The commotion in the martial arts arena faded as Zhao Wuji's staggering figure retreated into the distance. Ye Fan lowered his gaze to the Jiuxiao Huanpei at his waist. The dark qi churning within the engraved patterns of the jade pendant was denser than yesterday, even emitting a faint stench like rotting flesh. He rubbed the pendant with his thumb as memories of his past life washed over him like a tide—that was the sign of the "Karmic Entanglement" within the laws of the Heavenly Dao; someone was using the City Lord's Mansion to tie a dead knot around him.
"Third Young Master, it's time for your breakfast." A young page boy entered through the side door carrying a celadon bowl, the shredded chicken porridge inside still steaming. "Madam said you practiced with your saber until the Hour of the Rat last night, so you need to nourish your Yuanqi today."
Ye Fan took the bowl. The fragrance of the porridge mixed with the lingering smell of blood and rust from the martial arts arena drifted around the tip of his nose. He scooped up a spoonful of porridge, but didn't drink it right away—when Zhao Wuji bumped his shoulder just now, his palm had brushed against the carved mark of the City Lord's token at the other man's waist, which was the emblem of Hanmei Pavilion. Hanmei Pavilion was a secluded assassin organization Su Qingxue had once mentioned. His mother had been killed back then by similar secret guards.
"Go fetch the Dark Iron Saber from the storeroom," he suddenly spoke up. "And have the accountant disburse five taels of silver for Lao Zhou who sweeps the fallen leaves in the front courtyard." The page boy acknowledged the order and was about to run off when Ye Fan called him back. "Wait, wrap the Dark Iron Saber in three layers of oiled cloth so it doesn't get damp from the morning dew."
Morning dew.He gazed at the dew-kissed blades of grass by the edge of the martial arts arena, recalling the new moves he needed to practice at the Hour of the Rabbit. In his past life, he had comprehended the "Three Forms of Void Breaking", but this body had only just reached the Body Tempering Jade Bone Realm, so he had to break down the techniques into moves suited for his current realm. Take the "River-Severing" form, for instance; it had to be changed into the "River-Guiding" form, which borrowed momentum to deflect force, using Qinglan qi to pull the opponent's strength and then rebound it back.
For the next three days, Ye Fan immersed himself in the martial arts arena. He practiced the saber at the Hour of Tiger, broke down moves at the Hour of Rabbit, and deduced cultivation methods using his Inner World at the Hour of Dragon—his Inner World was now about half an acre in size, with the "Dao Platform" condensed from his past life's remnant soul floating in the center, upon which rested the Ye family's ancestral "Qinglan Saber Manual". The saber manual originally only reached the Gang Transformation Realm, but he used the Power of the Heavenly Dao to deduce it up to the Void Breaking Realm. Each shock of the newly created "Nine Shocks of Qinglan" could draw upon the wind gang in the heavens and earth to shatter an opponent's weapon.
On the morning of the fourth day, as Ye Fan put away his saber in the morning mist, the character for "Shock" carved on the scabbard was polished bright by his sweat. He wiped his face and turned around to see a plain white figure standing at the courtyard entrance—Lin Zhaoyue was holding a sword case, the cyan jade hairpin in her hair gleaming with a cold light in the mist.
"I heard you beat up the City Lord's Mansion's troublemaker," her voice sounded like jade soaked in snow water, yet lifted lightly at the tail end. "The pigeons from Cangwu Mountain say that your newly created saber technique contains the 'Guiding' formula?"
Ye Fan was startled, then smiled. Lin Zhaoyue had only come to Qinglan City last month, saying she was searching for the opportunity of the "Taichu Sword Canon", yet she always sat under the tree with her sword case in her arms whenever he practiced his saber. She didn't talk much, but every time he broke down a move, her fingertips would tap lightly against the sword case—she was counting the flaws in his moves for him.
