"This is your living quarters. Although the previous sword-guarding disciple only left a few days ago, everything inside has been cleaned up. You can move right in."
Meng Fan cast a glance around the room. It was small, but very clean and tidy.
Of course, even if he wanted to make a mess, there wasn't much to mess up with.
The room contained only a bed, a table, and a stool.
The bedding on the bed was brand-new, a thoughtful touch.
"Many thanks, Senior Brother Luo!"
"Don't mention it. My room is right next door, so if you have any questions, just come find me."
With that, Senior Brother Luo returned to his own room, paying Meng Fan no further heed.
Night had just fallen—translated to Earth time, it was barely seven o'clock in the evening—so Meng Fan naturally didn't feel sleepy.
He stepped out of his room and entered the main hall on the first floor of the Sword Pavilion.
Rows upon rows of wooden racks, and rows upon rows of swords, exuded a chilling aura that made one's hair stand on end.
From now on, he would be dealing with these swords.
Having transmigrated to this world, it had been a full two days at most, and Meng Fan had barely had any formal contact with this world of cultivation.
To put it bluntly, here in the Shushan Sword Sect, he didn't even own a sword of his own.
Meng Fan picked up an unassuming longsword at random, preparing to get a feel for it.
He didn't dare touch the swords that looked formidable, fearing he wouldn't be able to handle them, so he picked one that looked thoroughly ordinary.
The moment Meng Fan touched the sword, whether it was an illusion or not, a piece of information suddenly appeared in his mind.
[Sword name: Qingyu.]
[Weight: three jin and two liang, blade length: three chi and one cun.]
[Forged from profound iron, using Qingyuan wood for fire, through a hundred-refining forging technique, forged over three days and three nights.]
Upon touching a sword, he could obtain some information regarding it.
This must be a small perk brought to him by the talent [Sword Dao Communication].
However, this information had no practical use.
The ability of the Sword Dao Communication talent went far beyond this!
"Clang—"
Meng Fan drew the Qingyu Sword.
The instant he drew the Qingyu Sword, a wisp of breath, almost invisible to the naked eye, drilled into Meng Fan's body and flowed into his meridians.
Meng Fan frowned slightly.
He seemed to have sensed something, yet he couldn't grasp what it was.
What a strange feeling!
What was that thing that had entered his body?
Meng Fan put the Qingyu Sword back onto the wooden rack, then picked another sword.
The moment he touched this sword, another piece of information appeared in his mind.
[Sword name: Baiyu.]
[Weight: one jin and seven liang, blade length: two chi and six cun.]
[Forged from flying-feather wood, using the interlaced carving technique, soaked in the fresh blood of a blood-jade beast for seven days and seven nights to complete the sword.]
This was a wooden sword; it had not undergone hammer-and-fire forging, but was purely carved.
Yet, precisely such a wooden sword possessed greater might than the hundred-refined profound iron sword [Qingyu] he had just touched.
However, unexpectedly, a fierce malignant aura suddenly erupted from the Baiyu Sword in Meng Fan's hand.
The previous Qingyu Sword was a brand-new, freshly forged weapon that had never killed or been stained with blood, so it harbored no malignant aura.
But this Baiyu Sword had been collected into the Sword Pavilion after its previous owner died in battle.
Countless amounts of blood stained this sword; especially after its master's fall, the malignant aura contained within it grew even more intense.
The moment Meng Fan touched this sword, the malignant aura erupted, beginning to backlash against him!
If it were a high-cultivation practitioner, they could naturally crush this malignant aura with ease.
Yet Meng Fan's cultivation was practically zero; he had no ability to cope with this malignant aura at all!
Once this sword-malignancy entered his body, Meng Fan would either die or lose half his life.
He was far too weak!
Just as Meng Fan's heart grew anxious and somewhat desperate, his talent [Sword Dao Communication] officially unleashed its power!
The sword-malignancy that had surged into his body instantly vanished into nothingness.
