Chapter 14: Did You Think Your Opponent Was a Wooden Dummy?

Chapter 14 - Do You Think Your Opponent Is a Wooden Dummy?

On the training grounds, the junior disciples, each with their own thoughts, fell into contemplation at Zheng Jian’s words. Linghu Chong, in particular, looked rather bewildered and blurted out, “Isn’t that so? That’s how Master taught us.”

Zheng Jian shot him a glare and tapped Linghu Chong with his sword again. “What nonsense are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with the sword techniques Master taught us, nor with how each move connects. But what do you think a duel between martial artists is? Child’s play? Do you think everyone will follow the sequence of set moves?”

“Swordplay is dead, but people are alive! No one says that after ‘White Clouds Emerge from the Mountains,’ you must always respond with ‘Bright Rainbow Pierces the Sun.’ If you go down the mountain with that mindset, you’ll never make it back alive!”

“Since today is your evaluation, I won’t say I’m here just to beat you all up. This is your first lesson before leaving the mountain! Not just you, Linghu Chong, but all of you—remember this: The martial world is not just about good wine and meat. More often, it’s beyond your control, filled with blades and shadows. Every move in Mount Hua’s swordplay can and should be used flexibly. Choose your moves according to your opponent, and anticipate their variations so you can plan your countermoves in advance. That’s the true beginning of mastery—not mindlessly going through the motions as if you’re performing in a sideshow. What do you take your opponents for? Wooden dummies?”

A sudden clarity flashed through Linghu Chong’s mind. Exceptionally intelligent, he had always learned swordplay quickly, but he’d been stuck in a mental rut, and no one had ever explained it this way before. Now, Zheng Jian’s words were like clouds parting to reveal the sky. Everything became clear.

Linghu Chong bowed to Zheng Jian and said loudly, “Thank you, Senior Brother, for your guidance! The ancients say that a single word from a wise man is worth ten years of study. Your advice today has enlightened me. If not for your timely correction, and I lost my life in a real fight after leaving the mountain, it would be a small matter. But if I brought disgrace to Mount Hua’s name, how could I ever repay Master’s years of teaching?”

Zheng Jian nodded with satisfaction. His words just now were a kind of compensation to the Mount Hua disciples. After all, he’d bullied them for years—the least he could do was provide something of real value.

Cherishing one’s own broomsticks is a common failing among all schools.

Such insights into swordsmanship were usually considered closely guarded secrets, passed down only to the most trusted disciples. Otherwise, in the original story, Linghu Chong wouldn’t have been so clueless even after being beaten bloody by Tian Boguang.

For Zheng Jian to share these insights openly was a generous compensation. Otherwise, if he just fleeced them without any payback, he really would be nothing but a villain as senior brother...

Linghu Chong walked away deep in thought. Zheng Jian cocked an eyebrow and glanced at the bystanders. “Third Brother, what are you waiting for? Your turn!”

Lao Denuo’s face stiffened. It always seemed to do that every time he ran into Zheng Jian—his wrinkles seemed deeper than ever.

“Uh... I know I’m no match for you, Senior Brother. How about I admit defeat?” Lao Denuo said with a forced smile.

Zheng Jian chuckled and nodded.

Lao Denuo felt a wave of relief. “Did I really get away with that?”

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Zheng Jian’s smile grew even wider. “No.”

Lao Denuo was nearly in tears.

“Resentment value from Lao Denuo +666.”

The system’s prompt made Zheng Jian’s smile widen further. Lao Denuo was the best—he always knew exactly what Zheng Jian wanted, unlike that blockhead Linghu Chong, who couldn’t generate any resentment at all.

With no other choice, Lao Denuo drew his sword and stood five paces from Zheng Jian, looking utterly aggrieved. Unlike Linghu Chong, he was not open-hearted. If it were just the two of them, life or death, Lao Denuo wouldn’t be afraid—he could always use the Songshan Swordplay and silence the witness forever.

But this was Mount Hua, and all eyes were on him. If he dared use Songshan sword techniques here, he’d never make it off the mountain alive.

“So be it. At worst, I’ll just get beaten up. It’s no different from being bitten by a dog,” he thought to himself.

Zheng Jian knew Lao Denuo was a turncoat and could roughly guess what he was thinking. But it didn’t matter—being a traitor only counted if others didn’t know. Not only did Zheng Jian know Lao Denuo’s true allegiance, but even Elder Yue saw through him. How could Lao Denuo expect to get away with it in the future?

In the original story, Elder Yue later used Lao Denuo to trick Left Alliance Master Zuo to his death.

“Senior Brother, please be careful,” Lao Denuo said helplessly, then charged sword in hand at Zheng Jian. For all his complaints, his skills were hardly weak—at least on par with Linghu Chong, if not better, especially since he wasn’t using the Songshan Swordplay.

In other words, at this point in time, among all the Mount Hua disciples, not counting Zheng Jian, no one could defeat Lao Denuo in a life-and-death fight.

Zheng Jian, of course, held nothing back. Using the same Mount Hua sword techniques, he sent Lao Denuo scurrying around the field in no time, battered and disheveled, even managing to kick him several times between sword moves.

Lao Denuo thought Zheng Jian was targeting him for what had happened earlier. He kept shouting in protest, but his resentment only grew inside.

In Zheng Jian’s mind, the system prompts kept coming: “Resentment value from Lao Denuo +100, +100, +100...”

The more Zheng Jian fought, the happier he became, but he didn’t go overboard. After all, fleecing sheep should be sustainable—you couldn’t shear them all at once and leave them bald.

Once Lao Denuo was thoroughly beaten and left covered in dust, Zheng Jian stopped and said, “Lao Denuo, you may understand the principle of flexible application, but your swordplay is still chaotic. You’ll need to practice harder.”

Lao Denuo swallowed his anger and forced a grateful smile. “Thank you for your guidance, Senior Brother. I’ll work even harder in the future...”

Zheng Jian thought, “Who is this ‘future’ anyway? So pitiful.” But since the others didn’t get the joke, he kept his comments to himself.

Having finished with Lao Denuo, Zheng Jian tallied up the numbers. This guy alone had given him well over a thousand resentment points. Following the principle that every little bit counts, he went on to beat up each of the remaining disciples in turn.

How to put it? The process was unexpected, but the result was satisfying. Not only did he take the opportunity to remind everyone that their senior brother was still their senior brother, but he also collected a great haul of resentment points—enough to make up for half a month’s deficit from practicing swordplay.

Zheng Jian didn’t know how the junior disciples felt, but he himself was quite pleased.

And that was enough.

…

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End of chapter.