Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Blade's Force Awakens the Earth Dragon

Old Sun’s words resonated like the clear tones of a temple bell, ringing powerfully in the youth’s ears and striking deep within his heart. The ring-hilted Dragon Sparrow blade abruptly ceased its spinning, and its cry stopped in an instant.

The youth jolted awake, exclaiming in surprise, “Uncle Sun, just now I…”

“Little Zhong, diligence in martial arts is admirable, but you must not rush. Haste makes waste,” Old Sun sighed, shaking his head. His fingers gently pressed the youth’s blade down, then he continued, “Hand me your Extinction Blade. Let your uncle show you a move.”

The youth hesitantly handed the blade to Old Sun, still puzzled, “Uncle Sun, you know martial arts?”

Old Sun did not answer, only taking the Blade of Yama Extinction and stroking its sheath, a look of nostalgia in his eyes.

After examining the blade for a long time, Old Sun explained, “Twenty years ago, when your father first came to this village, I learned swordsmanship from him for a while. Sadly, I was dull of talent—after more than twenty years, I can only use one move.”

So Old Sun and Xu Qian Dao shared such a history; no wonder Old Sun took such care of Zhong’s mother and son.

Their relationship was both teacher and friend. Twenty years ago, in Muddy Village, a fallen hero retired from the world, and a villager yearning for adventure became close companions by chance.

Recalling the past, Old Sun could not help but sigh repeatedly.

“No need to dwell on that, Little Zhong. Your father taught me Three Gusts of Wind, but I only mastered the move ‘Whirling Sandstorm.’ Let me demonstrate it for you today.”

Old Sun lifted the Extinction Blade and motioned for the youth to step back.

He casually planted his hoe in the ground, the handle sinking five inches deep, standing firmly behind him.

Old Sun gripped the blade in his right hand, sheath dragging on the earth. Suddenly, his gaze sharpened, the Dragon Sparrow’s cry ringing out, and the Yama Extinction Blade swept up dust as it rose from the ground.

A faint red gleam flashed from the sheath, piercing beneath the surface.

A slender wave of blade energy slithered like a serpent toward the large stone before the youth. With a thunderous crash, the blade energy vanished into the stone's base.

The stone shuddered, raising a cloud of dust.

The youth stared, dumbfounded. Old Sun’s blade energy was thin, suggesting limited inner strength, but the aura was undeniable.

His tattered hemp robe billowed with the force; when the dust settled, the stone fell with a crash, breaking into several pieces.

For a rural villager, mastering such a skill was remarkable. Yet after the move, Old Sun only sighed, “My Dragon Blade energy moves like a snake. Truly I am ashamed of Brother Zhong’s teachings.”

The youth had witnessed little true martial arts, and this scene left him astonished. “Uncle Sun, you are indeed formidable. Does this mean you possess true inner energy?”

Old Sun shook his head, “The Whirling Sandstorm, when wielded by your father, truly embodied a swordsman’s spirit. I recall him describing the move’s peak: ‘when the sandstorm rises, the blade energy travels like a earthbound dragon.’”

“When the sandstorm rises, the blade energy travels like a earthbound dragon?”

The youth murmured the phrase, picturing the move’s apex: yellow sand sweeping the sky, blade energy splitting the earth like a dragon, one man and his blade breaking a thousand riders, men and horses overthrown, blood flowing like rivers.

Seeing the youth slipping into obsession again, Old Sun hurriedly said, “Little Zhong, don’t daze off, come with me.”

He led the youth to the shade of a tree, seating him against the trunk, then placed three fingers on Zhong Ming’s lower abdomen and whispered, “Breathe deeply and focus. Your father helped me like this years ago.”

Martial arts require external training of muscle, bone, and skin, and internal cultivation of breath.

These days, the youth focused on practicing moves, but the breathing techniques eluded him.

Seeing the youth so obsessed, Old Sun worried he would lose himself, so he decided to help him, just as Xu Qian Dao had helped him years ago, by using his own inner energy to lay a foundation for the youth.

Zhong Ming felt a coolness in his lower abdomen, then something snake-like slipped into his body through Old Sun’s fingers.

This was Old Sun’s true inner energy. The slender energy circled once inside the youth, finally settling three inches below the navel in his dantian.

The sensation was wondrous; the youth was entranced by the energy swirling within his dantian.

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If he were to describe the feeling, it was as if he had eaten something that stirred his belly, his dantian constantly agitated, yet not painful—in fact, somewhat comfortable.

Old Sun withdrew his fingers, his complexion turning even worse, his gaunt face suddenly waxen.

The youth opened his eyes, startled by Old Sun’s pallor. “Uncle Sun, are you alright?”

Old Sun forced a smile, “I’m fine. Assisting with energy is exhausting, but I’ll recover in time.”

In truth, Old Sun lied here. Assisting with energy meant transferring one’s own inner strength to another, a permanent loss—once given away, he would never have it again.

Cultivation is about nurturing energy; those who practice internal arts spend their lives nurturing their own strength.

Old Sun’s talent was poor. Over twenty years, he only managed to nourish the energy Xu Qian Dao had transferred to him, never generating new inner energy.

Internal arts have levels; beginners seek energy—once found, it multiplies, reaching nine stages for mastery.

Seek energy, reach one for entry, nine for perfection.

Today, Old Sun transferred his energy to Zhong Ming, leaving himself entirely depleted. With his abilities, he would never again reach the energy-seeking stage in his life.