As the malignant aura dissipated, a woman clad in fluttering white robes suddenly appeared in Meng Fan's mind.
This woman was holding the Baiyu Sword and practicing a sword form.
Her Sword Technique was exceptionally graceful!
Not only was the Sword Technique graceful, but her footwork was even more like a startled swan.
*Flying Feather Sword Formula*
*Startling Swan Footwork*
Once the sword-malignancy was neutralized, Meng Fan saw the "memories" lingering within the sword and learned two martial arts.
Under the blessing of the [Sword Dao Communication] talent, the Flying Feather Sword Formula Meng Fan learned was even more proficient and smooth than the one executed by the white-robed woman.
However, as for the footwork *Startling Swan Footwork*, he had only grasped a superficial understanding.
Because the talent Sword Dao Communication only provided blessings for Sword Techniques.
Therefore, although Meng Fan saw two martial arts through the "sword-malignancy memories" of the Baiyu Sword, only the Sword Technique was learned instantly and directly mastered.
"Still, this is enough!"
Meng Fan drew this Baiyu Sword.
Just like when he drew the Qingyu Sword earlier, a flash of light, hard to perceive with the naked eye, followed the blade into Meng Fan's body.
Meng Fan lacked the ability of internal vision at the moment, so he didn't know that this ray of light, after circulating through his meridians, had burrowed straight into his dantian.
His brow furrowed, but intuition told him that this breath entering his body was likely no bad thing.
It should be another perk granted to him by the talent [Sword Dao Communication].
As for what this perk actually was, once his cultivation and vision improved, he ought to understand.
Meng Fan wiped down the Baiyu Sword and then placed it back on the wooden rack.
He still remembered the task Senior Brother Luo had mentioned: within a year, he needed to wipe down every single sword stored on the first floor of the Sword Pavilion.
At this thought, Meng Fan couldn't help feeling a surge of excitement!
If he came into contact with all the swords in here, how many Sword Techniques would he end up learning?
When the time came to blend hundreds of Sword Techniques together, perhaps he could forge a Sword Dao of his own!
Full of enthusiasm, Meng Fan prepared to pick up a third longsword.
Senior Brother Luo had already calculated it for him earlier: to finish wiping these longswords within a year, he needed to wipe around twenty swords every day.
Meng Fan was well aware of his own limitations, so he selected unremarkable, "weakling" longswords.
Even so, he would still misjudge things on occasion.
Take the Flying Feather Sword from just now, for instance; it looked inconspicuous, yet it harbored astonishing malignant aura within.
Still, with the Sword Dao Communication talent at hand, he wasn't afraid of such minor accidents.
Yet, just as he prepared to pick his third longsword, a major accident occurred.
There was a longsword that Meng Fan clearly hadn't chosen, yet it took flight of its own accord and landed right before him.
This was a... spirit sword!
Only spirit swords could move on their own.
Meng Fan's expression instantly shifted; he knew he was in trouble.
From his earlier probing conversations with Senior Brother Luo, Meng Fan already understood that this Sword Pavilion was fraught with danger.
Now, the danger had landed right on his head.
Just as Meng Fan prepared to call out to Senior Brother Luo for help, he discovered that his surrounding environment had changed.
He was no longer inside the Sword Pavilion, but had appeared within a dim, seemingly boundless space.
An illusion?
Meng Fan frowned.
The next second, a woman in red appeared before him.
She possessed delicate facial features, flowing long hair, blazing red lips, and was breathtakingly beautiful.
"My lord, am I beautiful?"
The woman in red stood before Meng Fan, her red lips parting slightly as she offered him a faint smile, her voice laden with allure.
"You're beautiful!" Meng Fan said with a deadpan, earnest expression.
He was speaking the truth; she was indeed very beautiful.
Though he found himself in an inexplicable illusion, he wasn't overly panicked.
Based on his prior chat with Senior Brother Luo, he could deduce that he shouldn't be dying on his very first day here.
