Chapter 6: Breaking the Deadly Move

After settling matters in the mortal realm, the two returned to the Sword Sect of Bearing Swords. To prepare for the upcoming Sword Contest in a few months, once back, Lu Wenshu immediately secluded himself to practice swordsmanship.

During Lu Wenshu’s seclusion, his movements were restricted, leaving only Lu Chanji’s solitary figure in the Spring Listening Pavilion. With Lu Wenshu confined, Lu Chanji had no reservations; she ignored the wounds on her hands, relentlessly practicing swordplay with her puppet against the faint, ghostly projections of Wei Shengming trapped within the Transmission Shadow Stones.

Even if her hands were left battered and bruised, she only needed to apply the Jade Beauty Ointment each night before sleep, and by morning, her skin would renew as if untouched, allowing her to continue manipulating her puppet swords.

Three days before Lu Wenshu emerged from seclusion, Lu Chanji’s puppet managed for the first time to parry the menacing killing moves of Wei Shengming’s projection without being injured, and even counterattacked, wounding the phantom’s arm.

Though the deadly technique was not yet fully deciphered, Lu Chanji was so exhilarated by this rare breakthrough that she stayed awake all night. Previously, her puppet’s sword could barely graze the hem of Wei Shengming’s spectral robes.

For the next three days, Lu Chanji tirelessly practiced, day and night, nearly without rest, always accompanied by her puppet.

When Lu Wenshu finally stepped out of seclusion, he found the cloaked girl standing outside his Shadow Tracing Pavilion. Her eyes were darkened, her already pale face was drained of all color, and she clutched a book, barely able to keep awake, looking weak as if she had nearly lost half her life.

With a stern face, Lu Wenshu asked, “Promise me you’ll take good care of your body. What have you been doing all this time while I was secluded?”

As he approached, she stuffed the sword manual and several Transmission Shadow Stones into his arms.

Usually, when he showed displeasure, Lu Chanji would understand her fault and behave with some decorum. But today, she showed no fear; beneath her hood, her delicate face beamed with proud satisfaction, her posture upright and bold, like a little mountain sparrow shaking snow from its feathers after playing joyfully in the snow.

Not only unafraid of reprimand, she seemed to expect praise: “You’ll understand once you’ve read it.”

Lu Wenshu frowned, uncertain of her intentions.

Yet as he flipped through the sword manual she pressed into his hands, he was struck dumb on the spot. If not for the lingering numbness in his arms after sixty days of secluded sword practice, he might have doubted that it was he who had been in seclusion, and not her.

The manual meticulously documented her dissection of every move of Wei Shengming’s deadly technique “Extinction.”

Page by page, Lu Wenshu’s breath gradually caught in his throat.

If this was true… the century-old, unbroken killing move of Wei Shengming seemed to have been cracked by her… how could this be? Impossible!

Blood surged backward in his veins; his fingertips trembled faintly as they pressed down on the paper.

Seeing his pale lips, Lu Chanji knew he was deeply shaken. “Take your time to mull it over. If you want to praise me, bring me some pine nut candy. I need to eat it every day for the next month.”

She yawned widely. “I’m going back to catch up on sleep.”

—

Lu Chanji slept a full day and night, eager to make up for the rest she had missed.

Perhaps because she sparred daily with the phantom of Wei Shengming trapped in the Transmission Shadow Stone, her dreams were filled with him too. Yet, as with the phantom, no clear face appeared—only a blurred visage, much like her faceless puppet.

In her dreams, she felt a poignant emptiness: Wei Shengming’s technique was broken, and the matter that had occupied her for two months was resolved. But what came next? Was there any technique in this world mightier than Wei Shengming’s?

She searched in vain, her heart adrift and confused.

If only she were a cultivator, if only her body weren’t so frail…

She wouldn’t have had to return to the mortal realm. She could have wielded a real sword, fighting fiercely alongside cultivators, forging her own path, creating her own killing moves. She could have slain demons, upheld justice, and ensured no child under heaven would become an orphan at three, saving countless lives — instead of being confined to the Spring Listening Pavilion on Green Peak, playing house with a few puppets.

