As dawn broke, the rising sun cast a golden-red glow across the tranquil lake.
Beside the water, a lone figure practiced swordsmanship, the blade flashing brilliantly as it caught the sunlight.
With a powerful thrust, the sword pierced the air, body and blade moving in perfect unison. The iron blade whirled horizontally overhead before crashing down in a seamless motion, propelled by momentum. The sword danced like a butterfly flitting through flowers, its shadow flickering in the air. Even before the afterimage of the previous strike faded, three lightning-fast thrusts shot forth in rapid succession, each a blur of motion.
The sword snapped back swiftly. After a brief pause, Chen Zong channeled all his strength into his right arm, veins bulging on the back of his hand. Power surged through the blade as he explosively stabbed forward, aiming to shatter any obstacle in his path.
Thrusting Sword Stance, Circling Sword Stance, Chopping Sword Stance, Chaotic Sword Stance, Swift Sword Stance, Exploding Sword Stance—the True Sword Eight Forms flowed seamlessly from one to the next, blade, body, and footwork harmonizing into a unified whole.
"Five days of effort, and I've finally grasped the basics of the True Sword Eight Forms," Chen Zong murmured, sheathing his sword with a satisfied smile. Wiping sweat from his brow, he couldn't hide his delight.
The True Sword Eight Forms were several times more difficult to master than the Tiger Force Fist Technique. Perfect coordination between blade, body, and footwork was essential; even the slightest flaw could derail progress. Previously, Chen Zong estimated it would have taken him over a year of relentless training just to reach this rudimentary level. But now, after undergoing Meridian Cleansing and Marrow Tempering, transforming his very being, everything had changed.
With each cultivation session, Chen Zong could feel the faint tremor of the sword tip in the space between his eyebrows. The cool aura cleared his mind, enhancing his understanding of sword techniques and refining his control over his body, dramatically accelerating his training efficiency.
"I've achieved minor mastery of the True Sword Eight Forms, allowing me to temper sixty percent of my body," Chen Zong mused, his gaze fixed on the distant Wind Howl Forest. "My cultivation speed now far surpasses that of the perfected Tiger Force Fist Technique at its peak, but it still won't be enough to break through to the third layer of the Qi Blood Realm within the next three weeks."
He glanced at the Wind Howl Forest. "Perhaps I should venture into the forest to gather herbs that replenish blood qi and hunt some beasts along the way. Consuming more beast meat would also benefit my cultivation."
With this decision made, Chen Zong immediately strode purposefully toward the Wind Howl Forest.
The forest lay some distance from Small Lake Town. Maintaining a steady pace, it took Chen Zong a full hour to reach its edge. The wind howled through the trees, producing a series of roars reminiscent of countless wild beasts—hence the forest's name.
After resting briefly to regain his stamina, Chen Zong drew his sword and entered the Wind Howl Forest.
The forest stretched vast and dense, its towering trees interwoven with thick branches and luxuriant foliage that blotted out most of the sunlight, casting the area into perpetual twilight. However, Chen Zong's enhanced vision from his recent transformative experiences allowed him to navigate the dimness with ease.
The wind howled incessantly outside the forest, yet within its depths reigned a profound stillness, broken only by the delicate chirping of insects that painted the silence like a vivid scroll.
After searching meticulously for hours, Chen Zong found neither herbs nor even a single rabbit. "It seems the forest's perimeter has been scoured countless times already," he muttered to himself, his expression hardening as he gazed into the shadowed depths. "I'll have to venture deeper."
Wind Howl Forest nestled at the foot of Wind Howl Mountain, a region known for its demon beasts. Without the strength of a martial artist, encountering one meant certain death. The forest's midsection teemed with venomous creatures and ferocious predators—wolves, tigers, and leopards roamed freely. Even with Chen Zong's cultivation base, such depths posed considerable danger.
Taking a deep breath, Chen Zong strode resolutely into the forest, his senses honed to their peak. His eyes focused sharply ahead, Innate Blood Qi coursing through his body, poised for action.
Suddenly, a faint rustling reached his ears from the right. A white blur flickered in his peripheral vision, and without thinking, Chen Zong drew his sword and thrust. He severed only a few strands of white fur—it was a rabbit, darting away with lightning speed. Chen Zong gave chase immediately, but the creature vanished into a tree hollow, leaving him no choice but to abandon the pursuit.
