Though the incantation was intricate, it was not lengthy, and Li Muzhan, with his perfect memory, soon committed it to heart.

"Your recall is excellent; that saves us a great deal of trouble," Wang Xiue said. "…You absorb it first and see how far you can comprehend on your own. We'll discuss the critical points in a couple of days."

"Yes," Li Muzhan nodded, recognizing this method as optimal—similar to the instruction style of his grand-uncle, yielding the best results. Seemingly slow, it was actually swift. Compared to the martial arts instruction at the Mei Manor, the method employed by these two was far superior; they truly were masters.

"Someone!" Wang Xiue clapped her hands once.

"Ancestor." Two girls in white robes drifted in, both graceful and slender. While not overwhelmingly beautiful, they were captivatingly delicate. What drew the most attention was that they were identical twins, almost exact replicas of each other.

Wang Xiue commanded, "Take him to the Tianshui Courtyard. No one is permitted to disturb him!"

"Yes." The twin girls bowed, leading Li Muzhan out of the great hall and to a small courtyard in the east wing—exquisite yet dignified, with fine scenery. Rockeries flanked a central flowerbed blooming profusely, releasing waves of subtle fragrance. Beside the flowerbed sat a swing set and a stone table.

Li Muzhan settled at the stone table, the two girls remaining nearby. In soft voices, they asked, "What kind of tea does the Young Master prefer, and what refreshments should we prepare?"

Li Muzhan mentioned what he wanted casually. The two women gracefully retreated, pausing at the exit to say, "If the Young Master needs anything, just call out; we will be right outside."

Li Muzhan smiled and nodded, thanking them both.

Watching them depart, Li Muzhan turned his gaze back, reflecting on the day's events. The youthful appearance of the Wang family ancestor was peculiar. Furthermore, her personality was rather eccentric—both cold and fervent, clearly placing immense value on the Wang family. Yet, imparting the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword technique to him seemed contrary to her nature.

Earlier, he had discreetly used his Mind-Reading ability to ensure she wasn't teaching him a fake technique, only to find the sword art was genuine. Her passion and desperate hope were focused entirely on improving herself to defeat Saint Snow Peak. Saint Snow Peak was the thorn in her side; for the sake of defeating them, she would willingly forfeit her entire martial cultivation, let alone simply teaching a technique. Such fervent devotion made Li Muzhan feel slightly ashamed.

However, the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword was indeed peerless. His focus wasn't on the swordplay itself, but on the flying daggers. He hadn't practiced his daggers in a long time. Since cultivating martial arts, the need to use them had become rare; in critical moments, he favored the Self-Sacrifice Great Method or the Lamp-Lighting Art instead of his daggers. But this was the skill he had honed since childhood, accumulating pure, profound mastery over the years. If he could enhance it now, it would be even better.

The Yellow Dragon Flying Sword was perfect for manipulating flying daggers; one strike, and nothing could withstand it. It could truly serve as his ultimate trump card. He tilted his head back to the sky, simulating the sword strike in his mind. From a distance, he appeared lost in thought, only his fingers trembling slightly, his spirit wandering far beyond the immediate surroundings.

He generally remained within the small courtyard, either practicing the Nine Swords of the Vast Sea or contemplating the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword, living a serene and quiet life, seemingly dedicated solely to cultivation, unconcerned with external affairs.

On the evening of the third day, while practicing, he suddenly sensed a shift—a subtle change in the atmosphere of the entire Wang Residence, different from before. He raised an eyebrow in surprise and called out, whereupon the two maids immediately appeared, pushing the door open.

The two girls approached, curtsied gracefully, and chirped sweetly, "Young Master, what is your command?"

Li Muzhan asked, "What is happening outside?"

The two girls exchanged surprised glances and shook their heads. "Young Master, nothing is happening. We have been right outside and know nothing."

Li Muzhan commanded, "Take me to the gate."

"Yes." The two girls complied, leading Li Muzhan through two courtyards to the main entrance. Outside the large gate stood dozens of disciples. Li Muzhan did not see Wang Xiue, only the handsome middle-aged man—presumably the head of the Penglai Wang family. Behind him stood over thirty disciples: about a dozen middle-aged men and twenty younger men, all glaring at the three figures opposite them with palpable anger.

The handsome middle-aged man’s face was grim, his eyes sharp as lightning. He sneered, "Senior Hou, this is carrying things too far! Our Wang Estate will never agree!"

The gaunt old man opposite him scoffed, "Very well, if you won't agree, then let's fight. We’ll see whose fist is harder!" He was extremely thin, his face sharp, looking as if a gust of wind could sweep him away. His robes hung loosely, suggesting he was all bone and no flesh.

The handsome middle-aged man’s face darkened, but he suppressed his rage, humming, "You want us to hand someone over? Only if every single member of the Wang family dies first!"

The gaunt old man chuckled coldly, "Handing over one person is enough. If you refuse, no one knows how many will die… Head of the Wang family, this humble elder advises you: a weak arm cannot twist a thick thigh. Those who understand the times are the true heroes!"

The handsome middle-aged man clenched his jaw, his expression resolute, and slowly shook his head.