One must believe that all illusions must end, and dreams eventually fade like yellow millet in a pot.

Awakening from this bitter dream, Lu Chanji’s pillow was damp.

By her bedside sat Lu Wenshu, his figure backlit, eyes lowered to her wet pillow.

He looked at her with a tender gaze and, upon seeing her awake, gently asked, “Did I speak too harshly and upset you?”

On Lu Chanji’s Star Ruins Fate Chart, only he remained. Lu Wenshu could not imagine anyone else who could move her to tears.

She must have cried for him.

With still-moist lashes and lingering dream pain, Lu Chanji blinked slowly, shook her head, and sat up. “Brother Wenshu, when you go to Penglai, could you record the scenes of your duels at the Sword Contest on the Transmission Shadow Stones? Bring them back for me.”

“Of course.”

Mentioning the Penglai Sword Contest, Lu Wenshu’s earlier unease was now completely resolved.

He looked at Lu Chanji, his gaze softening with a warmth like beholding the world’s greatest treasure.

She had actually broken Wei Shengming’s deadly technique.

Lu Chanji’s feat was twofold: first to dismantle, then to break.

The dismantling step was something Lu Wenshu himself could achieve, though he had never shared this with anyone but Lu Chanji.

Executing Wei Shengming’s killing move “Extinction” was no difficulty for him, and with it, he could defeat any cultivator except Wei Shengming himself.

But to break it meant he had gained the strength to rival Wei Shengming.

The blood surged faster through Lu Wenshu’s veins than ever before.

The oil-paper package filled with pine nut candy piled high in the room, alongside a dozen other kinds of earthly sweets. Lu Chanji almost felt as if the entire market’s confections were gathered here.

“Do you like them?” Lu Wenshu ruffled her hair and sincerely thanked her, “Thank you, Achan.”

—

The Penglai Sword Contest, held once every hundred years, allowed young cultivators from the ten great continents of the Vast Sea to travel freely to Penglai Island in the center—a journey of about ten days from Flame Continent by sword flight.

Half a month before the contest began, Lu Wenshu led disciples of the Bearing Swords Sect to depart early.

The contest lasted a full month, where all sword cultivators of the Vast Sea competed on the sword platform.

Before leaving, the sect leader in Wind Whisper Valley sent a clear message through a Voice Transmission Stone, advising Lu Wenshu to hold back his sharpness in the early stages.

The Sword Contest was not only a competition but also a place for young swordsmen to make their names known.

—

Since Wei Shengming’s deadly technique was broken, gaining fame required only spreading the news. At the contest, unless one met an opponent capable of using Wei Shengming’s technique, there was no need to reveal counter-moves.

Moreover, it was unwise to announce immediately that one had broken Wei Shengming’s technique; doing so would focus all attention on the Bearing Swords Sect disciples, allowing Lu Wenshu to shine but distracting and unsettling his fellow disciples, hindering their performance.

Through the Voice Transmission Stone, the sect leader’s voice came clearly: “The glory of Bearing Swords Sect rests on you, but it is not yours alone. One person’s spotlight at the expense of the entire sect’s success is a loss. As the young master of Bearing Swords Sect, you must discern what is appropriate.”

Lu Wenshu lowered his eyes and replied, without argument, as this had long been his plan.

—

Many Bearing Swords Sect disciples journeyed to Penglai, including Lu Qi.

After receiving twenty lashes two months prior at the Hall of Discipline and spending three days healing, Lu Qi dreaded the contest’s arrival.

Once proud of his talent, he had been humbled by Lu Chanji’s effortless “Star Shatter” technique, realizing he wasn’t even a match for a mortal.

Rumors within the sect that Lu Wenshu had already broken Wei Shengming’s top sword technique further disheartened him.

There were always greater talents beyond sight; with his strength, he feared he would be defeated within days.

At Penglai, trembling and apprehensive, he faced each opponent with a mindset of expecting defeat. Yet, he advanced through the rounds, only falling on the eighteenth day.

Strangely, upon his defeat, Lu Qi felt the world’s absurdity; the contest lasted thirty days, and those who made it halfway were elites among their peers.

If he was among the best, why was he defeated by Lu Chanji’s single move?

