"Give you a chance. Crawl between my legs, and I'll allow you to beg for mercy here!"
Among a group of beggars, the leader sneered at the young man.
The young man raised his head and met his gaze coldly.
Infuriated, the beggar leader barked, "What? You're not convinced? Don't think that just because you picked up some piece of junk, you can act tough in front of me. Believe it or not, I'll finish you off right now!"
"This isn't a piece of junk. It's a sword!"
The young man spoke, his tone as cold as his expression.
"A sword? Ha! Can it kill people?" The beggar leader walked right up to the young man and slapped him across the face—pure humiliation!
*Clang—*
A sword hummed.
The sword in the young man's hand cleared its scabbard.
The next second, the beggar leader clutched his throat, staring at the young man in utter disbelief as he collapsed to the ground.
Dead!
Throat slit by a single sword!
"A sword, naturally, can kill people."
The young man slid the blood-stained sword back into its scabbard, without even glancing at the corpse of the beggar leader.
His cold gaze swept over the remaining group of beggars.
Terrified out of their wits, the beggars scattered like birds and beasts in an instant.
The scene shifted.
Meng Fan saw the same young man appear in a county yamen courtroom. With a placid expression, he drew his sword, and a thin red line materialized across the magistrate's neck.
The scene shifted again.
The young man drew his sword amidst an army of thousands, slitting a general's throat in a flash, killing him instantly.
......
Every single scene was simply a repetition of the exact same action: drawing the sword.
A moment later, Meng Fan opened his eyes.
Through these memories, he had mastered a sword technique.
*Ultimate Sword-Drawing Technique*
Subconsciously, Meng Fan drew the White Night Sword.
A flash of sword light bloomed on the first floor of the Sword Pavilion.
Though this was his very first time executing this sword-drawing technique, it felt as though he had already mastered it to perfection.
"What a terrifying sword strike!" Meng Fan muttered to himself.
Sheathing the sword, Meng Fan remained immersed in the lingering essence of the technique he had just witnessed.
This strike had been entirely self-created by a young man rising from the very lowest rungs of society.
It looked ordinary, yet it harbored countless profound mysteries!
This youth was undoubtedly a peerless prodigy of his generation.
Meng Fan recalled how the beggar leader in the memory had shouted out the young man's name.
Ni Feng!
The name sounded vaguely familiar to him.
Frowning in thought, a particular person suddenly came to mind.
In the Great Dragon Dynasty, the master of the Dragon-Guarding Villa—the Evernight Divine Marquis!
That peerless Marquis, who stood above all others in the Great Dragon Dynasty save for the emperor alone, seemed to go by the name Ni Feng.
And the Evernight Divine Marquis also used a sword!
Legend had it that this Marquis was a terrifying existence with thousands of kills under his belt, his hands stained with blood.
The number of souls that had perished beneath his sword numbered in the tens of thousands.
He was a living Asura in the mortal world!
Could this unremarkable White Night Sword actually have once been the personal weapon of the Evernight Divine Marquis?
Though it sounded like a fantasy, Meng Fan had a lingering intuition that it was true!
"Even so, a marquis is a marquis, and the White Night Sword is the White Night Sword. Even if the Marquis used it, this White Night Sword remains a mortal blade, no stronger than any other."
"After all, it was the Marquis who was powerful, not the White Night Sword!"
Meng Fan muttered, placing the White Night Sword back onto the wooden rack.
If the Marquis had used the White Night Sword from beginning to end, then this blade might not merely hold the potential to become a [Demonic Sword].
It would have truly transformed into a terrifying demonic weapon!
Alas, the White Night Sword had clearly been discarded by the Marquis; otherwise, it would never have ended up in the Sword Pavilion.
After putting down the White Night Sword, Meng Fan stopped polishing swords.
Because he was exhausted!
Although [Sword Dao Divinity] had refined the baleful Qi of the White Night Sword, Meng Fan had clearly still been affected by it.
He felt utterly exhausted, as if his very vitality had been severely damaged.
