Lu Yuan strode into the Silent Contemplation Peak, facing a path stretching forward, flanked by five-colored tribulation clouds on either side.

Walking along this path, Lu Yuan eventually arrived at a desolate cliff, utterly devoid of grass, trees, flowers, fruit, birds, or insects. Standing atop this cliff was an elderly man in white, hands clasped behind his back. Despite this reserved posture, the elder radiated a towering aura, an aura Lu Yuan had only ever seen rivaled by Ancestor Yan.

The elder suddenly turned his head. His white hair was like snow, his robes like snow, and though his face retained the handsome, mature look of a middle-aged man, a profound sense of age was clearly etched upon him.

He looked older than Lu Yuan remembered. What Lu Yuan didn't know was that the night his beloved wife died, Zhou Qingxuan had gone completely white-haired overnight, leaving him looking significantly older than his peers ever since.

Zhou Qingxuan regarded Lu Yuan. "So you are the true disciple chosen by Elder Yan. You possess some skill." He spoke plainly. Among the eighth generation, geniuses were abundant, and the top five each possessed unique strengths.

Yan Cangtian was a peerless talent, hailed as the foremost sword in the Jin Kingdom.

Zhou Qingxuan himself was also blessed with phenomenal innate talent and countless fortuitous encounters—more than any of the other five.

The third-ranked individual was a fighter who improved in the crucible of battle, often achieving breakthroughs on the spot. Had he lived, his achievements might not have been below Zhou Qingxuan's—but a mishap claimed him long ago.

Fourth-ranked Chu Duan was inherently brilliant, ambitious, and destined to be a generation's dominating figure.

Fifth-ranked Zhuo Budang was a genius in the domain of sorcery. In terms of spellcraft, he was a rarity even across a millennium, his attainments in magic being almost unbelievable.

Having been a genius himself and witnessed countless others, Zhou Qingxuan was long past being impressed by mere talent. The only reason he would deign to guide Lu Yuan was out of respect for Elder Yan. "Your swordsmanship is quite good. I suspect your current headache lies with your mana. However, there is a method that can elevate you to the ninth level of Longevity, and that is... Myriad Sword Samsara."

Myriad Sword Samsara—a legend.

Legend held that long, long ago, swordsmanship did not exist upon the earth. People merely swung their blades instinctively. In a very ancient tribe, a young man named Xiao Shi emerged. This Xiao Shi always pondered why swords were wielded so randomly; why couldn't the sword be used with greater focus?

One day, this Xiao Shi suddenly executed a set of sword forms. This set was completely unlike the chaotic flailing everyone else employed. At that moment, the heavens stirred—rain poured down, thunder roared, and the world moved for the first set of swordsmanship in the mortal realm. Ghosts and gods wept; this was the first sword art in existence. It was precisely because it was the first that it provoked such cosmic upheaval. It was rumored that when Cang Ling created the first written character, the heavens themselves wept blood.

Later, this Xiao Shi became known as the 'One-Stroke Master,' and subsequently the Great Sword Master, the Master of Ten Thousand Ages.

This Master of Ten Thousand Ages took many disciples, one of whom was so outstanding he founded the Sword Sect. That Sword Sect persisted for an immense age, propagating various sword techniques. Among their supreme techniques was the Myriad Sword Samsara.

However, the Sword Sect vanished too long ago, and Myriad Sword Samsara dissolved into the dust of history. Zhou Qingxuan, in fact, had inherited a sliver of the Sword Sect's legacy, thereby learning this technique.

Myriad Sword Samsara!

Lu Yuan had only encountered the name in ancient texts, never truly knowing what it entailed. He never imagined that Martial Uncle Zhou possessed this power.

Zhou Qingxuan looked at Lu Yuan. "You will train under me for a time. We begin with the simple aspects. If you pass those, you may challenge the difficult Myriad Sword Samsara, which you can use to reach the ninth level of Longevity."

Outside, the fighting raged fiercely—the covert battles centered around Dao Realm experts and the overt clashes dominated by Sword Immortals were equally intense. Meanwhile, Lu Yuan began his training under Zhou Qingxuan.

"Before I instruct you, let me see your swordplay," Zhou Qingxuan said, his hands remaining behind his back. "Use your Hundred and Eight Forms of Wind and Cloud. That is the only technique from your Northern Peak that is barely passable."

"Yes, Martial Uncle. I request your guidance," Lu Yuan replied, bowing respectfully.

He then began to execute the moves of the Hundred and Eight Forms of Wind and Cloud: "Cloud Intent Lingers," "Great Wind Surges," "Cloud Entangles Sword Disturbs," "The Wind Arises..."

"Heavy Clouds, Urgent Wind," "Wind Passes Over Mountains, Leaving No Trace..."

"Clouds Gather, Wind Rages," "Wind Passes Over Mountains, Leaving No Trace," "Clouds Lock Deep Mountains, Wind Cannot Blow..." Midway through his demonstration, Zhou Qingxuan couldn't help but frown. "You are supposedly a Sword Dao genius? Such utterly nonsensical swordplay."

