Ye Xiu let out an involuntary cry of alarm, drew his Muzi Sword, and leaped high in the identical posture. As he descended, the sword swept across the ground, yet left not a single trace of damage. “Autumn wind scatters frost as the day concludes,” Mo Yi uttered another line of poetry, his entire being flowing as a single streamline.

The wooden sword in his hand swayed with his body, coiling and winding like a serpentine motion. Amidst this softness, a sudden thrust shot forth, an icy chill piercing toward the colossal sea-boulder, followed by a muffled thud—a deep hole had been bored right into the center of the massive stone. Ye Xiu meticulously imitated the movements beside him, yet he could not fathom how such a gentle strike could pierce solid sea-rock.

Mo Yi did not halt. He continued to raise his hands, sweeping them toward the sky. At that moment, the ocean waves surged, crashing violently against the shore’s reefs.

The resulting spray rose with the wind, settling directly above Mo Yi. Mo Yi raised an eyebrow slightly and slowly declared, “Sword raised to drift the wind.” Instantly, the entire length of the blade above him seemed to form an absolute defensive barrier. Each droplet of spray was struck apart by the sword tip and, carried by the sword-wind, drifted directly toward Ye Xiu.

“Damn it! That’s incredible.” A chill washed over Ye Xiu’s head as the seawater drenched him like a sudden downpour, turning him into a drowned rat. The blade returned to rest near Mo Yi’s body.

He unleashed another flurry of wild movements, declaring, “Maple turns red as autumn departs,” launching the sword from his hand. It flew true, embedding itself solidly into the ground, utterly unmoving. Ye Xiu’s mouth gaped open as he let out an “Ahhh!” It was hard to imagine a wooden sword burying itself so deeply into the dense sea-stone.

“Enough. Now try to pull the Mozi Sword out, and then diligently practice the moves I just showed you,” Mo Yi said, tossing his sword aside before lazily collapsing onto a rock, his eyes half-closed, suspended between sleep and wakefulness. Pull the sword?

Ye Xiu was instantly confident. Wasn't this just a matter of brute force? Without a second thought, he walked over, gripped the hilt with both hands, took a deep breath, and pulled upward with all his might.

“Hah…” He exerted nearly all the strength he possessed, but his feet slipped, and he tumbled backward, landing squarely on the rock. “This…” Ye Xiu was dumbfounded. Though his strength couldn't move mountains, he certainly expected to shift the wooden sword a bit.

Instead, he was thrown to the ground. “Yawn…” Mo Yi stretched languidly and offered a hint: “The Mozi Sword style is like autumn water and myriad stars; what matters is within, not on the surface. Softness is the precursor, hardness is the consequence.

Forget the feeling in your hands; let it flow from your heart.” Flowing from the heart? How abstract! Ye Xiu felt this was another insurmountable challenge.

Even this simple act of drawing a sword required a sense of feeling and comprehension, much like the Ghost Valley assassination techniques. He reached out again to grasp the hilt, this time using only one hand, and as his hand settled, he gently closed his eyes. Autumn myriad stars.

Ye Xiu slowly mapped out his surroundings in his mind. Soft! Yes, Mo Yi’s swordplay had been predominantly yielding, only delivering absolute force like explosive power at the moment of attack.

Now that the sword was buried deep within the stone, did it require a specific kind of force? A decisiveness? Ye Xiu began to feel his body slowly becoming ethereal.

His breathing softened. The hand resting on the hilt seemed to rise and fall in response to some rhythm—the ebb and flow of the sea surface, the whole universe. He sensed the Mozi Sword calling to him—no, not calling.

Because the Muzi Sword in his other hand was already trembling. Was this the resonance between two blades, or a new understanding dawning upon Ye Xiu? “Rumble…” Suddenly, the great stone shifted slightly.

Ye Xiu felt no conscious effort, yet the body of the Mozi Sword slowly began to emerge from the stone, inch by inch, reappearing guided by his hand. As this happened, Ye Xiu felt nothing at all in the hand holding the other sword. “Hah!” The instant the wooden sword fully separated from the boulder, Ye Xiu roared out.

A sudden, immense power flooded his consciousness. Mo Yi’s previous moves, like sweeping leaves in the autumn wind, surged into every fiber of his being all at once. He could no longer control his own body.

Thus, one man, two swords, began to swing wildly on the desolate edge of the East Sea. The scene was one of crashing waves against the shore and jagged rocks soaring into the sky. What followed was Ye Xiu slowly integrating Mo Yi’s sword techniques, practicing while contemplating, though now unconsciously wielding both swords.

Unnoticed, three days had passed—the third day since Mo Yi was poisoned. Ye Xiu was still practicing the Mohist sword style on the beach when Mo Yi finally seemed to wake from his stupor, rising and stretching. “Senior Mo,” Ye Xiu stopped his movements and bowed deeply.

A rare smile touched the corner of Mo Yi’s mouth. “To have the potential, at your young age, to encompass the essence of both the Mohist and Ghost Valley schools… it truly makes this old man envious.” Ye Xiu bowed again. His old confidence surfaced.

Indeed, mastering the supreme arts of two great sects was rare enough, especially given the shared origins between them. A fierce sea wind rushed in, and Mo Yi turned to face the coast, sighing, “Or perhaps the future of both the Mohists and the Ghost Valley will rest in your hands.” “This…” Ye Xiu felt slightly lost. Mo Yi continued, “The Ghost Valley token should be on you, correct?” “It is.” Ye Xiu offered no concealment.

Mo Yi slowly walked toward Ye Xiu and pulled an object from his chest, similar to the Ghost Valley token. “This is the Mozi Token and the illustrated manual for Mohist mechanics. I bestow them upon you now, and I hope you guard them well.” “Senior!” Ye Xiu knew Mo Yi was settling his affairs.

He immediately knelt, accepting the items with both hands. “Mm, very good.” Mo Yi felt profoundly that the person entrusted was utterly reliable, so he spoke sincerely, “It is said that any Mohist disciple seeing the Mozi Token regards it as seeing the sect leader, much like the Ghost Valley token. However, one cannot see into another’s heart; that part is pure fancy.

Who truly obeys someone based solely on a broken piece of wood? This mechanics manual, I believe, will also help you overcome your enemies.” Ye Xiu nodded, acknowledging the truth of that. As for the Ghost Valley now, he didn't even know how many heroes in this chaotic age originated from Ghost Valley talent, let alone command them.

As for Mohist mechanics, Ye Xiu had never heard of it and did not know what kind of supreme art it was. Mo Yi clapped Ye Xiu on the shoulder and stated mysteriously, “Few know what happens when the Mozi Token and the Ghost Valley Token are brought together.” Ye Xiu was shocked upon hearing this and looked at Mo Yi with wide eyes, a sudden wave of curiosity surging in his heart.