The danger of the Sword Pavilion was progressive and imperceptible, not something that would instantly kill you the moment you stepped inside!
Therefore, although Meng Fan felt some tension, he managed to maintain a degree of calmness, wanting to see what trick this woman in red intended to pull.
The scenery around them suddenly shifted!
A bed appeared before Meng Fan, and the woman in red lay upon it, her robes half-undone to reveal her fragrant shoulders.
"Since my lord finds your concubine beautiful, a night of love is worth a thousand pieces of gold—why don't you hurry on over?"
Lying on the bed, the woman in red beckoned to Meng Fan, striking an alluring pose with extreme charm.
Meng Fan's heartbeat accelerated, and his throat couldn't help but bob.
Was this...
Seducing him?
Fair is fair: he was a teenage boy, full of hot blood.
Who could withstand this?
Meng Fan could withstand this!
Anyone else might have failed to hold their ground, but in his past life on Earth, Meng Fan had browsed countless films.
To be honest, this kind of minor scene warranted only a two-word review: Is that it?
What's more, Meng Fan was well aware that this scene was no romantic encounter, but a life-threatening crisis.
Meng Fan took a deep breath, looked at the woman in red, and said, "You are very pretty, but you cannot tempt me."
"Oh? Why is that?"
The woman in red got up, stepped barefoot down from the bed, and walked right up to Meng Fan.
Using a slender finger, she hooked his chin in a teasing manner.
"Does my lord think your concubine's looks are too poor to catch your eye?"
Meng Fan shook his head. "That's not it at all. You, spirit, are exceedingly gorgeous, but you want to drain my primordial yang, and I can't bear to part with it!"
The woman in red stared at Meng Fan in surprise.
"To think a brat with virtually no cultivation like you has such extraordinary composure; you can stay calm even at a time like this."
Meng Fan hurriedly said, "I truly have next to no cultivation, so even if you tried to drain me, you wouldn't get much primordial yang anyway."
"I am no spirit, nor am I after your primordial yang. I want your life force," the woman in red chuckled lightly.
Her fingers traced across Meng Fan's cheek and neck—to be honest, it made his heart itch with unbearable desire.
"However, you can rest assured, because if you refuse to cooperate, I cannot drain your life force either."
As far as Meng Fan was concerned, primordial yang and life force meant the exact same thing.
According to legend, men whose primordial yang was drained too many times by female spirits didn't live long either.
"Since that's the case, miss, please let me go back," Meng Fan said to the woman in red.
The woman in red smiled. "You fellow are much tougher than that last brat. He didn't even last three months here before dying completely. Looks like you might outlive him by a few days!"
Meng Fan's heart skipped a beat.
He had heard Senior Brother Luo say that the previous sword-guarding disciple had lasted three months and left just a few days ago.
At the time, he thought that fellow had simply left the Sword Pavilion for a different assignment.
As it turned out, "left" in Senior Brother Luo's vocabulary meant dead!
A sudden sense of creeps washed over Meng Fan, making him deeply aware of the terrifying nature of the Sword Pavilion.
"Scared?" the woman in red asked Meng Fan with a smile, her shoulders shaking with mirth.
Meng Fan said rather awkwardly, "Miss, since you already know my willpower is strong and you can't seduce me, you don't need to act so... slutty."
The woman in red sat back down on the bed with a dignified posture and said, "What, little lord, do you prefer that sort of style?"
Meng Fan gave a soft cough, noncommittal, and left the question unanswered.
From start to finish, this woman hadn't given up on teasing him.
"Miss, please have some self-respect!" Meng Fan said with a stern and solemn expression.
Of course, he was just putting on an act!
He had to project that he was impervious to feminine charms; only then would the other party let him leave.
The moment he revealed even a shred of lust, the woman would undoubtedly pull out all the stops to pin him down and drain his primordial yang!
He had to hold back!