Lu Yuan blinked in surprise. Being called swordplay that made no sense was a memory from an incredibly distant past. Ever since he grasped Sword Intent, no matter where he went, he was hailed as a Sword Dao genius. To hear it from Martial Uncle Zhou—calling his technique utter nonsense—was shocking, especially given his current Sword King realm.

Zhou Qingxuan snorted. "Sword King realm, yet you wield your sword with such utter incoherence. Pathetic. If you faced Zu Qianqiu, Dongfang Yao, or Chu Duan, any one of them could toy with you to death using mere sword techniques."

Lu Yuan felt deeply crestfallen. While his current swordplay was decent, it was still far inferior to the absolute pinnacle masters in the Jin Kingdom.

Zhou Qingxuan scoffed again. "Are you unconvinced? Why don't we test it? Purely sword versus sword. See how many moves you can last under my blade."

"This disciple wouldn't dare," Lu Yuan said, cupping his hands.

"I detest that polite nonsense." Zhou Qingxuan moved. With a casual flick, he transformed his finger into a sword and pointed it toward Lu Yuan. Lu Yuan countered with a reverse strike, unleashing a sword move. The two clashed, but Lu Yuan realized something was wrong almost immediately. Every single move Zhou Qingxuan employed was slightly faster and steadier than his own. Inexplicably, on the tenth exchange, Lu Yuan was defeated by Zhou Qingxuan’s sword.

In purely dedicated sword fighting, Lu Yuan hadn't lost in a long time. He never expected to be beaten so swiftly and soundly by Martial Uncle Zhou.

Zhou Qingxuan retracted the sword energy from his finger. "Do you know where you lost?"

"This disciple does not know," Lu Yuan admitted. He genuinely didn't grasp how he had lost; it just felt bafflingly sudden.

Zhou Qingxuan shook his head. "It’s simple. Your foundation is too weak. Sword technique—Fa—is built upon sword fundamentals—the basic actions like cleave, stab, slash, and parry—combined with various forms of Sword Intent, which then manifest as complex sword forms. The fact that you rely solely on forms tells me your fundamentals are abysmal. Your base is not properly rooted. The only reason you reached the Sword King realm is because your inherent talent is too high. Now, you will diligently practice the basics."

Being pointed out by Zhou Qingxuan struck Lu Yuan like a bucket of ice water in the peak of summer, jolting him awake. Yes, his true deficit wasn't anything else—it was his fundamentals. Recalling the brief duel with Martial Uncle Zhou, he realized his opponent won because every single basic movement was more perfect, faster, steadier, and more precise than his own. If Martial Uncle Zhou hadn't sharply awakened him today, he would surely suffer grievous losses when facing true masters at the Sword King level later on.

The basics of swordsmanship were merely those motions: cleave, slash, crush, lift, parry, wipe, intercept, stab, churn, press, hang, cloud—and now, he had to retrain these movements, ensuring his foundation was utterly solid. Only then could he hope to climb higher on the peak of the Sword Dao in the future.

He started with the thrust. There are countless applications for the 'thrust' in swordsmanship. Lu Yuan began practicing the thrust relentlessly. The single character, 'Thrust' (Ci), seemed utterly simple on the surface—wasn't it just a simple poke? But practicing it earnestly revealed a completely different reality. As he thrust his sword out, various known sword forms, each containing a thrusting action, flooded his mind. Each application of the thrust within those forms differed slightly, making Lu Yuan feel a strange awkwardness with every repetition.

Thrust!

Thrust again!

Keep thrusting!

Why did it feel so awkward?

Lu Yuan found himself struggling to master the simple act of 'Thrust.' Of course, Lu Yuan’s casual thrust, if shown to the leaders of the great Immortal Sects, would likely earn praise. But Lu Yuan had an intangible sense that it wasn't enough; he was still worlds away from the effortless thrust Zhou Qingxuan commanded.

How could he achieve that perfect thrust?

At that moment, Zhou Qingxuan’s voice drifted over. "Your thrust is acceptable, but if you wish to become a Saint of the Sword, this will not suffice. Forget every past move you have learned that involves the thrust. When you have forgotten them all, you will naturally be able to execute the perfect thrust."

Is that so?

Lu Yuan immediately began practicing according to Zhou Qingxuan’s method. But he quickly discovered that while mastering a single pattern was difficult, forgetting a learned move was infinitely harder than learning a new one. To forget the form—how could he purge the forms etched into his mind?

He tried to empty his brain as much as possible, yet even so, he could not completely erase the forms stored there.

Oddly enough, Lu Yuan's speed of forgetting was faster than he anticipated. Zhou Qingxuan sat nearby holding a bottle of wine. Ever since his wife’s passing, Zhou Qingxuan had taken to drinking. Don't ask where the wine came from; a place like Silent Contemplation Peak could produce anything it needed to enter or exit—otherwise, how could it be called the foremost peak of Mount Hua, perhaps even the foremost in the entire Jin Kingdom today?

Watching the effort, Zhou Qingxuan mused internally, if he couldn't find a suitable disciple in the future, he might just pass on one of his Ten Iron Precepts to him.

Yan Cangtian's reincarnation technique was one of the Ten Iron Precepts.

And what would Zhou Qingxuan's be?