not a single one was left over.

The only regret was that his father did not return that night. With the Winter Solstice and the approaching New Year, the weapons repository was busy with inspections and repairs. His father worked through the night, organizing and categorizing various weapons, martial arts secrets, and imperial classics, a massive undertaking.

Slowly, the campfire flickered, and Su Qinen's gaze became incredibly sharp. A suppressed aura spread, making the flames before him flicker.

"I don't care about the world's good and evil, nor the darkness and light of heaven and earth. I don't care about the changing winds of Chang'an, nor the vicissitudes of the human world. But if my family cannot achieve completeness, don't blame me for storming the imperial palace one day."

Su Qinen spoke, his voice not loud but filled with an unshakable will. This willpower stirred the mental power in his spirit palace, and the long-dormant illusory knife shadow trembled, causing the green-iron long knife on his back to hum deeply.

At the foot of Wudang Mountain, behind the Sword Unbinding Stone.

The long knife, silent for thousands of years, had a piece of rust the size of a fingernail fall off, revealing a deep, dark blade that seemed to devour all light in the world.

In the Qingyang Palace.

Looking at the wild grass dancing in the cold wind outside the hall, Su Qinen raised an eyebrow and looked toward the palace gate.

A young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old, wearing a black robe with his forearms exposed, carrying a nearly five-foot-long, exceptionally thin white-iron long knife, walked in.

"Li Qinghe, seeking guidance."

From about twenty paces away, the young man spoke, his tone stiff, as if he rarely spoke.

Su Qinen noticed his pale complexion, imagining that he must have recently been in a fierce battle, losing a lot of blood, and had not fully recovered.

The name Li Qinghe of the Xianxia Valley was well-known to Su Qinen. This legendary figure, the son of the Marquis of Mingyang, had held the top position in the valley for eight years, unchallenged.

Li Zhenan, the master of the 'Surging Waves Sword,' was one of the fifth-rank generals who once guarded the northern border. The battle where tens of thousands of civilians were massacred shocked the court, and Su Qinen had heard about it. However, it was undeniable that Li Zhenan was a great sword master, whose cultivation reached the first-class Hanyuan realm in that battle. His 'Surging Waves Sword' also advanced, with sword light illuminating dozens of miles of the sea, ultimately defeating his opponent and erasing him from existence.

What Su Qinen did not expect was that the son of such a great sword master, Li Qinghe, used a knife, and not just any knife, but a five-foot-long, extremely thin and wide blade.

"You are injured," Su Qinen said.

"Wudang has no knives, but my father once commented that Wudang's 'Xiuming Dao' could rank among the top ten in the world," Li Qinghe said, his eyes bright and almost feverish. "My knife is eager to be tested."

Sighing, Su Qinen stood up. Li Zhenan was a sword enthusiast, but his son became a knife enthusiast. As for Li Qinghe mentioning his father, after that battle, Li Zhenan was stripped of his armor the next day and escorted back to the capital. Within seven days, he was sent to the tiger-headed guillotine to appease the people's anger.

"My knife is not easily drawn," Su Qinen still shook his head.

Li Qinghe frowned and said, "Conditions."

He was straightforward, though passionate, he was not irrational. Having experienced various life and death situations in the northern border, few things escaped his notice.

"If I win, when you reach the foundation stage, join my Qingyang Peak," Su Qinen said frankly. No matter what, this person's talent and insight were extraordinary. He could suppress the descendants of the Xianxia Valley's noble families, many of whom had not yet reached the foundation stage and had not yet mastered their family's martial arts. This only highlighted his exceptional abilities. His ambition was high, unwilling to use the seventh layer of 'Guishexi Gong' to reach the foundation stage, aiming for the eighth layer or higher, to open a new era.

Such a person, Su Qinen did not want to let go. Using the name of Qingyang Peak, he would do his best. He believed that to gain, one must give, and though he was now in the Daoist sect, he agreed with the Buddhist principle of not easily entangling in karma. (Second update is late, I went out for a bit, but I feel this chapter is quite good. This is the feeling I want to convey in the martial world. Please give me recommendations and add to your favorites.)