While the White Feather Sword he handled previously also possessed baleful Qi, its impact on him had been negligible.
This White Night Sword was clearly far more terrifying than the White Feather Sword!
"It seems my caution earlier was justified. Even a talent like [Sword Dao Divinity] isn't invincible. If I touch a sword that is too powerful, I simply cannot withstand the baleful Qi it radiates!"
A smile appeared on Meng Fan's face as he sat down on the stool.
Though utterly exhausted and mentally drained.
It was...
Worth it!
The *Ultimate Sword-Drawing Technique* was powerful.
If he were to participate in the handyman disciple assessment again, relying on the *Ultimate Sword-Drawing Technique*, he was confident he could leap straight from last place to first!
To others, the Sword Pavilion was a death trap.
Yet to Meng Fan, in a sense, it was a blessed land.
Meng Fan sat on the stool to rest.
After a full two hours, he finally recovered some of his energy and spirit.
A moment later, someone walked in through the gates of the Sword Pavilion.
Meng Fan recognized this person quite well.
Yang Fei!
He was a handyman disciple just like Meng Fan had been, but he had been taken in as a disciple by Deacon Wang.
Yesterday, this very Yang Fei had colluded with Deacon Wang to trick Meng Fan into coming to the Sword Pavilion as a sword-guarding disciple.
At the time, Meng Fan hadn't known what those two were plotting.
But after chatting with Senior Brother Luo, combined with his experiences over the past day and night, Meng Fan had completely figured it out.
These two...
wanted him dead!
Chapter 6: Ultimate Sword-Drawing Technique
Meng Fan had no idea how he could have offended those two.
Yet they actually wanted him dead!
To be frank, this was no minor grievance anymore.
Naturally, Meng Fan would not repay evil with kindness toward people who wanted him dead.
In fact, given the opportunity, he would be more than happy to finish off Yang Fei and Deacon Wang.
With his potential, sooner or later he would find a chance to dispose of these two fellows.
However, what puzzled him more right now was why they wanted to harm him in the first place.
After all, he and they truly shared no enmity whatsoever.
"What are you here for?" Meng Fan asked, looking at Yang Fei.
Yang Fei sneered, "What kind of attitude is that? My master introduced you to such a wonderful gig, shouldn't you be thanking us?"
"Whether it's a wonderful gig or not, you know best in your hearts! I'm just curious, we have no grudges between us, why would you want to harm me?"
Meng Fan glanced at Yang Fei, a flicker of obvious anger in his eyes.
Although coming to the Sword Pavilion had, in a sense, turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
Meng Fan felt no goodwill whatsoever toward Yang Fei and Deacon Wang—only disgust!
"Why? Because a toad wants to eat swan meat! Do you really think someone as heavenly and peerless as Senior Sister Li Xuerou is someone you have any right to covet?" Yang Fei's gaze toward Meng Fan was dripping with sarcasm.
A toad wanting to eat swan meat?
Li Xuerou?
Meng Fan frowned.
Even with Deacon Wang backing him, a handyman disciple like Yang Fei wouldn't dare have designs on Li Xuerou.
"Did Qian Lechi instigate you to harm me?" Meng Fan asked, furrowing his brow.
"Are you even worthy of Senior Brother Qian making a personal move?" Yang Fei said, full of disdain.
At this point, Meng Fan roughly understood the situation.
Both Li Xuerou and he were orphans from Xingmu Village, who had depended on each other for survival and shared a very close relationship.
Qian Lechi had misunderstood his relationship with Li Xuerou and therefore wanted him out of the picture.
As for Li Xuerou, Meng Fan entirely regarded her as a younger sister; there was no romantic affection whatsoever.
Unfortunately, this wasn't something he could explain to Qian Lechi—even if he tried, the guy wouldn't believe him!
Normally, Meng Fan wouldn't care who Sister Xuerou chose to be with.
But now it was clear that Qian Lechi possessed a crooked character and was entirely unworthy of her.
