The so-called back mountain lay due east, to the rear of the Wuji Hall. Behind the hall was a cliff sheer as if cut by a sword, where the whistling winds were fierce and the roar of the waves deafening. Only a few caves dotted the rock face, none fit for dwelling.

To the east, the woods were dense: peach, jujube, pear, locust, pine, poplar—all manner of trees blanketed Canghai Mountain, vibrant with life.

Following his Master’s guidance, Li Muzhan made his way into a grove of pines. He walked straight east, deep into the thicket, until at last he saw a small pavilion.

The pavilion was octagonal, with white eaves and white pillars, exquisite yet possessing an air of grandeur, exuding solemnity. Tall pine trees sheltered it, making it difficult to spot even from a bird’s-eye view.

The surrounding pines were mostly centuries old, tall and thick, soaring toward the heavens. The stoutest would require three men to embrace; some had been struck by lightning, charred black, while others were split in two yet still sprouted tender buds, their vitality stubborn.

When Li Muzhan reached the pavilion, the old man in the yellow robe stood within, his garments fluttering, lost in thought. A ray of sun illuminated him, his silver beard swaying, his bearing utterly transcendent.

Li Muzhan already knew from his Master that the old man in yellow was named Lan Chunhe, the sole surviving member of the thirteenth generation of disciples, holding the highest seniority in the Canghai Sword Sect. As for his martial arts, he had not fought in many years, and no one knew the depth of his prowess.

Among the disciples residing at the front of the mountain, Wen Yinyue possessed the strongest martial arts—even surpassing her predecessors, a true triumph of student over teacher, better even than Mistress Zhuzhao. However, she was certainly not the strongest in the entire Canghai Sword Sect. In the rear mountains dwelled many masters, holding seniority even higher, yet remaining hidden from the world. Few outside the sect knew of them, and even within the sect, only a handful were aware of their existence.

Li Muzhan approached and joined his hands in salute: "Grand Uncle-Master."

Lan Chunhe turned, fixing him with a cold stare. "You are late!"

Li Muzhan replied with deference, "Yes, Disciple will arrive earlier next time."

It was not yet the hour of Chen, yet he claimed Li Muzhan was late. Clearly, the old man was looking for a fault to pick. Li Muzhan wisely chose not to argue, knowing it would only invite unnecessary trouble.

Lan Chunhe scrutinized Li Muzhan for a moment, his eyes gleaming with intense divine light, as if attempting to penetrate the young man's very soul. After a long pause, he asked, "What skill do you wish to learn?"

Saying this, he stepped out of the pavilion onto the open ground before it.

This cleared area spanned over ten meters in circumference, neither too large nor too small, seemingly created by felling a few pine trees. It remained encircled by towering pines, giving the impression of a cage at first glance.

Li Muzhan followed him out and replied, "Finger techniques... Disciple has witnessed the Diamond Finger of the Luotuo Temple."

"Finger techniques..." Lan Chunhe stood in the center of the clearing, his expression darkening. He gave a cold laugh. "Our sect's foundational martial art is a finger technique. Hah! The descendants are incompetent, bringing shame upon the ancestors—it’s completely lost!"

Li Muzhan said, "I heard from my Master that our lost Canghai Divine Sword possesses infinite power."

Lan Chunhe sneered, "If the Canghai Divine Sword hadn't been lost, what are these Seven Great Sects? They are all rubbish! Which one would dare stand as our equal?!"

Li Muzhan nodded. He had experienced the power of the Canghai Sword Qi; it was no weaker than the Diamond Finger, perhaps stronger. The Grand Uncle-Master had grounds for such confidence.

Lan Chunhe took a deep breath, composing himself, and grunted, "Now, we must settle for the next best thing: mastering the Nine Swords of Canghai properly."

"There is no way to restore the Canghai Divine Sword?" Li Muzhan inquired.

Lan Chunhe shot him a glare. "Why not?!... Our predecessors created it from nothing; why can't we? You, boy, possess decent comprehension. I entrust it to you!"

