Li Muzhan’s eyebrow twitched. He lowered his head, scanning the text, then closed his eyes. After a long moment, he let out a sigh of admiration: “Truly a magnificent swordsmanship!”
Lan Chunhe grunted, “No kidding!”
He shook his head. “The Nine Swords of the Azure Sea is the foundational sword art of Canghai Mountain. Did you think I wouldn't know it was good?”
Li Muzhan touched the scroll. This sword art, while excellent, was far too exquisite, too profound; common folk simply couldn’t master it.”
Lan Chunhe nodded. “Precisely. This sword art runs too deep. For most people, learning it serves no purpose. If they can’t execute the subtleties, it’s worse than an ordinary fighting style!”
Li Muzhan smiled. “That’s why Great-Uncle conceived this method: teach the palm arts first, then the sword arts?”
“Mmm.” Lan Chunhe nodded, sparing him a glance. “Now that I see it, my method still holds true, does it not?”
“Great-Uncle’s wisdom is unparalleled,” Li Muzhan quickly flattered, offering a respectful salute.
However, this wasn't pure sycophancy; it sprang from genuine respect. The ingenuity required to devise a method to teach the Nine Swords of the Azure Sea—a thinking process so intricate—was beyond the reach of ordinary minds. It was also a testament to his deep, selfless dedication to the Canghai Sword Sect, for which he had exhausted himself.
Lan Chunhe declared, “You’ve been in seclusion for nine months now. Use the remaining three to master this set of sword techniques.”
“Yes.” Li Muzhan stared at the scroll of the Nine Swords of the Azure Sea, his gaze unblinking.
Seeing his intensity, Lan Chunhe shook his head and departed.
In the days that followed, Li Muzhan became utterly engrossed in the Nine Swords of the Azure Sea, as if possessed. He thought of nothing else, moment by moment, obsessing over the technique.
All his focus was channeled here; the Azure Sea Divine Art and the Adamantine Indestructible Divine Art were utterly abandoned. Only the Nine Swords remained. He watched the swaying branches of the trees as if someone were practicing the sword forms. When a light breeze blew, it felt like a sword strike was imminent.
Constantly, he perceived the sword everywhere. The white clouds drifting overhead seemed like moments where the sword momentum paused. The ants scurrying on the ground mimicked the footwork of the forms.
During this period, whenever the nine elites from the Martial Arts Hall surrounded and attacked him, they were no match. His swordsmanship grew sharper by the day. In the beginning, it took hundreds of moves before he could claim victory. By the end, he often managed to disarm all nine opponents with a single thrust—one move to subdue the enemy, swift and clean. He had grasped several crucial essences of the Nine Swords.
Yet, the art remained vast, profound, and utterly miraculous. He dared not claim full mastery, sensing only that with every application, a sliver of new understanding emerged. The deeper his comprehension grew, the more acutely he felt the limits of his own talent. The predecessors who created this technique possessed genius that was incomparable; he felt a profound longing, regretting he could never meet them.
Time flowed like water, ceaseless. Just as he was lost in the sublime mysteries of the Nine Swords, intoxicated by their elegance, Lan Chunhe sought him out once more.
He spoke in a deep voice, “You rascal, it’s been a year. Time for you to emerge from seclusion!”
Li Muzhan stood in an open space, holding a blade in each hand. They shone like polished snow, emanating a chilling air. He swung them thoughtfully, having failed to properly hear the command.
Lan Chunhe’s brow furrowed, and he snorted coldly, “Rascal, did you hear me!”
The snort was laced with profound internal energy. Li Muzhan jolted, turned, and smiled. “Great-Uncle, you’ve arrived. What are your orders?”
“You should leave seclusion!” Lan Chunhe huffed.
“Has a year passed?” Li Muzhan blinked, looking up at the sky, then at his elder.
Lan Chunhe waved a hand impatiently. “Get moving, before that girl Zhuzhao starts nagging!”
“Great-Uncle, I…” Li Muzhan felt his practice was incomplete, reluctant to end his seclusion.
Lan Chunhe snorted. “Even if you trained another ten years, you couldn’t possibly plumb the depths of the Nine Swords of the Azure Sea. You’ve made entry now; take your time with the rest!”