"Lady Zhaoyue wakes up even earlier than the morning rooster." He unfastened his outer robe and draped it over his forearm, revealing the tense muscles beneath his undergarment. "Would you like to come in for a cup of tea? I asked Xiaocui to brew some Biluochun, she said it was last year's pre-Qingming tea."
Lin Zhaoyue said nothing, but followed him into the room. When Xiaocui brought the tea in, she saw Lin Zhaoyue staring at the saber manual hanging on the wall, the tips of her hair brushing against the inkstone on the desk, even picking up a smudge of ink. If this were any other young lady, she would have panicked by now, but she merely used her fingertip to smooth out the ink stain, blurring it into an ink plum blossom on the xuan paper.
"The force in the seventh shock of your 'Nine Shocks of Qinglan' is unleashed too hastily," she suddenly spoke up, her finger pointing at the diagram in the saber manual. "The Taichu Sword Canon has the 'Flaw-Guarding Form', where the sword momentum leaves three parts of a flaw to lure the opponent into trying to mend it, which can instead lock off their retreat route. If your saber shock also leaves a void gate..."
Ye Fan leaned in close to look at her fingertip, which was barely half an inch away from the diagram, and he could smell the faint scent of pine wood on her. He suddenly recalled the snow pines he had seen on Enquiring Dao Peak in his past life, which also carried this crisp yet warm scent. "Does Lady Zhaoyue mean to use a false shock to lure the opponent into changing their moves?" He picked up a brush and drew a dotted line next to the seventh shock. "For instance, striking the back of the blade first, then striking the edge, making it difficult for the opponent to distinguish between real and false?"
Lin Zhaoyue's eyes lit up. She rarely showed such an expression, like a star suddenly falling into a cold pool. "Precisely." She drew the sword half an inch out of its case, its cold light making the words on the saber manual tremble. "The sword walks a perilous path, while the saber follows a righteous momentum, but the principles of the real and the false are interconnected. Look at this blood groove on the spine of the sword—"
The two of them gestured back and forth over the saber manual. The Biluochun in the teacup grew cold, then hot again, then cold once more. It was not until the sun climbed up the window lattice that Lin Zhaoyue realized she had been sitting there for over an hour. She hurriedly put her sword back into its case, and the cyan jade hairpin in her hair swayed as she turned, almost falling out.
"The father and son of the Zhao Clan will not let this rest," she stood at the threshold, suddenly looking back, the stars in the depths of her eyes sinking back into the cold pool. "Zhao Batian sent secret guards to the south dock yesterday to move twenty boxes of dark iron. I heard them say at the alley entrance that they 'want to prepare a big gift for the Third Young Master of the Ye Family'."
Ye Fan's fingers tapped lightly on the scabbard. Dark iron was best suited for forging heavy weapons. Zhao Batian was an expert in the Qi Condensation Gang Transformation Realm; if he used a heavy dark iron saber, he would likely try to deal a fatal blow to him during the clan trials. "Many thanks, Lady Zhaoyue." He cupped his fists, his gaze landing on the ink plum blossom in her hair. "I'll accept those twenty boxes of dark iron on behalf of Qinglan City."
After Lin Zhaoyue left, Ye Fan stood in the courtyard watching the shadows of the sunlight. The wind whipped up a few fallen leaves, scattering them against his feet. He fished out the Jiuxiao Huanpei; the dark qi had somehow condensed into the shape of a snake, its forked tongue pointing straight toward the south side of the city. It was time for seclusion, he thought; before the clan trials, he needed to practice the false shocks of the "Nine Shocks of Qinglan" to ninety percent perfection, and then use his Inner World to deduce a set of protective gang qi.
"Young Master!" Xiaocui's voice came from outside the courtyard, carrying panting breaths. Her hair was disheveled from running, her skirt hem stained with mud spots, and she was clutching a piece of blood-stained torn fabric in her hand—it was a fragment of a waist token belonging to the City Lord's Mansion's secret guards.
When Ye Fan raised his eyes, he saw a patch of dark clouds floating in the sky behind her, slowly pressing down toward the direction of the Ye family ancestral hall.