The gaunt old man sighed and shook his head again, "Alas… then don't blame us. Old Zhang, Old Xiao, let's get on with it!"

"We should have done this long ago; why waste so many words!" an old man with silver hair and frost-white eyebrows grumbled impatiently, waving his hand. "They won't weep until they see the coffin. They won't give up until they reach the Yellow River. If we don't kill one of them, they’ll think our Nangong Clan was merely playing games!"

"Alas… show mercy where mercy can be shown," the gaunt old man sighed.

Another powerfully built man grunted thickly, "Brother Hou, you sound like a woman!… Enough talk, let’s fight first!" With that, he drew his long saber, sprang from the ground, and lunged toward the handsome middle-aged man amidst a flash of cold lightning.

Seeing him attack, the other two also surged forward. The handsome middle-aged man met the charge, and the dozen or so middle-aged men joined him, forming a circle of more than ten fighters against the three attackers, immediately locked in battle. These three possessed extremely high martial arts, yet the dozen middle-aged men were no slouches either. They coordinated perfectly, and their martial arts were top-tier. Five or six men managed to barely hold off one attacker.

Li Muzhan stood amidst the fray, watching the fight, shaking his head repeatedly. Are the experts of the Nangong Clan only this skilled? They are far too inferior. Over the past year, constantly sparring with members of the Martial Arts Hall had unconsciously raised his standards. A year ago, watching a fight like this would have seemed thrilling. Now, it looked commonplace; every fighter had glaring weaknesses, yet their opponents couldn't seize the opportunity. He watched, feeling a pang of pity for them.

After watching for a while longer, he shook his head again, finding it dull. He surveyed the surroundings; the onlookers were completely absorbed, watching with intense focus and excitement. Feeling thoroughly uninterested, he sighed, "Let's go back."

"Yes, Young Master." The two maids quickly withdrew their gazes, casting one last reluctant look before following Li Muzhan back to his small courtyard.

Li Muzhan sat back down by the stone table, inhaling the faint floral scent while contemplating the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword. The Yellow Dragon Flying Sword looked simple, but manifesting its true power was difficult. It involved elements of the spiritual plane, not merely the manipulation of internal energy. The source of the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword's power was killing intent; only when intent to kill was present would internal energy condense and transform into true power, shooting out at maximum speed to strike the target. If it were only about internal energy manipulation, it wouldn't be so hard to practice.

Spiritual aspects are mysterious and profound, only grasped intuitively, difficult to convey through words. Even Wang Xiue, who created this sword technique, found it impossible to teach others effectively. For Li Muzhan, these esoteric elements were not difficult; his spirit was overwhelmingly strong, allowing him to sense things others could not perceive clearly. In these three days, he had already grasped the essential path. As his understanding of the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword grew, his admiration for Wang Xiue deepened. Old age sharpens the mind; it was true. Such a marvelous strike could be invented by her—it felt like a stroke of natural genius. His admiration was profound.

Suddenly, a flying dagger materialized in his palm, flashed once, and vanished. Next, the small wooden sword appeared in his palm. He flicked his wrist, and with a muffled bang, a stone on the rockery exploded into countless small fragments, several pieces landing in the flowerbed.

Two white-robed maids flashed out from the entrance, staring over in astonishment at Li Muzhan. Li Muzhan waved them off. "It's fine, I'm practicing my skill."

The two maids looked at the rockery; one stone was clearly missing, making the structure look somewhat odd. After the girls retreated, Li Muzhan floated closer. The wooden sword was embedded in a palm-sized stone, completely unharmed. This was due partly to the material of the wooden sword, but also to the subtlety of the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword’s core method—the sword was imbued with strange internal energy, ensuring that even soft material would become as hard and sharp as a precious sword.

Suddenly, the sound of clapping came from outside the door. Wang Xiue walked in slowly. "Good! Good! That old fellow wasn't bragging after all; your comprehension is truly extraordinary!"

"The Ancestor flatters me." Li Muzhan cupped his fist in salute. He consistently used the cupped-fist salute, avoiding the full-hand clasp in front of outsiders, constantly reminding himself to correct his original habit to avoid revealing his identity.

"Once you have mastered this strike, you can go anywhere in the world," Wang Xiue declared, sitting down at the stone table and gesturing to the seat opposite her. Li Muzhan sat down across from her, examining his wooden sword to check for any damage.

Wang Xiue continued, "It seems you have fully grasped this strike. Now, I will explain further; listen closely." Li Muzhan immediately focused, listening intently. Wang Xiue’s explanation was even easier to comprehend, and though he had already understood it, listening now proved immensely beneficial.

Wang Xiue revealed a slight smile. "Since you have learned the Yellow Dragon Flying Sword, it is time for you to leave!"

Li Muzhan smiled slightly. "I think I will wait a little longer."

Wang Xiue gave a faint smile, her expression distant, possessing an innate arrogance. She snorted, "Relax. The Nangong Clan won't dare do anything to us!"

Li Muzhan remained unconvinced. Regardless, even for the sake of the Mei Manor, he could not stand idly by.