Though he wanted to stay until the end to see if Lu Wenshu could claim the top spot, a great confusion clouded his heart, and the haunting image that had long tormented him—the girl in the snow, her swift attacks, and the tinkling bell sound—returned relentlessly, forcing him to leave Penglai.

Without even saying goodbye to Lu Wenshu, Lu Qi flew back swiftly to the Bearing Swords Sect on Flame Continent in seven days.

—

On Green Peak, Lu Chanji lay lazily in a reclining chair, basking in the sun.

Having eaten her fill of pine nut candy and rice flower cake, with no swordsmanship to refine, she toyed with her puppet until tired, then reclined again, a book covering her face to shield from the sun, utterly content.

Suddenly, a voice both strange and familiar rang through the courtyard.

“Lu Chanji, I want to duel you again!”

She opened her drowsy eyes, took a moment to realize the bedraggled figure before her was Lu Qi.

Panting heavily, barely able to catch his breath, an immortal seldom appeared so disheveled. Amused, Lu Chanji sat up and eyed the sweat on his brow. “Why you?”

Weren’t all the inner disciples of Bearing Swords Sect following Lu Wenshu to Penglai? Why was he here?

Thinking further, she lay back down with a frown. “Rude fellow, disturbing my nap.”

He had caused Lu Wenshu to be punished at the Hall of Discipline, yet dared to show up here.

Deserved a beating!

But having learned from experience, Lu Chanji was determined not to make the same mistake twice.

Especially not wanting Lu Wenshu to suffer for her again, she pulled the book back over her face, ignoring Lu Qi like a pesky fly.

“Not listening, not listening!”

Embarrassed and blushing, Lu Qi was in a rush and hadn’t thought much ahead.

But since he was here, he insisted, “You and I will duel again.”

Ah, a fly that could speak.

“Just one match. I want to confirm something.”

Seeing Lu Chanji remain motionless in the chair like a corpse, Lu Qi grew more anxious and resorted to his least favored tactic—throwing a tantrum: “If you don’t duel me, I won’t leave.”

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, dappling the open page of the book on Lu Chanji’s face, revealing the large characters “Sword Manual.” Lu Qi’s face flushed further, growing more stubborn.

Lu Chanji found it absurd. She swiftly lifted the book and frowned: “You’re a cultivator wanting to duel a mortal like me. Don’t you think that’s bullying?”

“I won’t use spiritual power, just swordplay. We agreed it’s a friendly spar; the Hall of Discipline has no grounds to punish us,” Lu Qi insisted.

“How do I know you won’t betray me?” she asked.

Still suspicious about Lu Wenshu’s punishment, she suspected Lu Qi had slandered him first to the Hall of Discipline.

Lu Qi steeled himself: “If the Hall wants to punish us, I’ll take full responsibility.”

“Promises aren’t enough. Sign this,” Lu Chanji handed him a green talisman.

Lu Qi readily wrote a written pledge on the talisman, signed it, and gave it back.

Seeing the girl’s lips curve into a meaningful smile, he asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Lu Chanji smiled, pocketing the pledge. The silk thread in her hand pulled her blue-clad puppet silently to its feet behind Lu Qi. “I’m just happy I can openly beat you now.”

Moments later, Lu Qi’s sword slipped from his grasp, sticking into the ground at an angle.

“Not again,” Lu Chanji said, reclining back into the garden chair.

Lu Qi looked at her deeply but said nothing, quietly retrieving his sword and leaving.

Lu Chanji thought he understood her words “Not again,” simple though they were.

But the next day, Lu Qi returned.

His words were the same: “You and I duel again.”

—

Crazy.

Lu Chanji: “You won’t win again.”

“Then we’ll see,” Lu Qi said. “Maybe I can.”

Lu Chanji frowned deeply. Lu Qi’s stubbornness was unpleasant. Having been nurtured by Lu Wenshu’s gentle guidance, she disliked Lu Qi’s brashness, and given their past grievances, just seeing him annoyed her.

She tried hard to refuse, but Lu Qi was relentless.

If she said no, he wouldn’t leave.

If she chased him away, he waited by the Spring Listening Pavilion’s entrance.