Li Muzhan immediately offered a wry smile. "Grand Uncle-Master..."

"To fear defeat before the battle even begins—is that all you've got?!" Lan Chunhe scoffed.

Li Muzhan smiled bitterly. "Though Disciple has some understanding, I dare not presume too much. If several generations could not achieve it, I fear I..."

"Don't presume too much, but don't belittle yourself either!" Lan Chunhe snorted. "The Indestructible Divine Art was lost for generations, and the Great Ming King Sutra has never been mastered by anyone. Yet you succeeded in those. The Canghai Divine Sword? Child’s play!"

Li Muzhan could only smile bitterly and shake his head repeatedly.

Lan Chunhe glared again, his divine light piercing: "You impudent boy! If you haven't managed to bring forth the Canghai Divine Sword before I die, I will kill you myself and take you along for company!"

Li Muzhan looked at him. Seeing the earnestness in his expression, he activated his Heart Comprehension, sensing a faint killing intent.

Knowing the Grand Uncle-Master was not joking, he sighed and said, "To restore the Canghai Divine Sword, Disciple needs mastery of finger techniques. I have learned a set called the Canghai Divine Finger, but Master said it does not count as a supreme art."

"Hmm..." Lan Chunhe mused for a while. "Among all finger techniques, the most powerful is the White Rainbow Finger of the Nangong family. The next is the Diamond Finger of the Luotuo Temple. Other techniques, though refined, do not match the power of these two."

"Then our Canghai Divine Sword..." Li Muzhan began, then stopped, realizing he had asked a pointless question.

As expected, Lan Chunhe glared and snorted, "Compared to the Canghai Divine Sword, the White Rainbow Finger and the Diamond Finger aren't fit to carry its shoes!"

Li Muzhan nodded helplessly.

Lan Chunhe considered for a moment. "The Holy Snow Peak also has a finger technique... called the Frost Condensing Finger. Its power is also immense, no less than the White Rainbow Finger or the Diamond Finger."

"Grand Uncle-Master, it seems the Taibai Sword Sect also has a finger technique," Li Muzhan mentioned.

Lan Chunhe sneered, "Hmph, Ice Soul Finger. Its power is merely ordinary!"

"How does it compare to the Frost Condensing Finger?" Li Muzhan asked.

"Not fit to carry its shoes!" Lan Chunhe waved his hand. "I have an old connection with Holy Snow Peak. In a while, you will go there and see if you can learn the Frost Condensing Finger."

"Will that really work?" Li Muzhan asked, surprised.

A finger technique of such power, he assumed, must be the bedrock of a sect, certainly never taught outside, especially not to a disciple of the Canghai Sword Sect.

Lan Chunhe’s face hardened. "Less nonsense! Besides finger techniques, what else do you wish to learn?"

"Swordplay, I suppose," Li Muzhan replied.

Lan Chunhe nodded. "Good. Demonstrate all the sword techniques you have practiced!"

Li Muzhan drew his sword, performing each style he had learned in turn: the Twelve Plum Blossom Swords, the Eight Mountain Suppressing Swords, the Qiankun Sword Technique, the Polaris Sword, and the two forms taught by Mistress Zhuzhao.

The sword light flashed, the cold air dense, illuminating the face of Lan Chunhe. He frowned deeply, shaking his head repeatedly. When Li Muzhan finished and sheathed his sword, looking toward him, he grunted, "Nonsense, absolute nonsense! You call this swordplay?"

Li Muzhan smiled bitterly, saying nothing. He felt he had performed well—the movements were fluid, the exertion satisfying, bringing an inexpressible sense of ease, as if he might float away.

"This is not swordplay!" Lan Chunhe insisted.

Li Muzhan asked, "Grand Uncle-Master, did I not practice well?"

Lan Chunhe snorted, "You are fundamentally wrong! Tell me, what is a sword?"

Li Muzhan pondered for a moment. "Is a sword not a weapon?"