A sudden chill ran down Chen Zong's spine, raising goosebumps and making his hair stand on end. Without hesitation, he slashed upward with his iron sword. The blade flashed faintly as it sliced through the air, and with a sickening thud, the snake plummeting toward him was severed in mid-air, its severed body falling limply into the distance.
Chen Zong stared at the still-writhing brown torso and triangular head, drawing a sharp breath. His heart pounded with lingering fear, and cold sweat beaded on his forehead. He recognized it instantly: a Withered Skin Snake. Not a demon beast, but its venom was terrifyingly potent. A single bite could kill even a strong bull in minutes, and no martial artist could withstand it for long.
"Danger lurks everywhere, as expected," Chen Zong muttered, steadying his breathing. Yet fear was nowhere to be found. Instead, an unprecedented impulse surged through him, compelling him to delve deeper into the Wind Howl Forest—a nascent courage to embrace challenges. His stomach, however, betrayed him with a loud growl.
"I've been here too long already," Chen Zong thought, rubbing his abdomen. "Time to retreat and return tomorrow." He withdrew from the forest, maintaining heightened vigilance even as he left.
As he walked slowly home, lost in thought, he remembered that he would pass Small Lake Town. To his surprise, he spotted a brown-robed figure standing by the water's edge.
"Chen Dalei..." Chen Zong frowned slightly but strode forward without hesitation.
Like Chen Zhongjie, Chen Dalei was one of Chen Zhigang's lackeys. However, with a cultivation base at the third layer of the Qi Blood Realm and mastery of the Tiger Force Fist Technique, Chen Dalei was far more formidable than Chen Zhongjie.
I wonder if my current strength is enough to defeat Chen Dalei? Chen Zong mused inwardly.
While Chen Dalei's cultivation base surpassed his own, Chen Zong's mastery of the Tiger Force Fist Technique had reached the pinnacle of Great Perfection, while Chen Dalei's was merely at the peak of Minor Perfection. Factoring in this difference, the outcome of a fight remained uncertain.
"Chen Zong, you made me wait an hour!" Chen Dalei roared, his burly frame shaking with rage as he glared at Chen Zong, attempting to intimidate him with the force of his voice.
"That's your problem," Chen Zong retorted, unfazed, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
"You injured Chen Zhongjie and dared to threaten Brother Gang and me! It's time to settle the score!" Chen Dalei bellowed, stomping forward and charging toward Chen Zong like an enraged tiger, his face twisted with fury.
His claw-like hand rose, channeling the full power of his third-layer Qi Blood Realm cultivation into his fist, preparing a devastating strike.
"Perfect timing to test the True Sword Eight Forms on you," Chen Zong thought, widening his stance. His right leg bent slightly forward, while his left leg bent more sharply behind him, bearing most of his weight. He raised his left heel, balancing on the ball of his foot, every muscle in his left leg coiled taut. His body tilted slightly leftward, hunched forward, his left hand gripping the iron sword close to his waist, while his right fingers lightly flicked the air.
Hidden Sword Stance!
The opening stance of the True Sword Eight Forms.
His eyes turned icy, pupils focused, meticulously observing every nuance of Chen Dalei's expression and movement, silently calculating the distance between them.
"Haaah!" Chen Dalei roared, his voice cracking like spring thunder, right fist coiled to strike. A direct hit would surely inflict internal injuries.
Exhaling sharply, Chen Zong's right hand swiftly gripped the sword hilt. His left foot slammed against the ground as if to shatter it, his waist twisting violently to the right, channeling explosive power into his right arm. The iron sword hissed from its scabbard, the grating screech of metal lingering in the air as it swept forward in a crescent arc.
Drawing Sword Stance!
Terror seized Chen Dalei. He skidded to a halt, a sudden chill cutting through his chest. His brown martial robe tore open, the sword tip grazing his skin, leaving a thin red line where beads of blood began to seep.
Chen Zong's iron sword pointed directly at Chen Dalei, his face as cold as ice.
"Chen Zong, if you've got the guts, drop the sword!" Chen Dalei stumbled backward, his voice trembling with anger and shock, utterly stunned.
