A Pawn's Passage

Having witnessed the terrifying prowess of the Demonic Blade, Qi Xuansu could not help but wonder at the brilliance of the elder who had inscribed these words on the wall. At the same time, his determination to master the Demonic Blade grew even stronger.

No wonder Sun Hewu had asked him to read through it first. He had only reached the ninth blade before being struck down, even though he had not intentionally tried to comprehend its true essence yet. He merely skimmed over the text and noticed that there were not as many blades as he initially thought. Still, there were exactly 99 blades in total.

In Daoist numerology, the number nine was considered the ultimate number. Apart from the number one, which symbolized the beginning of all things, Daoists had always favored the number nine.

He was only at the ninth blade, still far from fully reading through the entire wall of text.

Qi Xuansu entered a brief meditation, healing his injuries and replenishing his innate qi. The real priority was recovering the mental energy he had expended in the previous battle to prepare for the next encounter.

In the previous duel, Qi Xuansu had been caught completely off guard, hence losing the initiative. Recklessly employing his still-amateur Divine Calculation Technique had only served to hinder himself further. One mistake led to another, resulting in a complete loss.

He was convinced that if he prepared enough this time, he would not fall at the ninth blade again.

An hour later, Qi Xuansu had fully recovered. His energy, spirit, and vitality were at their peak state. This time, he did not use his palm or Ghosthead Machete. Instead, he drew Flying Shadow from his magical receptacle before immersing himself once more in the inscribed text on the wall.

Before long, the shadowy figure wielding a blade reappeared and charged straight at Qi Xuansu.

Qi Xuansu neither dodged nor evaded. He raised Flying Shadow and met the attack head-on.

This time, Qi Xuansu did not rely on tricks. Instead, he fought the figure using only his experience, instinct, and intuition.

The two clashed, but it was hardly a contest of skill. This was a battle for survival, with no flourishes and nothing aesthetically pleasing—just sheer lethality.

As their blades clashed, only the most fundamental techniques were employed. They were simple, straightforward, and brutally efficient.

Through this, Qi Xuansu grasped the first true essence of the Demonic Blade—the art of killing.

This was a technique crafted purely for killing. Song Zheng had not created the Demonic Blade to pass it down as a legacy or to train disciples, nor to prove or explore deeper truths. He had forged it solely to increase his efficiency in taking lives, so much so that the enemy’s blood would flow like a river and corpses would pile up into mountains.

Song Zheng was born into an age of chaos, where human lives were as worthless as dirt. Famine, plague, and unending wars had turned the land barren and littered with bones. Villages lay empty, and people resorted to eating their own kin. He had witnessed death countless times and cared little for it.

Thus, this blade technique carried no moral burden, nor did it harbor a shred of hesitation. As such, it shed all constraints so that one could hope to push the concept of “speed” to its utmost limits.

Compared to the earlier chaotic struggle, Qi Xuansu had made significant progress this time. He managed to last until the 18th blade before having his throat slit, marking his defeat.

Yet, Qi Xuansu was not satisfied.

He and that shadowy figure were fundamentally identical—same realm, physique, innate qi, and stamina. Yet within 20 moves, he had been swiftly and mercilessly slashed down. This was purely a case of being outmatched in skill. It was also the first time Qi Xuansu had encountered an opponent in the same realm who could utterly crush him in a life-and-death battle.

Sitting on the ground, Qi Xuansu carefully recalled the moves used by that figure, attempting to imitate them. Yet, he quickly discovered that they were difficult to replicate.

The reason was simple—these blade techniques were adaptive and responsive. One could also consider them utterly chaotic and formless. They adjusted entirely based on Qi Xuansu’s own movements, as if they had been created specifically to counter the Dayan Spirit Blade Technique.

From this, Qi Xuansu roughly understood one thing. The essence of the Demonic Blade did not lie in specific moves but in its core philosophy and logic. This meant that the entry threshold for this perfected method was relatively high. One needed a solid foundation in blade techniques, preferably with rich experience in life-and-death combat.

For someone unfamiliar with wielding a blade, or a flowerbed Daoist raised in a sheltered environment, there would simply be no way to grasp it.

Fortunately, Qi Xuansu was precisely the kind of person who had both a foundation in blade techniques and extensive experience in life-and-death battles.

Over the next several hours, Qi Xuansu attempted multiple times, with his longest session lasting until the 24th blade. It was no small feat.

That was because the figure born from the inscriptions did not have a set pattern, so Qi Xuansu could not merely memorize its moves to progress. Rather, the figure adapted to his changes, forcing him to continuously analyze, imitate, understand, and deconstruct its blade logic and principles. He had to not only know the “what” but also the “why” in order to counter it.

Though the Demonic Blade relied on instinct, much like a beast, even a beast had to hone its hunting instincts through repeated hunts. No creature was born a master predator.

This was precisely why Qi Xuansu persisted in his relentless practice.

For Qi Xuansu, practicing blade techniques was not a hardship. Taking a few hits from that figure was nothing to him. It had not even reached the point where he needed to grit his teeth and endure pain. Instead, he found joy in it and completely lost track of time.