Besides, Meng Fan was the type to exact revenge for every minor grievance; he would never let go of anyone who tried to harm him!
He lacked the strength to deal with Qian Lechi right now, but that would change in due time.
Having figured the matter out, Meng Fan couldn't be bothered to waste any more breath on Yang Fei.
He said to Yang Fei coldly, "The Sword Pavilion is not a place a mere handyman disciple can wander into. Get lost right now!"
Hearing this, Yang Fei wore an expression of utter contempt.
"You good-for-nothing trash, and now you're getting full of yourself? If I were you, I'd hurry up and find a nice plot of geomantic treasure land, then dig a hole and get it ready!"
Not wanting to engage in a war of words any longer, Meng Fan spat out a single word.
"Scram!"
Seeing that a piece of trash like Meng Fan dared to act so arrogant in front of him, Yang Fei instantly flew into a rage.
"You're courting death!" Yang Fei drew a broken sword and slashed at Meng Fan.
In fact, Meng Fan had already noticed the broken sword in Yang Fei's hand; the fellow must have come to the Sword Pavilion to exchange a weapon.
However, as a handyman disciple, Yang Fei had no qualification to acquire weapons from the Sword Pavilion, let alone exchange them.
Thus, he was likely just running errands for someone else.
Just a lackey!
Seeing Yang Fei strike at him, Meng Fan remained unhurried, picking up a long sword from the wooden rack beside him.
*Clang...*
A sword hummed.
The long sword cleared its scabbard.
A streak of sword light blossomed across the hall of the Sword Pavilion.
*Ultimate Sword-Drawing Technique!*
Meng Fan was putting his newly learned skill straight into practice.
The next second, the broken sword in Yang Fei's hand was knocked flying.
A thin line of blood appeared across his neck.
Clutching his throat, he stared at Meng Fan in absolute terror.
In that very instant, he had thought he was dead!
Never before had the fear of death been so vivid.
Looking coldly at Yang Fei, Meng Fan said calmly, "You should thank your lucky stars that this is the Shushan Sword Sect, and this is the Sword Pavilion. Otherwise, you'd already be a corpse!"
Hearing Meng Fan's words, Yang Fei instinctively touched his throat, only to discover that the skin was merely broken.
A cold sweat broke out all over his body, and lingering fear washed over him.
If Meng Fan had exerted just a little more force, his throat would have been slit and he would have been thoroughly dead.
Terrifying!
When on earth had this Meng Fan become so terrifying?
He had precisely controlled the tip of the sword to slice the skin of his neck without injuring any vital points.
That was even harder than killing someone outright with a single slash!
At that moment, Yang Fei was completely dumbfounded. Wasn't Meng Fan second-to-last in the handyman disciple assessments... no, he was dead last now.
How had he suddenly become so terrifying?
Crawling and scrambling in panic, Yang Fei fled the Sword Pavilion as if running for his life.
He didn't even bother to pick up the broken sword he had dropped on the ground.
Watching Yang Fei's retreating figure, Meng Fan's face showed utter disdain.
Then, he wiped the long sword in his hand clean and placed it back on the wooden rack.
Next, he picked up the broken sword Yang Fei had left behind.
The moment his fingers touched the blade:
[Sword Name: Black Flame.]
[Weight: Seven catties and eight taels, blade length: two feet three inches.]
...
Meng Fan frowned. Not only did this sword emit no baleful Qi rushing toward him, but unlike the previous long swords, no special aura flowed into his body.
"Perhaps because it's a broken sword and already considered ruined, it has no effect."
He placed the Black Flame Sword into the recycling room, then retrieved the sword registry ledger.
Quickly, he found the record corresponding to this sword in the ledger.
[June 3rd, Yang Shi, ranked forty-first among outer disciples, came to the Sword Pavilion to claim a weapon and selected the Black Flame Sword.]
The Shushan Sword Sect had over a thousand outer disciples, but only the top fifty were qualified to claim a sword from the Sword Pavilion—a reward bestowed by the sect upon its elite disciples.