"Hmph, the sword is the hand!" Lan Chunhe asserted. "If you cannot achieve unity of body and sword, no matter how well you practice your sword forms, it is useless!" He waved his hand, cutting off Li Muzhan's attempt to speak. "Enough for today. We will study palm techniques!"

Li Muzhan responded with excitement. Learning more martial arts was certainly best, and anything taught by the Grand Uncle-Master would surely not be ordinary, possessing great power.

Lan Chunhe tucked his robes neatly at his waist and cleanly executed a set of palm techniques. They were concise, swift, and instantly understandable, consisting of only nine forms—simple, which left Li Muzhan slightly disappointed.

Lan Chunhe finished and turned. "Did you see clearly?"

Li Muzhan nodded, pondering. "Grand Uncle-Master, what palm technique is this?"

"The Nine Palms of Canghai," Lan Chunhe stated, glancing at Li Muzhan. Seemingly sensing the young man's thoughts, he said no more. "Perform it once, let me see!"

Li Muzhan stepped forward and replicated the movements just demonstrated. Only then did he notice something strange: the forms looked simple, posing no apparent difficulty, yet when he tried them, they felt incredibly awkward, his movements unconsciously deviating.

Lan Chunhe snorted, "Too ambitious for your skill! Practice again!"

Li Muzhan agreed and performed the sequence once more. He was aware of his own failing: his limbs did not keep pace with his mind. He learned slowly; what took others one try, he needed three or four. But if he just practiced enough, it would suffice.

This time, however, it was different. After one practice session, he should have improved, but the opposite occurred; it felt even more awkward, the deviation greater.

Lan Chunhe watched impassively, saying nothing.

Li Muzhan continued to practice, again and again, but each attempt was worse than the last. This stubbornness flared within him; he refused to accept failure and was determined to master it.

He practiced five times in a row until sweat drenched him, his blood surging, his face flushed crimson, before finally stopping.

By then, a myriad of golden lights illuminated the forest brightly, with rays shining directly onto Li Muzhan.

Lan Chunhe stroked his beard, shook his head, and grunted, "You foolish boy, do you understand now? Relying only on the forms to learn the Nine Palms of Canghai—that’s purely a joke!"

Li Muzhan smiled wryly and nodded, finally understanding. The martial world had no shortage of clever people who could memorize forms after a single viewing and then spend time in quiet contemplation to learn the profound arts. Yet, the ultimate techniques of major sects were never stolen, which indicated a hidden mystery—the key lay in the mental cultivation, the Xinfa.

"Please instruct me, Grand Uncle-Master!" Li Muzhan requested.

Lan Chunhe grunted and slowly began explaining, demonstrating each movement. Li Muzhan, having just practiced the sequence five times, keenly felt the awkwardness. Now, with the guidance, it was like a key turning in a lock; his practice instantly became smooth, flowing like a raging torrent. He learned at an astonishing rate, like a sponge absorbing water.

After Lan Chunhe’s instruction, Li Muzhan practiced the sequence five more times. By the last repetition, he was largely proficient, lacking only in subtle refinement.

This palm technique was driven by the Canghai Divine Art. Lan Chunhe instructed him on the crucial points of applying and distributing force: where to use hidden strength (Yin Jin), where to use manifest strength (Ming Jin), where to use no force, where to use retracting force (Shou Jin), and where to use explosive force (Tu Jin). The forms were simple, but the application of force was immensely complex. For anyone else, mastering this would take at least one or two months. Simple forms and complex internal methods—this suited Li Muzhan perfectly.

"You may consider this palm technique learned," Lan Chunhe said after Li Muzhan executed it one more time, nodding and stroking his beard. "The next step is to integrate it into your swordplay."

Li Muzhan looked surprised. "Integrate it into the sword?"

Lan Chunhe snorted coldly, "Palmplay and swordplay are fundamentally one. You don't even grasp that? What has that girl Zhuzhao been teaching you! Come back to me in a month!"

With that, he waved his hand, and a yellow shadow flashed, vanishing.

PS: I am late, I apologize, I am truly sorry. V