Other than Lu Wenshu, no one else came by for years, and Lu Chanji rarely interacted with others.

Thinking of Lu Qi outside, she couldn’t sit or lie properly, always glancing out.

Reluctantly, she agreed to spar with him once more.

Though called a spar, to Lu Chanji it was just Lu Qi looking for a beating.

This time, Lu Qi lost again.

That night, a foreboding feeling settled in Lu Chanji’s heart.

The next day, Lu Qi came again.

—

Penglai.

The Sword Contest was nearing its end, just two days left.

Remaining on the platform were Yan Yuge of the Taiwei Sect, Jiang An, Xue Zhengyuan from Wind Whisper Valley, Wei Qingxia of Yuling Ferry, and Lu Wenshu of Bearing Swords Sect.

Matchups by draw: Wei Qingxia vs. Xue Zhengyuan, Jiang An vs. Lu Wenshu.

Yan Xuanyu had no match and advanced.

Among the judges in the stands was Ye Pingzhou.

In the previous contest, Ye Pingzhou had placed second but was overshadowed by Wei Shengming’s meteoric rise, so that when recalling that contest, everyone remembered only Wei Shengming, not Ye Pingzhou.

Ye Pingzhou watched the remaining few with great interest, the memory of his own debut a vivid yesterday.

A friend beside him asked, “Is your junior brother not here today?”

Though unspoken, Ye Pingzhou knew who was meant.

“My junior brother, Wei Sheng, is always elusive. Before I came, he said if anyone capable of breaking his killing move appeared, to send word, and he would come quickly. Otherwise, he’d rather slay a demon in the mortal realm than be praised here. But alas,” Ye Pingzhou fanned himself slowly, “it’s down to the last two days, and no one has broken his move, nor even wielded it.”

The friend boasted, “It might be another hundred years before someone like your junior brother appears again.”

On stage, Wei Qingxia and Xue Zhengyuan faced each other, clasping fists.

Tension filled the air.

Ye Pingzhou’s friend remarked, “Though Wei Qingxia is new to the contest, he exploited a loophole to participate. Actually, he’s over three thousand years old and probably confident of victory. But Xue Zhengyuan and Lu Wenshu are formidable; his plans may fail.”

Every cultivator could come to Penglai to discuss swordsmanship, but only one opportunity to ascend the platform was granted.

Coming at over three thousand years old suggested Wei Qingxia had held his spot until confident.

But he did not realize that such hesitation had already cost him the chance to claim the top prize.

True prodigies shine boldly, unafraid of difficulties. This platform was merely their stage to debut, the beginning of their path, not the end.

In a sense, by choosing to exchange a millennium of cultivation for this contest’s crown, Wei Qingxia had already lost.

As they spoke, sword shadows clashed, garments fluttered, metal rang sharply. The two intertwined like dancing flames, locked in fierce combat.

At that moment, Wei Qingxia’s eyes flashed coldly; his previously steady sword was drawn back, and with a sudden change in style, he infused spiritual power into the blade, launching a new move. The sword’s intent shifted, becoming sharp and deadly.

“Extinction!”

Xue Zhengyuan’s face changed immediately.

“Extinction?” Ye Pingzhou raised an eyebrow, pausing his fan, straightening slightly with keen interest in the unfolding duel.

Once the “Extinction” move was unleashed, the outcome was clear.

After just two exchanges, Xue Zhengyuan was defeated; Wei Qingxia won.

With the result decided, Ye Pingzhou resumed fanning, chuckling under his fan: “This must be the source of Wei Qingxia’s confidence.”

A man who sought the crown with a thousand years of scheming, who must have painstakingly mastered Wei Shengming’s killing move, no wonder he was so assured.

Ye Pingzhou shifted his gaze to the other pair.

Jiang An versus Lu Wenshu.

Lu Wenshu won steadily and decisively.

Tomorrow, only Lu Wenshu, Wei Qingxia, and Yan Yuge would remain on the platform.

Watching the smug Wei Qingxia, Ye Pingzhou shook his head and looked regretfully at Lu Wenshu and Yan Yuge: “These two will likely spend tonight restless and tormented.”