"To think there's such a straitlaced brat among the Shushan disciples."
"Heh, interesting."
"Remember, don't call me miss from now on; call me Hongqi."
Meng Fan nodded. "Alright, Miss Hongqi!"
Hongqi rolled her eyes at Meng Fan and waved a slender hand.
A red sleeve swept across his field of vision, and Meng Fan's sight returned to normal.
The illusion broke, and he was back on the first floor of the Sword Pavilion, standing before the wooden racks.
Before him rested a longsword radiating a faint red glow.
In his room, Senior Brother Luo, who had been meditating with his eyes closed, opened them at that moment, a trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"This kid has quite astonishing willpower; he's completely unharmed."
"Much better than that last fellow; he ought to last a couple of months longer."
"Not bad!"
Meanwhile, the Meng Fan who had just received Senior Brother Luo's praise was currently staring at the longsword emitting that faint red glow.
Unable to hold back for a moment, he placed his hand right upon it!
Placing his hand on this longsword for an instant, information regarding it surfaced in Meng Fan's mind.
[Sword name: Hongqi.]
[Weight: six jin and seven liang, blade length: one chi, nine cun, and nine fen.]
[Forged from dark-yin iron, smelted with extreme-yang fire for ten days and ten nights, hammered a thousand times with the wild-cloak hammering technique, sacrificed with a maiden's heart's blood to complete the sword!]
Sacrificed with a maiden's heart's blood?
Seeing the description of the Hongqi Sword, Meng Fan's brow furrowed.
This was heretical sorcery!
Using living humans to sacrifice a sword and taking lives was utterly devoid of conscience.
Meng Fan faintly sensed that the maiden sacrificed for the sword might well be the woman in red he had just seen—Hongqi.
No wonder she was named Hongqi, and the sword was also named Hongqi.
What a pitiful woman!
"Sigh..." Meng Fan let out a soft sigh.
He drew the Hongqi Sword. Just like before, a breath surged into his body, traveled through his meridians, and finally converged into his dantian.
Three times in a row, every time he drew a sword, a special breath poured into Meng Fan's dantian.
Who knew what the hell this breath even was!
The previous Baiyu wooden sword had a malignant aura that surged outward.
Yet this Hongqi Sword, looking so brimming with evil aura, actually didn't unleash any malignant aura at Meng Fan.
This surprised Meng Fan slightly.
Could it be that because he had just gotten familiar with Hongqi, she decided not to give him a hard time?
This...
When the Baiyu Sword's malignancy had rushed at him, [Sword Dao Communication] activated, transforming the malignancy into a special memory that allowed him to learn the Flying Feather Sword Formula and Startling Swan Footwork.
Now that the Hongqi Sword had no malignant aura spilling out, it failed to trigger [Sword Dao Communication], leaving him with no gains at all!
Yet this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, seeing as the Hongqi Sword was a spirit sword and exceedingly terrifying.
Whether the [Sword Dao Communication] talent could handle the Hongqi Sword's malignancy was truly up in the air.
Powerful though the talent was, Meng Fan himself was far too weak.
Meng Fan returned the Hongqi Sword to the wooden rack and then resumed wiping the other longswords.
He intended to finish wiping twenty longswords before resting.
This was his set quota!
Next, he wiped seventeen more swords, none of which produced any malignant aura.
Most swords on the first floor of the Sword Pavilion were newly forged weapons.
Weapons stained with blood and harboring malignant aura were, after all, a minority!
Furthermore, Meng Fan was cautious and deliberately avoided weapon types that clearly looked dangerous.
Although he encountered no more sword-malignancy, each of the twenty times he wiped a longsword and drew it, a wisp of breath flowed into his body. He still had no idea what that breath actually was.
Still, it should bring good fortune rather than disaster!
When he finished, Meng Fan returned to his room to rest.
Early the next morning, he picked up the Baiyu Sword from the wooden rack on the first floor of the Sword Pavilion and began practicing his swordsmanship.