During this time, Sun Hewu visited a few times. Seeing that Qi Xuansu was deeply engrossed, yet showing no signs of losing control or going berserk, Sun Hewu refrained from interrupting and happily continued reading in the adjacent room.

The old man had agreed to guide Qi Xuansu so readily for two reasons. First, it was because of Zhang Yuelu’s favor. Second, it did not interfere with his own affairs.

Even without Qi Xuansu, Sun Hewu would still have been engrossed in finishing The Annotations on the Holy Xuan by the fifth-generation Grand Master. Thus, providing occasional guidance to a junior between his readings did not take up much of his time.

There were two main reasons why he was only now reading this book at such an advanced age.

First, it was because learning was a lifelong pursuit. No one could claim to have read all the books in the world.

Second, “annotations” implied that these were new insights after studying the original text and traditional interpretations. After reading the works of the Holy Xuan, the fifth-generation Grand Master formed many novel perspectives that even contradicted previous conventional interpretations.

If the fifth-generation Grand Master had been an ordinary person, this book would have certainly been banned. However, since he represented the Daoist Order, it resulted in the Daoist Order officially recognizing two contradictory interpretations.

Future generations found it difficult to make definitive judgments, so the book remained controversial. Only scholars like Sun Hewu, whose ideologies were already firmly established, would dare to read it, whereas younger readers might find themselves lost and confused.

In the following days, Qi Xuansu remained in the chamber, attempting to read through the original text of the Demonic Blade. Ultimately, he managed to reach the 48th blade before halting.

On June 15th, Sun Hewu had to interrupt Qi Xuansu’s studies. The Upper Palace of the Wanxiang Daoist Palace was about to undergo a full three-month closure for training, so the ceremony was to be held in Qian Garden.

Normally, the Palace Master would deliver an address, outlining the purpose and expectations for the upcoming months to boost morale, encouraging the disciples to strive forward and dedicate themselves to the Daoist Order.

After all, fourth-rank Jijiu Daoist masters were considered the backbone of the Daoist Order. After leaving the Upper Palace, most of them would assume important positions. This ceremony was a necessary step in that transition.

Qi Xuansu had no choice but to temporarily leave the chamber.

Sun Hewu simply handed Qi Xuansu the key to the chamber, granting him free access. However, he warned Qi Xuansu not to wander into restricted areas. If Qi Xuansu caused any trouble, Sun Hewu would not be lenient and would ensure strict disciplinary action.

Since Sun Hewu also needed to attend the ceremony, the two of them walked to Qian Garden together.

Their journey naturally attracted many gazes. A young fourth-rank Jijiu Daoist master walking alongside a high-ranking second-rank Taiyi Daoist master from the Wanxiang Daoist Palace led many to speculate which family this young man was from.

Upon entering the hall, Qi Xuansu realized that Daoist halls seemed to follow a uniform design—all modeled after the Golden Tower. Even though Qi Xuansu had never set foot inside the gates of the Golden Tower, he could roughly imagine what it looked like.

Qi Xuansu also noticed that the seating arrangements carried significant meaning.

The fourth-rank Jijiu Daoist masters were all seated in the front row, equivalent to the seating of the Omniscient Sages in official ceremonies. Meanwhile, the Apprentice and Prospective Mage were relegated to the back rows, comparable to the 108 Sages.

Of course, the seating capacity in this hall was far greater than that of the Golden Tower, which only had 144 seats.

Qi Xuansu was placed in the very front row. He reckoned that if this were the Golden Tower, this seat would belong to either Sage Cihang or Sage Qingwei.

Diagonally across from him sat the expressionless Yao Pei. Fortunately, Yao Pei’s presence drew most of the attention in the hall, sparing Qi Xuansu from excessive scrutiny.

Yao Pei was meditating with her eyes closed, indifferent to the numerous scrutinizing gazes cast her way. She also made no attempt to acknowledge Qi Xuansu, which was understandable. After all, as a Daoist prodigy on par with Zhang Yuelu, Yao Pei carried a sense of pride.

It was already remarkable enough that Zhang Yuelu took an interest in a nobody like Qi Xuansu. Strictly speaking, even Li Changge was likely intrigued by him due to the Xuan Jade. If Yao Pei were also to show interest in him, everyone would be speculating if he were the illegitimate son of the sixth-generation Grand Master.

Opposite them sat the senior officials of the Wanxiang Daoist Palace. If this were the Golden Tower, these seats would correspond to those of the Grand Master, Deputy Grand Master, and Great Sages.

At the moment, the Grand Master’s seat remained vacant. Even when the Great Sage Lunzhi presided over discussions, they could only rest their hand on the back of the chair and could not openly take the seat.

The situation in the Wanxiang Daoist Palace was currently the same, with the Palace Master’s seat vacant. That was because the Palace Master had yet to return from the Golden Tower Council meeting. Thus, a Deputy Palace Master delivered the address in his stead. This Deputy was a second-rank Taiyi Daoist master, so he certainly had the qualifications for the task.

However, to Qi Xuansu’s disappointment, the speech held little substance. It was filled with empty formalities and dull platitudes, spoken without sincerity and heard without attentiveness.

It was no wonder the Upper Palace had become a place where people simply went through the motions.

Qi Xuansu was already beginning to miss that stone chamber covered in inscriptions.