Inner disciples, on the other hand, could all claim swords freely.
"It seems this Yang Fei came to exchange the sword on behalf of Yang Shi."
"Yang Fei, Yang Shi—they both share the surname Yang. They must be related in some way."
Meng Fan shook his mind clear of the matter and didn't give it another thought.
However, with Yang Fei pulling this stunt, he had effectively screwed over that outer disciple, Yang Shi.
If a sword was damaged, one only needed to hand over three Spirit Stones at the Sword Pavilion to exchange it.
But if a weapon was lost, it required ten Spirit Stones to claim a new one!
A difference of seven Spirit Stones was enough to make any outer disciple's heart ache fiercely.
Bearing a grudge against someone by extension, Meng Fan held no goodwill toward Yang Shi, and naturally had no intention of returning the broken Black Flame Sword to him.
As for whether this Yang Shi would come looking for trouble...
Heh, let him come!
Having rested sufficiently, Meng Fan resumed polishing the long swords, quickly finishing the batch of twenty.
The last few swords he polished lacked baleful Qi, but every single one of them still channeled a wisp of aura into his body—that much remained unchanged.
It wasn't until dusk fell that Senior Brother Luo finally strolled back leisurely.
The fellow claimed he had gone out to run some errands, yet he returned empty-handed.
The crucial part was that he reeked of alcohol!
Chapter 7: Cultivation, the First Wisp of True Qi
Clearly, Senior Brother Luo had gone out for a drinking session.
Meng Fan had initially thought the management of the Sword Pavilion was as strict as being locked up in solitary confinement, completely robbing one of freedom!
At the very least, he assumed he had to stay inside the Sword Pavilion every day without stepping out.
Yet as things stood, that wasn't the case at all.
The fact that Senior Brother Luo could live so carefree proved that being a sword-guarding disciple at the Sword Pavilion wasn't all that miserable.
Meng Fan now felt that being a sword-guarding disciple here wasn't actually so bad after all!
"Senior Brother Luo, you're back," Meng Fan greeted him politely.
Senior Brother Luo chuckled, letting out a booze-laden burp.
Then, with a flick of his wrist, he tossed a wine gourd to Meng Fan.
"Don't say your senior brother keeps all the good stuff to himself and doesn't look out for you—this is your share!" With that, he headed straight back to his room to rest.
Must admit, this easygoing life wasn't half bad.
"Right, it's just about time. Lock up."
Back in his room, Senior Brother Luo didn't forget to toss a reminder over his shoulder before closing his door.
Looking at the wine gourd in his hand, Meng Fan wore a helpless, wry smile.
Then he bolted the gates of the Sword Pavilion and returned to his own room.
He had already finished polishing his quota of twenty sword weapons for the day, meaning he could finally rest.
Carrying the wine gourd back to his room, Meng Fan uncorked it and took a sip.
Terrible!
After a single gulp, he plugged the gourd back up and set it on the table.
In his past life, Meng Fan hadn't been much of a drinker, and the alcohol in this world tasted far worse than back on Earth, so naturally, he had no fondness for it.
"It's time to focus on cultivation!" Meng Fan muttered, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
By now, he had already mastered two sword techniques.
Moreover, aided by the supreme talent of [Sword Dao Divinity], he had achieved complete mastery over both.
His practical combat ability wasn't weak either; against someone near the top of the handyman disciple rankings like Yang Fei, Meng Fan had the capability to kill them instantly.
Yet Meng Fan's greatest flaw remained his cultivation level!
His cultivation was practically zero.
To be precise, it was 0!
Cultivating the very first wisp of True Qi marked the true beginning of having cultivation.
As a bottom-feeder among the handyman disciples, Meng Fan naturally hadn't cultivated even a shred of True Qi.
Sitting cross-legged on the bed, Meng Fan began practicing the *Qi Guidance Art*.
The *Qi Guidance Art* was the introductory cultivation method for disciples of the Shushan Sword Sect.