“...Yes.” Li Muzhan sighed, recognizing the truth in his words.
“Here is a letter. Take it to the Wang family in Penglai for me.” Lan Chunhe pulled a letter from his robes and flicked it with his finger. It drifted gracefully toward Li Muzhan.
Li Muzhan caught it. A slight numbness touched his palm. He inwardly marveled at his Great-Uncle’s profound internal energy. Although the purity of their energy was comparable, the sheer depth of Lan Chunhe’s power was superior. If they engaged in a pure contest of internal force, Li Muzhan would lose without employing secret arts.
However, given that his Great-Uncle was versed in all manner of hostile martial arts, he might possess secret techniques of his own, in which case Li Muzhan would still lose. Considering everything—including fighting prowess—while Li Muzhan was strong now, he was still a step below his Great-Uncle.
Li Muzhan smiled. “When should it be delivered?”
“No rush. Go back first. Spend a few days with Zhuzhao and the others, then head down the mountain.”
“Yes.” Li Muzhan acknowledged. The Dragon's Roar and Phoenix's Cry swords sheathed themselves. He glanced back at the small pavilion, then at the surrounding area, his gaze growing distant. This past year, though austere, had been immensely fulfilling. His cultivation had advanced by leaps and bounds, undergoing a fundamental transformation. The thought of leaving brought a pang of reluctance.
Lan Chunhe frowned, snorting impatiently. “Enough. If you’re supposed to go, then go! Stop dawdling. Hardly the behavior of a man... scram!”
Li Muzhan clasped his hands in a formal bow. “Great-Uncle, your disciple takes his leave.”
“Go, go!” Lan Chunhe waved him away irritably.
Li Muzhan paid it no mind; he was accustomed to his elder’s sharp tongue. His Great-Uncle never offered a kind word. He turned and left, arriving at the Hall of Limitless Nothingness.
Inside the hall, the jade statue still stood tall.
Mistress Zhuzhao, Wen Yinyue, Mei Ruolan, Gong Qingyun, and Xiaoyuan sat on their prayer cushions, some with eyes closed, some open, utterly still, watching the main entrance.
Li Muzhan entered without needing announcement, drifting inside to meet the gaze of the five women.
“Greetings, Master.” Li Muzhan paused, offered a respectful salute, and smiled slightly.
Mistress Zhuzhao pointed to a cushion in front of her. “Little fellow, come and sit.”
Li Muzhan glanced at the others, smiled faintly, and settled onto the cushion before the five women. He smiled, saying, “A year has passed, Master, yet your elegance remains unchanged, perhaps even more radiant.”
Mistress Zhuzhao laughed, her face blooming like a flower. “You flatterer, always filling my ears with sweet talk! How was your year?”
Li Muzhan nodded. “Very good. I trained with Great-Uncle consistently and made some progress.”
Mistress Zhuzhao chuckled. “Is that so? Very good then. Yinyue, spar with your junior brother and see how much he’s truly improved!”
Wen Yinyue smiled thinly. “Master, Junior Brother has only just emerged. Perhaps he should rest first.”
“Hmm, that is true,” Mistress Zhuzhao conceded with a smile. Her bright eyes surveyed the faces of the other four women. “If you truly fought him now, you’d make an enemy of the entire assembly!”
As her laughter faded, the three women—Mei Ruolan among them—blushed slightly.
“Zhanran, you look thinner!” Xiaoyuan couldn't help but exclaim, then immediately blushed after speaking.
Li Muzhan smiled. “Perhaps too much mental exertion.”
Mistress Zhuzhao scrutinized him. “Looking at you, your internal energy hasn’t improved much. You must have been focusing entirely on the sword art!”
Li Muzhan smiled and nodded.
Mistress Zhuzhao pursed her lips and laughed softly. “Alright, go rest for now. Come back tomorrow and resume sweeping the steps!”
“Master, Great-Uncle sent me down the mountain to deliver a letter.” Li Muzhan informed her.
P: I need to take my wife to see the lantern festival early, so I’m writing this much now. I can’t guarantee an update tonight; please forgive me. I’ll write more tomorrow as compensation!