It was fate: Xu Qian Dao’s inner energy, passed twenty years ago, now returned to Zhong Ming—father to son, a legacy of strength.

For Zhong Ming, having someone assist him was unnatural, but this energy from his father was the best enlightenment and help.

Nothing is absolute; everything has two sides.

After a while, Old Sun’s color improved. The youth helped him up, “Uncle Sun, let me walk you home.”

Waving him away, Old Sun broke free, “I’m fine, I can walk home myself—nothing serious.”

Just a short sentence, but Old Sun had to pause for breath. Then he said, “Little Zhong, you’ve been obsessed with your blade these days. Obsession is not good. Now that I’ve helped you enter the energy-seeking stage, don’t rush anymore. No more blade practice today—go out, walk with Liang Yu and Da Chi in the city, clear your mind.”

“Zhong Ming understands. Thank you for your guidance, Uncle Sun.”

Now the youth understood the old man’s kind intentions.

Reflecting, Zhong Ming realized he had indeed been possessed by the blade, unable to stop once he started practicing. That could not go on.

Once the youth agreed, Old Sun nodded with relief, “Then I’ll go home and rest. You should take advantage of the sunlight, go out for a walk.”

With that, Old Sun turned to pull out the hoe, needing three tries to free it from the earth. Then he leaned on it, slowly making his way home, his already stooped back seeming even more bent.

Watching the old man depart, the youth’s heart surged with emotion.

He had thought the energy-seeking stage described in books would take a year or more to reach, but with Uncle Sun’s help, he entered this wondrous realm in just days.

The youth had no desire to practice further, especially after promising Uncle Sun to progress step by step.

Studying the thread of red inner energy within him, the youth carried the Extinction Blade as he walked home.

Yet after a long time, he still could not figure out how to control the energy; when he looked up, he was already at his own fenced yard.

Firecloud stood in the yard, snorting loudly, pawing the ground in delight upon seeing his master return.

Ever since Sun Longhu told Liang Black something, Liang Black hadn’t been seen for days, always running to the city.

Firecloud had no one to walk it, and the blade-obsessed youth had no time for it, so it had grown restless in the yard.

Today, finally free, the youth was no longer obsessed with the blade and remembered the joy of riding. Perhaps he would ride Firecloud out today.

The sun was setting, and Zhong Ming recalled the willow branch from a few days ago still in the house. He decided to take it and return to the ruined temple in the west of the city to investigate.

He quickly went inside, took the willow branch, grabbed some silver coins, and slung the Yama Extinction Blade on his back, ready to leave.

He carried the blade in case he encountered monsters and needed to defend himself.

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He remembered well how strange the willow branch was—it had helped him block Wu Constable’s deadly blade and later had driven away Old Mountain Lord at the barren ridge.

There might be monsters in the temple, so it was best to be cautious.

Prepared, Zhong Ming led his horse, mounted, and rode toward the city.

Arriving in town, he bought some cooked food, a jar of Green Bamboo Brew, and incense and paper offerings before heading to the ruined temple in the west.

After all, his life had been saved twice—he had to pay his respects.

Whether to the ancient willow or the broken statue in the temple, he wanted to express his gratitude.

After leaving the incense shop, the youth mounted his horse and rode toward the ruined temple.

But he did not notice that, after he entered the city, someone shadowy followed him, trailing all the way to the ruined temple in the west. When the youth dismounted and entered, the shadowy figure turned and ran off.

…

Upper Wu Family Main Hall.

Steward Wu hurried into the hall, reporting to the somber-faced Wu Lady Li, who still wore white mourning, “Madam, the servant just reported that the boy named Zhong has left the village and is now at the ruined temple in the west. The time has come.”

Wu Lady Li rejoiced, her face twisted with malice, “Excellent. Chen, head guard, take the household guards and bring me that boy’s head from the temple!”

Standing beside her, Head Guard Chen hesitated, “Madam, I hear the boy Zhong is close to Yang Yanlang. Should we wait? The situation is tense, I fear trouble for the Wu family.”

“Trouble?”

Wu Lady Li’s voice rose sharply, gritting her teeth, “My husband and son died at their hands. What is there left to fear? Are you worried about losing your own miserable life?”

“I wouldn’t dare, madam! I’ll go at once and bring back the villain’s head!”

Head Guard Chen bowed in terror and hurried away.

Moments later, a group of men in black poured out from the Wu family’s back gate, all carrying blades, slipping into the night toward the west of the city.

…

Tian Family Residence, pavilion at the center of the garden pond.

Tian Xingjian held bait, gently scattering it into the pond, where koi leapt out to snatch the food.

Suddenly, a cool breeze arose behind him; a boy in blue finery appeared, about seven or eight years old.

The blue-clad boy spoke coldly, “The Wu family has moved. Looks like they’re planning to ambush Yang Yanlang’s nephew.”

“They want to kill Zhong Ming? Where?”

Tian paused, slightly confused.

The blue-clad boy replied coldly, “The temple in the west.”

Tian smiled, “Not so easy to kill. There’s an old willow with a Bodhisattva’s heart there—Zhong Ming’s mother has offered much incense to it.”

Tian scattered all the bait into the pond, sending the koi into a frenzy, the whole pond alive with movement.

The blue-clad boy frowned, “Should we help the Wu family?”

“Those on the brink of death—what good would it do? Better to stay here with me and watch the fish compete for food.”

Tian, smiling mysteriously, sat in the pavilion, waving a peach-blossom fan, his expression enigmatic.

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