Chapter 10: Whether You Accept It or Not, You Have to Obey

Chapter 10: Reluctant Submission

Before he had even left the mountain, Zheng Jian was defeated in a single move by the mysterious master! Even though Zheng Jian had already anticipated that Feng Qingyang’s strength would be terrifying, and that he himself was insignificant in comparison, when Feng Qingyang called out “Broken Sword Form,” using his finger as a sword to forcibly break through “The Three Green Peaks of Mount Taiyue,” Zheng Jian was still left utterly bewildered.

So strong—unbelievably strong—beyond reason!

In that instant, a surge of heroic spirit suddenly welled up in Zheng Jian’s chest. He longed to witness the prowess of the world’s true masters, to truly cross swords with the Eastern Leader atop Blackwood Cliff!

What is the martial world? What is the way of the sword?

This is the martial world; this is the way of the sword!

To contend with others is endless delight; to challenge the strong is even greater joy!

“Well, you little rascal, do you yield now?” Feng Qingyang withdrew his hand, smiling as he looked at Zheng Jian, who was left dumbstruck. For some reason, seeing this, a hint of delight crept into Feng Qingyang’s heart.

Logically, after having competed with all the masters under heaven in his youth and then retiring to Mount Hua, living in seclusion for many years, his mind should have been tranquil, unperturbed by the act of instructing younger generations. Yet, facing this scoundrel, Feng Qingyang truly felt—hmph, this brat needs to be taught a lesson! Beating him up felt thoroughly satisfying.

“…No, I don’t yield,” Zheng Jian replied, cheeks puffed in defiance. But seeing Feng Qingyang’s beard start to bristle and his eyes widen, he quickly added, “But I have to!”

“…Why is this kid’s mouth so infuriating…” Feng Qingyang suddenly felt a twinge in his teeth—perhaps he ought to reconsider this altogether?

After a long pause, he finally calmed down and shook his head. “That Yue Buqun—how has his disciple not angered him to death by now? Your mouth is far sharper than your sword.”

At this, Zheng Jian’s face grew serious. “Senior, my master has done his utmost to teach me. If you wish to scold me, then scold me, but don’t involve my master.”

A master for a day, a father for life. However much Zheng Jian bantered with Old Yue, that was just his own style; even Feng Qingyang could not insult his master at will. Besides, since Yue Buqun had not turned to darkness, Zheng Jian was always thinking of ways to prevent that fate.

Feng Qingyang paused at this, then sighed. “Well, you show some filial piety after all. Very well, I’ll tell you. You discovered that cave, didn’t you? Some of the sword techniques inside are the unique skills of our sect, some are left by elders of the Demon Sect, and others come from the sword schools of the Five Mountains. I suppose you also found a name—my name, Feng Qingyang! To speak plainly, Yue Buqun should address me as Martial Uncle. I won’t scold him, but calling him ‘that boy’ is hardly excessive, is it?”

“So it’s Grandmaster Uncle! This unworthy disciple was disrespectful before—please forgive me, Grandmaster Uncle…” Seeing the old man reveal his identity, Zheng Jian immediately yielded. If he was willing to acknowledge his status, then surely the longed-for Nine Swords of Dugu was within reach!

“Enough. If I hadn’t observed you for a long time and realized you’re just an infuriating brat, you might have fooled me with that line! Back to business: your swordsmanship is indeed impressive, but ultimately, you are still like those skeletons in the cave—trapped in a cage. I can instruct you, but after this, you are not to see me again, nor breathe a word of this to your master! Can you do that?” As he finished, Feng Qingyang’s expression grew serious. Clearly, he did not want his skills buried with him, but neither did he wish anyone to know he was still alive.

Zheng Jian nodded. “I will remember.”

Seeing this, Feng Qingyang’s expression softened, though a hint of melancholy lingered. “Those Demon Sect elders, some of them were brilliant minds, as you and your master saw. They broke through all the sword techniques of the Five Mountains here. But sword forms are lifeless, while people are living. If you can apply what you learn with vitality, even the simplest moves can become miraculous. The key is to be alive! Learn flexibly, apply flexibly—don’t be constrained by the order of the forms, nor by the forms themselves. Once you truly achieve that, you will have surpassed countless masters. However seamless a form, it can be anticipated; but if you act with no set moves in your mind or hand, there is nothing for your opponent to grasp. Do you understand?”

Of course Zheng Jian understood—he’d even known this truth in his previous life: formlessness triumphs over form. But understanding it and achieving it were different matters. Only by mastering the forms and then letting them go could one glimpse the realm of formlessness; if you never learned the forms, talk of formlessness was a joke.

In the end, it was as the saying went: “Seeing mountains as mountains, and water as water; then seeing mountains not as mountains, and water not as water; then seeing mountains still as mountains, and water still as water.”

With his current skill and understanding, as he revisited the concept of formlessness, Zheng Jian finally felt a sudden enlightenment.

Feng Qingyang saw Zheng Jian deep in thought and was quite pleased. His mind was quick, and his perception truly remarkable. He continued, “It’s like a child waving a sword with no form at all—how would you break such a move? There’s nothing to break. So, from being alive, you will slowly come to understand formlessness!”

At this moment, Zheng Jian’s mind seemed completely opened. Drawing on the supreme truths he’d encountered in his past life, his thoughts flowed like a spring. He responded, “Indeed. From form to formlessness, and from formlessness, you can derive new forms. These new forms are not fixed, but arise at will, forming a spiral ascent.”

Feng Qingyang listened in astonishment. With all his years of experience, he now found a fresh insight, and his face broke into a delighted smile—his former melancholy gone. “I never thought your perception would be so high! Even I hadn’t reached this level. Yes, yes, the Nine Swords of Dugu could be considered this new stage of swordsmanship! Tell me, are you willing to learn?”

Zheng Jian’s heart leapt with joy. From the first day he’d entered this world, he’d longed for the Nine Swords of Dugu—the supreme sword art of this realm, requiring none of the grotesque transformations demanded by the Sunflower Manual. Who wouldn’t want to learn it?

He agreed at once and was about to bow, but Feng Qingyang stopped him. “There’s no bond of master and disciple between us; no need for such formalities. I’ll teach you the first move. There are three hundred and sixty variations within it. It took me three months to master when I first learned it.”

Pausing for a moment, and seeing Zheng Jian’s eager gaze, Feng Qingyang continued, “Return of the Maiden leads to the Unexpected, the Unexpected leads to Commonality, Commonality leads to Great Fortune. Jia transforms to Bing, Bing to Geng, Geng to Gui. The junction of Zi and Chou, Chen and Si, Wu and Wei. Wind and thunder is one change, mountain and marsh another, water and fire yet another. Heaven and Earth clash, Zhen and Dui clash, Li and Xun clash. Three multiplied makes five, five multiplied makes nine…”

On and on, the general principles alone totaled over three thousand words, and before they knew it, night had fallen…

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(End of chapter)