"Using a sword is my skill," Chen Zong replied calmly.
"You..." Chen Dalei jabbed a furious finger at Chen Zong, his face flushed crimson with rage, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. "Put down the sword and let me land a punch! Otherwise, Brother Gang will deal with you personally, and you're finished!"
"Go back and tell Chen Zhigang," Chen Zong retorted coldly, "that I'll be participating in the upcoming Martial Apprentice Battle. I'll settle things with him there once and for all."
"Fine, if you're so overconfident, let Brother Gang teach you a lesson!" Chen Dalei snarled, pointing at Chen Zong before retreating further and storming away.
Sheathing his sword, Chen Zong rubbed his stomach and turned toward home. "Father should be back soon. I need to start cooking dinner."
His father, who had once reached the seventh layer of the Qi Blood Realm, wouldn't be fooled by these sudden changes.
Chen Zong had already concocted a story: one night after finishing his fist practice, while gazing at the moon, a senior expert had passed by. This expert gave him a mysterious fruit that not only replenished his Innate Blood Qi but also boosted his cultivation base to the second layer of the Qi Blood Realm. He then instructed him in the Tiger Force Fist Technique and imparted a Foundation Establishment Sword Technique.
The story sounded fantastical and hard to believe, but Chen Zhengtang readily accepted it. He had heard similar tales before, and as he put it, "If such lucky individuals exist, why couldn't my son be one of them?"
Chen Zong breathed a sigh of relief at his father's belief. The fewer people who knew about that fateful night, the better. Chen Zong couldn't explain why—his current experience wasn't enough to understand it—but it was a gut feeling.
After washing the rice and setting it to cook, Chen Zong noticed his father still hadn't returned. He pulled a weathered black wooden chest from under the bed, its surface crisscrossed with fine cracks. Opening it, he retrieved a painted scroll and unfurled it on the table.
In an instant, a roar seemed to echo through the room as a ferocious tiger leaped to life from the canvas.
The Descending Mountain Tiger Scroll!
His father had unearthed this hidden treasure after learning Chen Zong had mastered the Tiger Force Fist Technique. According to him, the scroll was crafted by a friend who had achieved Perfection in the technique, imbuing it with profound spiritual essence that might aid Chen Zong's cultivation.
As his father spoke, Chen Zong caught a fleeting look of childish pride on his face, like a child who had snatched a coveted toy.
Chen Zong meticulously examined the scroll. The stark black-and-white strokes, though simple, possessed a unique charm and extraordinary vigor. With just a few lines, the artist had sketched a steep mountain and a ferocious tiger leaping down its slopes with lifelike energy, its vibrant spirit practically bursting from the paper.
At the bottom corner, the inscription "Chen Liwei" stood out—bold, powerful characters that seemed to penetrate the parchment.
Whenever he had a spare moment these past few days, Chen Zong would unfold the scroll to study it in detail. His understanding of the Tiger Force Fist Technique had deepened, and his proficiency had improved slightly. However, the path to Perfection remained elusive.
Achieving Great Mastery is easy, but Perfection is rare, Chen Zong mused. I wonder how Senior Chen Liwei managed to cultivate the Tiger Force Fist Technique to such Perfection?
If only I could learn from him directly. Perhaps that would spark the inspiration I need to break through.
Muttering to himself, Chen Zong dismissed the thought and refocused on the Descending Mountain Tiger Scroll, savoring its unique artistic essence.
As he gazed at the painting, he felt as if he were glimpsing some profound truth within it, yet it remained just beyond his grasp—a frustratingly vague sensation.
"You're saying he wants to challenge me?" Chen Zhigang, clad in a cyan martial uniform, stood with his back to Chen Dalei, hands clasped behind him as he gazed skyward. His lithe frame radiated coiled strength.
"Yes," Chen Dalei nodded emphatically.
"A cheap provocation? He's nothing but a pest. What right does he have to challenge me?" Chen Zhigang scoffed. "Dalei, have your elder brother teach him a lesson. Make him bedridden for ten days, maybe even months, as punishment for his audacity."
"Alright! I'll go find my brother right away!" Chen Dalei clenched his fist, his face flushed with excitement. His elder brother's cultivation base had already reached the fourth layer of the Qi Blood Realm, making him a true martial artist.