*Flying Feather Sword Formula*
This was the only Sword Technique Meng Fan knew, and he had learned it just yesterday.
He had to admit, Meng Fan's original body was truly a good-for-nothing.
Having stayed in the Shushan Sword Sect for so long, he hadn't even mastered a single Sword Technique!
A miscellaneous-grade spiritual root made him a bonafide waste.
The Flying Feather Sword Formula shared its name with the Baiyu Sword, and indeed, it was best suited for being executed with the Baiyu Sword.
Yesterday, when Meng Fan looked into the memories of the Baiyu Sword, he had seen a woman dancing with the sword. Clearly, after obtaining the Baiyu Sword, that woman had created a Sword Technique of her own to match it, naming it the *Flying Feather Sword Formula*.
This Sword Technique could not be considered profound.
However, Meng Fan's cultivation was extremely low, making low-level techniques like this just right for him to practice and achieve mastery of the basics!
Senior Brother Luo opened his door and stepped out, spotting Meng Fan practicing his swordsmanship.
"You brat, although your cultivation is microscopic, you wield this set of sword forms quite decently. Looks like you haven't slacked off; you must have practiced for many years, right?" Senior Brother Luo offered a casual word of praise.
Meng Fan smiled shyly, remaining noncommittal.
Naturally, he wasn't going to say that he had only learned this set of sword forms yesterday!
The supreme talent [Sword Dao Communication] had directly brought him to the stage of mastery the very moment he came into contact with the technique, even optimizing it in the process.
"I'm heading out today to run some errands and purchase a few supplies. I leave the first floor of the Sword Pavilion in your charge. I made all the rules and regulations clear to you yesterday," Senior Brother Luo told Meng Fan.
"Understood, Senior Brother Luo," Meng Fan replied.
After Senior Brother Luo left, the entire, spacious first floor of the Sword Pavilion was left with only Meng Fan.
To be honest, it really did feel a bit chilly and gloomy.
He glanced at the stairs leading from the first floor of the Sword Pavilion up to the second floor, letting out a wry chuckle and shaking his head.
Even though Senior Brother Luo hadn't forbidden him from stepping onto the second floor, his reason told him it was best not to go up there.
Danger lurked everywhere in the Sword Pavilion; the first floor alone was fraught with peril for him, let alone the second floor!
If he stepped onto the second floor, he might become a corpse before he knew it.
Meng Fan continued wiping the longswords, preparing to finish his quota of twenty for the day.
When he made contact with the eighth longsword, a wave of malignant aura surged toward him.
[Sword name: Baiye.]
[Weight: nine jin and three liang, blade length: two chi, three cun, and three fen.]
[Forged from profound iron, smelted in mortal fire for ten days and ten nights, struck nine hundred times with an iron hammer to complete the sword.]
[A mortal sword, yet it has tasted the blood of three thousand six hundred and fifteen people, possessing the potential to become a demonic sword.]
This was an ordinary weapon, yet it had slain over thirty-six hundred people!
It proved that while the sword itself was mortal, its previous owner was certainly no mortal.
Having drunk the blood of so many, the malignant aura contained within this sword was quite astonishing.
Meng Fan's expression shifted, turning immensely grave.
The sword-malignancy rushed into his body, draining the color from his face.
If any other handyman disciple had been in his shoes, they likely would have died on the spot under the impact of this malignancy.
Handyman disciples were simply too weak; coming to the Sword Pavilion was pure suicide!
Even for outer disciples, serving as a sword-guarding disciple in the Pavilion was a trial of nine deaths and zero lives.
[Sword Dao Communication], activate!
Instantly, the sword-malignancy that had surged into Meng Fan's body was refined away.
Concurrently, a scene flashed into Meng Fan's mind.
A ragged young beggar, leaning on a sword, gazed coldly at a group of beggars before him.
"Nifeng, if you want to beg in this territory, you have to work under me."