Practicing the *Qi Guidance Art* allowed one to forge the first wisp of True Qi within their body.
Only after acquiring this initial wisp of True Qi could one transition to practicing true immortal cultivation techniques!
Thus, at this moment, Meng Fan was so humble that he didn't even possess a proper cultivation manual.
And the only way to break through this awkward predicament was to diligently use the *Qi Guidance Art* to cultivate that first wisp of True Qi!
The *Qi Guidance Art!*
Meng Fan was intimately familiar with it; his previous incarnation had practiced it countless times, yet had never managed to produce any True Qi.
A low-grade spiritual root was truly dishearteningly weak.
However, this time, after attempting the *Qi Guidance Art*, something entirely different happened compared to before.
He sensed a faint warmth emerging somewhere in the vicinity of his lower abdomen.
It was as if the special auras that had flooded into his body every time he drew and polished a sword were all converging toward this spot.
Deep within his lower abdomen...
Meng Fan frowned slightly. Although he lacked internal vision, he possessed basic common sense.
This location should be his Dantian, right?
Though Meng Fan didn't know what that influx of energy entering his body during each sword-polishing session was, since it was now stirring, the odds were high that it would aid his cultivation.
After all, his innate talent would never sabotage him; it only existed to help.
As this warmth materialized in his lower abdomen, the *Qi Guidance Art* Meng Fan was practicing suddenly began to operate at a frenzied pace.
This was an unprecedented phenomenon!
Every time Meng Fan had practiced the *Qi Guidance Art* in the past, its circulation speed resembled an infant's pedal car.
Yet right now, it instantly transformed into a Ferrari operating at full throttle.
A difference as vast as heaven and earth!
"This speed is insane," Meng Fan murmured, opening his eyes in sheer disbelief.
He furrowed his brow, falling into deep thought.
Try as he might, he couldn't figure out what was going on.
Still, there was no need to puzzle it out completely—either way, it was a good thing!
Without dwelling on it further, Meng Fan resumed circulating the *Qi Guidance Art*.
He spent the entire night without sleep.
By early the next morning, before dawn had broken, Meng Fan climbed down from the bed where he had been sitting cross-legged in meditation.
Though he hadn't slept all night, he felt refreshed and full of vigor.
Most importantly, the first wisp of True Qi had formed within his body.
From this moment onward, he was no longer a good-for-nothing lacking cultivation.
Pushing open his bedroom door, Meng Fan stretched lazily.
It felt amazing!
Today, he could officially say he had stepped onto the path of immortal cultivation.
No, wait—something was still missing.
He didn't have an immortal cultivation manual yet!
The sole purpose of the *Qi Guidance Art* was to cultivate and condense the human body's very first wisp of True Qi; beyond that, it served no further function.
Meng Fan needed to find a formal cultivation technique!
Once a handyman disciple cultivated their first wisp of True Qi, they could promote to an outer disciple and receive an immortal cultivation manual.
However, Meng Fan was currently the sword-guarding disciple of the Sword Pavilion—neither a handyman disciple nor an outer disciple.
Under these circumstances, Meng Fan had no choice but to seek help from Senior Brother Luo.
Full three hours later, when the sun was high in the sky, Senior Brother Luo finally pushed open his door with sleepy eyes.
By that time, Meng Fan had already finished polishing all twenty long swords.
Because he deliberately steered clear of the "powerful swords," none of the twenty long swords Meng Fan polished this time contained baleful Qi.
"Oh? Kid, you've cultivated True Qi?"
Stepping out the door and catching sight of Meng Fan for the first time, Senior Brother Luo said with a hint of surprise.
Meng Fan offered a shy smile and said, "Now that I've entered the Sword Pavilion, if I want to live a few more days, naturally I have to double my efforts in cultivation."
Senior Brother Luo nodded, picking a bit of sleep out of the corner of his eye.
"You've got a good head on your shoulders. Not bad—if you want to survive in the Sword Pavilion, you have to strive to grow stronger!"